Page 74 of Private Pleasures

“I’m calling the police,” she shouted at the media.

“First-amendment rights, lady,” one of the young reporters shouted at her.

“Fuck you!” Tiff yelled back as she hustled her kids safely inside.

Shortly afterwards the police arrived and set up barricades, behind which they moved the reporters and their trucks. The trucks were still there in the morning. One of the uniformed cops came to the Johnsons’ kitchen door. He suggested that using the backyard might be a good way for Nora to get into her house without being annoyed. The barricades were removed to allow the residents out to go to their jobs, then put back. The police van departed shortly after eleven a.m. One cop remained on guard.

Carla was watching. “They’re eating sandwiches and talking,” she said. “I think we can get you home if you want to go.”

“I want to go,” Nora told her.

“I’ll have to shop for you,” Carla said. “I doubt there’s anything in the house you can eat. Heidi didn’t cook. They always had takeout.”

“Jeff never wanted takeout,” Nora noted.

“Heidi told me she didn’t cook,” Carla answered. “I guess she had other talents.”

“She must have liked working alone,” Nora remarked cattily, and Carla laughed.

Carla’s cell rang. “It’s Dr. Sam,” she said. “Hi, Doc! What? Okay. Nora’s going home now. We’re sneaking through the backyard. I’ll tell her. Bye.” She turned to Nora. “Dr. Sam says the newspeople have Shorecrest staked out. They don’t know you were released yesterday, and of course Shorecrest isn’t going to give them any information. They’re outside our street because they’re waiting for you to come home.”

“Let’s sneak through the backyard, then,” Nora said.

Getting their coats, the two women exited the back door of the Johnson house and ran quickly across the lawn. There was a large privet hedge between their homes. Their kids had worn a passage through the hedge over the years. They slipped through it, and removing her key from her pocket, Carla opened the kitchen door to the Buckley house. Entering quickly, they closed and locked the door behind them.

Nora looked about her, and smiled with pleasure. She was home. Removing her coat, she laid it aside and went to the fridge, opening it and looking in. There was a container of plain, fat-free yogurt, an open quart container of milk, and everything that had been in the fridge eight weeks ago. She laughed. “She was no housekeeper, poor Heidi,” Nora remarked. “I’ll spend all afternoon cleaning up this mess. If only J. J. needed a science fair project, we could do the wonderful world of mold. I’m just going to toss everything. The plastic containers will have absorbed the smell after this long. Who doesn’t empty out a fridge of ancient food?”

“Will you be alright?” Carla asked.

“I’m fine,” Nora assured her.

“Then I’ll go do the shopping. Anything other than the basic supplies to get you through until the reporters go away?” Carla inquired.

“Get me one of those rotisserie chickens the market does. And a box of Mallomars,” Nora told her with a grin. “I can survive on chicken and cookies.”

“I’m glad you haven’t changed entirely,” Carla replied.

“Have I changed? Really?” Nora was surprised.

“Oh, yes. You’re more assured, stronger now. I guess what I’m saying is that you’re no longer a victim, Nora. You fought Jeff, and you’ve won.” Carla buttoned her jacket as she spoke.

“I never meant for Heidi to be hurt,” Nora said quickly.

“I know you didn’t,” Carla answered her, and then blowing a kiss to her friend, she went out the kitchen door.

Nora picked up her own coat and went to the hall closet to hang it up. Returning to the kitchen, she got out a large black lawn-leaf bag, and dumped the contents of the fridge into it, pouring the milk down the sink, washing the yogurt away. There was only one glass casserole in the fridge. She scraped the contents of it into the black bag and washed the dish by hand, noting that the dishwasher was full of clean dishes. She put everything away and cleaned the sink. She wiped down the walls and glass shelves of the empty fridge. Then she went upstairs.

The unmade bed showed signs of one occupant. They were the same sheets she had put on the bed clean on New Year’s Day. Jeff’s pajamas were on the floor. She picked them up and, going into the hall, threw them down the stairs. They would go in the black bag with the rest of the garbage. She opened her walk-in closet. Her clothing was gone, and in its place hung two pairs of trendy jeans, a pair of flannel slacks, two wool sweaters, and a silk shirt. Pulling the clothes from their hangers, Nora threw them down the stairs as well.

She pulled the sheets from the bed. She was going to get a new bed. In fact she was going to redo the whole bedroom. She had always hated the decor in this room, but Jeff had liked it. The headboard was even similar to the one his parents had. She considered what she would change it to, but she was too distracted right now by the fact her husband had been screwing another woman in the bed in which he had conceived children with his wife. “Bastard!” She wasn’t going to sleep in this room until it was redone. She’d use the guest room.

“Where are you?” Carla’s voice called.

“Upstairs,” Nora said.

Carla’s footsteps sounded, and then she came into the bedroom. “What are you doing, and what’s all that stuff at the bottom of the stairs?”

“Garbage,” Nora replied. “I’m moving into the guest room until I can redo this room. Where are my clothes?”