Thursday, August 23, 2018

I

n the morning, Nora was greeted by Dave’s empty pillow and a gnawing sense that she’d done something awful, the memory clawing its way from her belly to her brain. Now, Dave knew she was a sociopath pretending to be a stay-at-home, cheerful, suburban mom. He’d seen beneath her skin, witnessed the raw writhing reptile that coiled there. What had she done? Why had she told him?

Openness, she reminded herself. It had been her idea, so that Dave could forgive himself for what he’d done to Paul. So he could see that he was not alone, that she understood. She and Dave were unique, closer than most couples. They could share the truth no matter how difficult.

Shrieks of laughter flew up the stairway along with the aroma of coffee. Nora looked at the clock. Almost ten. Ten? Dave had let her sleep in. But why was he home on a weekday? Why wasn’t he at work?

Getting up and brushing her teeth took effort. Normal tasks like face-washing required deliberate concentration. Nora’s life had shifted. Her movements, her routine, felt altered, as if the whole world had taken a step away from her, making her former relationship to space and time obsolete. She made her way downstairs carefully, then stopped at the kitchen doorway to watch her family from a distance.

Dave was at the stove in a T-shirt and boxers, fixing eggs, the girls buzzing around him. What would happen when she joined them? Would Dave look at her differently? Would the girls notice a change?

“Mommy’s up!” Sophie spotted her and pulled her into the kitchen.

“Daddy’s making breakfast.” Ellie withdrew her fingernail from her mouth.

Dave grinned, spatula in hand. “Morning, honey.”

Honey? Dave never called her that. Not sweetie or dear, either.

“You’re home?” she asked.

“Taking the day off. We deserve a family day.” His smile was too big, too bright.

Nora moved toward him slowly, cautiously. She studied his face, watching for tiny muscle twinges, for involuntary tics of revulsion. She saw none. When she came close enough, he grabbed her for a kiss. A real one, not a quick peck.

“Daddy, can I put the toast in?” Ellie held bread slices.

“I want to!” Sophie tried to grab the bread.

“Take turns. Two slices each.” Dave flipped the eggs, completely in charge.

Nora sipped coffee, watchful. Especially of Dave, who was acting cheerful and funny, painting faces on the toast with jam and blueberries. Was this real? What happened to his grief and guilt? Was he pretending for the children’s sakes?

He set a plate of steaming breakfast in front of her. She chewed, swallowed, forced scrambled eggs and bacon down her throat. Smiled at her family and laughed when they laughed. She demonstrated that she was happy and loving, living in the moment. Feeling fine.

Dave winked at her as the kids stuffed their mouths. His jolliness didn’t quite fit. It flopped, sloppy and loose, like a borrowed suit.

When everyone finished eating, Dave had the girls help clear the table. Nora joined him at the sink, and he kissed her forehead. As he put the pan in the dishwasher, Nora noted chunks of egg sticking to the surface. Normally, she’d have taken the pan out and scraped it off. But today, she swallowed her words. Why was Dave staying home and playing happy daddy? Was he overcompensating? Pretending not to be disgusted about Tommy?

Finally, Dave turned off the water, dried his hands and turned to her. She was relieved to see that his smile was gone, his brow furrowed. She waited, expected him to say something poignant, something profound.

“How about,” he said, “we all go to the zoo?”

The girls ran circles around the table, shrieking, naming animals that they wanted to see.

Who was this giddy, manic, overzealous man? How long before he’d let her real husband come back?

It was her own fault though. She shouldn’t have told him.