“As soon as I let Julian out, I’m going to run. But after dinner, Noah can play for a while, and then we usually start the bedtime routine around seven-thirty or eight. He’s been begging to use our shower, so if you feel like giving him a treat, you can let him do that. Up to you. Oh, and we have a bunch of movies recorded on our DVR if you want to watch any of them, or you can order something on demand.”
“Don’t worry, we’ve got it covered,” Sherrie said.
“I’M WIPING!” Noah shouted.
“Does he need help?” Sherrie asked tentatively.
“He’s pretty much got it down,” Amy said. She heard footsteps on the stairs. “That sounds like Julian. I’ll let him out.”
She hurried down the hall, reminding Noah to wash his hands as she passed the powder room. She and Julian reached the front door at the same time.
“Thanks for that,” Julian said. “I really appreciate it.”
“Not a problem. Have fun at your picnic. Tell Grace and Ethan I say hi.”
“Will do.”
He slipped out the front door and Amy watched him walk to his car. Something about their entire encounter had left a strange taste in her mouth, but at the moment, she couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was.
* * *
Traffic on Broad Street was terrible, so Amy was late to dinner. They couldn’t get a reservation at the place Sherrie and Bruce had recommended, but they had managed to snag a table at Osteria, a popular Italian restaurant run by one of Philadelphia’s preeminent chefs. The drive there had involved navigating through some of Philadelphia’s less savory neighborhoods, but thankfully the restaurant had valet, so she didn’t have to stress about finding a parking spot in an area of town she didn’t know well.
She hurried through the front door into the restaurant, which bustled with activity—the clanking of pans, the chitter chatter of patrons bouncing off the rustically appointed interior. The hostess immediately led Amy to the small, wooden table where Rob was sitting, already scanning the menu.
“Sorry I’m late,” Amy said as she leaned in for a kiss. She slung her purse over the back of her chair. “Broad Street is . . .”
“Something special?”
“That’s one way to put it. I don’t understand the timing of the traffic lights. It’s as if they are designed to make the drive as long as humanly possible.”
“I know. It’s the worst.”
The waiter arrived and went over the specials, then took their drink order and left them to peruse the menu. One dish looked better than the next: wood-grilled octopus, bucatini with lobster and roe butter, a pizza with baked egg and cotechino sausage. Amy didn’t know where to begin. She wanted to order all of it.
“I can’t believe we’re finally out,” she said as she studied the menu intently.
“Feels good,” Rob said. “I’ve missed you.”
Amy looked up. “I’ve missed you, too. It’s weird, right? Like, we’re living together. Neither of us has gone anywhere. And yet I feel as if we’ve been apart for months.”
“It’s the move. Everything has been so crazy. When are we supposed to talk? Over dinner, with Noah interrupting us every five seconds?”
“I know. A bunch of my friends eat with their husbands after the kids are in bed, but by that point, I’m basically useless. You’d be dining with a vegetable.”
“A tasty one, though.”
They grinned at each other, but their moment was interrupted by the waiter, who came with their drinks. They ordered some appetizers, a pasta, and a pizza to share and clinked glasses when the waiter disappeared.
“To a happy life in our new house,” Rob said.
“And many more date nights.”
“I’ll drink to that. Cheers.”
Amy took a sip of Prosecco and rested the glass on the table. “So Julian stopped by,” she said.
“Julian? Why?”
“To pick up their mail. He said he was in the neighborhood.”
“Where is his office?”
“I’m not sure. I’ve never asked. I don’t think he was coming from work. Or maybe he was. I don’t know. It was kind of awkward, to be honest. Your parents arrived just as he was getting ready to leave. I’m sure your mom has a million questions.”
“She always does.”
“Your parents’ arrival wasn’t the only thing that made it awkward. We’ve already established that the mail situation is weird in and of itself, but for him to stop by . . . I just saw Grace two days ago. Is he expecting something important that he doesn’t want her to see?”
“You mean like a trust fund statement?”
