It didn’t help that the kitchen faucet had broken that morning while Tom was getting a drink of water, still trying to satiate a thirst that never seemed to go away. A violent stream of liquid sprayed out from its base and soaked the counter, the floor, and anything else within range. By the time Tom had shut off the valve under the sink, mopped up the puddles all over the kitchen, realized there was a huge greasy stain on his shirt, and changed into a new outfit, he hadn’t had time to visit the chrysalis, something that had become a morning ritual. And most nights now, too.
He’d missed his usual train, and Kroll barked at him about being late, making a point of mentioning Tom’s flattening sales numbers over the last couple of weeks. That was true—Tom found himself becoming more and more irritable with people who said no to his cold calls, which made it harder for him to convert them to customers. His charm offensive had become less and less effective, just like the diminishing high he got from the chrysalis. Kevin had told him to tone it down. It was a small office, and people talked. The last thing either of them wanted was for Tom to permanently get on Kroll’s bad side so early in his tenure. Especially after such a great start to his sales career.
The only good thing about missing the train was that Tom had seen the tall, mouthy businessman for the first time since their altercation the previous month.
Noticing the man on the platform waiting for the 7:41, Tom surmised that he must have stopped taking the 7:06 after Tom had knocked him senseless—he hadn’t even noticed the guy’s absence. When the man saw Tom walking up the concrete steps onto the train platform, he visibly stiffened and turned away.
Tom felt no real satisfaction at the sight, which surprised him. Once he thought about it, though, he realized he was feeling less and less in general these days, unless he was booming off the chrysalis. And even then, he had to spend more time touching the dark mass just to maintain his previous levels of intoxication. Sometimes he barely got high at all.
And since today he hadn’t been able to visit the basement, he was in a terrible mood, uncomfortable in his own skin, itchy all over.
Worse, Victoria was late. Which was particularly annoying because she prided herself on always being on time and gave other people shit when they weren’t, especially Jenny. And especially when Jenny was late with Tom.
She’s probably doing this just to fuck with me, he thought, staring at the menu. He didn’t even like sushi. Another classic Victoria move, picking a restaurant without bothering to ask what the other person wanted.
The image of his hand shoving a chopstick through Victoria’s throat and out the back of her neck flashed through Tom’s mind.
Shit, he thought. He hadn’t had one of those bizarre, violent, blood-drenched thoughts in a while. He’d figured they were related to all the stress of the last several months: the house, the baby, the job.… They’d stopped—or so he’d thought—once life had become more stable.
But maybe things weren’t more stable? Everything did kind of feel as if it were crumbling around him.…
“Tom!” Victoria shouted as she rushed in, sunglasses wrapped around her face even though it was cool and cloudy outside. “I know, I’m super late. I got caught in this horrible meeting, and then of course I was gifted with the worst cabdriver in Manhattan.”
“No problem,” he answered, half-standing as she air-kissed his cheek and sat down across from him, flipping her sunglasses to the top of her head. Tom had to admit to himself that the frantic, windswept look was working for Victoria; it made her look more like Jenny than usual. It was always surprising to see traces of his wife in Victoria’s face. Most of the time, he didn’t think they looked alike whatsoever, but every now and then, he caught Victoria flashing Jenny’s smile or laughing Jenny’s laugh.
“I was trying to decipher the menu,” he said, looking back down.
“This place has the best sushi on the Upper West. You like sushi, right?”
Tom didn’t answer, just stared blankly at the Japanese words in front of him. Victoria waved a waiter over and ordered without looking at the menu, without asking Tom if he was ready.
“And you?” the waiter said to him.
“Umm…,” Tom responded, the menu going blurry. A white-hot rage was building inside him. The feeling was terrifying. Because it made no sense. And because it felt so good.
“You should get the steak teriyaki bento box,” Victoria said. “I remember you saying at the party how much you’re enjoying rare meat these days.”
“Fine,” he answered, handing the menu over to the smiling server, who bowed slightly and walked away.
