by Tanen Jones
I leaned against my car for almost ten minutes, sunning myself like a lizard. It was bad for my skin, but I didn’t care. After the close, dark interior of the house on Riviera, I felt like I needed to be covered in sunlight.
The cop car pulled up beside me, crunching pebbles under its tires. A Crown Victoria. I hadn’t seen one of those in years. All the cop cars in Vegas were SUVs or those ugly, round-nosed Camaros. I half expected Nancy to get out looking like Officer Krupke, but her uniform was modern and close-cut, black trousers and black collared shirt with a patch on the sleeve. She looked slim-hipped and serious in it, like those old photographs of young men in khaki. I saw her throat move as she swallowed, and suddenly I couldn’t tell if I was pretending to want her or not.
“Nancy,” I said. In two steps she had crossed the distance between our cars and pushed me up against the coupe, her hands tipping my head back, lips on my neck. I let out an inadvertent breath as she kissed me and slid her hands down my body, pulling my hips toward hers. “Is this okay?” she mumbled, not looking at me.
“Yes—yes,” I breathed, flattered by her impatience.
“We should get in the car,” she said, glancing at the road. I nodded.
The back of the Victoria was easy-scrub leather, scalding after half a day’s trapped sunlight, and I instantly broke into a sweat despite the air-conditioning as Nancy pushed me inside. “You canceled your flight,” she said, biting me on the shoulder hard enough to hurt.
I added a little extra to my gasp, and fumbled for the buttons of her uniform. “Please, Nancy,” I said, and then she was crushing me onto the seat, mouth hot against mine.
“You missed me,” she said, pulling my shirt off.
“Uh-huh.” I glanced up at her. She was wearing a sports bra under her uniform shirt, and I pushed my hands underneath it, groping, until she yanked it over her head. “I’ll show you.”
It was cramped and hot in the Victoria, and Nancy laughed a little hysterically as I sank down into the well of the seat. It was easy to make Nancy come—she was so sensitive that I had to pin her hips in place with one arm—and I did it over and over again until she was half sobbing, covering her face with her hands.
I climbed up into her lap, straddling her, waiting for her heart to slow. After a while she opened her eyes and tilted her face up, and I kissed her, slacker this time than the last.
“I want to fuck you,” she said. “Not with my hands. I feel like you’d like it.”
“I’d like it,” I said, realizing as I said it that I was telling the truth. Realizing it probably wouldn’t happen. I’d disappear, and then Robin would disappear too. A funny sinking feeling entered me.
“Next time, then.” She touched me gently, running her nails down my back. I leaned into it—it felt hypnotic, like she could tell exactly where I needed it—and she trailed her lips across my chest. “You’re so beautiful,” she said, resting her cheek against my breast. “I feel nervous to even look at you.”
“I know,” I said, leaning forward again and grazing her cheek with my nose. But I didn’t know—not really. I was fascinated by the people who fell in love with me. It came over them like a fever, turning them sweaty and desperate, ready to fall to their knees at a moment’s notice. In return what I felt was a kind of hunger. Was it love if you only consumed it? I thought about how I’d made Paul say I love you, I love you, I love you, like a child writing lines on the blackboard.
It felt stranger with Nancy, too easy. I should have felt guilty, but I liked it, the closeness, the way she looked at me, like she was seeing a real person. When Paul looked at me it was more like he saw my demographic, and approved. Twentysomething, redheaded, aspiring actress. Check. I thought about that other woman, the one with the Tesla.
“Do you know anyone named Sam?” I asked. “Sam Driscoll?”
Nancy shook her head a little too slowly. “Who’s that?”
I could have swallowed my tongue. “Nobody. Never mind.”
“Are you okay?” she asked, stroking my face. “On the phone, you said something was going on with your family.”
“I can’t talk about it to you,” I mumbled. “I wish I could.”
“What?” Nancy’s eyes sharpened. “It’s something illegal? Are you in trouble?”
“It’s not me.” I slid off her lap and started pulling on my underwear. “It’s my sister. Anyway, I don’t even know for sure, so…”
“What is it?”
I rubbed my face. “I’m scared you’re going to arrest her or something!”
“Robin.” Nancy reached for my hands and caught them up like a high schooler, fingers laced awkwardly in midair. When she was moving deliberately, she was so elegant in her motions, but moments of distraction revealed her natural hesitancy. “She’s your sister. I swear I’m not going to arrest her. I just want to know what’s going on.”
“Maybe you should arrest her.” I sighed. “She has another phone. I found it. It’s her talking to some guy about how she gave him all this cash and she wants her money back. I looked up the address where she met him, but it was sold recently and I can’t find out who owned it before, or what the guy’s name is.”
“What’s the address?”
“It’s a Curves gym in Corrales. Why, do you think you could look up what it used to be?”
She shrugged and leaned over to grab her shirt. “It’s not a lot of trouble to look up an address in the system, if it’ll make you feel better. I’m sure it’s just money she loaned a friend. Your sister doesn’t strike me as a criminal mastermind. Isn’t she an accountant?”
