“Where was he? Where was your husband and what was he doing?”
Adam heard Cynthia clear her throat. She looked at him. At first, he saw the tiredness in her eyes, the worry, and maybe even panic crouching quietly in there. But he watched all of this slowly give way to an expression of wintry calm, forged from something pale and hard. Like a time-lapse film of water freezing, thought Adam.
She turned to Bonnie Bickle. “Richard was down in a basement bedroom with a very young woman named Kathleen Welborn and they were engaged in S.E.X. Under the covers, somewhat. They were so involved, they didn’t even know I was there.”
“That must have been awful.”
Sky hissed something incomprehensible.
“It was for me,” said Cynthia. “Not for them. But what happened after was awful for everyone.”
“Which was?”
“I went home and got my gun, then came back to the party and shot him. Five times, up close. He was in the game room by then, playing beer pong. The first shot went through his heart and he was dead not long after he hit the floor, according to the coroner. Of course I didn’t know that, so I made sure. Five shots, total. I came that close to getting first-degree, because of the leftover bullet and the time between what I saw and what I did. Prosecutor said I was a manipulating wife and a calculating killer. Those lies hurt me more than the truth ever did. It came down to the judge. He felt sorry for me. And by then, he was probably sick of the whole pathetic mess. Wouldn’t you be?”
A long silence. Adam listened to the cars and the crows cawing over the trees and the mutterings of the crowd that had gathered.
“Wow,” said Bonnie Bickle. “So. Thirteen years in prison?”
“No, thank you, I’ve had quite enough,” Cynthia said politely. Adam watched her snug down her hat and slip on her sunglasses. He set a hand on her arm, which was trembling.
“Bonnie,” said Sky. “Maybe we could discuss extreme sports. Like this show is supposedly about.”
“Certainly, Sky. Let’s talk about Robert, and how the curse of the Carsons seems to be continuing.”
“Robert’s not a curse; he’s a blessing.”
“But can you take us back to the last Mammoth Cup ski-cross finals, when Robert — in the lead — lost control? We’re going to show that clip now, so you take over and call it for us, will you?”
Adam tried to watch the miserable clip. He’d seen it too many times. What if Robert was aware? Adam looked out at Highway 203 heading out of town, at the cars winding down the mountain, and an eastern sky untouched by smoke.
“You can see for yourself what happened, Bonnie,” said Sky. “What’s important is that Robert is a great man and a great brother. He is the finest ski-cross racer I’ve ever seen. So I’m going to win the Mammoth Cup in January for him. And he’s going to stand on that podium and help me accept the trophy. I don’t say this as a publicity stunt. It is a fact that you will witness.”
“Does Robert have a chance of recovery?”
“His doctors are, of course, utter fools. But Mom has been getting Robert out into the sun almost every day. We’re seeing that the stimulation has started to rebuild the damaged neural pathways in the nerve bundle. He’s already using his eyelids to signal certain... recognitions.”
“Really? Can he, like, blink once for yes and two for no?”
“We hope to be there by the fall.”
“Okay, Sky, you don’t want to believe in a Carson curse, but tell me about your half brother, Wylie Welborn. Most Adrenaline viewers know about Wylie Welborn, but for you people out there who don’t, Sky — your father, Richard, was Wylie Welborn’s father, too.”
“That’s insightful of you, Bonnie.”
“And your mother, Cynthia, as she just told us, killed Richard in a jealous rage — after catching him in the act of, well... creating Wylie Welborn. You and Wylie were born one hundred and forty-four days apart. Looks like the beginning of bad blood to me. In fact, you and Wylie have a history. You recently posted serious threats against him on social media. You called him a ‘demon bastard.’ That’s a quote, Sky. So tell us, is Wylie Welborn part of the Carson curse?”
“He is the curse incarnate. That’s why I’m going to beat him in the cup.”
“Wylie Welborn won the cup five years ago on his first attempt. You’ve won only one time in eight tries.”
“Oh ye of little faith. I’m training well. Eating well. I have a new girlfriend, Megan Brown, and she’s totally into me. I’ve cut way back on the partying. I’ll win. You can bet on it in Reno or Vegas if you’re so inclined. Robert and I will stand on the podium with our gold. Wylie Welborn will not.”
“What if he runs you off the course, like you claim he did in practice?”
Adam saw Cynthia’s look of calm come to her son’s face again. It wasn’t quite as strong or thorough as hers, but it spoke of the same resolve. Sky leaned forward toward the camera. “Chip, chip, chip, Bonnie — you’re part of the curse, too. And we Carsons are out of here.”
Adam stood slowly and readied himself behind Robert’s chair. His knees and back were stiff after sitting this long, and his sudden memories of Sandrine and Dave and those early days had left him wistful. Yes, he thought, I want to be young and strong again, but I cannot. So let Sky be young. And Robert. And Andrea. And Wylie. All of them. I have appointments to keep.
Camouflaged Cynthia came over and dug into the book bag hanging from the wheelchair handle. “I could have been an Olympic medalist,” she whispered to Adam. “But I chose to raise a family for your son instead. These half-wits understand nothing.” She got her folder from the book bag, extracted this week’s edition of The Woolly, and walked it over to Bonnie. The host smiled politely and gazed at Adam with a questioning look.
Maybe there’s some truth in the Carson curse after all, he thought. He’d had that idea before. And he’d wondered more than once, Have I made it better or worse?
Chapter Twenty-Two
Richard had more than his share of women, and this was no secret when I met him. Soon after, I found myself in the same condition that Kathleen would find herself in years later. But Richard wasn’t married when he made me pregnant. I lost the child later, but Richard had already committed to me — a late spring wedding here in Mammoth, then a long summer honeymoon in the Andes of Chile — and I wasn’t about to let him off the hook. He didn’t struggle much. We were happy. And hell-bent, as all good ski racers are. We had mountains to conquer and medals to win. Marriage? Oh, why not? We were young and talented. The Sarajevo games were coming.
So the idea of Richard straying from me was there from the start. I told him once, just once, that if he betrayed me, I would punish him. How, I didn’t say. But I was very clear as to degree — it would be serious. Extremely so. But the precise idea of doing what I did was never in my head until that night. And then it seemed like the only thing I could do. I didn’t agonize over the decision. I’ve taken longer deciding on a sweater. I just saw that I needed to do what I’d said I would. It was as if I had one line in a play and now it was time to step out and deliver it. Only then did I know what I was going to say.
Oh, and I was furious.
After Adam and I got Robert home from that difficult Adrenaline interview, we bathed Robbie and Adam left. He was very tired. I was buzzing with the energy I am known to have for long periods. Years ago, the meds were useful, but I’ve outlasted them. I really don’t like other people’s hands inside my head.