Victoria took her chopsticks out of their paper wrapper and began rubbing them together, small pieces of wood flaking away and landing on the table. Tom watched the splinters curiously, as if they were tiny limbs being shorn off a stick figure.
“So,” Victoria said, “how’s work?”
“Ehh, work is work,” he answered robotically, something his father had always said to his mom—an answer Tom hated as a child. He pictured his father’s decomposing face and forced the image away.
“Yeah, I hear you,” Victoria said, smiling. “I think my inbox is actively trying to murder me. And possibly my homophobic coworkers, too.”
“I guess I’m lucky to be working with my best friend,” Tom mused.
“That’s true. Kevin is a great guy. I hope you guys can make it work,” Victoria answered, then said nothing, staring at her chopsticks, searching for imperfection.
God, Tom thought, she’s just like her father. This is going to be even worse than I thought. She’s probably here to ream me out about something I didn’t even realize I did.
“So,” he ventured, “it was a pleasant surprise. Hearing from you, I mean. The lunch invite.”
“Well, you’ve really changed,” she responded.
“Who knew a fifty-dollar haircut and shave could have such an impact?” Tom said, ignoring her barb. Many times over the years, Tom had seen how Victoria operated, especially one-on-one. He’d seen her aim verbal assaults at Jenny repeatedly, had even been the indirect recipient of her spite at times, but he’d never been alone with her before.
“I don’t only mean your hair, though it is an improvement. I don’t think I realized what nice eyes you’ve had all these years. No, it’s something else. Almost everything about you seems different. If I didn’t know better, I would think someone who looked exactly like you had swooped in and replaced you,” she said.
“That’s right,” Tom said, drinking some water. “I’m an evil clone. Here to make a fair-to-middling paycheck and spend my hours fixing a beat-up old house.”
“I’m serious, Tom,” Victoria said, staring him in the eyes. “I’m trying to compliment you, in my own awkward, strained way. I’m … I’m impressed. And trust me, it pains me to say that. I’ve always been wary of you.”
“I’ve noticed.”
She flashed a toothy smile. “What can I say? Jenny is my baby sister. Sure, we bicker a lot and she drives me crazy, and I’m sure I do the same to her. But I love her more than anyone else in this world.”
“So do I,” Tom said in almost a whisper.
“I wasn’t always sure about that,” Victoria replied. “You seemed very caught up in your own world. The bartending, the endless drinking, the attempts at being an artist.… I was worried. About Jenny, about both of you. I have to admit that I assumed you were one of her phases. She’s had a lot of them, so I was genuinely shocked when she told me you two were getting married. I didn’t get it.”
Tom opened his mouth to speak but she powered on.
“I didn’t get it,” she repeated with a shake of her head, “but when I saw you two at the wedding—it wasn’t the first dance or the cake-cutting bullshit or anything, it was just a simple moment when nothing else was really going on—when I saw the way she was looking at you, and the way you looked back, I realized that you were really, truly in love with each other, and that made me happy. Even if I w
as still nervous.”
“Thank you?”
“I’m not trying to be rude, Tom, I just … I want to be honest with you. Then, at that really nice dinner you guys hosted and at the after-party … I realized that you had changed. Are changing, growing into the man I always wanted Jenny to find. A huge weight seemed to lift off my shoulders. So, I wanted to buy you lunch and say thank you and that I’m sorry for assuming the worst all this time.”
Tom’s jaw nearly dropped open. He had never heard Victoria apologize, knew that Jenny hated the fact that her sister refused to say the word “sorry.” This was big. Huge. He stifled a surprised smile. “Thank you,” he said instead. “Seriously.”
“You’re welcome,” she answered as the waiter approached, holding a tray covered with plates of food. Then Victoria leaned forward, her voice lowering, smiling again. “But if you hurt her, Tom, I swear to fucking God that I will kill you.”
* * *
“This place is way nicer than I expected,” Jenny said as she and Tom entered Nick’s. “The way you described it, I was expecting a dive bar straight out of Alphabet City. But this is totally charming.”