“But why keep it on a separate phone?” I widened my eyes. “You know? The Leslie I knew would never keep a phone hidden from her husband. They share all their computers. She leaves her Facebook logged in.”
“Are they having problems or something?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. I think maybe—maybe yes. Maybe it’s something to do with trying to get a divorce. Dave’s been—But if she’s into something shady, I have to know. I mean, we’ve only just started talking. I don’t want her to mess up her life like—like I did.” I closed my eyes, and when I opened them Nancy was biting her lip.
“You didn’t mess up your life,” she said. “You’re still here, aren’t you?”
“Yeah,” I said, visibly shoring myself up.
“Here.” She passed me her phone to type the address and phone number in.
“This is so sweet of you.” I finished typing and crawled closer to her, putting my arms around her neck.
She batted me away. “I have to go back to work. Everybody’s going to know.” Her face was pink.
“Then you should probably get rid of all the lipstick on your mouth,” I said, wanting to rub my face against hers.
“What, really?” She sat up and leaned forward to look in her rearview mirror. “Fuck,” she said, scrubbing at it.
“I’ve got it. Come to my car.” She followed me out into the dusty lot, the horizon looming. No other cars were on the road this time of day, and it felt like we were in an atmospheric pocket so high up, where no one could see me get my lotion from my purse and dab it on Nancy’s face. She screwed up her eyes as I swept the Kleenex over her skin. It was covered in raspberry stains when I was done, and I held it up to show her.
“Magic,” she said. “Thank you, baby.”
Baby. I let my eyes light up. “I can’t kiss you again,” I said. “I’ll ruin all my hard work.”
She laughed and kissed me on each corner of my mouth, just where it began to curve upward. It was so intimate, like something married people would do. “Don’t worry about your sister. It’s probably nothing.”
“When can you get away?” I breathed, pressing my cheek into her uniform. “Tonight?”
“I don’t know.” Her face shuttered. “Maybe. I’ll text you.�
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“Don’t go.”
“I have to.” She stepped back, and I pulled myself away from her as if we were magnetized. I leaned on the Nissan, knowing I’d be silhouetted against the white paint, and when Nancy glanced over her shoulder I was touching my lips, letting out a shaky breath.
I could have been in love with her in another life. In another life, I had been, maybe.
Nancy got in her cop car and shut the door. I waited for her to round the bend, and then I scrubbed the rest of my face with the Kleenex. Leslie would be home soon, and I wanted to look like I’d been on the couch all afternoon.
35
Leslie
The back wall of my office was a single plate-glass window. The heat was making me sleepy. I had my desk fan turned on full-blast, with makeshift paperweights holding down all my files—stapler, pair of scissors, pencil sharpener. Their edges fluttered as the fan swept across my desk. I rubbed my temples and stood up to get water.
Justin was sitting at his cubicle just outside my door. I leaned over. “I’m leaving a little early today, so if you finish after four o’clock, send it to Paige, not me.”
Justin looked up. “Oh, is Eli okay?”
“What?” I said, turning back.
He pursed his lips. “Is Eli okay? Are you picking him up?”
“He’s fine, why?” I frowned. “I have some things to do about my dad’s estate.”
“Oh, thank God.” Justin laughed. “Not about your dad, obviously. But you’re at Haven too, right? My two-year-old came down with the worst stomach virus and it’s going around. I hope you guys are spared.”
“Oh, how fun,” I said. “I hope so too. And—sorry, I’m completely blanking on her name—”
“Catherine,” Justin supplied.
“Catherine! I hope she feels better soon.”
“Me too. She’s miserable.” He grimaced. “But at least she’s improving her Spanish. We’ve been watching a lot of Pocoyo while she rides it out.”
I tried to look sympathetic, and turned to head toward the office kitchen.
“Are you guys raising Eli bilingual? Your husband speaks Spanish, right?”
“Yeah.” I turned back and folded my arms. “He does.”
“So how’s Eli doing with that?” Justin grinned.
“I mean…” I shrugged. “He’s only a year, so he’s not very verbal yet.”
Justin tilted his head. “Does he use sign language? I know they taught Catherine some signs at Haven, although she was starting to make sentences by the time Ben went back to work. We found it really useful.”
I didn’t know how much sign language Eli used. “He does enough.”
“Well, if you’re worried about his language acquisition, reading picture books really did wonders for Catherine. They make the connection much quicker and it’s supposed to speed up their reading. We have some old ones from last year if you want to take them off our hands!”
I gave him a vague smile. “That’s really nice of you. We’ve got too much baby stuff already, though. You really have to let them set their own pace.”
“That’s so true.” Justin smiled at me. “Okay, well, I’ll let you go. Sorry for all the baby talk, but this office is so baby-free, I just need to talk to somebody who understands sometimes. I was so thrilled when you said you were going on maternity leave last year!”
I laughed and turned toward the kitchen. I’d spent enough time talking with Justin that it was almost time to leave. In my office, I closed the blinds—something I never did until the end of the day; the striped light from the closed blinds made my office feel cagelike—and gathered my things into my purse.
