The Glass Wives (16 page)

Then through her thawing nose, Evie smelled hot chocolate.

“Sam? Did you make hot chocolate?” The kids had just started using the microwave on their own, but almost-boiling water was tricky. Two seconds too short, it’s not hot enough; two seconds too long, it’s scalding. Evie wondered if he was gulping clumps of powder or scorching his throat. Or both.

“Nicole made it,” he said as Evie walked in.

Sam was sitting at the kitchen counter, Nicole on the stool next to him. They were slurping. Steam was rising from the cups. Evie looked at the pot on the stove. Nicole had made hot chocolate from scratch. Evie knew it was easy, but her hot chocolate came with tiny, cute marshmallows and out of a paper envelope. Her secret was adding a drop of vanilla and orange zest. Her concoction always smelled like winter—a potpourri of warmth and sweetness. She hated to admit that what had simmered on the stove smelled even better.

“Oh,” Evie said. Yummy as it seemed,
she
had wanted to make hot chocolate for Sam, to sit and have a mom moment with him before she opened up the textbooks again and became the taskmaster and teacher. She wanted time for just the two of them that wasn’t in the middle of the night when they played with Sam’s demons. Evie fumbled for words. She did not want hot chocolate that Nicole had made, but it was nice of Nicole to do it. Nicole had probably wiped the water from the floor and stood Sam’s boots in the corner. Was this what it was like to have an au pair or a nanny? Those were two things Evie had never wanted—and still didn’t. She wanted help with the bills. But help with the twins was something she wasn’t used to—and didn’t want to get used to. There had to be rules to follow in this new arrangement. Was Nicole a tenant or family? Could someone be both? Did Evie want either?

“There’s plenty left,” Nicole said. “I’ll get it for you.” She slipped from her seat and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and grabbed a mug.

“I don’t want any, but thanks,” Evie said. “It was nice of you to make it for Sam.”

“I was glad to have a little one-on-one time with him while Luca is napping.”

Nicole’s having one-on-one time with Evie’s kids wasn’t what she had in mind. Problem was, Evie didn’t know what she had in mind. Thoughts fired like little pops of light going this way and that. Job, kids, house, Nicole, Scott, Lisa, Beth, insurance, Laney.

Laney.
She’d opened the door for Nicole, but shut it on Laney.

That was wrong. But wrong was working just fine.

*   *   *

The house was night-quiet. Evie sat on the couch, water glass on the table next to her, bowl of popcorn nestled in her lap. She closed her eyes, just for a second, and listened to nothing. Then, Rex jumped next to her, and she opened her eyes in time to catch spilling popcorn and push it back into the bowl. She leaned on the big dog for comfort, and he nuzzled into her thigh.

Nicole appeared at the doorway in her robe and slippers. “I just wanted to say good night.”

“Good night.” It was time for movie and popcorn for one.

Nicole leaned against the wall with her shoulder, as though she had wiggled into a nook. “What are you going to watch?”

“Just a chick flick.”

“I love chick flicks, which one?”

“Not sure,” Evie said, lying. She always popped in her DVD of
My Big Fat Greek Wedding
when she needed a laugh. This was her second copy, and she was betting she’d need a third before summer.

“Enjoy your movie.” Nicole stepped backward slowly, navigating the short ridge between the living room and the kitchen without looking. “See you in the morning.” Her feet padded so slowly, Evie knew she wasn’t going anywhere fast. “Good night.”

“Good night.”

“Do you mind if I make some popcorn? I’ll take it downstairs. I’m not really very tired.”

Evie sighed. “Get a bowl. There’s too much here for one person.” Although she knew she could have downed the whole thing, Evie was willing to share the popcorn, but not the movie.

Kumbaya moment complete, Evie assumed she’d cuddle up to Rex, hit
PLAY
, and giggle into a happy, sleepy stupor. Instead, she hit
PAUSE
when she heard water flowing, and swishing and scraping noises coming from the kitchen.

“What are you doing?” she said to Nicole, who was up to her elbows in yellow rubber gloves.

“It’s just a little Ajax.”

Evie knew what it was, she just didn’t know why Nicole was doing it. “Why are you cleaning the sink at eleven o’clock?” Anyway, the sink was clean.

