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Her shift was supposed to end at eight, when the sun was up and residents would be heading in to breakfast and their first doses of medication and vitamins, but she begged off as soon as the next girl came in, said her stomach was bothering her. She didn’t mention Ruby—if she had, she never would’ve been able to cut out early. The paperwork they had to submit after a resident’s death was thick as a phone book and would’ve kept her tied up for hours. So she left Ruby in her chair, her head stuck at that uncomfortable angle. Not that Ruby was as uncomfortable anymore. Nope, those days were past for her. No more late nights in front of the TV, no more toast and tea. In a way, Janice envied her.
It was only four in the morning when she turned onto their street, and everything was still dark and quiet except her own home, where nearly every window was lit up, although the blinds had all been pulled. She parked on the farthest end, near the corner, and walked the rest of the way, because she didn’t want anyone to know she was there. Anyone? No, it was a particular someone she didn’t want to alarm, and that was her husband. She wanted him to think she was still at work, that it was business as usual, he had nothing to worry about.
But did Matt have anything to worry about? That was the real question. Oh, she couldn’t stop thinking about that gun, and about her husband’s hand on that woman’s ass, but thinking about it didn’t mean anything was going to happen. She didn’t want to hurt Matt, but she sure as hell wanted to scare him and the little tart he’d let into their home. And then she’d leave, file for divorce. Start over.
But maybe that was all easier said than done.
Janice walked past the cute little red car and climbed lightly up the steps to the house, paused when her hand was on the battered brass knob. She could turn around, go back down the steps and climb into her car and drive. It didn’t matter where, as long as it was away from here. West, maybe, to her mom’s place. She had some cash in her purse, a full tank of gas, and the credit card she had for emergencies—she could make it. She could be halfway across the country before Matt ever realized a thing, and it would be done. All of this would be behind her, a part of her past. She could look back on this moment in twenty years and laugh. Well, maybe not laugh, the thought of a cheating husband would never be funny, but maybe she wouldn’t think about it at all.
And Janice would’ve gone, turned around and walked—her hand had actually let go of the doorknob and she’d started to pivot away on the balls of her feet—but for one thing. A giggle. The window beside the door had been propped open, as it usually was on a balmy night like this, and that’s how it floated to her ears—a high-pitched, tinkling woman’s sound of delight. And then, a moment later, came Matt’s answering chuckle, low and throaty.
It was their laughter that made her decision, that brought her hand back up to the doorknob and twisted it, that lifted her foot and brought her home.