Chapter 10
“This is beautiful, babe,” Roy says, patting his mouth with his napkin. “Thank you.” He reaches over to tug a lock of hair behind my ear. I curl it back into place with my finger—no need to advertise my earlobes. I take hold of his hand and kiss it. “I’m very sorry about yesterday.”
He smiles. “It’s all right. We probably did go on too long about…her.”
“No, it’s me. You’re right. I am a little jealous sometimes, but only because I love you so much. But I shouldn’t have said that about Deborah shooting herself in the face.”
He winces.
“I’ve been thinking about it all day. I don’t know what came over me. It’s those…” I was going to say harpies, but now that I’ll be one of them, why be so judgmental? “Hormones. I’m full of them. They course through me like little ants, wreaking havoc. But please, eat before it gets cold.”
He picks up his knife and fork.
“Anyway, I’m so sorry I ruined your party,” I say.
“Honestly, it’s over now. Water under the bridge.”
“I mean, it’s not like couples never argue, is it,” I say. “Even couples who are madly in love argue. It would be odd not to.”
“It would, you’re right,” he says thoughtfully, cutting a corner of a seared scallop in lemon butter and adding a little pea puree on top.
“I mean, I’m sure you and Deborah argued sometimes, right?”
A beat. He pats his mouth with his linen napkin. “Sometimes.”
“Exactly. I mean, otherwise there would be something wrong with the relationship, wouldn’t there? It would imply at least one person in the marriage is not being honest about their feelings. What did you argue about?”
He finishes the last of his scallops without replying, then puts his napkin down and takes my hand. “I don’t want to talk about Deborah tonight, Jodie.”
“I understand. I was just making the point. Still, if you told me what you argued about, then I could make sure not to trigger you, if that makes sense. Keep our relationship harmonious. For instance, if you couldn’t stand the way she snorted sometimes when she laughed—”
He looks up sharply.
“I’m not saying she did,” I say, focusing intently on pushing the last bit of scallop on my fork. “It was just a totally random example. So what did you argue about?”
His jaw tenses. “I just said,” he says softly, deliberately, “I don’t want to talk about Deborah.”
I nod. “All right. Maybe another time, then. Are you done with the scallops?” I push myself off my chair and gather the plates. “I’ve got an herb-crusted rack of lamb with garlic potato gratin and roasted baby carrots warming in the oven.”
“Let Marie do the clearing up,” he says.
And right on cue, Marie walks in. “Can I clear these away for you, Dr. Davies?” she asks sweetly.
“Yes, thank you, Marie. And then please bring the main course.”
“Certainly, Dr. Davies. I’d be happy to.”
“I’ll do it,” I say, moving to get up again, but Roy puts his hand on mine. “Jodie, sit with me. Let Marie do her job.”
“I’d love to, but I have to gently pour a spoonful—two spoonfuls of the jus before taking it out.”
“Can you put two spoonfuls of jus over the lamb before you take it out, please, Marie?” Roy says.
“Of course, Dr. Davies.”
“Tablespoons,” I say. “Not teaspoons.”
“Of course.”
I stare at her, mentally telegraphing my thoughts into her skull.
If you ruin this dish for me, if you pour two spoonfuls of vinegar, say, just for a joke, or even two tiny, tiny spoonfuls rather than tablespoons, I will replace your shampoo with maple syrup. I will put cockroaches in your bed. I will sew your apron pockets shut. I will—
But she’s gone.
I take a sip of wine and lean forward a little. “You know what I would really like?”
“Tell me.”
“That we let go of Marie.”
He opens his mouth to say something, so I raise my hand.
“Roy, listen. Think about it. It’s a waste of money.
I clean this house myself. I love cleaning.
I love cooking. I love washing your clothes and making our bed and dusting your shelves and folding your socks.
The only thing Marie does is clear the dishes and bring us an herbal tea after dinner, but I could do those things too.
I love doing all those things because what I love most in the world is taking care of you.
I don’t need a cleaner or a maid to do that. ”
A beat, lots of blinking. Finally, “Let go of Marie? No. We’re not letting go of Marie. Marie is family.”
My sister used to say, When someone tells you something that is obviously untrue, it’s probably a joke.
Later, over dessert—chocolate fondant with fresh raspberries and vanilla-bean ice cream—I tell him that Meredith invited me to lunch.
Roy always goes on and on about how popular Deborah was, so I want to show him that her friends also like me and even invited me to a charity luncheon.
He’ll like that. Roy is always chiding me for having no friends.
“Why don’t you have any friends?” he’d say.
Which, to be fair, is a perfectly valid question.
The truth is, I’ve never had a single friend, other than my sister, and now she’s dead, so if you organized a birthday party for me, it would be a party for one.
Although nobody has ever suggested organizing a birthday party for me, so… moot point.
“I moved here like a minute before I met you,” I’d tell him, laughing.
“All my friends are back home.” And he’ll suggest I invite some of them for a weekend sometime, and I will clap my hands and squeal that it’s an excellent idea!
Then I’ll ramble on about calling Amy and Nora and Abigail and how excited they’ll all be.
It will be just like old times, I say. It got to the point where I invented personalities for Amy and Nora and Abigail.
Sweet, church-going girls with a dash of mischievousness.
I’d tell him stories of sleepovers where we’d braid each other’s hair and paint each other’s nails and tell each other which boy we liked best. He loves those stories.
Some days, I just tell myself that Amy and Nora and Abigail are real, and we have long conversations inside my head. What do you think I should do? I’ll ask.
Kill him, of course, they’ll reply in unison. And I’ll laugh. You girls are being silly, I’ll say. It’s way too soon.
“That’s wonderful, Jodie.” He beams. “When is the luncheon?”
“This Friday.”
“Excellent. And what is it for?”
“It’s to help young women rise above their circumstances. Meredith says that’s right up my alley.”
“That’s so kind of her. I think that’s great news. I think you and Mer will get on like a house on fire.”
I snort a laugh.
“What’s so funny?” he asks.
“Nothing. Just that that’s how I k— that’s how my parents died.”
“Oh God! Jodie!” He puts down his napkin. “Honey, I’m so sorry! That was so thoughtless of me.”
I wave a hand in the air. “That’s all right. Water under the bridge. Anyway, I’m very excited,” I say. “I think I’m finally going to be part of the gang. I think it’s going to be great fun.”
“I’m so pleased for you,” he says, squeezing my hand, just as Marie walks in with our herbal tea, some concoction of chamomile and lavender and God knows what. Roy insists on it every night after dinner because he says it helps him sleep.
Roy tries to let go of my hand but I squeeze harder so it’s trapped under mine while Marie pours tea into Roy’s cup.
“Thank you, Marie,” Roy says.
“You’re very welcome, Dr. Davies,” she whispers.
Then she pours tea for me, splashing a little around so the cup is dripping when I pick it up from the saucer.
“Thank you, Marie,” I say.
She purses her lips. “It’s Marie.” Then she walks out of the room.