“Quiet, Frisky,” I hissed, nervous enough without his judgment weighing on me. He sank down on the floor and sighed.
That Adrian kept such a file right there, unlocked, in his studio, showed what a trusting fool he took me for.
I went back into the studio and took one more look around, making sure nothing was out of place. It was dark outside and Adrian would be back any time. I did not know when I might get another chance to be alone in there.
I went back to the file cabinet, opened the middle drawer, reassured myself that the folder looked exactly the same as when I had found it.
There is still hope, I told myself. You were in the envelope also.
Something was lingering in my mind, and I reopened the bottom drawer, the second drawer of inspirational artists. I thumbed my way to the back, to a blank, empty folder very near the end. It was the only empty folder I had come across in the whole cabinet.
Perhaps I could have convinced myself that Adrian had started out following the story of the twins, as anyone in his situation might have, and had gone on to stalk me in particular. Perhaps he had obsessed over me, seen something special, amazing, compelling in me. That would be thrilling. That would prove what we had was real, and I could forgive him. If he really loved me, it would raise us above these mistakes and sins.
But the thrill was marred by the placement of this empty file, a file I suspected had once housed the hidden manila envelope. It was carefully arranged between VAA (Visual Arts Alliance) and Siobhan Vam, precisely in the spot where one would file something he referred to, in his mind, as Valencia.
Chapter 62
A few days after Adrian’s trip to Jacksonville, Alexa called again. I had been hoping she would forget all about switching houses, and I’d thought we were safe when we hadn’t heard back from her. But as previous winters has proven, she would be unstoppable in her quest to escape the Midwest.
“Wouldn’t you like to come to Madison and see your old friends? You could eat some brats and drink some good beer. You could bike around the lake, or whatever you two do. What do you think?”
“I think it’s a great idea,” said Adrian, wide awake and ready for a change of scenery.
It was easier to stay put. And as far as I could tell, a change of scenery was only a change of scenery. How was it going to fix anything?
“What do you think?” Adrian asked me.
“I don’t eat meat and I can’t drink beer. And it’s far too cold in Madison now to bike around the lake. Would she bike around the lake in November? Of course not.”
“There are other things to do there.”
“I don’t care.”
“We’re in,” Adrian told Alexa.
“Mind if I bring my new boyfriend? His name’s Glen,” Alexa asked.
“I don’t care,” Adrian said, moving away from me, hoping I hadn’t heard this.
I made a mental note to myself to lock my jewelry in the safe, but I continued looking blankly through the magazine in my lap, revealing nothing.
“Good, because I was going to bring him anyway,” she laughed. “What about your dog? Will we have to take care of him?”
“We’ll take Frisky to the kennel,” said Adrian. Frisky cocked his head to the side at the sound of his own name.
Adrian and Alexa decided we would make the switch the last two weeks of November.
Back in Wisconsin for the anniversary of the twins’ deaths, I noted to myself, benignly rubbing a perfume sample on my wrist.
When we arrived at Alexa’s there was a long note for us. I began reading it while Adrian brought in our luggage. First on her list: She had taken her cat with her; two weeks was too long to be away from him. I felt a small pang of sadness after reading this.
Second thing: Could we please not eat the organic pasta. The non-organic was fine, but if we ate the organic it would be really nice if we replaced it. I looked blankly at the stainless steel canisters on the countertop, unsure how to tell one kind of pasta from another.
Number three: New neighbors Benton and Sylvie next door are très cool! Please try to behave around them.
I crumpled up the list and threw it against the wall. I didn’t want to be here.
Adrian came in with the last bag and shut the door. “It’s nice to be back here, isn’t it?” he said. “I don’t know about you, but I like seasons.”
“I want a divorce.”
“Oh no. Not this again. Can’t you get some pregnancy drugs to cheer you up?”
“Adrian, you are way too rude.”
“So Alexa annoys you,” he said, picking up the crumpled list and disposing of it in the garbage. “She’s not here. Let’s just have a good time.”
“This is not about Alexa. Although I would love to never see her again. This is about you. About us. You married me out of guilt. Go find Belinda. In fact, I did you a favor: I already looked her up for you. She lives on East Wilson Street. She’s not remarried. Well, if she is, she didn’t take his name. Go find her. She’s the one you really wanted.”
It was true that I had looked up his ex-wife, but she was more of a curiosity to me than to Adrian. I had never feared that he cared for her anymore. Valencia was the one he really wanted, but that was too true for me to utter aloud. It was easier to focus on Belinda.
“I want you.”
“Right.”
“Is this how things are going to be for the rest of our lives?”
“Just the rest of our marriage,” I told him.
“You didn’t just say that.”
“Yes I did.”
“I’m going to do us both a favor before this gets even more out of control. I’m going for a walk.”
“Okay. Bye.”
I turned on the television, flipping through home renovation shows and sitcom reruns. Outside, through the slats of Alexa’s new wooden blinds, a gray sky hung over the city. It was a steely day, poised for snow to begin falling at any moment, and I did not envy Adrian being out in it. Snapped came on the television, and despite my aversion to it, I found myself mesmerized. I rubbed my belly and popped an M&M from a bowl on Alexa’s coffee table into my mouth. Since when did young, hip people start leaving bowls of candy around their homes? I reached for some more but stopped when I noticed a sprinkling of cat hair in the bowl.
