The Woman Next Door (15 page)

Exhausted, she ate a bowl of cereal for dinner, then went to the den, stretched out on the sofa, pulled up the afghan, and turned on the television. She spent most of the next two hours channel surfing, finally staying put on a program about wolves and their young. By the time it was done, the room was dark. Turning the set off, she lay quietly, waiting for Graham to come home.

It was nearly ten when the truck came down the street and
turned into the driveway. She lay in the dark with her eyes open, listening, waiting, following his movements in the kitchen, then the hall. He would be going through the mail on the credenza there. He didn’t call out a hello.

In time, he climbed the stairs. She held her breath when he came down the hall, and looked straight at him when he appeared at the den door. She was in darkness, and he was backlit. She couldn’t see his face.

Either he couldn’t see hers, or he didn’t want to talk.

Not ten seconds later, he went on to their bedroom. She heard him in the bathroom. She heard him in the closet. She heard him climb into bed and click off the light.

And still she didn’t move.

***

“Allie?” Georgia said from the door to her daughter’s room. “You’ve been on the phone all night.”

Allie held up a hand and said something into the phone that Georgia couldn’t make out. Then she hung up. “It was Alyssa.”

“Is this about Quinn?”

“Nuh-uh,” the girl said, scooping her hair back with the thumb-and-forefinger gesture that all the girls used. “The prom. Mom, there’s going to be an all-night party. Can I go?”

“All-night party? This is the first I’ve heard about a
prom.
What prom?”

“The freshman-sophomore one. You knew there was one.”

“Yes, but last I heard, you refused to go.”

“I changed my mind. A bunch of us are going.”

“With whom? I mean, with dates?”

“Kind of, but not really, if you know what I mean.”

Georgia didn’t, but she could guess. “A group of you—mixed group—not paired up.”

Allison lit up. “Yeah. But we want to spend the night at Melissa’s.”

“Just girls?”

“No. All of us.”

“I thought Melissa and Quinn were a number.”

“They are. The rest of us aren’t.”

“And Quinn’s parents are letting him go to an all-night party after what happened yesterday?”

“What happened yesterday doesn’t have anything to do with anything. It was the coach getting hot under the collar.”

“Because Quinn showed up drunk.”

“He wasn’t drunk. He’d had one drink.”

“Sloshed. That was the word you used last night.”

“I was wrong. Can I go, Mom?”

“No.”

Allison’s face fell. “Why
not?
Everyone else is going. Do you know how humiliating it’ll be if I can’t?”

“You mean to say that Alyssa’s mom okayed this?”

“Well, not yet. But she will.”

“Uh-huh. She will if you say I okayed it. But I can’t, Allie. You’re fourteen. That’s a little young for an all-night prom party, especially with what happened yesterday.”

“There won’t be any drinking.”

“Why do you need to spend the night? What’s wrong with coming home at midnight? I’d even give you until one. Dad or I could pick you up then.”

Allison looked horrified. “We’re taking a
limo,
Mom. We’re not having
parents
drive us.”

“Who’s paying for a limo?”

“We’re splitting it. There are ten of us. It won’t come to much.” The phone rang. She snatched it up. “Hello?” She listened, then covered the receiver and said to Georgia, “I have to take this call.”

“Is your homework done?”

“Almost. I’ll finish right after this.” Her eyes grew wide, her voice urgent. “Please, Mom.”

Feeling that she’d been dismissed by a child too young to be dismissing anyone, but trying to respect her daughter’s right to privacy, she said, “Okay. But no all-night party. I may give on the limo. I’ll have to talk with your dad. But no all-night party.”

She left the room and looked in on Tommy. He was sprawled on his bed sound asleep. She used to be able to rearrange him, but he was too big now. So she settled for turning off the light, and went off in search of Russ.

He was in his office, typing the last of his column. Resting her chin on his shoulder, she read from the computer screen:
“The trick is knowing when you’re beat. Sometimes all the lint-picking in the world can’t right the wrong you did, so you go back to square one. Start over again, even when it galls you, even when you don’t have the time or the hot water, even when you’re low on soap.”
She eyed him sideways. “What’s the problem?”

