Peter and Shazia joined the crowd.
When it was their turn, the woman at the small table looked up through the narrow glasses perched on the tip of her nose. “ID?”
“Yes, of course.” Shazia set down her suitcase and dipped her hand into her briefcase.
The woman took the laminated card and squinted at it, then reached for her keyboard. She tapped a few keys and frowned. She looked at the card again, then retried the numbers. “Are you a current student?”
“Yes. I just arrived this semester.”
“Maybe they haven’t inputted your number into the system yet. Let’s try your name.” Shazia spelled it out.
The woman typed. Then she shook her head. “That doesn’t work, either. You sure you’re current?”
“They might have her in the general student population,” Peter said. “Maybe we should check Tower East.”
“Tower East’s already full. We’re taking their overflow.”
Something knocked the backs of Peter’s legs. He turned around to see a tall boy standing close behind, burdened with backpack, sleeping bag, and a row of bags. “Sorry,” the kid said.
Peter nodded and turned back. He held out the card he wore clipped to his pocket. “I’m her advisor,” he told the woman. “I can vouch for her. Could you assign her a room now and we’ll straighten out the details later?”
“I’m sorry, Dr. Brooks. You’re not the first person to ask me that tonight. If I bend the rules for you, I’ll have to bend them for everyone.” She handed Shazia back her card.
“But she’s entitled to temporary housing.”
“Only if she’s a currently registered international student.”
Peter was losing his patience. “She is a currently registered student.”
“Not according to my records. Maybe there’s some problem with her tuition payments.” Peter glanced at Shazia. She looked helpless. “I don’t know.”
“Whatever the problem is,” Peter told the woman, “I’ll get it sorted out tomorrow. Let’s just find her a room now.”
“I’m sorry, Dr. Brooks.” She looked pointedly behind Peter.
“Next.”
“Her dorm’s closed. She has nowhere to go.” His cell phone was ringing. He could feel it vibrate against his hip. He pulled the phone from his pocket.
“Fine.” The woman sighed. “Tell you what. Why don’t you wait against that wall and I’ll find someone to help you.”
Sure she would. He glanced down at his phone and flipped it open. “Excuse me,” he said, then spoke into the phone. “Kate, honey, can I call you back?”
“Dad? Where are you?” She sounded teary.
“I’m at work. Why? What’s the matter?”
“Mom said she’d be gone an hour, but it’s been way over two hours. She’s not answering her phone.” Her voice went up, sailing clearly from the tiny mouthpiece. “I just saw on the news that someone got shot at Kroger.”
“Dr. Brooks?” the clerk said impatiently.
“Is that where she is?” Peter asked Kate, alarmed.
“I don’t know. She told me she was just going to the store. She didn’t tell me which one.”
“Dr. Brooks, I have to ask you to step out of line.”
“It sounds like your daughter needs you.” Shazia put her hand on his sleeve. “You go, Peter. I’ll figure something out.”
He hesitated, feeling torn. He looked around at the crowds shoving to get into the lobby. How could he abandon Shazia in the middle of this chaos, with no certainty that she’d find a place to stay? But how could he ignore his daughter’s plea, especially now, after a year of virtual silence on her end? He couldn’t even remember the last time she’d turned to him for help.
“Dad?”
Shazia placed her palms on his chest and gently pushed. “Go.”
TEN
JACOB WAILED THE ENTIRE TRIP HOME. ANN SAT IN THE backseat beside him, rubbing his cheek with her thumb and holding the pacifier in his mouth. “Hang on, little guy. We’re almost home.”
Her leg was throbbing. She’d have to ice it the minute she got a chance.
“What’s he doing here?” Libby asked.
There was a pickup parked in her driveway. Though it was too dark to make out the color, Ann recognized the shape immediately. Peter. He didn’t usually stop by unannounced. “I have no idea.”
Libby began hauling out sacks of groceries and lining them up in the driveway. Ann limped around the back of the minivan and lifted out a heavy bag. “I’ve got it. You go home and feed Jacob.”
Libby put her hand on the door handle and jerked her chin toward the pickup. “Call me, okay?”
