Chapter 8
DAMIANO
I am reviewing the specs for a new mission when Chris Hammond waves to get my attention in the hallway. He’s one of the guards I’ve had assigned to Madison’s house.
“Yes?” I say.
He clears his throat. “So, we aren’t supposed to report on comings and goings at the Greene property…”
“Yes?” I repeat, narrowing my eyes. “Unless it has to do with security.”
“Right, exactly.”
He pauses for so long, I start to wonder if he could be having a stroke. At the same time, if there is any detail about Madison that he thinks I may want to know, it turns out that I very fucking much want to know it.
I am about to tell him this when he bursts forth with, “I’m not sure this qualifies, but SEFD came to the house last night to check her carbon monoxide detector.”
“And what did they find?” I ask.
“They said all is well, no problems.”
I nod. “Well, good. That is good, then.”
He nods back and scurries away, like he still isn’t sure he did the right thing by reporting on the SEFD visit.
He absolutely did.
Picking up my phone, I call Madison. She answers after the first ring. “Hey.”
“Hello, beautiful Madison. How are you—are you all right?”
“So you heard about my call to the fire department?”
Perceptive woman. “Yes. It falls under the purview of security and safety.”
“More or less,” she says with a laugh. “I’m fine, I promise. I just thought maybe a carbon monoxide leak would explain all the weird shit going on, you know?”
“I know. Why don’t you stay with me tonight? I miss you. I miss talking to you, kissing you, giving you orgasms. I miss falling asleep next to you and waking up next to you.”
She hesitates. “I can’t. If I keep running away, I’ll never feel like this is my house. And I love this house. My great-aunt left it to me for a reason—because it feels like home.”
“Well, how about I come and stay with you?” I suggest.
“No, you don’t have to—” She stops and takes a breath. “Actually, yes. It would be nice.”
“I’ll be done with work around six, and I’ll come straight over.”
We say goodbye, and I lean back in my seat. She is always so reluctant to accept help, but just now, she did it without much argument. This is an improvement.
MADISON
I walk past Angeli’s, the lingerie store where Damiano fucked me in the dressing room. The very memory has me blushing. I wonder if I’ll ever work up the nerve to go back into that boutique.
I smile to myself as I walk. Things are good, for the most part.
I’m trying to put the bombshell revelation about Kyle’s infidelity behind me, and things have been quiet at home.
The past three nights, either Damiano, Seth, or both of them have stayed with me at my house.
I love having them there—partly for the quiet, happy moments, partly for the scorching sexcapades.
But also for the way that nothing spooky or mysterious has happened.
No creaks or bumps in the night, no faces in windows, no smelly blankets.
I washed the blanket, but I haven’t been able to bring myself to use it since that night. In fact, it’s still in the dryer. I might need to buy a new blanket.
Other than that, though, I’ve been feeling better about everything. It helps that this is a gorgeous December day. The air is cool, but my skin is warmed by the sun. Even the few clouds in the sky look perky.
I’m nearly to my car when I see a familiar woman sitting in front of V’s Cafe. My stomach drops—it’s Eliza. I’d hoped to never encounter her again after Thanksgiving.
She sees me at the same moment I see her. Her face freezes in shock and she sets her coffee mug back on the table. “Uh, hey, Madison.”
It takes a moment for me to choke out the word. “Hey.”
We remain in awkward silence for a second, me on the other side of the little wrought-iron fence separating the coffee shop’s outdoor seating from the rest of the sidewalk.
“Well, take care.” I force my legs to take a step.
“Do you want to talk?” she asks. “I didn’t expect this, but I’ve been wondering if I should reach out. I’d love to talk with you, if you want to hear what I have to say. If you’re ready. But if not, that’s okay.”
If she were insisting, I would say no. But there’s a sad, hopeful spark in her blue eyes.
Fuck. I should say no. But I’m going to hear her out. Morbid curiosity, masochism, I don’t know why I would do this. But here I go. I round the little fence and join her at the table. A plate with a croissant sits in front of her, but she hasn’t touched it.
She looks over her shoulder. “Do you want a drink? I can flag someone down.”
“No, I won’t stay long. But thanks.” I don’t know why I’m here. I don’t know what I’m doing. Am I stepping up to a knife, so my memories of Kyle can be fileted all over again?
“I’m so sorry,” she starts. “For everything. You probably have questions, after Thanksgiving?”
“Yeah, I have a few. I guess the first one is, I always knew you were Kyle’s friend,” I say, “but I’d thought you were my friend, too. Was I wrong?”
She looks miserable. “I was a complete asshole back then. So was Kyle. I—I don’t know if you know, but Seth called me a few days ago. He wanted to meet, to ask about everything that happened with Kyle.”
I didn’t know. A flare of jealousy moves through me. First she meets up with Kyle without me knowing, and now Seth? Who’s next, Damiano?
Oblivious to my ire, she continues, “I’ve done a lot of introspection, both before and after I talked to Seth. The thing with Kyle—which never got physical, I promise. I would tell you if it had.”
I nod, trying to hear past the hissing jealousy in my gut.
