Desperate

by Daniel Palmer

  “It’s important to me to be home with the baby for that first year.”

  “But how are you going to build your business back up?”

  “I’ve got a great reputation with my clients. I’ll outsource some of the work and postpone some bigger projects. Also, I have a very big opportunity with Humboldt coming up. I’m traveling to Minneapolis in a couple of weeks for the final presentation. If I get this job it’ll be a game changer for me. It would allow me to take the year off, assuming you still have a job.”

  “I won’t get fired.”

  “I’m just saying, for your wife and your future child, please do everything you can to make it all right.”

  “Of course,” I said, getting up to come around the table and give Anna a tender kiss. “I’ll go see Patrice in the morning. I’ll find out what started the fire.”

  Anna looked up at me and I saw a twinkle in her eyes. “This active listening stuff works great, huh?” I said. “We fixed that problem without even a spit of anger.”

  “Oh, I’m still angry. Gage, you’re risking this amazing situation of ours.”

  “By this situation, you mean Lily?”

  “Yes, Lily.”

  Here I swallowed, resisting the urge to say more.

  “You don’t think it’s even a little bit weird?” I said. “Lily being the one to find the necklace?”

  “I think you’re being paranoid.”

  “Think about all the fights we’ve had lately,” I said. “They’ve all been because of Lily.”

  “Oh, you think Lily is trying to come between us?”

  That was as good a time as any to retake my seat. I could feel the rumblings of a major fight coming on. I needed to dig deep and show some restraint, because I had a plan. I wanted to say, “Yes, I think she’s trying to turn you against me.” But if I so much as hinted at what I was thinking, Anna would explode. I could see the anger smoldering. To go after Lily would be like using a backhoe to unearth a gas pipe. I’d be attacking Anna’s soul, her maternal desires, and the child Lily promised to us.

  Still, I couldn’t stop my thoughts. What could Lily be after? I tried to guess at her agenda, come up with some logical explanation for these strange series of events, but nothing held together. The model rocket gift and the missing necklace pitted me against Lily while leaving Anna stuck in the middle. Was that Lily’s intention, and if so, to what purpose? Were those the reasons for Brad’s warning about some dark energy? And what about the strange encounter with Anna’s mother?

  Soon enough, I’d get some answers. Soon enough.

  “A lot of strange things have been happening lately,” I said. “Maybe the strain is getting to me.”

  “Adoption is no easier than pregnancy. In fact, in a lot of ways, it’s harder. So I have a lot of strain, too, you know.”

  “I do. I’m sorry. I know I haven’t been easy.”

  “What is it that you need, Gage? I just have this feeling you’re looking for excuses to keep this from happening.”

  I need to know if I can trust Lily.

  I need some kind of a sign.

  Instead of voicing my concerns, I said, “I’ll try to be better. Look, I’m sorry if my behavior has upset or worried you. I’ll do everything I can to make sure my job is secure and I’ll back off on questioning Lily.”

  For now.

  “I could use a little more support from you.”

  “I promise.”

  “You know we have the home study orientation coming up? It’s the night before my trip to Humboldt. You haven’t forgotten, have you?”

  “Yes, I remember.”

  It was then I caught a flash of something bright yellow inside the built-in china cabinet directly behind Anna. Looking closer, I could see it was a mug shaped like Pac-Man, painted the same banana-yellow color as the arcade game character. A vase stood next to the mug. Its blue and purple hues were a lot more fitting with Anna’s tastes than the Pac-Man mug.

  “What’s up with Pac-Man?” I asked.

  Anna glanced over her shoulder to where I pointed.

  “Oh,” she said. “Lily and I painted pottery today. She painted it for a friend who likes the game.”

  I said nothing as a sick feeling swept through me.

  “I’m guessing you forgot today is Kevin’s birthday,” Anna said.

  I lowered my gaze. Every year on her son’s birthday, Anna painted a single piece of pottery as a way of honoring his memory. It was the only painting she did these days, because painting pottery was one of his favorite things to do, she had told me.