Despite what his wife was saying, Tom could tell that she was nervous. He’d told her how friendly he’d become with Malcolm and Hannah, even going so far as to describe them as “the father and sister I never had.” Jenny had seemed surprised to hear that, which made sense. Tom was very guarded with his friendships, really wasn’t close to anyone other than his wife and Kevin. He had so many unresolved issues with his parents, even all these years after their deaths. It was nice that he had this makeshift family now, and Jenny had expressed multiple times how excited she was to meet them.
They sidled up to the bar, which was mostly empty at this time of day, between lunch and dinner on a Sunday. Jenny was careful not to squish her growing stomach. It had been quite a while since she’d sat at a bar.
As if sensing their arrival, Malcolm came out of the back. His eyes lit up when he saw Tom and Jenny. “FNG!” he shouted, moving forward. “And Mrs. FNG!”
Jenny shook the older man’s hand and said, “FNG?”
“Don’t ask,” Tom said, smiling. “Malcolm has a potty mouth.”
“How dare you!” the bartender said, also smiling. “It stands for Fun Nice Guy, as everyone knows.” Tom laughed. “Can I get you two something to drink? The first round is on me.”
“That’s very kind of you, Malcolm,” Jenny said, “and it is so nice to meet you. I would love a ginger ale. But we’re happy to pay for our drinks.”
“Pssh,” he said, still smiling. “And for the Fun Nice Guy?”
“I’d love a beer. The usual.”
“No double pour of bourbon? Huh. First time for everything,” Malcolm said, winking at Jenny and walking away to make their drinks.
Jenny raised an eyebrow at her husband. “Exactly how much bourbon do you drink here, Mr. Decker?”
“Don’t listen to him. He’s just messing with us.”
“Mmmm-hm,” she responded.
A pair of arms wrapped around Tom and Jenny’s shoulders, causing both of them to flinch from the sudden contact. They turned to see a young woman with a chagrined look on her face. “Oops, sorry, I was trying to surprise you,” she said, blushing slightly.
“It’s … fine, you just caught us off guard,” Tom said. “I’m really happy to introduce you to Jenny. Jenny, this is Hannah, Malcolm’s daughter.”
“Apologies again for scaring you,” Hannah said. “Especially since … you know…” She waved a hand toward Jenny’s stomach.
Jenny laughed. “Don’t worry about it,” she said. “I think this baby is pretty tough. And it’s great to finally meet you. Tom has told me so much about you and your dad.”
“Uh-oh,” Hannah said.
“I was nice,” Tom retorted.
Malcolm returned with the drinks and said, “Hannah, did I just see you try to scare a pregnant lady? What is wrong with you?”
“I didn’t—” Hannah started, but Jenny put a hand up, silencing everyone.
“This pregnant lady could kick all of your asses, so let’s move on, people.”
Malcolm let out a deep laugh, and Hannah used the opportunity to escape. She put on a black apron and went to serve a small group of customers at the other end of the bar.
“I’ve passed by your studio a couple times,” Malcolm said, putting his hands on the wooden bar top. “It’s looking really nice in there.”
“Thanks,” she responded. “You should come in sometime for a free session.”
Malcolm laughed and patted his respectable belly. “I don’t know about that. I’ve worked hard on this bad boy. And I don’t even have a baby in here as an excuse.”
“Well, the offer stands, if you ever change your mind,” Jenny said, smiling. “Or maybe you and Hannah can come over for dinner at our house sometime. I mean, I know how busy you are with the bar, but if you ever both have a night off.”
“That sounds fantastic. I’ll check the schedule and let you know,” he responded. “So … what’s a beautiful young woman like you doing with a rapscallion like Tom Decker?”
Tom felt irrational anger boiling up and fought to tamp it down. An image of smashing the old man’s face in flashed in his mind, and he shook it away. What the hell was that? Malcolm had become like a father to him. The man was simply joking around with Jenny, a sign of affection after months of building a close relationship with her husband over many drinks. Tom breathed deeply and felt some of the tension leak away. He longed for the chrysalis and then remembered that he had just visited it that morning. He hated that the highs from his contact with it were getting shorter and shorter. He wondered if it would stop working altogether. What would he do then?
