Page 7 of Little Deaths

Soon, he was cruising down the familiar street of his childhood home. The houses here were older but their age meant they had bigger backyards and more character, which put them in higher demand. Last he’d checked on Zillow, the house he’d grown up in was worth seven million. Donni had mentioned that they were in danger of being forced to sell the house, and everything else, to cover damages. If seven million wasn’t enough to cover his father’s lawsuit, the two of them were in deeper shit than he’d thought.

The windows of the house were dark. No light peeked out from the big bay windows and their heavy drapes, although the one directly facing the street looked as if it had been pulled aside.Spying on the neighbors, Donni?

Rafe parked in the pullout across the street and jaywalked, his breath fanning out in a frozen plume. It used to get really cold out here. Cold enough to freeze. When he’d been home for Christmas break in the aughts, Donni had taken him out to the backyard and picked up the sheet of ice that had crusted over a puddle from a winter storm. Bare-handed, she had pried it free and stuck her tongue at him through the warped and dirty pane before handing it to him, and they had both watched it splinter like glass as he gleefully tossed it over the concrete with a satisfying crash.

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket, warming them against that remembered chill. A quick look, that was all he wanted. Alone, and without anyone else watching.

But mostly he was hoping for a glimpse ofher.

The front yard still mostly looked good. It was lined with silverleaf, which had grown massive in his absence and even a little overgrown. Mint and shiso perilla still grew in the planter boxes outside the windows, curling over the chipped clay edges. He could smell the sharply verdant bite of their scent, carried on the breeze. It made his mouth water. Donni couldn’t cook but she had loved putting herbs into everything.

He stepped closer, then paused. It looked like someone had recently sprayed graffiti on the stone walkway leading up to the house. Even though someone had tried to clean it, he could still see the ghostly letters where someone had writtenFUKING PSYCOandKILLER. Rafe frowned, toeing the edge of the ‘O’ with his boot, before heading for the fence.

The backyard had a pool and a hot tub, both heated. Having a pool in a place like this guaranteed you a social life, but only for about three months out of the year. The hot tub was covered now but the pool was a steaming, eerie turquoise. It was empty.

Donni had used to go swimming whenever she was upset. She thought the water would hide her crying. It never did, though. Chlorine didn’t turn her face red or make her sniffle. It might have fooled his father but he had always been able to tell.She must be swimming nightly now.

Rafe stared unseeingly at the yard for a moment before his eyes refocused. Four Adirondack chairs lined the edge of the pool, but they were all off-center, like they’d been recently moved. Lava rocks had been kicked around the area, too. Had the cops done that? he wondered suddenly. Donni hadn’t told him where his father died. Only how.

Rafe silently got back into his car, his head full of new questions. He needed to talk to Donni. Face to face.

Soon.

It was full dark when he pulled up to the Welcome Back Motel. The first three letters were all burned out on the sign, so it ended up sounding more like a plea. Or a command. With its faded flamingo pink façade, Rafe thought it was one of the ugliest buildings he’d ever seen. The interior was even worse: everything looked dirty and smelled like cigarette smoke. The man who disinterestedly handed him his room key had a clotted, phlegmy cough that made it sound like he had a garbage disposal lodged in his throat.

There were other, nicer places to stay in town, of course. The B&B that overlooked one of the winery estates and provided a “free” bottle of limited release wine to paying guests. And a boutique hotel in the middle of the downtown area, which included a continental breakfast. Both were affordable—for him—but the reviews had praised both businesses for their “good service” and Rafe didn’t want anyone tracking his comings and goings in the hopes of a good tip.

The smell of bleach and dusty fabric wafted out of the room when he opened the door and the AC was going full-throttle. He immediately went to turn it off, and the heater kicked on in its stead. Rafe sighed.AC it is.He set his suitcase down on the sticky desk after eying the carpet and noticing a fine trail of ants. Then he got into the mildewed shower, letting his mind wander as he soaped his body.

It felt like his insides were all jumbled up. His father had only been fifty-six. As angry as he had been about being kicked out, he had always taken a kind of twisted solace knowing that he could, if he wanted, try to make amends. But now time had abruptly run out, and it was a little bit like getting an insight into his own expiry date.

Fifty-six was only twenty-eight years away. Half his life.

Time could run out for anyone.

Rafe shuddered. It was enough to give someone an existential crisis. He wondered if that was where Donni was right now, having a crisis. Surely she wouldn’t be having a night out so soon after the death of her husband. She was an actress. She knew how that would look.Maybe she decided to go to bed early.

He brushed his teeth, spat, and dropped his dirty clothes in a plastic bag. There were no laundry services provided but that was fine. He didn’t think he was going to be here for very long.

Before rolling over to go to sleep, Rafe picked up his phone to text Donni.

I’m back in town.

???????

“Adonica, what didyouthink of the book?”

Donni swallowed a large mouthful of white wine and looked over at Opal, who was smiling just a little too brightly to be friendly. She looked like a shark that had smelled blood. “I thought it was fine. A little likeDesperate Housewives.”

A little like you and your coven of bitches.

“Well, I thought it was completelydegenerate,” Irene Mendes said, tucking back a lock of her hennaed hair as she clutched the blue cover of her book. She had asked Opal for tea, even thought it hadn’t been offered, and the smell of peppermint wafted from her porcelain cup. “It just goes to show that sometimes women can be just as sick as men.”

“All that from a book,” Opal commented.

“There’s some things people just shouldn’t write about. Just because youcancram it full of sex, doesn’t mean you should. It’s just not tasteful.”

Donni studied her empty wineglass, ignoring the other woman’s pointed look.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com