“Look, thanks for, um, rearranging the pantry,” Evie said, putting the cleanser under the sink. “You don’t have to do this kind of thing.” Evie had switched back the cabinets, and once Nicole left the kitchen, she’d drip something into the sink. “And thanks for folding Sophie and Sam’s laundry and for feeding Rex, but those are the kids’ chores.”

“I’m just trying to help.” Nicole backed away and into the counter. She pulled off the gloves, stared at the surface of the counter, grabbed a sponge, and rubbed off dried mustard.

“Must be from Sophie’s lunch,” Evie said. She’d have noticed it by tomorrow’s lunch. Probably.

“I clean when I’m tense,” Nicole said, scrubbing harder and longer than it took to remove a raindrop-size bit of dried mustard from the granite. Then her arm stretched across the counter as she wiped stripes of damp sponge in neat rows. Top to bottom, lift, top to bottom, again and again. And then, Nicole started to cry.

It was too late for more than just a scrap of sympathy. Evie rubbed her hands on her thighs to stop herself from reaching out, touching Nicole, offering comfort. Evie had to reserve her energy and her touch for her children. But she could spare kind words. “You can put the pantry back in alphabetical order in the morning.”

“That’s not it. I’m sorry.” Evie slid a box of Kleenex across the counter, crisscrossing the neat, damp rows. Nicole moved closer to Evie. “I talked to my mom today.”

Evie plucked a bunch of tissues, handed them to Nicole, and said nothing. She only thought of what waited for her at the top of the stairs. More crying? Or, as on some nights, would the kids sleep until morning, allowing Evie only her own disruptive sleep to contend with?

“She just doesn’t get it,” Nicole said. “She didn’t get why I left and she doesn’t get why I want to stay. She wants us to move back and live with her.”

Not until I get a job. Please don’t leave until I get a job.
“What did you say?”

“I said you needed me here. And she freaked.”

Evie grimaced even though it was true.

Nicole grabbed Evie’s hands. Nicole’s hands felt small, like a child’s, but her grip was more like a vise. “My mother rehashes
everything
. She says if I hadn’t had Lucy, none of this would have happened. She wanted me to have an abortion.”

“You told me.”

“She makes me feel like I set this whole thing in motion.”

She had. They all had. If Nicole’s mother hadn’t had Nicole, it wouldn’t have happened either. If Richard had been a barista instead of a grad student, they wouldn’t have met in the library that day. If Lucy and Pete hadn’t died; if the road wasn’t icy; if Nicole had stayed in Iowa; if Richard was faithful; if Evie had not given him one more chance more than once.

If, if, if.

“Maybe you should go to therapy. I think it might help for you to have someone to talk to.”

“I have been going.” Nicole pulled her hair into a ponytail. Evie had seen Laney do the same thing a hundred times. Evie felt a pang but wasn’t sure if the surprise or the familiar instigated it.

“Really? When?”

“On Tuesday afternoons. I take Luca with me.”

When Nicole left to run errands, Evie didn’t ask where she was going, ever. Where else did Nicole go? What else did Nicole do? “Oh, good for you.” Evie stopped herself from giving a thumbs-up with her response that sounded like the perfunctory “Good job” that parents were taught to say no matter what their kids did, as long as they tried. But in this case, it got her off the comment hook. Maybe that’s how all parents used it, as something to pull out of their back pocket when there was nothing else to say. But she wasn’t Nicole’s parent. Evie had two grieving children and did not want a third. And she no longer wanted to watch a movie.

*   *   *

Upstairs, the peaceful-sleep theory was also being challenged. In Evie’s bed, Sophie was asleep with the blanket up to her neck, stuffed animals on her right, peeking out at Evie. Evie turned on the night-light and took her place next to a floppy tiger and threadbare hippo. Sophie opened her eyes.

“How long are Nicole and Luca going to live with us?”

All Evie wanted was to go to sleep. “I don’t know yet, Soph. It’s too late to talk about it now. Plus, there’s a lot for me to think about.”

“Like what?” She closed her eyes. Instant sleep would have served Evie well, but Sophie’s eyelids fluttered. She was awake and waiting. Had Sophie slept at all?

“Like the fact that everything is new again for our little family.” Not
incomplete,
not
broken,
not
unfinished. Little.
It sounded cute, or it did when Richard was alive and Evie had settled on that label. “Every day we’re figuring out something new about what it’s like for you to not have Daddy around anymore. I just don’t know if I want someone else to be part of that.”

