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“You know he’s coming to see you right?”
“No, Mare, he’s coming because John asked him to.” Alison wished Mary-Anne would stop hovering and go back to the kitchen.
“Doesn’t he have better things to do on a Sunday night?”
“I don’t know. Probably.” Not anything I can tell you about. If Mary-Anne was in the kitchen Edward would talk to her when he arrived, giving Alison some breathing space.
It was the first time she would see him since she’d met Lucy. Alison catalogued her surroundings to calm herself. The family room with the two big couches; one for the kids, one for Mum and John. The coffee table scarred from where Mary-Anne had spilled nail polish remover. She traced the pattern with a finger and wondered, now that she’d started drawing again, whether she should try abstract. The lamp her mother had wanted even though there was adequate overhead lighting. The grey carpet, compressed where many feet had travelled. The room smelled warm, if warmth could have a scent. A sort of nothing smell that you’re so used to you only notice it if you’ve been away. It had struck her whenever she visited. She didn’t notice it now, she realised with something like regret. It was comfortable, it was home.
The front door open and Alison found it hard to breathe.
Mary-Anne moved back towards the kitchen. “Hey big bro,” she greeted Edward as he entered the family room.
“Hey ... little sis.” Edward gave Alison a “What the hell?” look. She shrugged.
Mary-Anne smiled too brightly and departed to finish cooking dinner, leaving them together.
Edward sat down. “What’s up with Mary-Anne?”
“Mary-Anne is just being Mary-Anne. I don’t know, she’s been weird all week.” She wanted to dismiss the conversation and him with it.
“She’s less, um,” he was conducting an orchestra with his hand again, “...bouncy than she normally is.”
“I don’t think I’d refer to Mare as bouncy. Have you been reading job ads again?” Mary-Anne wasn’t the only one forcing brightness tonight.
“What?”
“You know whenever they’re looking for someone to do an entry level drudge admin role they ask for someone with a—oh—bubbly personality. Sorry I got all um—” Alison stumbled over her words in confusion. “I wouldn’t call her bouncy. Maybe enthusiastic?”
“Yeah. I guess you’re right.”
“She talks a lot and she’s excitable but I wouldn’t say bouncy.” Why was she babbling?
“You’ve convinced me.”
There was an awkward silence, something they’d never experienced before. At least Alison felt awkward. She had no idea how Edward felt, maybe she never had.
“How is work going?” he asked.
“Good.”
“How’s your new boss? She started this week, right?”
“Yeah she did.” Along with someone else. Surely he knew? Why didn’t he say something? Maybe she should say something.
“So work is good.”
This was her chance. “Yeah.”
He looked as though he wanted to ask if she was OK but he left, murmuring something about Margaret and school. Alison breathed a sigh of relief, hopefully work wouldn’t come up again before Lucy left.
During dinner, Edward asked Mary-Anne about Will.
“I haven’t seen him since last weekend, he’s been busy with his sister, but I’m going to see him tomorrow. Which reminds me Ali.” She rose from her seat, plate in hand and finished in a rush, “I might not come home—I might stay at Will’s—is that OK?”
No one moved for a moment, this was the first time Mary-Anne had ever slept over. Alison nodded her consent and Mary-Anne, face flushed, fled to the kitchen.
“She can bark up that tree as much as she likes, there ain't no way that cat is coming down,” Margaret declared.
“What? What does that even mean?”
Margaret gave her a superior look, picked up her plate and left the table.
Edward and Alison looked at each other across the empty space.
Somehow she’d made it through dinner. Now she was lying in bed just listening. Music whispering from Mary-Anne’s room, a constant companion years of practise had taught her to block out. Margaret typing furiously on her laptop and occasional laughter—she wore headphones if she watched anything so it was impossible to tell if she was laughing at a video or a conversation unless you poked your head around her door. Normally her mother would be talking to John, not pausing for his responses. The noises of people she felt so separate from. The sound of the house itself, settling for the night. It grew quiet yet she lay awake.
Her mind made its own white noise, no actual thoughts just static. She knew the way to silence it. Could she risk it? No one could know. No one would understand.
She slipped out of bed.
No-one-can-know. She could feel the words through the rhythm. The secret gave her freedom. She could be anyone. She could be anywhere.
After, he held her while she dozed. He was playing with her hands. The sex was over. She should really go. He kissed her fingers one by one.
“I still—” he began.
“No George, don’t say it. Please. I couldn’t bear it.” She could tell anyway, he didn’t have to say it. She could feel it when he touched her, hear it when he said her name during...during... “I should really go.”
“Stay?” He kissed her shoulder and she felt it between her legs. “I’ll make breakfast.” His hand was on her thigh. “By the time you get home it’ll be so late you’ll hardly have time to sleep. You could just sleep here.”
“I don’t live here anymore George.” But she didn’t want to get out of bed, move away from his arms. Margaret always protested that she was able to look after herself and Mary-Anne slept through everything. She could feel his breath against her skin, her eyes floated shut.
“I’m not asking you to move in.” His hand ran up and down her thigh. “Just to sleep. There’s no harm in that.”