I stood up and looked in the mirror, not examining my pores or searching for gray hairs, but just looking at myself. My face was puffy and bloated. Pregnancy did not make me glow like the books had promised it would. In the corner of my reflection, the commercial break ended and Snapped came back on. I sat back down, finding myself nodding along to the story of Barbara, a woman pushed to the brink, who had felt she was without options.
“I can relate,” I told the television, while I picked past the hairy M&Ms, down to the clean ones beneath.
Barbara had been a good girl. A cheerleader, a bank teller, a young mother. No one saw it coming.
The remote control was beside the candy bowl, and I fluctuated between the two, thinking that any moment I would change the channel and stop picking at the dusty candy, but I stayed on the low road, continuing to munch and watch Barbara’s unfolding demise.
“Stay pure,” I said aloud, munching. I was not sure if I was talking to Barbara or myself. I rubbed my belly again and popped another M&M into my mouth. “No matter how the world pushes at you, stay pure.”
“This must be the hormones talking,” said Adrian. I jumped and screamed, spilling the candy all over the floor.
“Adrian! God. You scared me.” I began picking up the M&M’s but he waved his hand at me.
“Sit down. I’ve got it.” He went to the closet by the door and came back with a vacuum cleaner. I sat perched on the couch while he noisily cleaned up the candy. When he was done he put the vacuum cleaner away and came back into the room, raising an eyebrow at the television and handing me the remote.
I changed the channel, settling on Fresh Start, a reality makeover show. It was one of those extreme
package deals: new face, new boobs, new butt, new wardrobe, plus they would teach the contestant a skill she hadn’t had before.
“This is Mandy, and she is ready to Get a Fresh Start,” said the host. Mandy appeared, looking a little overweight, a little nervous, and very excited. I felt hopeful for her.
“That’s better,” said Adrian, sinking down beside me. He put his arm around me. “You feeling better?”
I closed my eyes.
“So, what do you want to do while we’re here?” he asked.
“Hmm. I’m not sure.”
“Have you thought about Thanksgiving?”
“No.”
“Have you called your parents to let them know we’re here?”
“Not yet.”
“I think she looked better before,” said Adrian, changing the channel to a program about volcanoes.
“I liked her new look,” I said, annoyed that I was not going to see whether she learned to cook, lasso, or be a court reporter. I ignored the volcano program, considering who I would like to be, if I were free to create a new life for myself. An extreme makeover of my own. The question was, Could I be that strong? I looked down at the M&Ms caught in the hem of my shirt, and I pulled a piece of cat hair from my lips. It was doubtful.
Chapter 63
I left the living room and lay down on Alexa’s bed. Before I knew it, I was dreaming.
I was driving down a red clay highway, and all around me peacocks flew, swooping down in front of me. I had my windshield wipers flapping on high speed to scare them away; it was impossible to see where I was going. I decided to look out the side window instead.
I leaned out the window like a dog, feeling the wind gushing against my face as the car propelled itself along. The mountains in the distance were made of tidy pyramids of stacked oranges, and from slices in the skin of the oranges blood oozed. The sky was brilliant blue. Far, far in the distance, where the orange mountains’ peaks met that brilliant sky, was heaven.
The next thing I knew, I was up in the mountains, standing on the oranges. They were so large, or I was so small, that each pebbly bit of texture on the orange was like a bump the size of a fist.
Valencia was there: Living, breathing, real. I was younger than her, as I will always be. Despite that she was acting like her usual self, I sensed that her presence was a rare, special gift. I ached to touch her and be again, in a world with her in it. The jaded, weary version of myself from real life was leaking into the dream, semi-aware this was a fleeting, temporary encounter. I kept trying to hug her and she kept moving away from me. Longing and desperate, I was ruining it for my innocent self.
“Let’s play tennis,” she said. I noticed she was holding a tennis racquet.
“Sure. Do you have another racquet?”
“Didn’t you bring yours?”
“I forgot.”
“You can use mine.”
“But then you won’t have one.”
“I can find another.”
“Valencia, I miss you,” I told her, but she didn’t understand; she didn’t know she was dead. “Adrian could have saved you,” I told her, weeping now, out of control. She didn’t understand why I was crying.
“Saved me? Trust me, I’m fine.”
“Where’s Van?” I asked her.
“He’s in school.”
“If you keep sleeping now, you’ll be up all night,” said a voice. And before I completely came out of the dream I was caught in that space of still being in the dream, but knowing it’s a dream. Immediately followed by familiar, crushing disappointment. Dreams are the only portal to connect the living with the dead, and it is increasingly rare that they take me there. When they do it’s better than traveling anywhere on Earth.
Chapter 64
I opened my eyes to Adrian leaning over me.
“Mind if I sit down?” He didn’t wait for an answer. He sat down beside me and ran his hand through my hair. His fingers smelled of cigarettes. I buried my face in the pillow, trying to recapture the feeling of the dream, unable to do so.
