“It was a really tough time for me,” she said. “But it made me grow up. I needed to move beyond the external validation that being a track star had brought me.”
“That’s an incredible story. I had no idea you were a competitive athlete.”
Panic seized her. What had she done? She knew this was the kind of lie that could easily be checked. She had run track in high school for two seasons, but was hardly a star. She had quit at the beginning of her senior year, bored with the whole thing. “I don’t like to talk about it.” She lowered her head and looked at him from the corner of her eyes. No one was listening to them. No one had noticed she and Anton had started their own side conversation. “I guess it’s something I’ve tried to put in the past. But the alcohol, and you’re so easy to talk to. You’re a Sagittarius, right?”
He nodded.
“I remember your birthday was at the beginning of December. That’s why we get along so well. I’m an Aquarius. There’s this whole poem about us. The Aquarius woman is gentle yet tough, sociable but also a loner. Predictable in her unpredictability.”
“Wow. Sounds complicated.”
“I’m like an orchid. Beautiful and wild and I need just the right growing conditions.” She placed her hand on Anton’s and looked him in the eye. “But once you know what I need, I’ll bloom for you over and over and over again.”
It was a gamble. He could pull his hand away, make a joke, change the subject. But he didn’t move his hand. He nodded. “I didn’t realize you were so creative. Gwen, Scott, everyone teases me about how long it’s taking to finish my second book. They have no idea how hard it is to create something.”
“I do. I admire you so much. I loved your first book. I never told you that before because I don’t feel qualified to talk about literature.” She flashed a coy smile. “But your prose, your images, your language. The book is beautiful.” She had bought the book with every intention of reading it when the Khourys first moved onto Nassau Court. It was fun to leave on the coffee table and point out to guests that the author was a good friend. But in truth she had found the writing impenetrable, the language confusing. She wasn’t much of a reader.
“Thank you for saying that.” Anton smiled. “If a book speaks to you, that makes you qualified. Art is for everyone. Anyone can read a book.” His face seemed to open now in a way Lisa hadn’t seen before. He really was a very attractive man, in a brooding, serious way. “And I’m glad you told me your story. It’s okay to admit you’ve been hurt. It’s okay to be vulnerable.” He shot a quick glance at Gwen, who was laughing uproariously at something Scott said. “Some people try to act like superheroes. Never let anyone see that they’re human.” He took a swig of his drink. “But that just pushes people away.”
There was no misunderstanding his meaning. He may have been drunk, but he was insulting his wife. Lisa loved it. Her belly fluttered. Gwen and Anton were not an unbreakable duo.
When he pushed his leg against hers and saidsorry, she smiled. “Don’t apologize,” she said, pushing her leg back.
Forget ski accidents, or lost wallets, or missing dogs.
Here’s something she could take from Gwen, something she would relish taking.
Anton.
15
NOW
Scott comes down the stairs with his bright-green gym bag slung over his shoulder.
“Wait, hold on a minute,” Aimee says, getting up from her perch at the kitchen island. “I think we need to talk.”
“Now? The boys are still at soccer for another hour, and I promised I’d take them to Norwood Park later. If I don’t get to the gym now…” He shrugs. “And I haven’t been to the gym in three days. I need some exercise.” Scott sighs. “Tell you what, I’ll make dinner and do the big shopping tonight if you make a list.”
“This isn’t about the shopping,” Aimee says.
“What is it about?”
She’s on the spot. She can’t blurt out,I read part of your text, can I read the rest?Or can she? It’s hard for her to figure out her role as adult, wife, and mother sometimes. She was naïve when they married and had kids, thinking that they would naturally divide up the work evenly, and she was surprised when it didn’t work out like that. Scott was willing, more so than many of the husbands she saw, to contribute to the daily work of making a household run—but he needed to be told. As if he were her employee. She never wanted to be the CEO of the family. She already ran her own business and managed Tim and the crew.
That’s when she began to miss her mother anew. The ache that she thought had subsided years after her death began to throb more urgently when Aimee had her own kids. She longed to turn to her when faced with the challenges of being a wife and mother, and her mother’s absence felt like a fresh pain.
Scott should be allowed to go to the gym if he wants. Even using the wordallowedseems ridiculous. He’s a grown man.
But today is different. Anton is dead, murdered, and the police were just here questioning Scott. And now he’s running off again. He says it’s to the gym but the timing with that text has her on alert. “I feel weird. I want to talk about what the detective was saying. Do you think Anton followed you to Villain & Saint? Can you think of any reason why he would?”
Scott looks at his watch, then at her, as if deciding that he can spare a few minutes. “No. I can’t think of any reason he would follow me. I’ve told you about that night. Several times. I feel terrible about what happened to him. I’m just as freaked out as you are that he was killed outside the same bar that I went to. But I’ve racked my brain trying to remember anything that could explain what he was doing in the alley. I keep coming up with nothing.” He shifts his bag. “I wish I could go back, Aimee. I wish I could go back to Friday night and take the time to listen to him babble. But I was in such a hurry. I feel like an asshole.”
“You’re not.”
“It’s just, he was drunk and annoying, and I should have stayed with him but I just wanted to get out of there. I keep going over it in my mind. Why would he follow me?”
He searches her face with his eyes.