Amy flushed. Of course that’s what he was looking for. What would he do when it never arrived? Would he think they’d thrown it out by accident, or figure out that they’d opened it?
“All I had for him was a reminder from his dentist. I made the whole situation even more uncomfortable by commenting on what it was—‘A friendly dental reminder!’” Amy shook her head. “If you’d been there, you would have been like, ‘Stop talking right now.’”
Rob laughed. “Where was Noah while all of this was happening?”
“Pooping.”
Rob nearly spat out his red wine. “Of course.”
“I know. That was another weird moment, now that I think of it. Julian asked to use our bathroom before he left, but Noah was using the powder room, so he had to use the upstairs bathroom. I started directing him how to find it, but of course he knew how to find it because it used to be his house.” Amy took a sip of her drink and shook her head. “Painful.”
The waiter returned with a platter of roasted and grilled vegetables and a plate of grilled octopus. Amy and Rob dove in.
“So,” Rob said as he cut into a roasted beet. “What are we going to do about your mom?”
She and Rob had discussed the matter at length the previous Thursday evening, after her mom had called, but they hadn’t come to a resolution. Initially, Rob said they didn’t have $2,000 to spare right now, so Amy had proposed meeting her mom halfway at $1,000. But Rob hadn’t seemed entirely comfortable with that idea either, and by the time they’d talked about it for thirty minutes, Amy was so exhausted she didn’t have the energy to discuss it any further and had, once again, kicked the can to a later date. To her relief, her mom hadn’t followed up about it yet, but she knew she owed her mother an answer ASAP.
“I don’t know,” Amy said. “What are we going to do?”
Rob took a deep breath. “I’ve crunched some numbers, and we could do $1,000. I love you more than anything, and your family is part of you, so I’d like to help them. But I feel like your mom needs to understand that giving her this money means some sacrifices on our end. If we do this, we can’t afford to send Noah five days a week to pre-K, for example. He’s a smart kid. He’ll be fine. But sometimes I feel like she thinks we’re rolling it in, when really we are living on a budget like everyone else.”
“She knows that.”
“Does she? Because from what you said, she isn’t so much asking if we’ll help as she is expecting that we will.”
“I’ve made it perfectly clear that we are not an ATM.”
“Good. Thank you.”
“And trust me, I am as uneasy as you are. We’ve been down this road so many times with Tim. I don’t want to flush our money down the toilet. But my mom says this time is different.”
“Isn’t that what people always say? If Tim thought it were the same as all of the other times, why would he even bother?”
Amy wished she had a good answer, but she didn’t. What terrified her most, what made it hard for her to sleep sometimes, was the thought that what would make this time different was that when he fell off the wagon, he’d end up dead instead of just using again. Because isn’t that where so many of these stories ended? The accounts she’d read in the paper and in magazines made heroin seem like a one-way road to death. Tim had taken detours time and again, but somehow he always ended up back on th
e highway. Amy hoped he’d stay clean this time, but she knew there was always a chance he wouldn’t. She had to keep hoping, though. She had to help Tim try.
“I’ll call my mom tomorrow,” she said. “I’m sure she’ll be very grateful.”
Either that, Amy thought, or she will give me hell for not doing more.
* * *
When they got home, Sherrie and Bruce were sitting in front of the TV, watching a home improvement show on HGTV. Bruce didn’t actually seem to be watching. He was reading an issue of Sports Illustrated and occasionally peering above the rim of his reading glasses when Sherrie made a comment about the tile or curtain selection.
“We’re back,” Rob announced.
Bruce put down his magazine, and Sherrie muted the television.
“Good dinner?” she asked.
“Delicious,” Rob and Amy said in unison.
“Did you get the polenta budino for dessert?”
“We shared it,” Rob said.
“And? Was it the best thing you’ve ever eaten in your life?”
Amy wasn’t sure she’d go that far, but it was definitely in the top ten desserts she’d ever had. It was a polenta pudding with hazelnut mousse on top, with caramelized hazelnuts sprinkled over the top. It hit all the right notes: creamy, crunchy, sweet, and nutty.
