The Housewife(25)

“And?” Erin prompts.

“My mother found bits of cut paper in the trash, on top of the magazine, and saw what I’d done. She called out to me.

“I was in my bedroom, actually admiring those very pictures as it happens, but I could tell from her tone that it wouldn’t be good. I went to see her as requested. She held up the magazine by a corner so the pages were flapping around and you could see the holes where I’d cut them. She bent down over me, her face all scrunched up. ‘Did you do this?’

“I said that I had.

“‘Fine.’ She stood up straight, took my hand, and walked me to the cellar door. It wasn’t even a proper cellar, more like a storeroom under the house. I’d noticed she’d had a padlock put on the door recently, and I’d asked my sister what it was for, and she said, ‘It’s so we don’t go down there.’ And honestly, Erin, there was no need for a padlock because I was never going down there. You see, my mother had told me that spiders lived down there. Hundreds of them, she’d said. Big and black and hairy.

“Anyway, my mother pushed me inside and closed the door. It was the first time I’d been on the other side of that door, and let me tell you, Erin, you don’t know what dark is until you find yourself locked in a cellar. There was no light switch, and it smelled of damp and mold and dust and dead mice. I thought I could hear the spiders moving around, millions of little legs tapping the floor, climbing the walls. When I heard the padlock click in place, I started screaming. She opened the door and I thought she was going to let me out now, but instead she said, ‘If I hear one more peep out of you, as God is my witness, I’m leaving you in there all night.’

“She shut the door, so obviously I started screaming again. I mean, I was six. What did I know about keeping my mouth shut? And you know what terrified me the most? That my family would die and no one would ever open the door again. Or more likely, that my mother would just forget about me. Either way, I’d die in there, eaten alive by hairy spiders.

“After my parents went to sleep, my sister came down and sat on the other side of the door and told me there were no spiders down there; that had been a lie. She stayed with me all night, talking to me through the door about the kind of house I’d live in one day, asking about the pictures I cut out. We ended up talking about our favorite colors for the walls—light pink for me, yellow for her—and whether we’d want wall-to-wall carpets and if drapes were better than shutters, so it wasn’t so bad.”

Erin says nothing at all. Her face looks pale, white almost.

I sit back. “That’s it,” I say. “That’s the story.” I tear open a small packet of real sugar instead of Sweet’N Low and I’ve already poured it into my coffee before I realize my mistake.

I hesitate, staring at the coffee.

“My God, Jodie. That’s horrible!”

“I know.” I crumple the empty packet.

“So…how did they die? Can I ask?”

I take a sip of my coffee and wipe my mouth delicately. “House fire while they were asleep. Terrible tragedy. Everyone said so.”

“Oh God.” After a moment or two, she asks, “So where were you?”

“Away.”

“Right… God. I’m so sorry.”

“Well. It’s in the past now, Erin. And I don’t like to dwell in the past.” I smile. “Let’s talk about something else.”

She looks at me oddly, her head slightly tilted, like she’s trying to figure something out.

“You want some cake?” I say, turning around to catch the waitress’s attention. “Because I could kill for a piece of cake.”





16





There’s no one home when I get there, as expected. Roy is at his office downtown, and Marie is wherever she is, but she’s not here.

I put down my purse on the hall table and go straight to Roy’s office. I probably should wait until tonight when he’s asleep, but I can’t help myself. It’s like the key is burning a hole in my pocket.

I unlock the door.

I crouch down and slide a bottom cupboard open. This one also has a brown square cardboard box inside, but it’s organized with tabs and labels. I find it’s full of legal and financial documents. I flick through them. They are mostly about share transactions, legal paperwork related to the house, and interminable contracts related to his psychology practice.

Then I find our prenup agreement .

Honestly, when Roy told me he wanted a prenup, I was like, Roy, whatever makes you happy. We are married till death do us part, so your prenup is as useful to me as a paper airplane. But what is interesting is that most of these documents predate our marriage, and yet there’s nothing about Deborah.

I put the box back and slide the cupboard shut. I check my phone. It’s five thirty. Roy won’t be home for another half an hour.

I should stop now, but I can’t help myself. I go back to the first box, the one with the mysterious letter. Then I sit on the floor and start to read.

24 August

My darling,

A little red-and-black bird landed on my windowsill this morning, and I wished you’d been here to see it. I miss you so much, my love. I miss the sound of your voice and the touch of your skin, I miss the blue of your eyes and the way you smile.