Page 59 of Dark Ugly Places

Nubia crosses herself again. “Don’t say Christ.”

“This is ridiculous. I wasn’t feeling well, so I took some extra meds. They made me a little loopy. Okay? Now, can we end this?”

That’s the best lying I’ve heard you do. You’re even starting to sound like me, Nicola.

I feel the itch at the back of my neck. If they weren’t watching me so intently, I’d scratch Martha. I’d scratch her hard to make her shut up and keep quiet. She can be a real bitch.

Nubia takes another bite. “Fine, if you say so. But I’m coming back in a few days to check on you. I have to get to work. I got promoted. Guess who replaced Esther?!”

“Congratulations!” Emmy and I say in unison.

“Thanks,” Nubia says and gulps down her coffee. The mug she borrowed says Mother knows best! on it and has a picture of me with a wooden spoon from a Christmas long ago, when Emmy was in diapers. It used to be my favorite. Now it just creeps me out.

Nubia eyes me. Then Emmy. “If this Martha shit happens again, you call me, you understand? Don’t hesitate.” She hugs me, then Emmy. “You’ve been through a lot. So, if shit gets weird around here sometimes, well … that’s to be expected.”

Emmy smiles. “Mom never told me you were so cool.”

“That’s because I was your mom’s boss, and bosses are never cool.”

“Huh. Right.” Emmy says thoughtfully. “Well, maybe you can just be her friend now?”

Nubia narrows her eyes and makes her laid-back, too-cool-for-school face. “I’ll think about it.”

After we finish eating, Nubia heads out, and Emmy goes upstairs to take a shower, leaving Scotch and me alone. Outside, the sun is dappling through the clouds, making the day a mix of hazy and bright. I let Scotch out for the bathroom and wave goodbye to Nubia as she heads to her car, the same gray Honda, despite the promotion. Cheapskates, Martha intones inside of me. They don’t know talent when they see it. She’s a tough cookie, deserves better.

I scratch my neck and pinch the skin with my nails until Martha stops talking.

Relax, Nic. I like her, Martha whispers, a little quieter this time. She seems like a good friend to us.

“To me,” I tell her. “She’s my friend, okay? My life. My kid. My friend.”

Like I said, relax. Soon, everything will be taken care of, and you’ll be thanking me.

“Thanking you? Yeah. Right.”

I hear footsteps on the stairs behind me and turn around. “Mom? Who are you talking to?”

“No one, honey. I’m not talking to anyone at all.”

Emmy looks away and heads back upstairs.

Around noon, my cell phone rings. It’s a local number I don’t recognize, but I answer anyway.

“Hello?”

“Hi, may I speak with Martha, please?”

My heart beats faster and faster. I stand up from the sofa where Scotch and I were sitting and start pacing the living room. He jumps up to attention, studying me carefully, his ears raised in anticipation. “She’s not available right now. What’s this about?”

“Oh, yes. I’m calling regarding her job application. I’d like her to come in for an interview.”

My insides feel liquid, and I collapse onto the sofa. “I’m sorry. That’s not possible. Martha has gone away.”

“Oh, that’s a shame. Do you know when she’ll be back?”

“She’s not coming back for a while.”

Her voice is at my back, creeping forward. Let me speak, Nicola.