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I exhale and he smiles. It’s so icy my stomach turns.
I need a photo for Instalook, and I’m part bored and part curious, so I decide on the fly to pay Vanessa a visit. When she opens the door, surprise registers on her face. There’s a toddler on her hip.
“I’m sorry to just show up,” I tell her. “I was in the neighborhood.” It’s not even a good lie. Most everyone from the church lives here.
Vanessa comes out from behind the door. She steps outside and closes the door. “I hate to seem rude. But Sean isn’t golfing today. And I was in the process of mopping.”
“Dressed like that?” She’s wearing Dior. I know because I tried that very top on myself. I decided it made me look too matronly. On her, it just fits.
She shrugs. The baby pulls at her earrings. He’s drooling. He looks like an alien with his enlarged head and huge eyes. “This is Daniel,” she says when she notices me looking.
He drops his toy. I lean down to pick it up and notice her Manolo’s. “Those are terrible shoes for mopping.”
She offers a pleasant smile. But she does not acknowledge her lie. Which means she’s either smarter than I thought or she’s hiding something really interesting. Maybe both. She half-turns to open the door. “Thanks for stopping by…but I gotta get this little guy down for his nap.”
Her body is different. Everything about her is different.
“And get back to mopping,” I say.
“That too. Plus, it’s Wednesday, and Wednesdays are for dusting.”
I don’t know if she’s fucking with me or if this is for real, but I don’t like to be blown off. “You should get Grandpa—I mean Sean—to get you a cleaning lady.”
“No, I love it.” She adjusts the kid higher on her hip. “It’s a great workout. Means I get to skip leg day. And Sean appreciates it when he’s home. Having someone take care of him.”
“Right.” At first I think she’s talking about the kid. Then I realize she’s referring to her husband. I turn to go. I don?
??t know what kind of fetish thing these two have going on, but who am I to interrupt it?
“I’ve been following you on Instalook,” she says, watching me go. Her voice is so low, I have to really pick the words apart in my mind to decipher them. “You’ve taken to things very well.”
I turn back to her. “Have I?”
“I was like you once,” she says nostalgically. “But then I had Daniel…” She motions toward the baby or toddler or whatever you call children these days and she smiles. “And well, then life changed, as life has a way of doing.”
“Do you ever visit that park?” I ask. I point. “The one I passed on my way in.”
“Every day at three o’clock.”
“Great,” I say as I fish for my key. And then, I let her get back to it.
The following afternoon at three o’clock sharp I find myself seated on a park bench, two coffees beside me. I hate coffee. When Vanessa comes down the street pushing one of those baby things, she is surprised to see me and it shows.
“Fancy running into you here,” she says. She shifts as though she’s voice-activated.
“Here,” I say, handing her a coffee. “Maybe this will help with all the cleaning.”
She doesn’t get the joke. Suddenly, I resent her meek face.
“Actually, I don’t drink coffee anymore. But thanks.”
She’s dressed to the nines. “Do you always come to the park in Prada?” It’s not even fancy yoga clothes the mom’s all wear these days.
She narrows her eyes. “Where else would I wear it?”
Her kid lets out a squeal, so she lifts him from the stroller.
“Would you mind?” she asks, handing him to me.