“Sure.”
As the SUV backed down the driveway, Ann punched in the code for the garage door. The outside lights flashed on and the garage door rumbled up. Kate and Maddie stood there on the threshold.
“Mom!” Kate had her hands on her hips. “Where have you been?”
“Getting a tattoo.”
Maddie skipped over. “Really?”
“No, not really.” Ann handed Maddie the toilet paper. Why was Kate so annoyed? Certainly not because dinner was going to be late. Maybe she was just pissed she’d been stuck at home with Maddie. Or maybe it had something to do with Peter’s unexpected arrival. “You know where I’ve been. Grab the milk, Kate.”
Maddie wrapped her arms around the huge bundle. “Daddy’s here.” She beamed at Ann.
“I see that.” Ann glanced back to find Peter standing in the kitchen doorway. He wasn’t alone. Someone stood closely beside him, a tall, slim woman wearing a neatly belted coat and high-heeled boots. Her dark hair gleamed in the light from the kitchen behind her. A girlfriend? The possibility stung. Ann thought of her own hair hanging in straggles to her shoulders, her lipstick worn off hours ago, her baggy jeans and the hole in the toe of her sneaker, the ugly pulsing lump on her shin. Oh, God. She didn’t feel like dealing with this right now. Peter should have given her some kind of warning, allowed her the chance to prepare mentally if not physically. She lifted her chin and tried to look calm.
“Need help?” He grabbed two bags by their corners.
“I’m okay. What are you doing here?” They faced each other. No necktie. Today must have been lab day. He wore a yellow shirt, one Ann had never seen before, in a vibrant shade she might not have selected. She wondered who was picking out his clothes these days. Peter had always been so hopeless about the details, willing to fudge sleeve length and collar type just to get the job done. Ann had enjoyed lingering in the men’s department, running her hand across the smooth cottons, holding silky ties up to match. She glanced toward the woman standing behind them and wondered if she took the same delight in taking care of Peter.
“The girls called me,” he said. “They couldn’t reach you.”
They’d stopped that sort of manipulating ages ago. “My phone was buried at the bottom of my cart.”
“Kate saw something on the news. She tried you for over an hour. I tried, too.”
“I told them to keep the TV off. She couldn’t wait till I got home?”
“She was scared, Ann.”
Was he questioning her decision to leave the girls alone while she ran to the store? “Giant was a zoo, Peter. People were behaving like monsters. The girls were better off home alone. Just because Kate was freaking out—”
“I wasn’t freaking out.” Kate stomped over. “I was mad. You said you wouldn’t be gone long, but you were gone forever. You didn’t even tell me what store you went to.”
Ann was puzzled. What did that matter?
“At least Dad answered his phone.” Kate pronounced this with as much venom as she could possibly pack into those few words. “Jeez, Mom. How much milk did you get?”
As much as I could. “Put it in the big freezer.” Kate whirled away, but not before Ann glimpsed her puffy, reddened face. So she really had been upset.
The young woman still stood in the kitchen doorway. She moved a
wkwardly aside to let Ann pass. Ann paused. “Hello.”
She was a lot younger than Ann had first thought. Midtwenties, say. Thirty, tops. And she was very, very pretty.
The girl smiled shyly. “Hello, Mrs…. I mean …” She had a lovely accent. Her gaze fluttered over to Peter, clearly wondering what name Ann went by now.
“I’m Ann,” Ann said.
Peter stood on the step behind them. “This is Shazia Massri, one of my PhD students.”
A student? Peter had never said a word, never given her a clue he’d started seeing someone. And here he’d brought this … child … over and introduced her to the girls. Peter never thought. He was so determined to avoid conflict that he nevertheless managed to rake it up anyway.
“May I help?” Shazia said.
“Thank you, but I can manage.” Ann walked into the kitchen. Peter glanced down as she limped along. “I’ll get the rest.”
Ann opened the refrigerator and began fitting things inside. “Do you want spaghetti or ravioli for dinner, Maddie?”
“Tacos.” Maddie emptied a bag and lined up the contents on the counter.