  “You’re so focused on Lily,” Anna said, standing, turning her back to me, “that you’re forgetting your wife.”

  “Anna, please . . . I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because I thought you would remember.”

  No time of the year was lonelier or sadder for me than Max’s birthday. A parent doesn’t forget it. Some years I wanted to crawl into a hole and hide, wait for it to pass, but I always celebrated Max’s life by doing things on that day that remind me of him. Even though it was hard and I was left gutted, I worked on model rockets, drank extra-chocolaty chocolate milk, took a drive to the beach and gazed out at the sea. Some day, when I felt ready, when the time was right, I would finish the model rocket we were building together. I’d tuck a message inside the rocket’s tubular body just for Max to read and send it off to the heavens with a big blast from its E engine.

  But today, I was just the husband who forgot that my wife’s pain equaled my own; she had spent her day with Lily and not me, honoring Kevin’s memory.

  You’re so focused on Lily . . .

  I got up from the table, crossed the room, and hugged Anna, who broke from my embrace quicker than usual.

  “I’m so sorry, sweetie,” I said, feeling like a giant jerk. “What can I do to make it up to you?”

  “Just remember next year, I guess,” Anna said, but her smile was forced and strained.

  I could see she was bitterly disappointed in me, as I was in myself. Opening the china cabinet, Anna moved other pieces of PYOP made on other birthdays aside. She retrieved the new vase, along with a mug painted blue and decorated with green circles. She set both pieces on the table in front of me.

  “I was debating about painting a mug for you or a vase for me, and Sally, the girl who owns the place, convinced me I should go for the vase. She’s thinking about opening another studio in Southborough or Shrewsbury—she’s not sure which one yet—and I told her I’d be happy to consult with her on the business plan if she’d like. She was so excited, she gave me a free mug to paint and a promise to call—so I might get a new client, and you get a mug.”

  I admired both the mug and the vase, not at all surprised by the craftsmanship.

  “These are fantastic,” I said, and I meant it. “Thanks for my mug.”

  “Thanks for the compliment,” Anna said, not sounding at all appeased. “I used acrylic paints on clay that’s been fired to bisque. Sprayed them with a matte finish after I was done. Never tried the technique before, but I didn’t feel like waiting to get the kiln-fired pieces back and now I think I’m hooked. I really like how they came out.”

  “Lily did the same?”

  “No, she’s going back to get her mug next week. Sally gave Lily the store display Pac-Man because she liked it so much. I’m keeping it here so it’ll be a surprise when she gives it to her friend.”

  I wondered who this friend was and when he or she traipsed around Lily’s apartment, but I asked a different question instead.

  “So how’d you end up going with Lily?”

  “She called to talk about last night’s events,” Anna said, her eyes turning cold. “I told her I was on my way out the door, and she asked where I was going. I told her and she wanted to come along.”

  “That’s great.”

  “Honestly, it was great,” Anna said. “I’ve never shared that moment before with anybody, and it was inc
redible to have Lily there. She represents so much positive change in our lives. I came home and probably cried a good hour, but it was worth every second.”

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.” I gave Anna a big hug, this time holding. “What did you girls talk about?”

  Part of me was uncomfortable with the idea of Anna and Lily having a life separate from me. If I trusted Lily, I’d certainly feel different.

  Tread carefully, Gage . . .

  “We talked about last night, for sure, and some other things I’d rather keep private.”

  Or Lily asked you to keep private, I thought.

  Anna broke from my embrace to give a sad little smile—as if to say, thanks for trying to comfort me, close but not quite close enough. But I could tell she was glad Lily had been there for her, to share in Anna’s painful past, to celebrate her future joy, and to reveal secrets I couldn’t know.

  Anna pulled away and vanished into the dark hallway of our home. I heard our bedroom door close shut.

  I knocked softly on the door.

  “Anna, please. Are you all right?”

  “Gage, I just need to be alone for a while,” came her muffled reply. I retreated to the dining room table, where I sat alone with my thoughts, pushing the food around my plate.

