ABOUT HER

by Kimberly Adams

  Dead in the eyes.

  “No one told me about her. About women like her. Women who would presume to enter another woman’s life and place herself in front of another woman’s husband. And when that man was at his weakest, she slipped in. Her red hair, those goddamn red pieces of hair, trailed behind her as she walked. Not like a cape, or the train on a wedding dress. Like matter. As though she released a toxin into the atmosphere and the runoff leaked behind her, caught the air, and wafted under my husband’s nose. Poison. Poison that seeped into his senses and took them over until all he could see was her. All he could taste was her. Everything was about her. Everything. About her.”

  She was panting. A yellow strand of hair came loose, and she ignored it instead of giving it a pat into place. Her cheeks were red. Her lips cracked and her skin tore. I focused on the tiny bead of blood on her lower lip, watching her tongue dart out of her mouth to lick it away.

  Everything was still.

  Finally, I twisted my ring on my finger, freeing myself from the yarn trap in my hands.

  “Did you kill her, Virginia?”

  Her eyes changed. The black orbs were blue again, and she raised her eyebrows in genuine surprise. “Goodness! It’s nearly dinner time, and I haven’t done a thing to prepare.” She patted the loose hair into place behind her ear, securing the loose bun at the nape of her neck. “What kind of hostess am I? Be a dear and let Cal and Lana know we’ll have dinner a tad later tonight, will you, Lizzie?”

  I couldn’t get up fast enough. The stairs seemed a million miles away. I took two of them at a time, wishing my head would clear.

  Warn Cal and Lana. Run.

  Or fuck Cal and Lana. Run.

  Breathe, Lizzie.

  I gasped. Their bedroom was silent, and the last thing I wanted to walk in on was them screwing each other in a make-up sex session.

  “Cal?” I knocked on the door, hard.

  Nothing.

  When I tried the doorknob, it was locked.

  “Cal! Lana, can you please come to the door?”

  Nothing.

  Cal was the heavy sleeper. When I’d first met him, he lived in small ranch-style house across town. He was in the midst of his first divorce, though he lied to me and told me that he was already divorced when we started seeing each other. He and his first wife were separated at least.

  She’d left him by the time we met.

  I’d stand on the doorstep of the first house, staring at the brass knocker. It was engraved with he and his first wife’s name.

  Mary & Cal. Newlyweds. It was a gift from his sister for his wedding, he later told me.

  I imagined that Cal had carried this Mary of his over the threshold of their brand-spanking-new home, probably on one of his good days. A day when Cal was happy, so Mary was permitted to be happy, too.

  I’d knock with my knuckles but never the brass knocker. I was already irrationally jealous of the wedding dress that Mary wore when she exchanged vows with Cal, as though my sixth sense told me I’d be legally bound to him in a pale green courthouse ceremony, wearing my high school graduation dress.

  He wasn’t so much of a sound sleeper back then as he was passed out piss-drunk. But my naïve eighteen-year-old self didn’t mind that part. It was the house of new beginnings for me. The house I surveyed and mentally decorated and dreamed of sharing with Cal if he ever proposed to me. It was the house of lost virginity. The house of first wives and lost babies.

  Eventually he lost the house in the divorce.

  Cal spent a lot of time at the bar back then, and when he wasn’t working or at the bar, he’d have me over to watch a movie on his tiny TV/VCR combo. I worked at a video store, so I always had the latest new releases.

  The video store was called That Video Place. When I’d mention I was heading to work, my dad would inevitably ask, “where do you work, babes?” and I’d reply, with the smirk of a daughter who adored her dad’s dad-iest dad-jokes known to dads.

  “That Video Place.”

  “What video place?”

  Groan and giggle. God, I loved my dad.

  I was eighteen years old, and the summer of ’97, right after my high school graduation, was winding to a close. The closest thing I’d ever had to a real job was helping at Trina’s parent’s beverage store. Her parents, who were like my second parents, would pay me three dollars an hour to make sure the coldest beer was always in the front for customers to grab after a long day of work.

  And babysitting, of course. Being a teenage girl who loved to do arts, crafts, and activities with my young charges made me a hot commodity on Friday and Saturday nights in my neighborhood.