“We had tacos last night.”
“But I hate ravioli!”
“Spaghetti it is.” Ann fitted blocks of cheese into the bottom drawer and pressed in a bag of cheese sticks. She wriggled the drawer shut.
Kate came in. “The milk’s done.”
Ann nodded toward the bag on the counter. “Take care of that, will you?”
Kate heaved a sigh but pulled the bag toward her.
Peter came in with two bags cradled in his arms and two more dangling from his fingertips. “That’s the end of it.” He set down the bags and pulled out a box of cookies. He turned to the pantry.
“Not there, Daddy.” Maddie pointed. “Up there. And these go up there, too.”
Peter took the box she handed him and slotted it up high.
Ann watched him covertly. It felt strange having him carrying in the groceries and putting things away. She’d gotten used to doing it on her own. She had to admit she didn’t like the tweak of pleasure she was feeling from having him here in her kitchen doing something so mundane and so normal, something he’d done a million times before but not once in the past twelve months.
Shazia stood by the door, not exactly in the room, not exactly out. Maybe she was waiting for Ann to offer her something to drink or to engage her in meaningless chitchat, but Ann just couldn’t muster up the energy. It had been a rotten day. She longed for it to be over. She wanted to have a hot meal and a long bath, tuck her girls into bed, and curl up among her own covers with a good book.
She put in the last container of cottage cheese and closed the refrigerator door. “Thanks. I can take it from here.”
Peter nodded and pulled his keys from his pocket.
Kate crossed her arms. “What are you going to do about Shazia, Dad?”
Ann stopped in the middle of folding a grocery sack and looked at Peter. What was Kate talking about? Was there more brewing in this Peter-Shazia relationship than Ann suspected?
Peter stood there, keys dangling from his finger, looking confused.
“I heard you on your cell phone,” Kate said. “She doesn’t have anywhere to go, does she?”
Ann was surprised. “I thought the university was providing emergency housing for international students. You were on that committee, Peter. Did the plans change?”
“There’s been some kind of bureaucratic screw-up. Shazia’s not on the list.”
“He’s been calling hotels,” Kate told her. “There aren’t any rooms.”
“There are dozens of hotels in Columbus,” Ann said. “There has to be something.”
He shrugged. “No one’s answering the phones.” His voice was light, but his eyes were serious. “No big deal. If we have to, we can camp out at my place.”
That rankled. The divorce wasn’t even final yet.
“Ha.” Kate leaned against the counter. “You should see Dad’s apartment, Mom. It’s teeny.”
“It’s not that bad,” Peter said.
“It’s pretty bad,” Kate said. “Dad, you don’t even have a stove.”
“Enough,” Peter said firmly.
Ann had no idea what Peter’s place was like. She’d never wanted to know the details about how Peter was moving on without her.
“We’d better get going,” he said.
Ann nodded. “All right.”
Peter kissed Kate’s cheek and ruffled the top of Maddie’s hair. She protested, swatting at him and giggling. Then she threw her arms around him. “I love you, Daddy.”
“I love you, too, princess. I’ll call you guys later. Bye, Ann.”
“Bye.”
“Nice meeting you,” Shazia said, and then they were gone, the kitchen door shutting with a click.
“Mom,” Kate said.
“Try not to worry, honey. Your dad’ll be fine.” Ann took out a jar of spaghetti sauce and stuck a pot on a burner. She couldn’t bear to look into Kate’s accusing eyes.
“What is this?” Maddie had pulled a tin from the bag and was staring at it.
“Protein powder. You make shakes with it.”
“Like milkshakes?”
“Something like that.” Ann heard the soft grumble of an engine starting up. Peter would cobble together some sort of solution. But what if he couldn’t? Would he end up sleeping in his truck? She thought of the crazy crowds at the grocery store, the man and woman who’d stolen her bottles of water. What if there were actual riots? It was inconceivable. She unscrewed the jar of sauce and dumped its contents into the pot. She looked down into the red liquid.
She felt Kate watching her. She looked up and met her daughter’s gaze. “I’ll be right back.”
