by Maya Brooks
“That’s what I thought.”
When they pulled out on the road, Laura stared.
The sky is so pale, and the snow so white…
“It’s more different than I imagined. Is snow really cold?”
Her innocent comment made him laugh again.
“Damn, I’m glad you’re here.”
Marc pulled up outside a grocery store.
“It’s cold outside but you have to come. I shouldn’t be trusted with shopping right now God knows what I would bring home.”
If you came home. You might wake up on Greenland…
Laura didn’t let the thought show, she just smiled, but when she opened the door and jumped down from the car, a wave of chilly air hit her. She could barely breathe.
“It’s like being in the freezer. I feel like I’m actually sitting in a freezer.”
“I think you arrived on the coldest day of the year. I’ll make you a fire when we get home, and we can go buy you some more clothes tomorrow. Come on, let’s get you inside.” He took a cart and frowned. “Assume we have nothing in the kitchen. Get everything we need to survive for a couple of days.”
“Do you have pots and pans?”
“I haven’t looked, but I wouldn’t put any money on it.”
They ended up with a brimming cart, and Marc balanced a coffee maker on top of it all.
“Better safe than sorry, right?”
“Didn’t she leave anything?”
“I don’t know.”
Chapter Eight
When Marc pulled up outside the house, Laura stared and blinked several times.
“That’s where you live.”
“Yeah, it’s not great, but it’s home.”
Not great? What is he talking about? This house could be amazing.
“I’m gonna get lost in there.”
He looked as if it was the funniest thing anyone said, ever.
“Maybe I should put a GPS tracker on you.”
“Or draw me a map.”
His eyes resting on her face made her want to blush.
“C’mon, let’s get the food in and I’ll take you on a tour. The inside is horrible. I wanted to clean it up before you came, but I didn’t have it in me.”
The hallway wasn’t too bad, and the kitchen seemed almost cozy.
He even has curtains, this isn’t as bad as I expected.
Marc put a couple of plastic bags on a counter.
“If you unpack, I’ll get the rest.”
“But… I don’t know where anything goes.”
Why is he looking at me like that?
Marc’s eyes said she was cute, but extremely silly. He opened a cupboard, and it was empty. Another contained three glasses and a couple of plates.
“You have more talent for this than I do. Put stuff wherever you want it to be. Buy whatever you like.”
His eyes added please help, and she nodded.
The rest of the house was worse.
The living room presented a smelly clutter of old glasses, bottles, cigarette butts, newspapers, and clothes.
She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to imagine it without the mess. The mental image became impersonal and modern, filled with chrome, glass, and black leather.
Most of the rooms were completely empty, or showed pathetic remains of a previous life. One room had an abandoned toy car lying on its side in a corner. Another held a lamp with hearts on the shade, and an old notebook.
It’s so sad and abandoned. If this was the shards of my life, I’d probably start drinking too. I wonder what the house was like filled with life. Was he happy here, at one time?
“And least but not last… Bedroom.”
A multitude of colors and patterns assaulted her eyes.
“Whoa. I didn’t think this would be your taste.”
“I was going to do something about it, but it didn’t turn out that way.”
Is it even possible to sleep in here? I bet I’d still see all this if I close my eyes.
Marc walked across the large room and peeked into a big, half-empty walk-in closet.
“There’s plenty of space for you to hang your clothes. I wish I could have done… I don’t know, something, so you don’t have to feel you’re just taking the place of another woman. I’m sorry.”
Am I just taking the place of another woman? I hope not.
“It’ll be okay.”
It was a little weird to put her things into someone else’s drawers. Her clothes and things looked misplaced, from another world, but she could live with it.
Marc wandered off while she unpacked, and returned with a glass filled with whiskey and ice cubes.
It’s gonna be hard for him. This place keeps too many memories and habits.
She wrapped her arms around his neck.
“I’m hungry. Is it too late to make lunch?”
He kissed her, much too briefly.
“If that’s what my sweetie wants, that’s what she’ll get.” Glancing around, he added, “I don’t know what to do with this bloody room. I hate it.”
I can see that.
“Maybe tomorrow we can go get some paint, and wallpaper, and stuff? Fix it up. You need new curtains.”
“Can we get rid of that chair?”
It’s your chair, but it’s cute you’re involving me in the decisions.
“We should do that right now. I’m afraid it’ll give me nightmares.”
It looked heavy, but Marc lifted it easily and carried it into the yard. “Much better.”
They spent the entire afternoon cleaning. The house was still cold and impersonal, but Marc looked content when he carried huge trash bags outside.
I hope you can put this part of your life behind you now.
When evening came, the house didn’t exactly shine, but it was clean enough. He muttered, “We need a new housekeeper.”
I like that you say we. Are we really ‘we’ now?
She sat on his lap in the large living room, which now smelled like scented candles and firewood. The TV was on, but neither paid attention to it.
“I should take you sightseeing tomorrow, but I don’t know if I’m up to it.”
“Don’t worry about it. I came here for you, not for the city.”
