Chapter 3
This is not a big deal. It’s just a quick renovation, and then our lives will be back to normal.
I repeat those words to myself over and over as I drive to the two-bedroom apartment where Jeremy’s parents lived until their deaths. It’s a twenty-minute drive, although it only took fifteen when Jeremy used to do it. He doesn’t quite believe in the speed limit.
As I pull into the driveway of the small house with two apartment units inside, I imagine what Jeremy and Teddy might be doing right now.
Jeremy claimed he could handle dinner, but I’ve never actually seen him cook anything in the entire time we’ve been together, even in the microwave. All he does is make coffee.
What if Jeremy doesn’t microwave the frozen chicken nuggets right? What if Teddy is sitting at the dining table right now, his belly rumbling, and there’s nothing he can eat? And then he notices I’m gone, and he becomes inconsolable?
I have to take a few deep breaths to get myself under control. Jeremy is a successful investment banker, and he’s clearly capable of feeding our child dinner for one night. Actually, it’s sort of nice that they’re having a boys’ night for a change.
I climb out of the car and pop the trunk.
The three suitcases that Jeremy packed are waiting for me, although this time I have nobody to help me with them.
I pick up the first of the three and gasp at its weight.
Jeremy didn’t seem to be struggling with them, but he’s a lot stronger than me.
I nearly throw out my back trying to get it out of the car.
The second one isn’t any lighter, and the third one is the heaviest of all.
My God, what did he put in the suitcases? Rocks?
Luckily, they are all on wheels, so I’m able to roll them one by one down the walkway to the apartment. He bought the garden unit for his parents, but it’s been lying empty in the year since his mother died. He cleaned it out right after, but I’m not sure if anyone has been in here since.
The key Jeremy gave me fits into the lock, but then it doesn’t turn. For a moment, I panic, wondering if he has locked me out of yet another home. But then I jiggle the key, and finally, the lock turns. The door sticks a bit, but I manage to push my way inside.
When Marti Roth was living here, the space seemed bright and airy, but a lot has changed in the last year since her death.
All the shades are drawn and covered in a layer of dust. Marti’s flower-printed sofa used to be white, and now it’s sort of gray.
So is the lampshade of the light next to the sofa.
It’s so dusty in here that when I take a deep breath, I start coughing.
And when I finally stop hacking up my lungs, I’m pretty sure I can hear the scurrying of little footsteps. Little furry footsteps.
Oh God. Jeremy wasn’t kidding when he said this place needed to be cleaned out.
I am seized by the urge to dig my phone out of my purse and beg him to let me stay at a hotel instead.
Or at least get the place professionally cleaned.
I’ve got my hand in my purse, and I’m rifling around, but just as my fingers close around my phone, I rethink the whole thing.
Jeremy has been such a great provider and asks so little of me.
If he wants me to clean out this apartment, then by golly, I’m going to do it.
I’ll just think of this like a mini vacation away from my family. And apparently also a vacation from breathing clean air.
The little apartment contains two bedrooms, although one of them is so small that it’s more like a large closet with a small twin bed inside.
It’s stuffed with dusty boxes that I guess Jeremy never got around to sorting through after his parents died.
I’ll have to throw them out if this room will serve as Teddy’s during the renovation.
The other bedroom is more promising. It contains a double bed, which was made up about a year ago but now is covered in dust like everything else. When I sit down on it, all the particles fly into the air, and I start sneezing violently. I hope Jeremy packed some clean sheets for me.
I return to the living room to grab my suitcases, and I drag them to the master bedroom, leaving dusty track marks in the carpet.
I start looking through them, and I have to admit, Jeremy packed very thoroughly.
The orgone crystal is in there, as promised, and he definitely included a bunch of bras.
He also packed a ton of clothing, toiletries, towels, bedding, and even my medical textbooks.
Seeing those textbooks tugs at me a little bit.
Even though being a stay-at-home mom has been the best job I can imagine, there are days when I miss my old patients.
I loved being a doctor and helping heal people of their ailments—there was nothing more fulfilling until I discovered motherhood.
Now that Teddy is in kindergarten, I should think about opening my practice again here on the island.
It’s only when I get to the bottom of the second suitcase that I start to feel very uneasy.
Jeremy packed quite a lot. Why would he pack my winter coat in April?
I only wear that coat during the coldest months.
Why on earth would he think I would need that if we’re only going to be here for a couple of weeks? Unless…
Unless he thinks we’re going to be here for more than a week.
A lot more than a week.
I sink down onto the mattress. Over the last year, it has grown stiff, with barely any give to it. Something is not right about all this. Judging by the contents of these bags, it doesn’t seem like Jeremy thinks we’re moving back into the house any time soon.
Are we in financial trouble? Is he selling the house, and he was just too ashamed to tell me?
We do not live above our means. When we met, Jeremy was already the very successful manager of a hedge fund—so successful that he insisted on a prenup when we got married. The idea that he somehow spent all our money and now we’re so broke that we need to sell our home…well, it seems preposterous.
I reach into my purse for my phone one last time. This time when my fingers curl around it, I don’t let go. I pull it out, and before I can stop myself, I punch in a text message to my husband:
Is there something you’re not telling me?
I sit on my dead mother-in-law’s bed, staring at the screen of my phone. While I’m waiting for a response, a rustling noise from outside makes my head jerk up.
What was that?
It sounded like someone right outside. I rise from the bed, approaching the window, my heart thudding harder with each step. I remind myself that this is a decent neighborhood—Jeremy would never have bought his parents an apartment somewhere dangerous.
But as I peer through the dark window that overlooks the side of the house, the rustling grows louder. And then I see a flash of something behind the window.
Was that a human silhouette?
I grip my phone, wondering if I should call Jeremy. Or maybe I should get back in the car and drive straight home. My husband won’t want me to stay in an apartment that isn’t safe.
Except I’ve already unpacked what looks like half my belongings.
And if the renovations really are starting tomorrow, I’ve got to make this apartment livable by the time Teddy is done with school.
I can’t allow my son to inhale all these dust particles and get cancer.
There’s so much to do before I can allow him to stay here.
I take another step closer to the window. This time I hear another noise, one that disturbs me even more.
It almost sounds like someone slowly scraping the windowpane.
That’s it. I can’t stay in this apartment another minute. I don’t care if I have to wrangle these three monstrous suitcases back into the trunk on my own. I am not about to let myself be murdered during the night by some guy with a hook for a hand. Jeremy will understand.
Just as I’m about to turn around and flee the bedroom, I lift my gaze briefly, and that’s when I catch sight of the tree branch. It’s pressed up against the upper part of the window, and with each passing breeze, the wood scrapes against the glass.
My shoulders sag. There isn’t a hook-handed vagrant outside the apartment after all. It was just a tree. Jeremy always says I jump to conclusions too quickly, and in this case, he would be absolutely right.
Sighing, I head to the kitchen to find the cleaning supplies.