“Might have been,” Rob said. “How was Noah?”
“An angel. He ate all of his dinner and dessert, and then we played Sums in Space. I didn’t realize he could add and subtract so quickly on his own.”
“I told you he’s into numbers,” Rob said.
“Well, yeah, but I didn’t realize . . . Have you had him tested?”
“We will,” Amy said. “When he starts kindergarten.”
“That’s more than a year away.”
“I just don’t see what purpose it serves right now,” Rob said. “We know he’s smart. It’s not like we’re going to start him in kindergarten early.”
“You could . . .”
“Mom. Enough.”
“Okay, okay . . .” She raised her hands defensively. Amy knew Rob had spoken to his parents many times about Noah’s giftedness and had argued with them about whether to push him more, faster, harder.
“So I don’t know if Amy mentioned,” Sherrie said as she and Bruce collected their things, “but the former owner stopped by earlier.”
“Julian. Yeah, she mentioned. He came by to pick up some mail.”
“Kind of strange that he hasn’t changed his address, isn’t it?”
Rob and Amy exchanged a look. “It is,” Rob said. “But I’m sure he has his reasons.”
“Does he always stop by like that?”
“That was the first time,” Amy said. “I usually give it to his wife, Grace, when the boys get together.”
“Hmmm.” Sherrie stroked her chin, as if she found all of it quite perplexing.
Rob’s and Amy’s eyes met again, and she could tell Rob was trying not to laugh. He found his mother’s nosiness both exasperating and hilarious.
“Let me make sure the light by the driveway is on for you,” Rob said as he ushered them down the hall.
“I left you some brownies,” Sherrie said. “They’re on the counter, next to the toaster.”
“I can’t wait to try them,” Amy said, even though at the moment she was so stuffed from dinner that she actually couldn’t think about eating without feeling a little sick. “I’m sure Noah was in heaven.”
“He went crazy for them.”
“The boy is a fiend for chocolate.”
“And these were triple chocolate.”
Rob leaned in and kissed Sherrie on the cheek. “Bye, Mom. Thanks again for sitting.”
“Our pleasure. We had fun, didn’t we, Bruce?”
“Always a laugh with that little guy.”
“You’re welcome to do it again anytime,” Rob said.
“We’ll talk.” She motioned toward Bruce as she opened the door. “Come on, honey. Where are the keys?”
They waved goodbye, and Rob locked the door behind them. He looked at Amy and smiled. “No such thing as a free lunch, huh?”
“Listen, when it comes to sitters, that’s as close to free as it’s gonna get.”
“Never mind her unquenchable thirst for gossip.”
“I think she just likes the idea of something juicy.”
“Juicy, eh?” He ran his fingers down her arms. “I’ll give you juicy.”
He scooped her up and carried her up the stairs and tossed her on the bed, like they were newlyweds or teenagers. She couldn’t help giggling a little. They hadn’t had impromptu sex in . . . well, she couldn’t even remember, it had been that long. For years, sex had been timed and scheduled—both when they were trying to get pregnant with Noah and when they tried again for a second. They gave up on the idea of a sibling for Noah a few months ago (it had been nearly two years, and Amy was sick of trying), but it was hard to get out of the habit and mind-set that sex was a planned task with the specific desired outcome of pregnancy. Now that they weren’t trying for a baby anymore, they could just enjoy each other. Amy hoped she could remember how.
The sex was fun and at times surprising, and afterward Amy turned to Rob and said, “We need to do that more often.”
“You won’t hear an argument from me.”
“I just . . . Noah really uses up a lot of my bandwidth. And then we had the move, with all the packing and unpacking, and stress about work. By the end of the day, I’m zonked. I just want to stare at a wall, or sleep.”
“I get it. Trust me. I just don’t want us to eventually become, like, roommates.”
Amy raised an eyebrow. “What we just did . . . is that what you did with your roommates? Because if so, I clearly got a raw deal in college.”