  That Video Place was my first real job, where I had to complete tax forms and clock in and out. I was nervous on my first day, trying desperately to listen to my new boss explain to me the system they used to check out videos.

  “The customer brings you the tag, you find the number back here, you put the tag on the shelf in the place of the video, you enter the number into the computer after you bring up their account. Cash or check is fine, and credit cards are accepted but you have to do a special process. There’s some carbon receipts down here under the counter with the printer paper...”

  I nodded so much my head felt like it was going to fall off my shoulders. I also wanted to appear very enthusiastic since I’d be working with the general public, so I kept a gigantic, crazy smile on my face during my entire five-hour first shift. By the end of the night, Sharon, my boss, had gone home and I was massaging my tender cheeks with my fingers while staring at the pile of tags that needed to be put away.

  “You did good,” Janie announced. She’d come in for the night shift, and her motherly tone eased my nerves. I remembered Janie from my graduating class in high school, a little. Trina was my best friend since seventh grade, and we’d been inseparable ever since. Trina was way more social than I was, and I preferred to spend my free time doing what I loved the most.

  Writing.

  “Thank you,” I answered Janie. “It’s so much to remember, but I’m a fast learner.”

  “Don’t let Sharon freak you out. She likes to make a ton of rules. Just stay on her good side and she won’t care if you mess up sometimes.”

  I smiled with gratitude. “I don’t remember you in high school. I was such a nerd, I barely talked to anyone,” I added, trying not to sound like she was the invisible one. She could have been the most popular girl in our graduating class, and I wouldn’t have known or cared. I was deep into my fifth novel at that point, and my fictional characters (and Trina) were my closest confidantes.

  “I had my daughter in junior year. I was out for a while.”

  I nodded, immediately understanding the maternal vibes she was giving off. There was something deeply nurturing about this eighteen-year-old girl that made me feel far less mature than I was.

  “What’s her name?” I asked.

  Her entire being lit up. “Gia. She’s my whole world.”

  “I can’t wait to meet her,” I said, letting her infectious warmth put another aching smile on my face.

  “I’ll fill you in on everyone here. Kerry is older- she’s twenty-six.” Janie pointed at our co-worker, lowering her voice slightly. Kerry was nodding as a customer was talking to her from across the counter. “And that’s Cal. He comes in here almost every night.”

  I saw the man like I saw all people- like faceless, Amish dolls with no discernable features. I had decided years ago that I must have been missing the piece of my brain that would ever allow me to work in law enforcement or become a spy. I couldn’t recall what a person looked like unless I described him on paper.

  “Will we get a lot of regular customers? Ones who come in a lot?” I asked, helping Janie gather the remaining movies that needed to be shelved. Rows and rows of numbered VHS tapes lined the shelves, and I quickly realized, at 5’6”, I was the tallest girl there. The top shelf became my job that night.

  Janie scoffed. “Mostly Cal. I think
he has a thing for Kerry, since they went to school together, but Kerry is married. Cal is going through a divorce. Every night, he goes and gets a six-pack of beer, Chinese food next door, and comes in here for a movie. His cable got shut off and all he has is a VCR. He also has a dog named Buddy who waits in the car for him. I know all of this because, like I said,” she went on, shoving the movies into their spaces, “he never. Stops. Talking. Ugh.”

  I giggled, stealing another glance at the man.

  Cal was older than me by nine years. On the thin side, but probably recently thin, since his shirt seemed a little baggy in the wrong places. I met his eyes and widened mine. His were the darkest blue, like sapphires. Like the sea after a storm, I thought in my ever-dramatic-writer’s brain. I looked away, not wanting to draw his chatty attention.

  “That girl over there,” Cal began, lifting his voice louder so that I could ear, “she never shuts up. Hey new girl, you should probably shut up and pay attention,” he said.

  With a grin.

  A charming, smirking, smirky grin that forced a rush of heat to my face. Immediately overheated in my standard-issue That Video Place polo, I gathered my shoulder-length, honey-brown hair into a make-shift ponytail.