*****
The next morning, a scent of cinnamon and coffee pulled Laura towards the kitchen. Marc flipped pancakes.
“You looked so cute I didn’t want to wake you.”
She stole a kiss and went to peek through the window. Right outside, the pale winter sun shone on a hideous monster of a chair standing in the snow.
I already forgot how ugly that thing is. Good thing he took it out or it would have chased me in my dreams.
Taking a seat at the kitchen table, she leaned her chin in her hand and watched him. How could a man look so good in an apron with a break-dancing panda bear?
Seeing him cook always fascinated her. Was he playing a role? Did he decide to be a master-chef and just… did it?
He tossed a pancake in the air and caught it.
“Show-off.”
“Yup. Is it working?”
She didn’t have a chance to answer: someone knocked on the door.
“Would you get that sweetie? I don’t want to burn this.”
Answering his door seemed scary, but she couldn’t say no, so she shuffled through the hall.
This looks pretty good now. If we hang some pictures and get a better lamp it might be really nice.
Not until she actually opened, seeing three people outside stare with surprise, did she remember what she looked like.
Oh crap.
Barefoot, dressed in sweatpants and a hello kitty t-shirt, not wearing any make-up, and with her hair tucked up in a big messy pile under a hair-clip, she was clearly the last thing they expected to see.
When she said, “Hello” she also remembered she wasn’t wearing a bra and the years hadn’t exactly left her breasts unaffected by gravity.
Was it too late to
pull her tummy in?
Deeming from the look on their faces, they had already seen all they needed to see.
Too much.
One of the men was older with steely gray eyes. He frowned, and his stare reminded her of a hawk focusing on its pray. Next to him stood a man a couple of years younger than her, dressed in an impeccable overcoat and suit. He arranged his face into a polite smile.
“Hello yourself. My name is Lawrence, and this is Anne and Bill. We would very much like to…”
The third member of the group interrupted through pushing her way past them all. She breezed past Laura and glared.
“Wow, groupies have sure gotten old lately.”
What? How rude!
She wanted to give a witty response, but all words were gone and she closed her mouth so hard her teeth rattled.
The woman was too beautiful.
Her hair was shiny, her make-up perfect, the skinny jeans didn’t reveal a flaw on her body, and the short leather jacket seemed to be tailored for her.
That must be Marc’s wife. Not good.
She never imagined actually meeting the woman, even less having to defend herself to her.
Marc stepped into the hallway, waving a spatula.
“Anne, if you ever call my girlfriend a groupie again, I will hit you, so help me God.”
The beauty stared at him with gaping mouth.
“You’re cooking? You must be worse off than these goons said, how drunk are you? What did you take?”
He cooks for me all the time. He’s wonderful at doing stuff around the house.
Even if she dared open her mouth, no one would listen to her anyway. Marc waved to her to come back into the kitchen, and feeling his arm around her shoulders was a relief.
“I’m not drunk you simpleminded fools.”
He pushed her into the kitchen. “I’m sorry about this, I didn’t expect them to be back so soon. I’ll get rid of them in no time.”
Just please don’t ask me to make pancakes. I’m really bad at that. I buy them frozen…
Marc didn’t seem interested in playing according to the visitors’ rules. He stepped over to the table and topped up her coffee.
Anne came in through the door and fixed Laura with a stare that made her shrink in the seat, trying to become invisible.
I’m an intruder in this woman’s kitchen, in her life. I sleep with her husband.
Marc turned a pancake and leaned against the counter.
“Sweetheart, meet my wife, hopefully soon to be ex. She looks like a pretty gift, but the box is empty. Don’t mind the icy look, it just mirrors her insides.”
Anne’s eyes flashed.
“At least my box isn’t filled with overdoses and vomit, you ass. I pity this poor girl. She doesn’t know what she’s getting into.”
Bill looked at the wall and cleared his throat, Laura wanted to sink through the floor more than ever, and Lawrence ran a hand over his face.
Marc laughed.
“Laura is probably the only person in the world who knows who I am.”
Lawrence looked like a diplomatic person and she expected him to try to disarm the situation, but he went right to the point.
“Marc, we came over to talk to you about rehab. There’s this really nice clinic not far away, and when we were here the other day, you seemed to, uh, need it.”
Marc stared at him without moving a muscle in his face.
“That’s it. You’re not getting any pancakes.”
No one laughed. No one even smiled.
He probably needs it. He needs more than I could ever give.
Bill said in a cool voice, “No offense to the lady, but you know it’s just a matter of time before all this domesticity gets boring and you fall again.”
The silence was almost tangible, and Laura looked into her mug. The dark coffee held no answers.
Say something. Stand up for him.
Everything she could think of seemed so shallow. Then, her mouth opened all by itself, and she was surprised to hear actual, coherent words come out of it.
“Give him a break.”
Everyone stared and she lifted her eyes, but not to meet Marc’s. She looked at Anne.
“Have some faith in him, give him some time.”