“A tissue goes through the wash cycle and shreds all over the clothes,” he murmured as he continued to type.

“No problem there,” she said. “You just run the wash through again.”

“... wash through again,”
he finished with a flourish and grinned at her. “I did learn that this week. Knowing when to cut your losses is Life Lesson Four-twenty-two. Goin’ to bed?”

“I thought I would.”

“I just have to proof this and fax it in. Go ahead. I’ll be quick.”

She took a bath, powdered herself, brushed her teeth and hair, lightly moisturized her face. Dimming the bedroom lights, she stood at the window and looked out just as Graham’s truck came down the street.

“Hi ya, cutie,” Russ called from the door. Closing it carefully, he crossed the carpet, slipped his arms around her from behind, and nuzzled her neck.

“Did Allie mention a prom to you?” Georgia asked.

“No,” he murmured against her nape. “Mmm, yes. I think.”

“She wants to go to an all-night party.”

Russ turned her around. “Shh,” he whispered and took her mouth. “Not now. I want you now.”

She could feel that, and she wasn’t immune. Slipping her arms around his neck, she gave him her mouth, then, in bits and snatches, the rest of her until they were naked in bed with their limbs entwined. He had always been an avid lover. Sixteen years of marriage hadn’t diminished his need. Her own had become refined. She liked the emotions involved in making love with Russ, just as much as the physical act. She liked knowing that this was her husband, her anchor, her home. She liked restaking this intimate claim.

As “welcome homes” went, it was a good one. He was hungry and easily satisfied, and if she failed to climax, that was fine. He was asleep within minutes. She took pleasure in that. Watching Russ sleep, seeing the small smile on his face, the looseness of his features, the utter limpness of long arms and legs, was as satisfying to her as an orgasm.

Russ was even-tempered. He was calm and serene. Looking at him now, she could see all of those things. He was content with his life—so much so that there were times when she wondered
whether he missed her when she was gone. He said he did, but only at her urging.

“Did you miss me?” she’d ask.

“You bet.”

“I have to leave again Monday.” She always half hoped that he would tell her he was tired of that routine.

But he hadn’t yet. Instead, he smiled. “I’ll keep the home fires burning.”

“I don’t like being gone so much.”

“But you love what you do.”

She did love what she did, but it struck her now that Russ loved what she did, too. He might miss her, but he managed quite well while she was gone. He had adapted quite nicely to running the house, making daily decisions, reading the newspaper at the kitchen table in the middle of the morning or lying out in the yard with a paper and pen, doing his work that way. With the kids in school all day, he had freedom and flexibility. Take this day. He had gone to lunch with his editor and returned late, though Georgia would never have known that if she hadn’t come home when she had.

So how many other things didn’t she know? How many other times was he gone from the house with no one to answer to? Was he fooling around with Gretchen? Was he spending his afternoons in the comfort of her house? Worse, was she spending her afternoons
here?

Georgia didn’t think so. There would be signs. Besides, Russ was too hungry for her when she returned from a trip to suggest he was getting that elsewhere.

He was her husband. He didn’t cheat.

Not now, at least. But if she stayed on the road, what would be in
five years? Allison would be away at college. Tommy would be driving himself around. And Russ? When the custodial demands of parenthood eased, and he didn’t have things like tissue shreds in the wash to fill his time, would he be lonely and bored? She wasn’t quite sure.

***

Karen always let out a sigh of relief when the house settled down for the night. Julie had been asleep for an hour, but the twins, who were far worse in the noise department, had finally dropped off. Jordie was still awake, but it was only ten. He wouldn’t think of going to sleep at ten. His door was closed, but she could see the light underneath.

She knocked quietly, then opened the door and looked in. Jordie sat on the floor with his back to the wall, his knees bent, and his headphones on. He didn’t look up, obviously hadn’t heard her.

