Page 84 of Two Couples

Maybe I should never have told him that. Because after he found out how hard it was to sit still, and how mad she got when I didn’t, that’s when he started trying to find ways to make me cry or move or scratch myself. He thought he would be happy to be me, to have her looking at him and talking to him.

He wouldn’t like it. He didn’t know how it felt.

Another pin stabbed into my leg. I screamed.

“If I have to tell you one more time…” my mother said.

“He’s sticking pins in me! It hurts.”

“You have to ignore him. You have to be strong and not let people get to you.” She stood and walked to my chair. Then, she went past me to the drapes. She grabbed one side of the draperies and yanked it away from the window. “Get out of there. Are you trying to make me think you really are a rodent? Scurrying around like a rat? Get out of this room. If you come back, I’ll lock the door.”

“The door doesn’t lock,” he said.

“I’ll make it lock. Go to your room. I can’t look at you. Everything—your eyes, your mouth. Even the way you walk!” She was screaming now. “You look just like him!”

I put my hands over my ears.

“You look exactly like that scumbag who stuck you inside me! You’re a miniature version of him. Everything about you is the same. Even your cruelty. Stop sticking pins in your sister.”

He ran out of the room. “I hate you!” he screamed. “I can’t help how I look. I miss Daddy. I want him back.”

“Well, he doesn’t miss you, or any of us, so go cry to someone else.” She slammed the door.

SIXTY-TWO

SAMANTHA

I sat in one of the lounge chairs in the living room with my feet up, sipping tea, looking at the trees between our house and Linda’s. In some ways, this wasn’t feeling like my house anymore. Knowing she’d built it for her daughter made it feel like something else.

The house had been quiet when I returned from talking to Linda. Patrick was hiking. I’d thought about suggesting he choose a gentler hike so I could go with him, but I never got around to it because I’d been consumed with thoughts of Jordan. When I returned, he’d already left.

Keith was also gone, as he’d threatened. He’d told Emily she wasn’t helping anything between them by playing games with his keys and phone. She’d given them back to him, and he drove away. Emily had walked up the stairs in silence. She hadn’t come out of her room since.

I took a sip of tea and rested my mug on my leg. What I really wanted was a glass of wine. It was just now noon, which made it somewhat acceptable. But not knowing what was happening in the house that I could see only glimpses of through the trees, told me I needed to keep a clear head.

Everything was in a state of limbo. With Keith gone, our couples’ vacation was truly over. We could still hike and go to the lake, rent a motorboat for the day, eat a few dinners out—but there would be a heavy cloud over everything we did. If Emily even wanted to do those things now.

And I had no idea what might happen next door. The house was still locked up tight—the blinds closed. I didn’t see Jordan while I listened to Linda tell her story. After, she said she needed to be alone. Without a way to communicate with Jordan, I felt like I had no choice but to leave. I hoped Jordan was okay. Knowing why Linda was so antagonistic toward men, and understanding how she’d been able to afford all this property, and getting some insight into why she was so overly protective and controlling of Jordan, I wondered if Jordan hadn’t handled the situation very well. Maybe if she’d introduced Todd to her mother, let them get to know each other, Linda might have a different attitude toward men instead of painting them all with the same putrid yellow brush.

It felt as if a huge pair of hands had reached inside my head and was twisting my brain like a sponge, wringing it out so that no coherent thoughts remained. I heard a sound and looked up. Emily was walking slowly down the stairs. Her shoulders were curled forward, her hair was a mess. She looked like someone walking to her own death. I shivered at the thought.

She came into the living room and sat on the couch adjacent to me.

After a moment of silence, I spoke. “How are you doing?”

“Terrible.” Her voice was raw from crying.

“I’m so sorry this is happening. Is it because of the murder? And everything?”

She shook her head. “It started before we got here. He accused me of having an affair.”

“How awful! Why would he ever think that?”

“It’s a long story.” She cleared her throat. “I’ll tell you, but not right now. I’m worn out.”

I waited for her to say more. I had so many questions. Did she want to hear them? Would she feel attacked if I asked her again why Keith thought she was having an affair? “Are you?” I clapped my hand over my mouth. I hadn’t meant to say that.

She shook her head. “No. But I can see why he thinks I am. He saw me with a guy… someone I knew a long time ago. And he assumed the worst. And since I wouldn’t tell him anything about it, that made him believe his imagination even more.”