“The thing with Kyle,” she repeats, “is that I wanted to feel important. Not just to him, but to everyone in my life. And his attention felt forbidden. Like, of course I was important if he would come over in the middle of the night to see me. It was so stupid. I was so stupid.”
“We were nineteen. We were all stupid.” It’s true. It doesn’t make any of this hurt less, but it’s true.
“Either way, it was wrong.” She pushes her untouched croissant toward me as an offering. “I knew it was wrong, and I think he did, too. And I’m sorry. I wish I’d never done it, and I wish you never had to find out like that. Mrs. Colton was awful to you, and my mom helped with her cruelty.”
I pick up half of her croissant, which has been filled with ham and cheese, and take a small bite. Here’s Eliza, apologizing to me for something that happened over five years ago. And she seems to recognize the harm—both then, and now. “Thanks for the croissant. And also—I forgive you.”
If Seth called her, it was for his own peace of mind. Not to start an affair. I tell the jealous monster in my heart to simmer down. It’s time to put this behind me.
“So,” I ask, “what did you and Kyle do all those nights he went over?”
“He didn’t actually come over all that often.
It was only a few times…less than ten times, I’d say.
We’d usually meet for a drink after work, talk for a bit, and then he’d go home to you.
I was jealous, which is so ridiculous. But I was.
I wanted what you guys had. Anyway, the few times he came over, we just talked.
Sometimes there was a movie playing in the background, but we chatted.
He talked about his relationship with you.
Sometimes complaining about stupid stuff, like how you wanted him to clean up after himself. ”
I sigh. “He was a dick about that. We both worked, but he wanted me to be a homemaker or something.”
“Yeah, looking back, he was kind of awful about it.”
“Do you think he would’ve grown out of that?” I ask. “I wonder sometimes. I wish he’d at least had a chance. Who would want to be frozen at nineteen in everyone’s memories? Not me.”
“Fuck no, not me, either.” Eliza laughs. “It really isn’t fair that he died so young.”
“No, it’s not.”
We sit in silence for a while. She takes a sip of her coffee. “Is there anything else you want to know? I’m not proud of what, I guess now, I’d call an emotional affair. But I’ll tell you whatever you need for closure.”
“No, I think I understand.” And I do. We were all young and stupid, is what it comes down to. I can forgive Eliza, and I can even forgive Kyle. “I should get going.”
“I don’t mind if you stay,” she says. “We could hang out.”
“Really? I guess I do have another question. Unrelated to Kyle.”
“Okay.” She waves her hand. “Go for it.”
“Well, it’s weird,” I say. “But you saying we could hang out reminded me of this. I don’t feel like anyone really wants to be my friend. Like, is something wrong with me? You can be honest—it won’t hurt my feelings. I just need to know.”
“I would be your friend in a heartbeat.” She offers me a smile.
“I just always thought you were so independent and self-contained. Even back then. I got the feeling you didn’t want anyone around except Kyle.
I mean, I’m a hot mess. I nearly had an affair with your husband.
Why would someone who has their life together, want to hang with someone like me, who doesn’t know anything? ”
“You think I have my life together?” I want to laugh, but she seems serious.
“It’s always been the opposite. You should’ve seen my life before I inherited my great-aunt’s house.
I had a tiny apartment with two roommates—both happened to be disgusting in their own way.
I was practically mothering these men. And everyone hated me at my catering job. ”
“They were probably intimidated by you.” Eliza twirls a strand of her curly auburn hair around her finger. “I know I am. You really do seem so…so self-sufficient. Like you know what you want in life and you’re going for it.”
I don’t see it, but I like this explanation more than something like, Hey, you have a toxic personality that you’ve been unaware of for years.
“We have a messy past,” Eliza says, “but I would totally hang out with you. I don’t expect you’d want that—I didn’t even expect you to forgive me.”
“I do,” I insist. “I forgive you, truly. We were idiots back then. Especially Kyle—he should’ve known better, too.”
Eliza nods. “He was a dick to say things about you and your relationship to me. And at the same time, I could tell he really loved you. I think that love kept him from crossing major lines with me.”
It’s a nice sentiment. I don’t know if it’s true, or if I can really believe my feelings anymore. Like, I know I love Seth and Damiano. And I know they love me. But is that kind of love enough? Could it ever be?
I pull back from the table. “I really appreciate your apology, and your explanations. They make things a lot clearer.”
“You don’t have to go,” she says. “We could hang out here, or we could walk around the park or something?”
A smile stretches my cheeks. “You meant what you said, about wanting to be friends?”
“I did.” She nods for emphasis.
“Okay. I have way too much to think about right now, but I can give you my number, and maybe we can get together some other time?”
“I’d love that.”
We say our goodbyes and I walk away. I feel like I lost my husband all over again, but maybe I’ve gained a friend. And if I can get one friend, surely I could find others? But who?
Eliza said that I seem like I don’t need anyone, that I’m independent. If I want friends, maybe I should be more vulnerable with people. I would want to talk about my life, my relationship with Seth and Damiano. So they’d need to be cool with that.
Before I drive home, I text Damiano and Seth. Do you have the number of the woman who was at the theater with her husbands?