  Some time had passed, fifteen minutes, maybe as much as a half an hour. I hadn’t moved from the table when the phone rang. Anna answered it on the third ring. A few moments later, she emerged from the bedroom. Her eyes looked red, but otherwise Anna seemed perfectly composed.

  “That was Lily,” Anna said. “She said she doesn’t have any running water.”

  I looked up at Anna. The sliver of a smile creased my lips and squinted my eyes. I hoped it wasn’t a “tell,” a clue to Anna that the water loss was no accident.

  “Okay,” I said, rising from the table, and headed for where I stored my toolbox. “If it’s not something I can fix myself, I might have to call Brad.”

  CHAPTER 20

  An hour and a half later the doorbell rang. There was Brad, standing on our front porch in a work shirt, work boots, and faded dungarees. I invited him inside as Anna emerged from the bedroom to join us in the hall. Whatever anger she’d carried seemed to be gone. Her face was cheery, eyes sparkling. Brad brought along his hefty toolbox, though all he would need to fix this little problem was his hand, to twist a knob clockwise.

  “Heard you might be needing some water,” Brad said. His voice held a lilt, as if nothing fazed him. We could have roused him from a sound slumber on a frigid cold morning, begged him to fix a problem he wouldn’t make much money fixing, and that lilt would still be there. When you had a glimpse into the beyond, and saw something there, everyday problems lost their power to annoy.

  “It’s in the upstairs unit where Lily, our . . . our tenant lives,” Anna said.

  Anna and I exchanged looks. Brad and I did the same. Lily, our tenant. Lily, our birth mother. Lily, the source of the growing animosity between Anna and me. Lily, the woman whose aura I suspected would be black, like the strange force following me.

  If Lily were headed out for work, she’d have left by now. I knew a little bit about her schedule. After Anna had vanished into the bedroom, I’d waited a while, listening for footfalls, making sure Lily was sticking around the apartment before texting Brad to come over.

  “Well, let me go downstairs and have a look,” Brad said.

  The door to the basement was in the kitchen. I escorted Brad through the apartment and soon we were headed downstairs. We did the perfunctory, “How is everything?” chat, covering Brad’s girls, wife, flower garden, and latest cooking experiment all in a two-minute span. Our voices downstairs might carry upstairs so Brad’s visit needed to maintain the authenticity of being a real house call.

  “Looks like I got the problem fixed,” Brad said as he turned the knob controlling water flow to the upstairs unit, which I had earlier turned counterclockwise. Righty tighty, lefty loosey. “Let’s go upstairs and see if that fixed the problem,” Brad said.

  I was half expecting Brad to break character, whisper something about our plan. Is Lily home? Do you think Anna suspects? He surprised me with his commitment to the role of jovial and capable plumber.

  Soon we were headed to Lily’s apartment, traveling up a narrow, twisting stairwell to the second floor. We made a brief pit stop at my place to ask Anna to call Lily so she could open the door for us. We came out into Lily’s kitchen.

  Lily was dressed all in black. I wondered if her color choice in clothing would match her aura. Brad smiled at Lily and she smiled back, showing respectful appreciation for her knight in grungy dungarees.

  I couldn’t help but take a look around the kitchen—looking for what, I couldn’t really say. Maybe I thought she’d have accidentally left her plans for me tacked up on the refrigerator with fruit-shaped magnets. Week 1: give him the present. Week 2: recover from crazy mama making crazy accusations about me. Week 3: take his necklace. Week 4: who knew what?

  What I saw instead was a very clean kitchen, some containers from Whole Foods set about the counter in an orderly fashion, and Lily looking a little bit bigger in the belly than she had the day before. Maybe she was wearing looser clothing the night she dropped the medicine cabinet. I couldn’t remember.

  “Thanks for coming out so quickly,” Lily said, bending at the hip in an oddly flirtatious manner as she tucked her hair behind her ears, giving us a first peek at the jangly earrings set on delicate lobes. Her unblemished skin looked white as fresh snow—a by-product, I was sure she’d say, of working nights and sleeping days.

