“Mat,” Ava said.
“At least it’s organic,” Jaime said, cracking open the cans. He joined her on her Practical Sofa and reached an arm around her while they both drank. The beer was surprisingly delicious—cold and rough against her throat. “Which showroom do you think he’ll end up in?” Ava said.
“Good question,” Jaime said, pulling out his phone. “That’s something only someone in Shipping would know. And I don’t really know any of the Shipping people. But I bet Dev does. I’ve seen her eat lunch at the shipping warehouse. How about I call her? I’m sure she’d be happy to stop by and tell us all about the shipping schedule.”
“No!” Ava said, wrestling his phone out of his hand.
“All right, all right,” Jaime said, holding it out of reach. “I’m texting you her number. Do what you will with it.”
Ava leaned her head against Jaime’s shoulder. “I’m happy you’re here,” she said.
“Me too.” He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out the folded note from Karl. “Do you think this counts as a meditative moment?”
As soon as Ava saw Karl’s elegant handwriting she felt a pang of nostalgia. She read the note over Jaime’s shoulder.
Hello, Jaime.
Do you enjoy the design of this clock? The only STÄDA product I brought with me to the Catskills was your Trusty Egg Timer, which I believe you designed with Andie Sawyer. It is my favorite belonging.
I would like to invite you to work with me. We have converted the next-door barn into a small guest house. I have built a little workshop here and have become fixated on clocks, watches, and timers. It is funny, because time moves very differently up here. We have a vegetable garden and my Siamese cat, Leonard. Your partner would be welcome. I would be pleased to match your salary at STÄDA. You know how to reach me.
Warmly,
Karl
Below the note Karl had penciled a simple clock set inside a wooden block.
“I can’t lie,” Jaime said, folding up the note and tucking it back into his shirt pocket. “This is an extremely good night for me. Mat Putnam is trapped in a box and I have two amazing job offers.”
“How are you going to decide?”
“Are you joking?” Jaime said. “I’m getting the hell out of here! STÄDA is officially the most embarrassing line on my résumé. Plus, have you ever looked up the health benefits of living in nature? If I move there now, I’m adding four or five years to my life at least.”
“You think Chas will go with you?”
“If I could persuade him to get his aura photographed in Chinatown, nothing is impossible.” He sipped from his beer and with his free hand rubbed Brutus’s ears. “So I’m on the edge of my seat,” he said. “Are you going to break down the whole Mat Putnam scam for me?”
“Well,” Ava said, “remember how Mat introduced the partnership with SHRNK?”
“Yes,” Jaime said. “Never downloaded it. I’m not telling a government robot my secrets.”
“You told me to download it!”
“That’s different,” Jaime said. “You were in desperate need of therapy, even if it was government bot therapy.”
“It wasn’t a bot,” Ava said. “Are you ready for this?”
“I don’t know,” Jaime said. “Am I?”
Ava told him about SHRNK—how Mat had met the app developer through Good Guys, then posed as a therapist, solely to pry into her deepest insecurities and wishes and then to convince her to choose him so that she would love him enough to absolve him from his guilt of having killed her family in a drunk hit-and-run. Jaime’s mouth hung open.
“Insanely,” she said, “it worked. At least a little. He made me realize I was still grieving, still alone, still empty, still desperate for connection.”
Jaime nodded. “Andie would want that for you. A connection. Your parents would too,” he said. “And I would too. Just not . . .”
“Never again,” Ava said. “Let us never speak his name aloud.”
They clinked their cans and drank.
“Maybe you could come with me to the Catskills,” Jaime said hopefully.
Ava imagined the two of them and Karl working together around a long wooden table, like in the early days. Her heart ached for the way things had been, but she knew they’d never be that way again. The thought of starting over with Karl felt like returning to the beginning of a path she’d been stuck traveling on for years. “It’s a nice thought,” she said. “But I think it’s time I . . . I don’t know. Expand my world a little. Maybe make some friends. Take an art class. Learn an instrument. I don’t even know who I am outside of this job and a car accident that happened years ago. Everything else has been a blur. But,” she said, brightening, “I’ll give you a Devious Ladder to take to Karl’s cat.”
“And you’ll visit me,” Jaime said.
“And I’ll visit you,” Ava agreed.
“Good.”
“Do you feel like staying over tonight?” Ava said.
“I’m not sure,” Jaime said. “It depends. Do you have green tea? I need a cup of green tea to begin each day.”
“I do.”
“Then it’s a deal.” Jaime set his beer down on her Very Nice Box and pulled out his phone. “I’ll let Chas know I have a hot date tonight and not to expect me.”
“Good,” Ava said. “Because we have hours of Hotspot to watch. I’m a year behind.”
Her sleep that night was heavy and dreamless, and she woke to the gentle whistle of her Lovable Kettle and the sound of Jaime clicking off the flame. Brutus’s nails clicked lightly against the floor. “Good morning,” she said, checking her Precise Wristwatch. It was late. They’d spent the night streaming Hotspot and musing about which of their colleagues was a Good Guy before falling asleep, Ava in her Principled Bed and Jaime on the folded-out Practical Sofa.
“Good morning,” Jaime said brightly over his shoulder. “I made you coffee.”
Ava stretched and joined him in the kitchen where he sipped from his Comforting Mug of green tea.
“I don’t deserve you,” she said, taking her coffee in both hands.