He didn’t say anything; he just ran his fingers through my hair, over and over.
“I don’t think I will have any trouble sleeping tonight,” I said finally.
“How is the baby?” he asked, placing his hand on my stomach. At that, I felt my walls crumbling. I held my breath, trying to keep it back, but I couldn’t do it; I began to cry. Adrian leaned forward and wrapped his arms around me tightly, his lips at my ear. He was crying too. He rarely cried and when he did it broke my heart. I couldn’t help it: I turned and put my arms around him, and the two of us lay holding each other in the dark.
“I know you love me,” he said. “I don’t know why you can’t just let things be.”
I did not respond. He pushed my wet hair out of my face and forced me to look into his eyes. The darkness, the hot tears, the foreignness of Alexa’s bedroom, all felt like earlier times we’d had. I was transported back to my twenties again, to the passion and drama that I had once embraced instead of shunned. I felt his power over me.
“I love you so much,” he said. “I need you.”
Which way are you going to go? I asked myself.
I closed my eyes because I never could think when he was looking at me.
I love you too. I need you too, I thought.
But I was as strong as I could be. I didn’t say a word.
Chapter 65
The next day Adrian got up early and drove to Chicago to meet with a client, and I came up with a plan: I was going away. I was really going to do it.
I decided that January 1, 2008 would be the day I started over. That gave me a month and a half to get everything in order. Not much time. As soon as he left I sat down at the computer and started looking at motorhomes. I needed to find one near Savannah, so it would be ready when I got back.
After just an hour I stumbled upon the perfect one. Big enough to live in, but not so large that it would be scary to drive. I called the telephone number and told the owners I would buy it. I knew I needed to act fast: Adrian would be home by late afternoon and I had a lot of work to do.
“Leave it unlocked. I have a friend who will be coming to do some work to it,” I said.
“It don’t need no work, Sugar,” said the lady on the end of the line.
“Oh, I just have a couple little changes in mind,” I told her.
Then I phoned Bruce Dash Design. They are miracle workers. Every year they win the Best of Savannah Award.
“I want Bruce. Not some assistant,” I told the girl who answered. For what would likely be the last time in my life, I said, “Money is no object.”
Bruce suggested Provincial blue walls and cream-colored Irish linen on the little bed.
“When can we meet to look at fabric swatches?” he asked me.
“I’m out of town, so you will have to go crazy without me. The sky’s the limit, Bruce! I want it to feel like a tiny palace on wheels. Just be sure there is room for a baby and plenty of oranges.” To emphasize my point, I sent him ten thousand dollars via Paypal as we spoke. I felt very, very out of control. How would I explain this missing chunk of money to Adrian? A Christmas present he would have to just trust me and wait for? My heart was racing so badly I was afraid I would have a heart attack.
“Oranges?”
“Yes, we will be going on a little road trip, and we will be selling oranges to finance the trip. Please do keep this all to yourself,” I warned him, feeling as crazy as I sounded.
He suggested I get a refrigerated trailer for the oranges, to preserve the precious, limited room in the motorhome. I agreed that was an excellent idea and asked him to arrange it.
“Of course,” he said, expertly hiding his miffed feelings, treating me like the royalty that sharing Adrian’s name still afforded me. Every suggestion he presented, I agreed to. Before ending the call, I again swore him to secrecy, telling him the palace on wheels was an anniversary present for Adrian.
As he descri
bed the drawer pulls he had in mind, when I thought our conversation should have already wrapped up at least five times, I removed my wedding band and placed it on one of Alexa’s modern, crystal trays. My story when Adrian asked why I was not wearing it would be that my fingers were becoming too swollen to comfortably keep it on any longer. I felt a bit hollow, realizing I would never again feel its platinum weight on my finger.
When we returned to Savannah in a couple of weeks, everything would be all set for me. The glossy, weatherproof stickers that said GEORGIA’S BEST CITRUS FRUIT would be ready to be picked up from the printers and all the baby clothes I ordered from France would be waiting for me.
Now I just needed to carry on as if everything was the same as usual.
Chapter 66
The trouble with being back in Wisconsin was that it reminded me of when Adrian and I started seeing each other. All it took was one little stroll down Willy Street and a latte at Mother Fool’s to make me doubt my plan. I realized I had to get out of Madison, because it was making me want to stay with Adrian far too much.
“Let’s go to your family get-together a day early, if your Aunt and Uncle won’t mind us spending an extra day with them,” I told him.
“Seriously?”
“Yes!” I figured that if there was anything that would make me glad I was leaving, it would be spending time with my in-laws.
On the Friday morning following Thanksgiving, having successfully navigated the previous days’ Royal Tennenbaumness of Adrian’s family, made easier by Alexa’s absence, we were driving from Iowa up to my parents’ house. Adrian was under the impression that everything between us was fine. He had his entire collection of John Denver CDs spread out on his lap, and he was singing along to his favorites. He kept looking at me and smiling for no reason. My phone was turned off because Bruce Dash and company kept calling with design emergencies.
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