“What did he do?” I asked. “What was Sonny locked up for?”
“Jane, don’t—”
“I mean, who’s to say he won’t come right back here another night?” I said. “He’s seen all her stuff, he’s cased the joint—”
“You’re making a whole lot of assumptions right now.” The smile he’d been wearing all morning was wiped from Sam’s face. “Just because the foundation—”
“I’m sorry,” Fiona said. “Sam, I apologize—she’s my best friend—she just meant—”
Sam shook his head. “Forget it.” He asked Fiona to sign on the clipboard, and then he left without saying another word.
“Why’d you do that?” Fiona said to me when it was just the two of us alone.
“I thought—you were scared, and I had to say something.”
“No,” she said. “You didn’t have to, Jane.”
* * *
? ? ?
The last time I saw Aaron, we were back at that same naval-themed bar in Ktown. Fiona was getting off work soon.
“She’ll be here any minute,” Aaron said. His eyes were on his phone while he keyed in a reply. “Jane,” he said without looking up, “when she gets here, she’s going to ask you if we’re having an affair.”
I choked on my drink. “What?”
“I told her not to ask you. I told her she was acting crazy.”
“Aaron—why would Fi—”
“She says it’s the only way she’ll know the truth.” He didn’t have time to elaborate. Fiona stood at the door, glancing around the windowless room of the bar with her eyes squinted. Aaron lifted a hand and waved, and she made a jerky gesture of relief, then made her way over to the table. When she sat down on Aaron’s side he nudged a glass of chardonnay toward her. She sipped and then made a face.
“I’ll drink that,” I said. “So I heard you want to ask me something.”
“You told her,” Fiona cried. She glared at Aaron. “I told you don’t say anything until I get here.”
“Should I leave?” he said.
“What the hell, Fiona?”
“I can’t do it—Aaron, you say it.”
Aaron took a breath and said in a rush: “Fiona thinks there’s something going on with us. She won’t believe anything I say. She wants to talk about it out in the open, like this.”
“Is there something going on?” Fiona still wouldn’t meet my eyes. “You tell me, Jane.” She talked to the wall behind me, then to the scratches on the table. “Something doesn’t feel right to me—”
“Are you serious?” I asked. “Is this some kind of joke?”
She finally looked at me. “No,” she said flatly. “It’s not a joke. This is my marriage.”
I glanced toward Aaron for help. All the color had drained from his face. His mouth was set in a straight hard line. Mirthless dimples marked his cheeks.
I stood up. “I’m leaving. This is so wrong—you guys have issues—”
“See, babe,” Aaron said. “What’d I tell you?”
“Shut up, Aaron,” I said.
“Don’t you understand I had to ask you?” Fiona said. “Jane. I just had to.”
“Like this? You had to ask me like this?” I said. “I can’t believe you would think I— How long have we—”
“Come on, sit down,” Aaron said. “Let’s get another round—”
“I’m sorry,” Fiona said. “But you’re—he’s my husband, but he spends more time with you than me.”
“You said you wanted me and Aaron to be friends,” I said. “I thought you wanted us to get to know each other.”
“I didn’t know you guys would—listen, I didn’t really think—”
“I’m gone.”
I knew I couldn’t drive, so I started walking. I didn’t mean to, but I swayed toward Ed’s building. He lived on Westmoreland, in an old brick job with metal spikes on the window ledges to keep the pigeons off.
“Ed! Ed!” I shouted up at his window. “Ed!”
I was so drunk by then I’d forgotten that I only called him Ed behind his back. It had been months since we broke up. Why was I still thinking about him? Every morning, I stirred awake with some idea of him clutched in my mind, sifted into consciousness from the last dream before I opened my eyes. I could never fully remember my dreams, but I always felt as if all my memories of him unfurled in those darkened hours, like some poison gas spreading through the chambers of my brain, even though in my waking life I could hardly recall the look of his face anymore. A stupid recurring thought I had: Baba would’ve liked Ed. I don’t know how I knew it, but I did.