  “Yeah, I should,” I joked lamely, rushing away from the counter as quickly as possible.

  I worked morning shifts throughout the weekend and into the next week. The following Wednesday night, I had my first closing shift with Janie. She was teaching me the nightly routine, explaining the cleaning that needed to be done. Armed with a wad of paper towels and a bottle of Windex, I began spraying off the glass countertops near the cash registers.

  The bell that jingled an alert every time someone entered the front door sounded, and Cal walked in holding a take-out bag with a Styrofoam container inside. The smell of hot Chinese food reminded me that I hadn’t eaten since eleven that morning, and my stomach rumbled.

  “Hey new girl,” he greeted me, and I gave a little wadded-paper-towel wave in his direction. He set his bag of food down on the counter at the far end near the candy for sale. “Do you mind if I set this here while I look for a movie? Is it in your way?”

  I shrugged, shaking my head. “No, that’s fine.”

  “Thanks,” he replied, off to hunt for a video.

  I took a deep, steadying breath. For some reason, this stranger made my cheeks flush and my heart race every time he spoke to me. My gut told me something in Morse code that made me want to run to the bathroom in the back.

  “And... he’s back for more entertainment.” Janie gestured to the swinging saloon doors just past the cash registers. “At least he doesn’t rent the porn. You don’t come here to find a date and rent porn. He’d be stupid.”

  “A date? I thought he was married?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

  “He’s going through a divorce.”

  “But that’s still married, right?” I asked.

  Janie turned to me, sighing dramatically with a wayward smile. “Oh, you innocent little thing. You’re really adorable, you know.”

  I gave her a confused half-smile as she moved to plug in the vacuum.

  “Westerns. Who organized this shelf? Half of these aren’t even Westerns,” Cal announced, pointing to the display shelf next to the counter. “Unforgiven? So much more than a Western.”

  “I’ve never seen it, so I don’t know,” I answered, shrugging as he handed me his tags.

  He gaped at me, and I stopped in my tracks.

  “What?” he asked.

  “I’ve never seen it,” I repeated slowly. “I don’t like Westerns.”

  “You need to watch it. Watch it and tell me if you think it’s a Western.”

  “Um, I don’t know,” I managed, nearly mixing up his choice of 12 Monkeys with Shiloh. I quickly grabbed the correct movie, guessing he wouldn’t enjoy the children’s flick.

  Unless he had kids, I thought. With her. The ex. Maybe she had the kids. After all, twenty-six was so old. He could have kids. Janie was my age and she had a daughter.

  “Listen. You take this home and watch it and let me know. I’ll buy you a cup of coffee and we can discuss it,” Cal said.

  I raised my eyebrows until they disappeared into my hairline. I glanced around for Janie to see if she’d heard him, too, but she was already pushing the heavy, old vacuum around the floor in the back of the store.

  “Okay, maybe I will,” I said in my most teasing tone. I felt like I’d just been given an assignment by one of my college professors, but at the same time, I felt like he was flirting with me.

  Or talking? Talking incessantly could be considered flirting, so I quickly pushed that thought away.

  “I’m Cal, by the way,” he said. “But you probably knew that from your computer there.”

  “Lizzie,” I replied, fighting the urge to extend my hand and shake his. Is he an adult? A kid like me? I have no idea.

  “Lizzie,” he echoed thoughtfully. “What is that around your neck, a roller skate?” he asked, pointing to my gold charm necklace.

  I pressed my fingers to my chest, shaking my head. “No, it’s a lighthouse. I love lighthouses.”

  He leaned in for a closer look, and I got a better assessment of his eyes.

  Sapphires.

  I was having a recent love affair with sapphires, and I glanced down at the ring on my finger that I’d chosen in lieu of a Class of ’97 ring. It was a sapphire surrounded by tiny diamonds.

  Like Cal’s eyes.

  He gathered his Chinese food and waved good-bye to me and Janie, and Janie gave him an annoyed little wave in return. Janie really didn’t like him.

  But I did.

  A little.

  I was quiet, and he filled all the space. I was nervous, and he was charming. I was hesitant, and he was flirtatious.

  It was some unexplainable pull that made me think about Cal for the next half an hour.