Grateful for the moment, she studied him. Looks wise, he had taken after Lee from the start. Now adolescence was giving him length before breadth, which meant that he was ropy and lean. But he had the same chiseled features as his father—the same square jaw, straight nose, blue eyes. He also had the same thick hair. Jordie’s was sandy and long; Lee’s was blond and spiked. Karen didn’t care for either style, but hair was the least of her worries. Jordie frowned too much. Here he was, doing it again now.

He looked up, stared at her for a minute, then freed up an ear. “What?”

She smiled. “I was just looking in. It’s getting late.”

“Is Dad home?”

“Not yet.”

“Where is he?”

“At the office. They’re moving files and machines into the space they just took over. He had to supervise. I thought I explained that at dinner.”

“But what’s taking so long?”

“I don’t know. I guess there’s lots to move and set up.”

Jordie looked like he didn’t buy that—and Karen didn’t either, but what could she do? As alibis went, it was a plausible one. She knew that Lee had taken new space, expanding into the offices that a small law firm had recently vacated. He had been complaining about the noise and dust for weeks.

“Have you called him?” Jordie asked.

“No. I figure the less I disturb him, the sooner he’ll be home. Did you want him for something special?”

“Me? No.” He returned the headphone to his ear.

She raised her voice. “Jordie?”

Scowling, he moved the headphone away again.

“Is everything okay with Quinn?”

“What’s okay? He’s off the team for the year.”

“How’s he handlng it?”

“Fine. He always handles things fine.”

“Are you angry at me?”

“No.”

She waited for him to say more. Something was definitely eating at him. But she couldn’t get him to talk if he didn’t want to. So she said, “Okay. I’ll let you get back to your music. Is your homework done?”

“Yes.”

“Good night.”

He returned the piece to his ear.

Feeling useless, she backed out and closed the door. Lee should have been the one to talk to him. Boys that age needed their fathers. But Lee wasn’t good at talking. Lee was only good at playing.

Back in her own bedroom, she got ready for bed, turned out the lights, and opened the front windows wide. Then she climbed into bed and lay in the dark wondering where Lee was, listening for his car. She heard Graham’s truck as he drove in. It had a distinctive sound. She heard the chirp of a cricket and the snapping of underbrush in the woods behind the houses. Night creatures were at play, though whether human or animal, she didn’t know.

Then Lee’s Miata came purring down the street, and in a split second, she imagined his having parked on the far side of the woods, hiked through to Gretchen’s, then hiked back and driven around. Granted, the woods were deep, and the timing of the sounds she’d heard was wrong. Still, given the growing list of questionable calls made from his cell phone, she figured he could be devious.

Turning over, she pulled up the sheet and closed her eyes.

Lee stayed downstairs for a while. When he came up, he got ready for bed and climbed in. “Karen?” he whispered as he always did, testing to see if she was awake and aware of when he’d come home.

As she always did these days, she remained silent.

Graham was gone from the bathroom when Amanda went in the next morning. The shower door was wet, the towels askew. She opened his closet with her heart in her throat, fearful that he might have packed up and taken his things, infinitely relieved when she found everything there.

She showered, dressed, and did her makeup and hair, all the while assuming he would be gone from the house by the time she was done, and wondering how she felt about that. When she went downstairs, though, he was in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with his ankles crossed. Despite the pose, there was nothing relaxed about him. His knuckles were white around a mug of coffee. His hair was damp, his eyes dark.

“Hi,” she said with a cautious smile.

“You didn’t come to bed last night. That’s the second night in a row.”

The gauntlet thrown, she said, “I fell asleep. You didn’t wake me.” She had woken several times on her own, wondering, waiting, fearing. She needed a sign from him that he didn’t blame her for their not having kids. She needed a sign that he loved her and wouldn’t
dream
of going to another woman.

At this moment, though, all she wanted was peace between them. The tension was starting to fester. It was so like the charged atmosphere she had grown up with—and so unlike what she thought she had with Graham—that she couldn’t deal with it.

So she asked, “How did your meeting go?”

“It went fine. Did you talk with Emily?” His voice was tight. Apparently he wasn’t going for peace.

“Yes. I told her I’d call her in a month.”

“What did she say?”

“She said that was fine.”

“Did she agree with you about taking a month off?”