Kevin had to go into work at noon, even though it was Sunday, and she knew he’d be up soon. The house wascold and she pulled on a sweatshirt over her pajamas; in the mornings, Kevin didn’t mind, usually because hewas too hung over to care. She started the coffee and put the milk and sugar on the table, along with butter andjelly. She set his silverware out and placed a cup of ice water beside the fork. After that, two pieces of toast went inthe toaster, though she couldn’t toast them just yet. She put three eggs on the counter, where she could reachthem quickly. When that was done, she placed half a dozen slices of bacon in the frying pan. They were sizzlingand popping when Kevin finally wandered into the kitchen. He took a seat at the empty table and drank his wateras she brought him a cup of coffee.
“I was dead to the world last night,” he said. “What time did we end up going to bed?”
“Maybe ten?” she answered. She put the coffee beside his empty glass. “It wasn’t late. You’ve been workinghard and I know you’ve been tired.”
His eyes were bloodshot. “I’m sorry about last night. I didn’t mean it. I’ve just been under a lot of pressurelately. Since Terry’s heart attack, I’ve been having to do the work of two people, and the Preston case starts thisweek.”
“It’s okay,” she said. She could still smell the alcohol on his breath. “Your breakfast will be ready in a fewminutes.”
At the stove, she turned the bacon with a fork and a splash of grease scalded her arm, making her temporarilyforget the pain in her back.
When the bacon was crispy, she put four pieces on Kevin’s plate and two on hers. She drained the grease intoa soup can, wiped the frying pan with a paper towel, and oiled it again with cooking spray. She had to move fast,so the bacon wouldn’t get cold. She started the toaster and cracked the eggs. He liked his over medium, with theyolk intact, and she’d grown adept at the process. The pan was still hot and the eggs cooked quickly. She turnedthem once before sliding two onto his plate and one onto hers. The toast came up and she placed both slices onhis plate.
She sat across from him at the table because he liked them to have breakfast together. He buttered his toastand added grape jelly before using his fork to break the eggs. The yolk pooled like yellow blood and he used histoast to sop it up.
“What are you going to do today?” he asked. He used his fork to cut another piece of egg. Chewing.
“I was going to do the windows and the laundry,” she said.
“The sheets probably need a wash, too, huh? After our fun last night?” he said, waggling his eyebrows. Hishair was pointing in different directions and there was a piece of egg at the corner of his mouth.
She tried not to show her revulsion. Instead, she changed the subject.
“Do you think you’ll get a conviction in the Preston case?” she asked.
He leaned back and rolled his shoulders before hunching over his plate again.
“That’s up to the DA. Higgins is good, but you never know. Preston has a shyster lawyer and he’s going to tryto twist all the facts around.”
“I’m sure you’ll do fine. You’re smarter than he is.”
“We’ll see. I just hate that it’s in Marlborough. Higgins wants to prep me Tuesday night, after court finishes forthe day.”
Erin knew all of this already and she nodded. The Preston case had been widely publicized and the trial wasdue to start on Monday in Marlborough, not Boston. Lorraine Preston had supposedly hired a man to kill herhusband. Not only was Douglass Preston a billionaire hedge-fund manager, but his wife was a scion of society,involved in charities ranging from art museums and the symphony to inner-city schools. The pretrial publicity hadbeen staggering; a day hadn’t gone by in weeks without one or two articles on the front page and a top story onthe evening news. Megamoney, lurid sex, drugs, betrayal, infidelity, assassination, and an illegitimate child.
Because of the endless publicity, the trial had been moved to Marlborough. Kevin had been one of severaldetectives assigned to the investigation and all were scheduled to testify Wednesday. Like everyone else, Erinhad been following the news but she’d been asking Kevin questions every now and then about the case.
“You know what you need after you’re finished in court?” she asked. “A night out. We should get dressed upand go out to dinner. You’re off on Friday, right?”
“We just did that on New Year’s,” Kevin grumbled, sopping up more yolk on his plate. There were smears ofjelly on his fingers.