  She reached out and touched Brad’s arm, smiling at him as though the presence of a male was enough motivation to turn on the charm. Maybe it was the instinct of working for tips, or maybe she was just a touchy-feely person. She’d never been that way with me. Brad didn’t seem to mind, which made me wonder if he was still in character or pleased that an attractive and much younger woman was touchy-feely with him. Not that Janice had anything to be worried about. When it came to marriage and fidelity, Brad had the loyalty of a swan.

  “I just want to take a look around, make sure the water is running all the places the water should run and none of the places it shouldn’t,” Brad said.

  With toolbox in hand, Brad let Lily lead him on a quick tour of the apartment on her way to the bathroom—the only other place aside from the kitchen with running water.

  For some reason, I expected the place to be in some disarray, a bit like Lily herself. I was looking for piles of clothes, food left out, anything messy (except, of course, for bottles of booze and cigarette butts, since that would be bad for baby). What I saw instead was a home. Lily had hung three framed posters up (one of Cirque du Soleil, an Ansel Adams print, and a framed movie poster for the film The African Queen). Who knew she liked The African Queen?

  “That’s one of my favorite movies,” Brad said, stopping to admire the colorful representation of scenes from the film along with Bogart and Hepburn’s likenesses.

  “Mine too,” Lily said, her voice rising excitedly, again touching his arm. “I got it at the COOP in Harvard Square. I’m a total old movie fanatic. I know, it’s so weird, but that’s me.” Lily smiled and shrugged. Once again she was the innocent and shy tree nymph from Greek mythology, unsure of each step, a sweet little fawn of a thing, too innocent to do me any harm. Brad gave me an over-the-shoulder glance, but his eyes cast no meaning.

  “What other old films do you like?” I asked.

  Our eyes met and Lily held my gaze, but not my elbow as she’d done with Brad. No, ours was apparently a deeper bond that required no physical contact to make a profound and very clear statement. She knew, from the moment we locked eyes, this was a test. What might have been the hint of a smile, a crease of sorts, just barely teased the edges of her mouth without ever fully materializing.

  “Why, that’s a great question,” she said. “I guess when push comes to shove I’m Gone with the Wind all the w
ay. But then there’s Brando—On the Waterfront, of course—and Casablanca, or Grand Hotel. How about Greta Garbo and Joan Crawford? My goodness, now they are movie stars! Oh, and can’t forget John Barrymore. Do you know him? I have a little crush on him. Believe me when I tell you there are no men like Barrymore shooting pool at Jillian’s, that’s for sure. You know something? You and Anna should come up and we’ll have a classic film marathon. I watch them all the time.” Here Lily set her hands upon her belly. “I wonder”—her voice trailing off—“if it’ll be good for the baby because of all the music in the soundtrack.”

  She was good, but I didn’t believe her for a moment, and she knew it. Had she and Anna talked about old movies while they painted pottery, I wondered. I remembered her suitcase, the antique-looking green luggage carrier; it was sort of fitting with this old movie fanatic person. But there were incongruities as well: how she dressed, where she worked, those were truly modern designs. The mystery of Lily only deepened, and, as if she possessed hypnotic powers, Brad, it seemed, had fallen completely under her spell. Not one iota of concern registered in his eyes.

  We finished checking the apartment and found the water was running just fine (surprise, surprise). Lily thanked Brad. She shook his hand and of course touched his arm again. When did she become so touchy?

  I walked Brad downstairs. He stopped to say good-bye to Anna. I had told him in the basement that today was Kevin’s birthday. On his way out, he gave Anna a hug, a quick kiss on the cheek, and a standing invitation to come over to his house for dinner.

  “I wish I could connect you to him,” Brad said, pausing at the door. “Just so you knew he was in a good place.”

  Anna put her hand to her heart.

  “I know he is,” she said.

  The night was pleasantly cool. I walked Brad over to his van, eager to hear his assessment. My Vegas line favored Lily’s aura being some shade of gray—something lurking below the surface.

  “Well?” I asked. “What do you think?”

  “Gage, I got nothing.”