Page 71 of Succubus

Maybe that’s exactly what I’ll get.

CHAPTER 23

Ella and I walk to the playground to practice skateboarding on the empty basketball court at 1:00 on Sunday afternoon.

“Good, no boys,” she says, relieved, when we round the corner and pass between the stone posts at the park’s entrance. In fact, no one is here. The neighborhood parks are surprisingly quiet, even on weekends and during the summer. I sometimes wonder where all the kids are. Not now, though. I’m too busy wondering about other things, like whether I might finally overpower Joel next time. And what next time will be like. I managed to hold myself away last night. Even though I should’ve gone, for Grub’s sake.

The sky is so blue, the leaves on the Japanese maples electric red. My intensifying DP is like a filter on a photo where you draw your finger to one side and the clarity turns up, the brightness, the contrast. It’s hard to imagine going back to the duller palette of the state that is supposedly reality.

Ella has just gotten up onto the garish yellow-and-purple board, wobbling and hanging on to my hands with all her might. I take a couple of steps, pulling her. I am bored already. I don’t remember getting this easily bored with her before. Maybe I’m idealizing, but I remember feeling a grateful in-the-momentness that was a relief from my Sedona days of racing-thought misery. Now I’m itching to escape somehow.

Ella lists briefly against me, and I right her as she yelps in fear. “I almost fell!”

This, too, is irritating. The child is so afraid, all the time.

“You’re fine,” I say tersely.

She glances up, her face alert to the difference in my voice.

She feels much lighter than she did recently, when she used to feel unliftable.

“I’m skateboarding!” she shrieks a moment later, as I guide her forward. And then, even more thrilled, “Joel!”

She hops off the board, sending it skittering in the other direction. I whirl around. He’s stepping onto the basketball court, on the other side, handsome in a gray sweater. What do I do? Ella is already halfway to him. She charges, throws her arms around his waist. He bends down, hugs her.

“Ella, did you have a growth spurt? You look taller.” He doesn’t even glance at me.

“Damn it,” I whisper. What is he doing? I walk briskly forward.

“Probably,” Ella says, openly bragging. “I’ve been eating a ton. Titi says I eat three breakfasts like a hobbit.”

He gives her shoulder a squeeze. “You have a good appetite.”

“How’s Mr. Button? I haven’t seen him in a really long time. Titi said you’re too busy these days. Are you making sure you take care of him even if you’re busy? He’s just a cat.” The last part is an admonishment.

He smiles. “He certainly is a cat.” He taps thoughtfully on her very pink helmet. “He’s happy it’s warmer out this weekend. I let him come out in the back with me and he always finds a bug to chase. He’s having a lot of adventures. I think he misses you a little bit, though.”

“I bet he does.” She regards him with judgment and a shy tinge of hurt. “Why don’t you invite us over again?”

I cut him off as he starts to speak: “Joel has a lot more work than usual right now.”

He nods, pretending he’s just noticed me there. “I wish I didn’t. It was much more fun playing music with you.”

Ella’s brows draw in as she considers urging him to invite us over anyway. She won’t be bold enough, I already know. And sure enough, she says instead, “Want to see me skateboard? I’m working on it. You can help me if you want.”

“Definitely.” And to me, “How are you, Tempest?” He’s performing for Ella.

“Fine. How are you, Joel?”

“Fine.”

We stand side by side, watching Ella clamber up onto the board, pink knee and elbow pads protruding, windmilling her arms for balance, her helmet comically round. She’s wearing her rainbow-striped rain boots, which I chose with her sock aversion in mind; they have a thick lining.

“How did you know we’d be here?” I keep my voice down.

“I walked by your house and you were just leaving.”

“That’s creepy.” I’m annoyed that I didn’t notice him stalking us. Shouldn’t my senses be more finely tuned or something now? Why doesn’t that come with the territory? “You could’ve just harassed us there.”