“If you don’t want to go out, I can make you something special here. Whatever you want. We can have wine andmaybe start a fire and I could wear something sexy. It could be really romantic.” He looked up from his plate andshe went on. “The point is, I’m open to whatever,” she purred, “and you need a break. I don’t like it when you workso hard. It’s like they expect you to solve every case out there.”
He tapped his fork against his plate, studying her. “Why are you acting all lovey-dovey? What’s going on?”
Telling herself to stick to the script, she pushed back from the table.
“Just forget it, okay?” She grabbed her plate and the fork clattered off it, hitting the table and then the floor. “Iwas trying to be supportive since you’re going out of town, but if you don’t like it, fine. I’ll tell you what—you figureout what you want to do and let me know sometime, okay?”
She stormed over to the sink and turned the faucet on hard. She knew she’d surprised him, could feel himvacillating between anger and confusion. She ran her hands under the water then brought them to her face. Shedrew a series of rapid breaths, hiding her face, and made a choking sound. She let her shoulders heave a little.
“Are you crying?” he asked. She heard his chair slide back. “Why the hell are you crying?”
She choked out the words, doing her best to make them sound broken. “I don’t know what to do anymore. Idon’t know what you want. I know how big this case is and how important it is and how much pressure you’reunder…”
She choked off the final words, sensing his approach. When she felt him touch her, she shuddered.
“Hey, it’s okay,” he said grudgingly. “You don’t have to cry.”
She turned toward him, squeezing her eyes shut, putting her face against his chest. “I just want to make youhappy,” she stammered. She wiped her wet face on his shirt.
“We’ll figure it out, okay? We’ll have a nice weekend. I promise. To make up for last night.”
She put her arms around him, pulling him close, sniffling. She drew another rasping inhale. “I’m really sorry. Iknow you didn’t need that today. Me getting all blubbery for nothing. You’ve got so much on your plate already.”
“I can handle it,” he said. He tilted his head and she leaned up to kiss him, her eyes still shut. When she pulledback, she wiped her face with her fingers and pulled close to him again. As he pressed against her, she could feelhim getting excited. She knew how her vulnerability turned him on.
“We’ve got a little time before I have to head into work,” he said.
“I should clean the kitchen first.”
“You can do it later,” he said.
Minutes later, with Kevin moving atop her, she made the sounds he wanted while staring out the window of thebedroom and thinking of other things.
She had learned to hate winter, with the endless cold and a yard half-buried in snow, because she couldn’t gooutside. Kevin didn’t like her to walk around the neighborhood but he let her garden in the backyard because ofthe privacy fence. In the spring, she always planted flowers in pots and vegetables in a small plot near the back ofthe garage, where the sun was full and strong, unshaded by the maple trees. In the fall, she would pull on asweater and read books from the library as fallen leaves, brown and crinkly, drifted around the yard.
But winter made her life a prison, cold and gray and gloomy. Misery. Most days were spent without setting footoutside the door because she never knew when Kevin would show up unexpectedly. She knew the names of asingle neighbor, the Feldmans, who lived across the street. In her first year of marriage, Kevin rarely hit her andsometimes she went for walks without him. The Feldmans, an older couple, liked to work in their garden, and inthe first year she’d lived here, she’d often stopped to talk to them for a while. Kevin gradually tried to put an end tothose friendly visits. Now she saw the Feldmans only when she knew Kevin was busy at work, when she knew hecouldn’t call. She would make sure no other neighbors were watching before darting across the street to theirfront door. She felt like a spy when she visited with them. They showed her photos of their daughters growing up.
One had died and the other had moved away and she had the sense that they were as lonely as she was. In thesummer, she made them blueberry pies and would spend the rest of the afternoon mopping up the flour in thekitchen so Kevin wouldn’t know.
After Kevin went to work, she cleaned the windows and put fresh sheets on the bed. She vacuumed, dusted,and cleaned the kitchen. As she worked, she practiced lowering her voice so she could sound like a man. Shetried not to think about the cell phone she had charged overnight and put under the sink. Even though she knewthat she might never get a better chance, she was terrified because there was still so much that could go wrong.