“I won’t argue with that,” Jaime said, elbowing her in the rib. The coffee was perfect. For a little while they simply stood next to each other, sipping from their mugs, while Brutus lay by their feet. There was nothing else to do or say. The feeling was blissful. Sunlight poured in through her double windows, throwing shadows of leaves against her walls. Birds caucused happily in the maple branches. A breeze pushed its way through her screens. She leaned her head against Jaime’s shoulder.
Before biking home, Jaime pulled a sprig of sage from his Studious Backpack and smudged the apartment. “Every measure needs to be taken,” he said. He helped her collect all of Mat’s single-use kitchen gadgets into a Genuine Storage Box, which they set on the curb. “It’s just sort of a shame,” Jaime said, unfolding his bike. He stared at the box of Mat’s things. “Giving away a perfectly good cardboard box like that.” He clicked the straps of his helmet together beneath his chin and smiled.
“I had the same thought,” Ava said. “But in the end, it’s a small sacrifice.”
* * *
Ava sat behind the steering wheel of Mat’s car. She cracked the window, then released the emergency brake and put the car in Drive. She removed the disco ball from the mirror and considered tossing it out the window. She liked the thought of it shattering brightly on the pavement. Instead she placed it in the center console. She would recycle it as soon as she had the chance.
There were so many things to do, she thought as she pulled onto the street. She would give her notice on Monday. She would clear her belongings from her desk. She didn’t have much anyway.
She would need to get her mother’s Steinway out of storage, and she would give it to Chas. She would work up the courage to call Dev for help with the piano. Maybe she would ask Dev out. Was that too much? Maybe, but for once she allowed herself the fantasy. “Dev,” she said aloud as she merged into a new lane. �
�My name is Ava. I used to be an engineer at STÄDA. I’m wondering if you’d want to get a drink sometime.”
But maybe this was too much to consider now; it was important to think about everything in the correct order. First things first.
The route to Underdogs was neither scenic nor efficient, but Ava was fine with that. The car handled easily, as though it had always belonged to her. She was fully in control of its movements, and she felt deeply at peace. She turned on an episode of Thirty-Minute Machine. Like every episode, this one was sponsored by STÄDA. Normally she skipped through the ad, but this time she let it play out. She knew it by heart.
What’s your favorite STÄDA product? Gloria Cruz says to Roy Stone.
Ummm, are you really gonna make me pick?
Okay, I’ll narrow it down. Cozy Nesting Tables or Sturdy Tables?
Cozy Nesting Tables! Roy Stone says. Okay, okay, the Very Nice Box or Peaceful Headphones?
You literally can’t compare those two things! Gloria shouts.
Yes you can! Roy shouts back. I’m doing it right now! I’m doing it right now!
Dude!
Bro!
Then Roy’s voiceover: STÄDA. Simple furniture for your complicated life.
Ava hadn’t bothered calling the shelter first. She knew that Emily would still be there. Nobody wanted an old, ugly, badly behaved dog.
But Ava did. She was very good with dogs, and she loved them all for their trust, loyalty, and company. Even old dogs deserved a good life.
From behind their Plexiglas gates, the dogs looked at her hungrily. Their tails wagged in low, hopeful arcs. They craved an order, a touch, a bed, a home. Ava walked down the narrow concrete corridor slowly enough to peer into each enclosure.
“Let me know if I can help you,” a young woman said. Ava recognized her voice from the phone call weeks before.
“You can,” Ava said, turning to face her. “I’ll take her.” She pointed inside the last cell, where Emily was curled up in the corner.
“You sure? You want to take her outside first to see?”
“I’m sure,” Ava said.
“One more week and . . . well,” the handler said, passing Ava the paperwork. “Let’s just say it wouldn’t have been a happy ending.”
Ava buckled Emily into the backseat of Mat’s car and looked at her in the rearview mirror. She remembered Brutus then, how small and curious he had been while Ava had driven with one hand on the wheel, the other on Andie’s lap; how he’d sat patiently, quietly, through the entire car ride home, his future a question waiting to be answered.
Acknowledgments
We wrote this novel in the relative dark, with no idea where it would lead us. Thank you to our agent, Faye Bender, who saw the story clearly from the start, and to our editor, Pilar Garcia-Brown, who lit the way forward. Thanks to our wonderful team at HMH: Liz Anderson, Hannah Dirgins, Liz Duvall, Jenny Freilach, Mark Robinson, and Taryn Roeder.
Thank you to Brenna Mork Barringer, Robin Carol, Elana Cogliano, Maddy Court, Molly Dektar, Liz Dickey, Amanda Faraone, Jason Holloway, Julia Kardon, Bo Lewis, Laura Macomber, Ilana Papir, and Lucía Sirota for their invaluable insights and encouragement.
Thank you to the Brooklyn College MFA program and in particular to Helen Phillips, Joshua Henkin, Ellen Tremper, and the Truman Capote Trust.
Thank you to Eliot and Téo, who were very patient; to Anna, who is the best sister; to Laura Fields; to our parents, Badge, Tina, Marie, and Norm; and to Jana La Brasca and Marie Rutkoski, whose love and support is immeasurable.
About the Author
© Marie Rutkoski
Laura Blackett (right) is a woodworker and writer based in Brooklyn.
* * *
Eve Gleichman’s short stories have appeared in the Kenyon Review, the Harvard Review, Bomb Daily, and elsewhere. Eve is a graduate of Brooklyn College’s MFA fiction program and lives in Brooklyn.
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