  The cordless phone rang, and I grabbed the receiver along with a handful of tags to return to the floor. “That Video Place,” I answered.

  “Hey, hi, it’s Cal- I was just up there and rented a movie?”

  He waited for me to respond with recognition, and I automatically smiled into the phone. “Hi, yes, I remember. It’s Lizzie.”

  “Oh, good. Listen, I think I left my wallet there. I got home and can’t find it anywhere. Can you take a quick look? It’s light brown leather.”

  I walked to the registers again, grinning.

  He didn’t leave his wallet.

  He’s standing in his home, wherever that may be, holding his wallet. I was positive.

  It was the first time I sensed Cal’s lie. It was like energy through the phone. It was a series of rushed words. Over-explanation. Distracted sighs that weren’t really distracted, but in fact were purposefully choreographed.

  But it was really damn cute that night, on a night when I’d never had anyone really flirt with me. When, in my teenage mind, I decided that lying was charming and so was Cal.

  “No, I’m so sorry, I don’t see it here,” I answered. “Maybe the Chinese food restaurant?”

  “Maybe. Well, thanks for looking, Lizzie. Have a good night,” he said.

  “You too,” I replied.

  I hung up the phone, grinning like a madwoman. I knew with certainty that he wasn’t missing his wallet. I knew he called just to talk to me.

  And it felt really, really good.

  I pressed my forehead against the Adam and Eve door.

  My thoughts were so boggled, and I was beginning to believe Jake was right. If Virginia was capable of killing another human being, drugging our soup would be child’s play.

  The door opened suddenly, and Cal stood in front of me, his sapphire eyes older now and marked with the crow’s feet of twenty years. The little lines were tales of the laughter and joy the kids and I had given him, and the scowls Lana had brought him.

  “Are you drunk?” I asked, cringing at him.

  He scowled. Okay, that one was for
me. “No I’m not drunk, but I feel like I am. Did Lana come out here?”

  I narrowed my eyes. “No, but Jake went for help. Cal, we have to get out of here,” I said in a rushed whisper. “I think Virginia-”

  “There you are,” Virginia said, and I jumped, turning to see her standing on the stairs behind us. “Dinner will be done very shortly. Come on downstairs, Lizzie and Cal.”

  I met Cal’s eyes, trying to silently communicate with him.

  Cal ignored me. “Is Lana downstairs?”

  Virginia chuckled. “Oh, she’s been downstairs for a while now. We’re chatting about cooking. I understand she’s quite skilled in the kitchen.”

  I pressed my fingertips to my temples and pushed.

  ELEVEN

  The sound of Virginia and Lana chatting and preparing dinner in the kitchen made me curiously jealous. In my muddled mind, I’d convinced myself that Virginia was both a murderer and my sympathizer, so the level of betrayal I felt while listening to them work together in the kitchen was clearly irrational.

  I was back in the parlor with Cal, and as soon as Virginia turned up the music again, I hurried close to him to whisper. “Cal, I think Virginia is... off. Like, crazy. And she was telling me the story about her daughter earlier and I- I think she might have killed somebody.”

  “Her daughter killed somebody?”

  I glared at him. “Are you being deliberately stupid?”

  “Virginia killed somebody?” he clarified, returning my glare. “And don’t call me stupid.”

  “I didn’t call you stupid. Oh for Christ’s sake, I think Virginia got away with murder. Maybe a decade ago. And Jake and I also think she put something in the soup. Did you and Lana pass out upstairs?”

  “We napped,” he said simply. “You sound a little crazy yourself there, Lizzie.”

  “Don’t call me crazy!” I huffed, louder than a whisper but still under my breath. A Beatles song played in the distance from the kitchen. “I’m trying to tell you something. I think we might be in danger. Especially you and Lana. Especially Lana,” I clarified. When his confused expression changed to incredulous, I exhaled slowly. “Listen to me. Lana looks a lot like Virginia’s ex-husband’s lover. A woman he cheated on her with and ended up leaving her for. The same woman who became their daughter’s stepmother. The same woman who was driving the car that wrecked and killed their daughter.”