He elbowed her in the side. “You know what I mean.”
“Of course I do. I’ll be better. Or at least I’ll try.”
“Me too.”
He kissed her on the head and slipped out of bed toward the bathroom. Amy stretched out on the bed, too lazy and tired to go anywhere. She wished she were the type of person who could fall asleep right then and there, without washing her face or brushing her teeth, but she was far too uptight for that, even after all these years. So after a few minutes of enjoying the silkiness of the sheets against her bare skin, she got up and threw on a T-shirt. She was just about to follow Rob into the bathroom, when she heard whimpering coming from Noah’s room.
She tiptoed toward his door, and just as she put her hand on the knob she heard him cry, “Mommy!”
Amy opened the door and crept toward his bed. “What is it, sweetie? Did you have a bad dream?”
“My head hurts,” he said.
“Your head?” She reached down and rested her hand on his forehead. He felt a little warm. “Let me get the thermometer.”
Amy scampered across the hall to his bathroom and grabbed the thermometer. Please don’t let him be sick, she thought. He’d been fine when she left, and Sherrie said he’d been an angel all night. But she’d learned with kids, sickness could come out of nowhere and disappear nearly as fast.
She swiped the thermometer across his forehead: 99.9. A fever, but barely.
“You’re okay, sweetie,” she said. “Just a very low fever.”
“I need medicine,” he whined.
“I’ll get you some Tylenol. One second.”
She headed for her own bathroom, where she was storing all medications on the top shelf of their linen closet. At this point she trusted Noah not to get into anything he shouldn’t—and all of the medicine bottles had childproof tops anyway—but out of an abundance of caution, she still stored all of the medicine out of sight and out of reach.
When she entered the bathroom, Rob had just finished brushing his teeth. “Did I hear Noah?” he asked.
“He has a fever,” Amy said. Rob groaned. “I know—but it’s very low. Only 99.9. I’ll give him some Tylenol, and hopefully he’ll be better by
morning.”
“Will you have to keep him home from camp?”
Amy hadn’t even thought of that. She wasn’t used to weeknight date nights and forgot it was Tuesday. “Depends how he is in the morning. We’ll see. Hopefully not.”
She opened the door to the linen closet and reached for one of the baskets on the top shelf. Amy had divided the drugs between two white plastic baskets (stomach/GI drugs in one basket, Tylenol and other pain-relief drugs in the other), neatly arranging all of the bottles and pill packets in organized rows. But as she laid the basket on the counter, she noticed everything was all jumbled up. Bottles were tipped on their side, Noah’s stuff was scattered with theirs, and her fastidious system had been scuppered.
“Seriously?” Amy groaned. “Did you not notice I’d gone through a lot of trouble organizing this?”
“What are you talking about?”
“The medicine. I had it perfectly arranged in rows, and now it’s a mess.”
He looked over her shoulder. “I haven’t touched any of that. Maybe everything toppled over when you took the basket off the shelf.”
“Did you hear anything toppling?”
“No, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.”
“Rob . . .”
“Honest to God—I didn’t even know that’s where you were keeping the meds.”
“Then who messed everything up? Noah?”
Rob rolled his eyes. “You’re sure you didn’t knock it over some time when you were getting something else out of the closet.”
“Definitely not.”
“Then I don’t know what to tell you. Maybe you aren’t as neat as you think.” She whacked him with a hand towel. “Ouch.”
“Oh, please, that didn’t hurt.”
“It did a little. And you are very neat. But I don’t know what to say. Maybe my parents needed something when they were here. Want me to text them?”
“No, that’s okay. You’re right—that’s probably it. Your dad has been complaining about his knees a lot lately. He probably took some Aleve.”
“See? Mystery solved. No one else has been in our bathroom anyway.”
But as Amy retrieved the children’s Tylenol, she realized that wasn’t entirely true. Someone else could have been in their bathroom recently: Julian.
The Last House on Sycamore Street Page 9