As she stalked down the driveway, she could see Peter and Shazia talking in the cab of the truck. Shazia saw Ann first. She straightened in her seat and said something to Peter.
He rolled down the window. “Something the matter?”
Ann said nothing. She could feel the huge house looming behind her. All those rooms, so many of them empty. She had to.
“Ann?”
“You should stay here,” she said. He looked surprised. How awful. Had things between them so deteriorated that he’d be taken aback by a simple act of civility? “Both of you.”
“Ann.”
“There’s plenty of room.” Four bedrooms and a pullout sofa in the basement. He paid the mortgage. He’d been generous, letting her take the house and its contents, leaving with just his clothes and some audio equipment.
What was she doing, persuading her soon-to-be ex-husband and the girl who was probably his young lover to move in?
“I know it’s weird,” she said. “But these are unusual circumstances.”
He looked at Shazia, then back to Ann. “Maybe just until I can straighten things out.”
The relief on his face was plain. He’d been worried. It was now full dark, and cold. There probably wasn’t even any food in his apartment. How could she have hesitated? She put her hand on the metal rim of the window. “It’s settled then.”
Ann turned to go back into the house. Behind her, the engine shut off and the car doors opened. First one and then the other.
Unusual circumstances indeed.
ELEVEN
PETER WEDGED HIS JACKET INTO THE HALL CLOSET BESIDE the girls’ coats, their cheerful colors standing out against the tan of his jacket and the sober maroon of Ann’s coat, the same one she’d had for years. Boots stood on the floor below—Maddie’s mauve leopard print, Ann’s stubby brown ones, and a sleek black pair with designs stitched into the leather with white thread. Kate’s, probably. She’d always loved cowboy boots. He remembered her first pair, a bright cherry color, that she loved so much she insisted on wearing them everywhere, to the store, on playdates, even to bed. After she’d fallen asleep, either he or Ann would tiptoe in and gently ease the boots off her feet. But then, sure enough, the next morning she’d
appear in the kitchen doorway, yawning, still in her nightgown and wearing those boots. How old had she been, two? Maybe three. She’d cried so when she finally outgrew them and Ann couldn’t find a pair in a larger size.
In the kitchen, Ann was tearing open a box of pasta and dumping its contents into a pot of bubbling water. She looked up as he approached, and she swept back a strand of hair from her face with the back of her hand. “It’s just sauce from a jar tonight.”
Peter thought of her homemade marinara, rich with chopped onion and garlic and bell peppers. He wondered if this hasty meal was a result of her working full-time or if this was just the way she and the girls ate now. Somehow, he’d thought all three would be frozen in time, doing the same things the same way they always had, just without him. “Smells good.”
“Get out the Parmesan, Maddie,” Ann said. “Kate, please set the table.” She glanced over her shoulder at Peter. “I think there’s a bottle of wine in the basement if you want to hunt it up.”
“Sure.”
He found it easily enough, lying in the wine rack above the mini-refrigerator, just where he’d left it. Rubbing away the dust from the smooth glass shoulders of the bottle, he came back into the kitchen. Maddie was pouring cheese into a small bowl while Kate spread place mats across the kitchen table. Shazia stood by the sink, a water glass in her hand.
He winked at her and she smiled.
Ann stirred the pasta. “Do you have a lot of family in Cairo, Shazia?”
“All my family’s there,” Shazia replied. “My brother, my sister, my parents. My father comes from a large family. He’s one of ten children.”
“Ten!” Maddie said. “That’s practically a soccer team.” Shazia smiled. “I have a lot of cousins.”
“I can imagine,” Ann said. “What does your father do?”
“He’s a medical doctor.”
“And you’re getting your PhD. He must be very proud of you.”
“Shazia went to Oxford.” Peter opened a drawer and began hunting for a corkscrew among the rattle of spoons and spatulas. “And she got her DVM in Cairo.”
“Impressive.” Ann brought out a loaf of bread and began to slice it. “So, you’re making the switch from veterinary medicine to research?”
The Things That Keep Us Here Page 7