“Someone had to try to civilize this monster,” Jenny joked, and Malcolm laughed yet again, his eyes twinkling. It was obvious that he already liked her.
He leaned in even closer. “It’s funny…,” he said, leaning toward Jenny.
“What’s that?” Jenny asked, leaning in, too. Tom imagined their lips meeting and then cursed at himself, looking away and finding his haunted reflection in the mirror. Why had he even come here? He should be home, down in the basement. No … home, working on the nursery, which still wasn’t done. Putting up Halloween decorations. Finding more animals to feed to the chrysalis. So much to do. Too much. He fought back tears of frustration and rage.
“Well, the FNG here looks like my son…,” Malcolm was saying.
“I’m so sorry about what happened to him,” Jenny said quietly.
“It’s okay … I mean … thank you, but it’s okay.” Hannah had wandered over and stared at her dad, clearly curious about where he was going with this. “So, anyway, like I said … the FNG looks like Nick, and the weird part is … you look a bit like my wife, God rest her soul.”
“Really?” Jenny said.
Hannah looked at her more closely. “Yeah…,” she said, “I guess I can kind of see that.”
“I mean, it’s not as strong a resemblance as Tom and Nick … but she had freckles on her nose, too,” Malcolm said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wallet, then extracted a beat-up old photo, displaying it for Jenny to see. Sure enough, the woman in the faded photo bore more than a passing resemblance to her.
“Huh,” Jenny said, and looked over at Tom. He was staring at himself in the mirror behind the bar, seemingly lost in his own world. She nudged him with her elbow. “You hear that, rapscallion? I look a little bit like Hannah’s mom.”
I guess that means you’re fucking your own son, Tom almost said out loud but stopped, forcing himself to snap out of whatever daze he was trapped in.
“I guess that means she must have been very, very beautiful,” he said instead, looking at the photo and pushing a strand of hair behind Jenny’s ear.
Malcolm smiled and put an arm around his daughter. “That she was,” the older man said. “That she was.”
MONTH SIX
>
“I want to throw another party,” Jenny said, glancing at her husband in the driver’s seat.
It was snowing. They were driving home from Manhattan, stuck in holiday traffic after celebrating Thanksgiving at Victoria and Lakshmi’s beautiful two-bedroom apartment. Tabetha and Russell had opted for a cruise this year, promising that Christmas in Upstate New York would be a lavish affair. Despite that, Victoria had gone all out, as usual. Even though there were only four of them, she’d served enough food to feed multiple families. They had barely made a dent in the main course after all the incredible appetizers, and the table had been cluttered with mostly unopened wine bottles. Tom poured only a single glass of white and he had barely touched it. Jenny drank glass after glass of water. She was so thirsty lately.
During dinner, she found herself watching Tom as he sipped at his wine and hardly touched his food. He was drinking less and less alcohol lately, at least around Jenny. She vaguely wondered if this was his way of silently telling her that he was worried he was becoming an alcoholic, then brushed the notion away. Tom had always gone through phases of heavy and light drinking, depending on what was going on in his life. Never quite this extreme, maybe, but he’d never had this much going on before either. After all, they’d had that big conversation months ago on the porch about both of them growing up a little. She should have been glad he was taking that to heart, if that’s what this was. Still, part of her was increasingly worried by his behavior. It was often like living with a stranger.
He was also in a full-on funk at work, and Jenny knew that had to be putting a strain on his friendship with Kevin, even if Tom would barely admit either thing. Pete Kroll was riding Tom mercilessly, and with good reason: Tom simply wasn’t delivering on his early promise.
Jenny was getting really worried about him. He always looked exhausted, and his temper was getting shorter by the day. They were three months away from bringing their baby into the world, and Jenny had hoped this fact would energize her husband, not drag him further down. Kevin had called her a week earlier, asking if everything was okay at home, and she had responded, “Of course.” But even as she said it, she knew she was lying.
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