One of Jackie’s hands curls around the back of Claire’s neck in a hold that makes Claire want to melt and become one with the chest-deep water. Her heart is thrumming like the engine of the Mustang; she can feel warm breath on her lips. They tingle with restless anticipation.
Claire’s eyes drift closed. She tilts her head up, letting herself slide into whatever is about to happen, as she feels the slightest brush of warm breath against her lips.
She wonders, suddenly, how her dreams would have continued if she had kissed Jackie in them.
As if she can hear Claire’s shameful thoughts, Jackie stiffens against her. She leans away, her legs releasing their hold, and she uses them to launch herself off of Claire’s body so hard that Claire is propelled backward a foot or so into the deeper end of the pool.
When Claire opens her eyes, Jackie is standing in the shallow end. She’s breathing in quick, frantic little gasps. She’s flushed, now, all the way down to her chest.
“I forgot, I—I have a gig in the city,” Jackie says. Her voice is unnaturally high and seems to quiver. She’s already climbing out of the pool, stumbling up the stairs and wrapping Claire’s abandoned towel around herself. “A paying one. Soon. Now, actually. I have to go.”
“Didn’t you just get back?” Claire says. Her very bones are vibrating. She takes a step forward, still struggling to keep up with the rapid-fire nature of the last few minutes. The water ripples out around her wobbly legs.
Jackie doesn’t acknowledge that Claire has said anything. She’s fumbling with the sliding door. Her voice sounds choked. “Keep the suit.” Finally, Jackie manages to rip the door open, and she disappears inside. “I’ll see you later.”
She’s gone before Claire can respond.
After a minute or two, Claire drags herself out of the water. She drip-dries awkwardly at the threshold of the sliding door, before scurrying to the bathroom to get her own clothes and throw them on haphazardly. Jackie’s bedroom door is closed when she passes. The Mustang screeches out of the driveway a few hours later.
Chapter 18
Claire wakes the morning after Jackie’s rapid departure to an empty driveway next door, and it stays empty for a stretch of days that start to feel endless.
Claire tries calling, though she knows the house is vacant. She peers over the fence—Jackie’s soda bottle is still on the patio table, next to the sunblock. She even goes so far as to peep through Jackie’s living room window.
Jackie is nowhere to be seen.
The car is still gone, and the house is dark. Claire starts to worry after the first morning, and she keeps worrying as the days stretch into a week.
Jackie could be anywhere. She didn’t so much as leave a note. What if she got in some sort of car accident? What if she waskidnapped? Claire’s fevered brain invents all sorts of horrific scenarios, each worse than the last, with no way to confirm one way or the other.
Claire can’t shake the feeling that Jackie’s absence is her fault. She did something that day in the pool, showed a hint of what her mind has been circling around. She’d almostkissedJackie. On the lips. And clearly Jackie was disgusted by it. There’s no other explanation for her sudden mood change, and her rapid departure.
The only thing to do is put her mind to other things. Claire throws herself into housework. She puts extra effort into meals, so much so that Pete actually makes note when she serves him a perfect lamb crown roast.
“Is it our anniversary?” Pete says, diving into the meal enthusiastically.
“Our anniversary was in March, dear,” Claire says.
Pete chortles. “Well, it’s nice to see some initiative in this house. Walt says that even Martha is falling behind lately.”
Claire frowns. “Falling behind?”
“Not keeping up with things. Walt says the house is going to hell,” Pete says with his mouth full of mashed potatoes. “He had to fix his own dinner the other night. Can you believe that?”
“She has a baby to take care of now,” Claire reasons. “Newborns are a lot of work.”
Pete scoffs, sawing his lamb off the bone. “Doesn’t mean she should stop taking care of her husband. She should be able to manage her time. I really thought Martha would do better.”
Claire pushes her potatoes around on her plate.
She would never have imagined that Martha might be struggling. She’s been so excited to be a mother, so perfectly put-together all throughout her pregnancy, and now that the baby is here Claire assumed that she would be thriving.
They might have fought the last time they talked, but the idea that Martha has been suffering alone makes Claire uneasy.
~ ~ ~
The following morning, Claire knocks on Martha’s door with a Tupperware full of baked goods.
