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“Who is this?”
I make sure to keep my voice low. “My name is Laura, I’m looking for Jenny Smith.”
A sharp intake of air.
“I was hoping you’d be able to give me a phone number.” Then I rush to say, “Or I could give you mine, if you could ask her to ring me? I have a cellphone for her, but it’s disconnected.”
“What did you say your name was?”
“Laura.”
“Are you a friend of Jenny’s?”
I hesitate. I almost say yes, but I change my mind. “No. I’m looking for a babysitter, someone recommended Jenny.”
“I don’t know who told you that. Jenny died almost two years ago in a car crash.”
“Hi! What are you doing?”
I pull the phone away from my ear like it’s on fire, stab it with my finger to end the call. “Jesus, Bronwyn!” I drop my head in my hands and let out a sound, somewhere between a breath and a laugh. “You scared me!”
“Why?” She’s wearing a loose white top and black yoga pants, her feet bare. Her hair is wrapped in a white towel. She’s smiling at me, head tilted.
“I didn’t hear you come down, that’s all,” I say, one hand on my chest.
“Oh, I see. I didn’t mean to scare you.” She rearranges the towel on her head, tucks in a lock of hair. “Who was that?”
“What?”
“On the phone?”
“Katie,” I blurt. “I forgot to call her back before.” I grab the mouse to hide my agitation. My hand is shaking as I close the mail application and shut down the computer.
“It didn’t sound like Katie,” she says, and my heart thumps in my chest so hard I can’t believe she’s not hearing it. I wonder if she’s been listening at the door, and for how long.
“Should we eat?” she asks.
I stand up. “Right, yes! Good idea! I’m starving!” I laugh. I sound like a hyena.
“I thought I’d make pasta,” I say, rummaging through the pantry.
“Lovely! And I got us a bottle of Chardonnay.” She pulls it out of the fridge and opens it, and I’m thinking, I don’t want to drink tonight. I need to keep my head clear until Jack comes home.
“I don’t know,” I say. “Maybe not. I’m pretty tired. It’ll put me to sleep.”
“Laura! You’re always tired! It’s never stopped you before!”
She takes two glasses from the cupboard and fills them both, hands me one. “Here you are. To us!”
“Okay!” I say, half laughing. I’m so nervous my hand is shaking. “To us.” I take a sip. A phone rings somewhere upstairs.
“Oops, that’s me. I’ll be right back.” She disappears with her wine.
I put my glass down. Grip the edge of the sink. I need to call Jack and tell him about Jenny, but then I change my mind. I sure don’t want Bronwyn to overhear our conversation.
I pick up my glass. I’m about to take another sip but then I think, screw it. I really don’t want to drink tonight. I pour my wine down the sink then reach into the fridge for Charlie’s apple juice which I mix with a little water. Close enough. She’ll never know.
Dinner is an exaggerated chirpy affair, on my part anyway. I am the guy who warms up the crowd before the TV show host comes on. I tell stories about my day that didn’t happen but sound funny, like seeing a man I knew on the bus but wracking my brain, trying to remember where I knew him from, until I couldn’t stand it anymore and I walked up to ask him and it turns out he’s the guy in that commercial who sets fire to his house and calls his insurance broker, remember that one? Anyway, that was the guy. It was so funny. But the whole time my stomach is twisted and my heart is thumping in my throat like someone punching me from the inside.