The appointment with Albert was in an hour. My neck itched as I got into the elevator.
I couldn’t listen to the radio on the way home. The noise set my teeth on edge. I drove in silence, hearing other people’s music wash over from their open windows.
What if she wasn’t there again?
I could feel my pulse in the hollows of my jaw as I pulled into the neighborhood.
She wasn’t on the lawn.
I parked and went inside.
“Robin?” I called, just in case Dave had come home early.
There was no reply.
I wandered through the hall into the kitchen. Two chairs had been pulled out, but she wasn’t there.
“Robin?”
I heard the television click on. I went into the living room.
“Leslie,” Mary said. “You’re home!”
She was stretched out on the couch in cutoffs and a lacy white top, sneakers still on. Bits and pieces of a pizza littered the empty box and the floor around it, and she’d left a wadded-up napkin on the coffee table. I looked at the TV. A tennis game. The room smelled like weed.
“You’re not dressed,” I said. “Did you bring drugs here? Why didn’t you answer me before?”
She adjusted her top. “You know what’s funny?”
“What?”
“You know what’s funny?” she repeated. “I found out why you weren’t that worried about me blowing it for you with Dave about your job.” She shuffled her dirty sneakers on my couch thoughtfully. “I guess it doesn’t matter if there’s nothing to find out. Since you weren’t fired.”
I swallowed. “I asked you to stop prying into my personal life.”
She sat up. “I came out here because I felt sorry for you, Leslie. Because you said you were about to lose your house. But it turns out you guys are fine. You actually don’t need fifty grand. So why did you tell me all that crap?”
“Did you call my work?” I asked. “Did you give them a name?”
Mary’s face darkened. “Is it because I’m so cute, is that why everyone assumes I’m a fucking dumbass? I didn’t give them any name. I just wanted to know where you were going all day.” She flopped back on the couch and folded her arms. “Because you don’t tell me shit, Leslie. I went with you out of the goodness of my heart and you are making me question that.”
I blinked hard as my eyes watered. “You went with me because you were failing in Vegas,” I said, hearing the edge in it. “So don’t pretend it was because you care about my problems. I need the money, and so do you. It doesn’t matter why.”
Mary studied my eyes dispassionately, as if trying to determine whether the tears were real. Finally she said, “I thought we were kinda getting along, you know. I don’t know what you want from me.”
“I want you to get dressed,” I said flatly.
Mary raised her eyebrows, but got up off the couch and went upstairs. I shut the TV off and gathered up the pizza detritus.
When she came back down, she had left the white Adidas on, but changed into a polo dress. Not ideal, but it was enough. We got into the car in silence. Mary looked out the window as I started the car and pulled us onto the main road.
After a minute I dug Robin’s passport out of my purse and tossed it into her lap. “Found that in the safety deposit box. It’s got three months left on it. You can use it if they ask you for ID.”
She thumbed through it. “There’s no country stamps in here.”
“We didn’t travel much.”
Mary flipped back to the photo. I could see her examining it out of the corner of my eye.
“I’m sorry for lying to you,” I said finally. “I didn’t know what else to say to explain why I need the will to go through.”
“You could tell me what’s really going on,” she said timidly.
I shook my head. “I can’t tell anyone. It’s not personal. And it won’t affect you.” I looked over at her. “I promise.”
Mary’s hair had fallen into her face. The light turned green as we stared at each other, and I hit the gas. Mary glanced back down at the passport in her hands. “She takes a good photo,” she said.
I knew the photo she was looking at. My dad had been talking about a trip to Europe as a reward if Robin stayed out of trouble. But Robin never stayed out of trouble. They’d told us not to smile in the picture, but she’d smiled anyway, looking into the camera as if it were her conspirator, the light turning her pale skin pink at the edges. Like she really had thought we were going to Europe.
“She ran away right after that.” I didn’t know why I said it. To stop Mary looking at the photo that way, maybe. “I saw her leaving, you know.”
Mary flipped the passport shut. “You didn’t stop her?”
“She left all the time.” I glanced over my shoulder and switched lanes. “She always thought she was quiet about it, but my bedroom window was right next to hers. I heard it every time she opened it.”
“And you saw her that night?”
“Yeah.” I pulled the visor down. “She just walked straight across the backyard and climbed the fence, and then she was gone. She barely took anything with her. I figured she’d be back in a few days.”
“But she wasn’t.”
“No.”
Mary rolled her window down and adjusted the side mirror so that she could put on lipstick. “Do you ever wish you had stopped her?”
I shook my head. “I was angry at her. For making everything so hard. She was failing school, lying about where she was. And she wouldn’t have listened to me. We were really close when we were kids, but after our mom died, she was different.”
Mary rolled the window back up and snapped the cap back on her lipstick. “Different how?”
“I don’t know.” I flipped on the radio. “Anything you need to know before we go inside?”
“How’d your mom die?”
Vintage radio, Tino Rossi. Besame, besame mucho…
“She drowned.”