The other woman sneered.
“Faith? Time? I know he turns girls out of their minds, but you must be stupid to think…”
Laura bit down a wave of anger and interrupted in an even voice.
“It wasn’t always bad, was it? You wouldn’t have married him if it was.”
Anne pressed her lips together to a thin line, and Lawrence opened his mouth and closed it again. Marc tilted his head to the side, as if interested in the answer, and Bill shook his head.
Laura didn’t say another word; she just kept the other woman fixed with her eyes and felt a sense of victory when Anne made an exasperated gesture.
“Fine. He needs to start working. No more whores and no more drugs. If he can show he’s clean we can talk about seeing the children, but that’s gonna be a while yet. They don’t need his shit. My lawyer will send the divorce papers to Lawrence.”
She spun around and left, and Laura exhaled softly. Not until now did she realize she’d been holding her breath.
Bill patted Marc on the shoulder.
“Think about it. I’ll call you.”
When he too was gone, Lawrence sank down on a chair and sighed.
“Well, that was fun. I’m sorry man, but when we were here last…”
Marc answered in a mild voice.
“You thought I’d be dead by now, didn’t you?”
He put down plates in front of both Laura and Lawrence, and the lawyer helped himself to a couple of pancakes. After taking a bite, he remembered his manners, and held his hand out to her.
“I wish the circumstances were better, but it is nice to finally meet you.”
She smiled when she shook his hand. This one, she could probably grow to like.
They kept the conversation neutral during breakfast, and Marc was the perfect host.
A little too perfect. Are you acting again?
Once the food was gone, Marc nodded to the lawyer.
“I need you to draw up some papers for me. Meet me in the study.”
Lawrence shrugged and headed off through the house, and Laura swallowed a sting of worry.
He seems like a decent guy. Nothing will happen.
Based on Marc’s calls the preceding week, it seemed prudent to worry anyway.
He pulled her to her feet and wrapped his arms around her, rocking her gently from side to side.
“Lawrence would never stand for such a thing. I promise.”
How did you know what I was thinking? Am I that easy to read?
She was ashamed for being so suspicious and stuttered, “I wasn’t… I didn’t…”
She felt him sigh more than heard it.
“Yes you were, and I don’t blame you.” He smoothed a lock of hair away from her face. “I need to talk to him about the divorce. You want me to get a divorce, right?”
“Yes.”
Way to go, sounding mousy.
The dishwasher seemed to belong on the bridge of an alien spaceship, so she did the dishes by hand and tiptoed through the large living room. She needed a shower and better clothes, but didn’t want to disturb them through clomping around. The men’s voices floated through the open door and she paused.
Don’t eavesdrop.
She was still far too curious to pretend she couldn’t hear them.
Lawrence said, “No, she asks for too much alimony, if she gets that, the other house, and the car…”
Marc interrupted him, “Well, can I pay it?”
“Yes of course, but that’s not the…”
Marc cut him short again, and his words made Laura’s heart ache for him.
“I’m pretty certain at least one of the kids is mine, just pay and get this over with.”
This was too priv
ate, and shame over listening in flooded her. She hurried forward, towards the bedroom.
Marc’s voice followed her and she paused again.
“See if you can find us a new housekeeper, will you. I don’t remember if I fired the old one or if she quit…”
Lawrence sounded sympathetic.
“She quit.”
“Thought so… If it’s a woman, make it someone old and ugly so Laura doesn’t have to worry. And come over for dinner.”
She got moving again, jogging for the bedroom and the relative safety of Marc’s oversized shower. Joyous laughter threatened to burst through, and that would give her away.
Chapter Nine
“We have to do something about the house.”
Marc sounded serious, and no one in their right mind could disagree with him.
“Sure.”
There has to be a Lowes or Home Depot or something. We’ll need paint, some brushes, maybe wallpaper…
“Do you have any idea what you want to do with it?”
Who? Me?
“Shouldn’t the question be what you want to do with it?”
The expression in his eyes broke her heart: he wasn’t just lost. Shipwrecked would be a better word.
“I want it to be a home. I have no idea how to go from this fucking mess to that.”
He scribbled down a number on a piece of paper and pushed into her hand.
“Here’s Lawrence’s number. He’ll know what to do.”
That’s good, ‘cause I sure don’t.
He ran his hands over her shoulders.
“You got this, right?”
“Sure.”
The thought of calling Lawrence stressed her out until she actually did it. He sounded delighted.
“Thank goodness, it’s about time someone does something about that mess. You’ll need some furniture too, curtains, the whole deal. I know just the person.”
It took less than an hour before someone knocked on the door. She opened and blinked with surprise as a handsome young man with bright white teeth and soft voice took both her hands in his.
“You must be Laura. It’s an absolute delight to meet you. I’m so happy to hear Marc has someone solid in his life. Oh, silly me, I’m Thomas. Come, let’s take a look at your problems.”
There was no stopping the flow of words, at least not until she showed the bedroom. Thomas looked about to faint.
