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“I didn’t think you taught class on Friday.”
“I don’t,” Helen replied.
They stared at each other, waiting for the other to ask something else. But Annie was tired, especially tired of asking questions, digging for answers, and waiting for the person across from her to slip up.
“Feel better.” Annie prepared to slip out the back door.
“Thanks. You want a cup of coffee?”
It might get her through a shower. Annie nodded. “I can get it.”
When Annie stayed home sick, which she only did rarely, it was a pajama pity party. She would tuck herself in on the couch, watch stupid movies, and refuse to move all day. But Helen was dressed in jeans, her dark hair clipped back with a silver barrette. She looked pretty. Was she wearing mascara and foundation, or was her skin really that clear, her lashes naturally thick and dark? Hard to say. Some people were just genetically blessed. One of the many unfair things about life.
Annie sat down next to her and set her mug down.
“Your mother called,” Helen said.
“What? When? How did she sound?”
Helen lifted her mug in a weak attempt to hide her smirk. It hit the wooden table with a thud on the way back down. “I just told her you were out. She sounded worried.”
“I gave her the number, but I told her it was for emergencies only.”
“It’s fine if your family calls. She seemed very pleasant.”
“They’re mad I’m out here,” Annie confessed. “They’re mad I left Toledo.”
“It’s hard when your kids leave you.”
Annie shook her head. “It’s not that exactly. I just… I made a big deal of leaving a good job and moving back home, and then I didn’t even stay.” She looked down at the coffee in her mug, light with cream and sweet with sugar. She ran her thumb across the rim, making the porcelain whimper. “It’s hard to know what you want, I guess.”
“Where did you work before?”
And there it was. The question. When Annie had first started with the CIA, she backflipped around to avoid answering that question, trying to avoid situations where someone even askedher. It ended up with her sitting alone in her apartment a lot. There were generic answers—she could be vague, say she worked for the government, that she worked for the State Department. Some agents picked a random organization, but that always ran the risk of someone saying, “No, you don’t. I work there.” And then that became a whole other mess.
Annie simply answered, “Washington, DC.”
Helen waited. Annie sipped her coffee.
“Oh,” Helen said uncertainly.
“Cost of living there was just terrible. I mean, it isn’t great here, is my understanding, but at least it doesn’t snow.”
“And no humidity.”
“Hallelujah.”
“So.” Helen slowly turned her mug on the table to line the handle up with the edge of a placemat that was buried in coloring supplies. “Part of the reason I stayed in today, other than self-indulgence, is that they’re coming to look at your water heater. Someone is supposed to be here between”—she looked past Annie to the clock on the stove—“now and eleven.”
There went her dreams of sleep.
“I know you’ve just moved in and you’re only now getting settled,” Helen said. “And I know I’m not your mother or anything, but have you thought about…” She paused.
Annie was too tired to follow Helen’s prompting.
“What?”
“Furniture? I’ve sent my children to summer camp with better bedding than what you’ve got out there.”