She made Kevin breakfast on Monday morning, just as she always did. Four slices of bacon, eggs overmedium, and two pieces of toast. He was grumpy and distracted and he read the paper without saying much toher. When he was about to leave, he put a coat on over his suit and she told him she was going to hop into theshower.
“Must be nice,” he grunted, “to wake up every day knowing you can do whatever the hell you want to dowhenever you want to do it.”
“Is there anything special you want for dinner?” she asked, pretending not to have heard him.
He thought about it. “Lasagna and garlic bread. And a salad,” he said.
When he left, she stood at the window watching as his car reached the corner. As soon as he turned, shewalked to the phone, dizzy at the thought of what was to come next.
When she called the phone company, she was directed to customer service. Five minutes passed, then six. Itwould take Kevin twenty minutes to get to work, and no doubt he would call as soon as he arrived. She still hadtime. Finally, a rep got on the line and asked her name and the billing address and, for purposes of identification,Kevin’s mother’s maiden name. The account was in Kevin’s name, and she spoke in a low voice as she recited theinformation, in the voice she’d been practicing. She didn’t sound like Kevin, maybe not even masculine, but therepresentative was harried and didn’t notice.
“Is it possible to get call forwarding on my line?” she asked.
“It’s an extra charge, but with that, you also get call waiting and voice mail. It’s only—”
“That’s fine. But is it possible to have it turned on today?”
“Yes,” the representative said. She heard him beginning to type. It was a long time before he spoke again. Hetold her the extra charge would show up on the next bill, which would be sent out next week, but that it would stillreflect the full monthly amount, even though she activated the service today. She told him it was fine. He tooksome more information and then told her it was done and that she would be able to use the service right away.
She hung up and glanced at the clock. The whole transaction had taken eighteen minutes.
Kevin called from the precinct three minutes later.
As soon as she got off the phone with Kevin, she called Super Shuttle, a van service that transported people tothe airport and bus station. She made a reservation for the following day. Then, after retrieving the cell phone, shefinally activated it. She called a local movie theater, one that had a recording, to make sure it worked. Next, sheactivated the landline’s call-forwarding service, sending incoming calls to the number of the movie theater. As atest, she dialed the home number from her cell phone. Her heart was pounding as the landline rang. On thesecond ring, the ring cut off and she heard the recording from the movie theater. Something broke free inside herand her hands were shaking as she powered off the cell phone and replaced it in the box of SOS pads. She resetthe landline.
Kevin called again forty minutes later.
She spent the rest of the afternoon in a daze, working steadily to keep from worrying. She ironed two of hisshirts and brought the suit bag and suitcase in from the garage. She set out clean socks and she polished hisother pair of black shoes. She ran the lint brush over his suit, the black one he wore to court, and laid out threeties. She scrubbed the bathroom until the floor was shiny, and scrubbed the baseboards with vinegar. She dustedevery item in the china cabinet and then started preparing the lasagna. She boiled the pasta and made a meatsauce and layered all of it with cheese. She brushed four pieces of sourdough bread with butter, garlic, andoregano and diced everything she needed for the salad. She showered and dressed sexy, and at five o’clock, sheput the lasagna in the oven.
When he got home, dinner was ready. He ate the lasagna and talked about his day. When he asked for a secondserving, she rose from the table and brought it to him. After dinner, he drank vodka as they watched reruns of
Seinfeldand The King of Queens. Afterward, the Celtics were playing the Timberwolves and she sat beside him,her head on his shoulder, watching the game. He fell asleep in front of the television and she wandered to thebedroom. She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, until he finally woke and staggered in, flopping onto the mattress.
He fell asleep immediately, one arm draped over her, and his snores sounded like a warning.
She made him breakfast on Tuesday morning. He packed his clothes and toiletries and was finally ready tohead to Marlborough. He loaded his things into the car, then went back to the front door, where she was standing.