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“Yes, boss,” I say.
“The spare key’s under the mat. Make yourself at home, but for God’s sake stay out of trouble.”
CHAPTER4
ANNA
The subway has left me feeling sticky and hot, my shirt clinging to my back despite the frigid November above ground. That’s the issue with trains in the winter. You have to wear a coat because it’s cold but the second you step on a train it’s so hot that it might as well be a blistering July, everyone’s breath forming a humid condensation layer on the windows.
By the time I arrive at Ben’s, I’m sure I’m about to catch a serious cold from being so damp. Between the sweat and the tears, I’m thoroughly wrung out.
Technically, this is a tiny block of apartments, but because he’s on the ground floor, Ben has his own separate entrance. I’m glad for it now because it means I don’t have to run into any neighbors — the last thing I want is anyone snooping about and questioning me. I don’t think anyone from Ben’s world even knows I exist. In fairness, who’s going to brag about the family letdown?
If I remember correctly, Ben will have left a spare key under the doormat. I’ve always told him he’s going to get broken into one of these days, and I guess my prophecy is coming true. It’s just not in the way anyone would have expected.
I peel back the plain brown mat and sigh in relief to find a little key exactly where I expected it to be. I look over my shoulder like I’m in some crappy spy movie and snatch it up before anyone else can come along and catch me out. I’m not doing anything wrong. I’m visiting my brother. No one else has to know that he doesn’t know that.
Feeling incredibly suspicious, I let myself in and slam the door behind me. The noise echoes through the house and I hold my breath until I’m satisfied with the silence. My nerves are all so fragile right now that a single other unexpected thing is going to shatter me. I just need a quiet night on my own to readjust myself.
I take a step forward, and when no security systems get triggered or poison darts shoot from the ceiling, I breathe out and grab my bag to drag it to the guest room. I’ve been here once before when Ben moved in to help him unpack, so I basically remember where he put everything which is good because it looks like nothing has changed. Out of any context, you’d think this was some kind of show house. I know he’s away all the time, but there’s no personality here at all, just gray and white and tidy.
The bed in the guest room is made and I throw my case down on the floor next to it. I don’t want to make any more of mess than I have already, emotionally or physically. I hope Ben has a mop hidden somewhere because my bag has left a gross line of dirt behind it.
That’s a problem for later, though. I fling myself down onto the bed and stare at the ceiling, looking at the bare bulb as my eyes start to water again. I let out a huge sob, covering my face with my hands. There’s nothing to hide from here.
My chest heaves and I curl up, my tears making a wet patch under my face. This isn’t constructive but I’m paralyzed by all that’s happened, the house, the train, the way I’ve watched all my work and money circle the drain and get flushed.
I hope Mariana’s having a nice time wherever she is now. I hope she never shows her face again. Because if she does, I’m going to kill her.
A sudden flare of rage makes me thump the bed with my fists, yelling an aimless vowel into the empty room. It kind of helps.
I’m not sure how long I’ve been lying here, but eventually my leg twitches with a cramp and I have a headache from crying. Now that the rush of opening the floodgates has passed, all that’s left is a bone-deep exhaustion.
A shower. That’s what I want. A shower, a hard drink, and something incredibly greasy to eat. Then I’m going to watch something trashy on TV until my brain is numb, then sleep for twenty hours and wake up when everything’s better.
Ben’s room has its own bathroom but this one doesn’t, so pajamas in hand I drag myself to the main bathroom and strip off. The room is huge and decorated with the same tasteful gray theme as the rest of the apartment. The tiles have a swirling pattern on them and line the floor and the lower half of the wall, broken up by a giant mirror that stretches up to the ceiling and lets me see my entire body without even having to stand at an awkward angle. And the sink has what looks like a gilded waterfall tap. I’ve hardly ever even been somewhere so fancy, let alone lived it. And still, there’s nothing homely about it whatsoever.
If I didn’t know my brother better, I’d be worried about him.
I turn the shower on and get ready to wait for it to heat up, but clearly having money means you get hot water quickly. I step inside and turn the heat up, letting the steam clear my head and sinuses, focusing only on the rush of water until my head is completely emptied out. I stand for a long time like that before I even think to go for the soap.
When I finally get out, my skin is pink from the hot water and I smell delightful, like fresh laundry. I slip into my pajamas and feel myself relax for the first time since Mariana left. I’m still at a loss for what I’m going to do, but at least now I feel like I’m not drifting and panicking. Not totally, anyway.
I step out of the bathroom and decide to snoop about. The kitchen and living room are open plan, but Ben’s bedroom door is firmly shut. Carefully, like someone’s going to jump out and stop me, I reach out for the handle and twist the cold metal. The door swings open silently and I poke my head inside.
To my disappointment, it’s much the same as everywhere else — minimalist and tidy. I sigh, feeling weirdly let down by it. There’s some art hanging in here at least, some grayscale abstract shapes that remind me of a treasure map. Even the desk is neat, his penholder aligned to the millimeter with the edges. Maybe he gets a cleaner in. The Ben I knew growing up could never make his bed this neatly.
If he does get a cleaner, maybe I have to worry about that. Do cleaners usually come when someone’s out of town? I’ve never been able to afford so much as an expensive vacuum, let alone an entire person to come and clean.
That uneasy dread is starting to churn in my stomach again.
I back out of Ben’s room and shut the door, almost tempted to wipe the handle like he’s going to check for prints. Which is stupid. I’m not in some third-rate spy thriller. I’m in my brother’s house and even though it’s secret, it’s not like I don’t have a right to be here. Sort of.
One night without worrying. That’s what I want. I’m going to have it, everything else be damned. And that starts with lying on the sofa and not moving for the rest of the day.
With intent, I march over to the sofa — gray, of course, but surprisingly comfortable — and sink down into the cushions. The remote is in its own dedicated little pot and when I turn the TV on, it looks like he’s subscribed to every streaming service I can think of, and more that I can’t.
I’m almost tempted to keep watchingWhat a Meal!but I don’t think I can handle a dating show right now, even if the whole premise of it is terrible cooks and worse flirting. I don’t think I can cope with people being happy. I want to wallow. So I keep scrolling through endless lists of TV shows and movies until finally I decide to just put on a movie I’ve seen a thousand times about a young girl discovering that she’s a mermaid. It’s funny and a little bit sad and I know it by heart.