“Luca is our brother.”

Why did everyone keep reminding her when all she had to do was look at Luca and see bits of both of her kids in his dimples and curls? “I know he is, sweetie, which is why you’ll always be part of his life. I’m just not sure that has to mean he’s living here forever, that’s all. But I won’t make any decisions without telling you, okay?” Evie cursed Richard for leaving a legacy of strangeness. She kissed Sophie on the lips. “I’m going to check on Sam. Go to sleep.”

It might have been after eleven, but Sam was sitting up in bed and the TV was on.

“Not tired, Sam?”

“Not really.”

Evie sat on his quilt. Sam wiggled his legs so she had more space.

“How long is Luca staying?”

“Sophie just asked me that. Is this a plan to gang up on me?” Evie squinted in faux dismay and crossed her arms in a make-believe huff. She remembered well the times the twins had concocted schemes to stay up later, eat more dessert, score a new video game. It had been a while; she’d have welcomed being undermined.

“No, I’m just wondering. I like having them here but…”

“But what?” Did Evie have a ten-year-old ally in her not-knowing-what-to-do quandary?

“Why is someone else living in Dad’s house?”

“Yeah, why?” Sophie stood at the door, curls a mess, nightgown twisted. She climbed onto Sam’s bed and stared at Evie with pining eyes.

“How do you two know this?”

“Nicole told us the last time we were there that we wouldn’t be going back,” Sophie said.

Parenting Evie’s kids without her permission was worse than rearranging the soups and pastas. “Houses cost a lot of money. So that family is paying Nicole to live there, and Nicole is helping out here by giving me some money for living here.” Evie fast-forwarded her thoughts. It seemed like too much information, but she wanted always to be honest with them. Within reason.

“If someone else is living in Dad’s house, then Nicole and Luca can’t leave. They won’t have anywhere to go,” Sophie said.

“Don’t worry about it. No one is going anywhere.” Not yet.

“I hate that someone else is living in Dad’s house,” Sam said.

“Me too,” Sophie said, wiggling closer to her brother.

Strangers were sitting in their chairs, sleeping in their beds, doing everything but eating their porridge. Interlopers peppered all their lives.

“Will we have to move and let other people live here?” Sophie gasped.

“No! We’re staying right here.” Evie couldn’t undo the divorce or bring Richard back, but she could keep her kids in their home feeling safe and comfortable.

“How do you
know
?” Sam challenged her, always.

“Because I said so, that’s why,” Evie snapped. That old-fashioned answer would have to suffice. The better answer was
Because I’m going to get a job and because that insurance money is going to cover some expenses and pay for college. That’s how.
The thoughts bounced around in her brain as if they were in a pinball machine, but she still wasn’t convinced.

That had to change.

Chapter 12

J
OB, JOB, JOB, JOB, JOB.
Evie pushed the power button on the computer, then crossed her fingers. Ever since Alan had told her about the job at County, she was stuck on it—and for once she liked being stuck. It didn’t matter that she imagined herself in a graduation gown with a mortarboard on her head, as if that were Casual Friday attire for a suburban pseudo-academic. She thought of the body and hair flaws it would hide, then shook her head to release the image and got back to the reality of being unemployed in her pajamas.

The first sip of coffee was always the best, and Evie downed the cup and scanned the list of e-mails that had arrived since the night before. Eden Elementary News, Lakewood Library Newsletter, coupons for pizza, Scott, junk mail from foreign countries, soccer registration.

Scott?

Evie had never e-mailed Scott. She’d placed him to the side of her thoughts. It had been almost two months since they were a couple if she counted the first night of shiva as their last date. Evie could just delete the e-mail without reading it. That would simplify things—but that was rude. Evie closed one eye, which for some reason always made reading something unpleasant a little less so. She read the first line:
I miss you.
Then she opened her other eye.

*   *   *

“Laney is better at this than me,” Beth said, shaking her head as if disapproving of the rift between her friends, not the outfit of choice. “Here, try this.” Beth unclasped her everyday pearls, held them up to Evie’s neck, then put them back on herself. “If I dress you, you’ll look like me,” she said. “Laney has a knack.”