Merry Jones - Elle Harrison 02 - Elective Procedures (41 page)

Waiting for our plane to take off, we sat at a bar at the airport, having a last drink to toast our trip.

Becky was tearful. “Chichi wouldn’t let go of me. Did you see how he held onto my hand? He didn’t want me to get into the taxi.”

Jen rolled her eyes.

“You can come back.” Susan downed a shot of tequila. “Christmas break starts in a week.”

“He’s going to try to get time off and come up to Philly, but it’s tourist season. He might have to wait until summer.”

“You’ll have to pay for the tickets, right?” Jen examined her nail polish.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means Jen needs to back off,” Susan warned. “You have your own stuff to worry about, Jen. Like how you’ll explain your swollen black-and-blue marks to Norm.”

Jen swallowed. “I’ll tell him that they’re a surprise for Christmas, like I said.”

“Uh-huh. Never mind that you lied to him—”

“Susan, back off. Norm’ll be fine. In fact, he’ll be fucking deliriously happy. He’s been like a lost puppy without me.”

“Yeah. Tim’s been a mess, too.”

“I get it,” Becky sniffed. “I’ve been away from Chichi for only an hour, and look at me. I can’t stop crying. It’s so hard to be away from the person you love.”

Really? They had no idea.

“It’s harder for them than for us. Men are more dependent. Norm can barely function when I’m not there.”

“Tim either. I had to leave him a list for each day I was gone. When to put the recycling out. Which dinners to defrost—I prepared their meals in advance. What time the girls have to leave
for school or get picked up, which shirt goes with which tie. I almost had to remind him to breathe.”

“Norm’s not that bad. He just works late and eats every meal out. He can’t stand to be in the house when I’m not there.”

They went on like that, talking about their men. About the strain of being apart for an hour or a week. I downed my Bloody Mary, aware that they were just novices. Newbies. Not like me. Me? I was an authority on being apart. I was a pro—a master of apartness. For me, being apart was a lifestyle. Permanent. Forever. But what if Charlie hadn’t died? Our divorce would have been finalized, and then what? Would I have still have missed him? Or would I have gotten sick of him and moved on? Started dating? Fallen in love? I’d never know because Charlie was still in my head, unfinished, undead. I saw him in our den, the last evening we’d spent together. He opened a bottle of my favorite Syrah, his smile dazzling as he handed me a glass. His skin still warm, his eyes still shining and unaware of impending death. How was it that we hadn’t sensed it closing in on us? What would we have done differently if we’d known? I started over, watched him pouring wine again. Offering me the glass. He stepped close to me—I could smell him, could feel his heat—and he lifted his glass, toasting our divorce, calling it “just the next phase” of our relationship. Claiming that we weren’t over, that we never would be. “No matter what, you’re the only one for me, Elf. The love of my life.” I heard his throaty whisper. Felt his breath on my neck. I choked up. My eyes misted.

Damn it, Charlie. Was I falling for his act, even now? “The love of his life”? Really? I saw him again, soaping that infernal woman—

No, I had to stop. Charlie was over. Charlie was dead. I listened to Susan, Jen, and Becky and felt his absence, a hollow spot in my chest. Missing Charlie wasn’t like missing Tim or Norm or even Chichi. Missing Charlie was a constant state of confusion and contradiction, inconsolable and as continuous as breathing.

A hand was waving in front of my face.

“She’s pulling an Elle.” Becky blew her nose.

“Yoo-hoo,” Jen waved the hand some more. “Anybody home?”

I pushed her hand away.

“Well? Are you going to tell us?”

I’d missed what they’d said, had no idea what they were waiting to hear.

“They want to know about Alain,” Susan explained. “Whether you’re going to see him again.”

“Alain?” I looked at Jen’s nose. The swelling was going down; it was beginning to resemble Inez’s. “No. That’s over.” I pictured a maid’s uniform, his wife clutching a knife.

“Never mind.” Becky said. “We’ll see what she says.”

What who says?

“Balderdash. Bunk. Don’t waste your money.” Susan put some cash on the bar. “Let’s go. Time to board.” She picked up her carry-on and walked off with Jen.

I reached into my bag for some cash, found my beaded jaguar head. I should take it back for a refund. The thing was supposed to have protected me. I shoved it aside, reached beneath it for my wallet.

Becky and I headed for the gate. “Never mind what Susan says. We’re going back.”

“Back where?”

She looked exasperated. “You didn’t hear anything we said?”

I readjusted my shoulder bag.

“Madam Therese.”

“You’re not serious.”

“Of course I am. Everything she said was spot-on. Both of us traveled and met men this week, didn’t we? We have to go back. I want to find out more about Chichi. So it’s you and me, Wednesday after school.”

I kept walking. No way I was going back there. Becky yammered
about Chichi all the way to the gate. She was still talking as we boarded the plane. I tuned her out. Didn’t want to hear about Chichi or Madam Therese. Or to think about the alleged stains in my aura or the dead spirits I supposedly drew close. I wanted peace and solitude. I wanted quiet and rest.

I wanted to go home. And in just a few hours, I would be there. Back to real life, cold weather, and Christmas shopping. Back to teaching in three weeks. Ready to let go of the past and start the New Year fresh.

Jen and Susan sat together, Becky and I behind them. As I shoved my bag into the overhead bin, I glanced around the plane. It was almost full.

Charlie sat in the back row, between Claudia and a woman whose face was covered by a dull red scarf. When he saw me looking at him, he winked.

I took my seat, not really surprised.