Just the Nicest Couple(9)

She closes her eyes. She takes a deep breath.

“Please, Lily.”

Her hands are on her lap, folded into fists. She unfolds one. There on the palm of her hand is an earring. I gave Lily those earrings years ago, on our fifth anniversary. The fifth anniversary is, traditionally, supposed to be wood, and so I hid the earrings inside a wooden jewelry box engraved with her name. She said she loved them. I think she’s worn the earrings every day since, which is how I know she does love them and is one of the many ways I know she loves me.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I’m so sorry. I lost one.”

I look up at Lily in disbelief that she’s so upset about the earring.

“It’s fine,” I say, shaking my head. “It’s no big deal. They were cheap, Lily, like twenty-five dollars or something.” I lie. They’re white gold, with a small pearl. That pair of earrings cost two hundred dollars, but it really doesn’t matter as long as Lily and the baby are fine. “I’ll get you another pair. Is that what you’re so upset about?” I ask, but I realize it’s not, because there are also the scratches on her arms and the empty look in her eyes.

She shakes her head.

“I told you I saw Jake Hayes at Langley Woods,” she says carefully, and again I’m thrown because I thought this was about the baby. I thought something bad had happened to the baby. I’m surprised to hear Jake’s name again. To be honest, I’d forgotten all about Lily seeing him yesterday on her walk.

“Yes,” I say, nodding. “Yes, you did.”

She looks away, out the windows at the river. The sun shines down on it, turning the water blue. There is a gentle breeze outside. Tiny ripples form on the river’s surface. Seagulls fly above it, swooping down for fish.

Lily won’t look at me when she says, “I didn’t tell you everything.”

“Okay,” I say. I set the antibiotic ointment aside. I put my hands on either side of her face and force her to look at me. “You know you can tell me anything, Lily. There’s nothing you could ever say that would change the way I feel about you.”

“I was just there walking, like the doctor said to do. She said gentle exercise might help with the nausea and fatigue.”

“Right. I was there. I remember her saying that.”

“It was such a pretty day too. I was happy that I thought of taking a walk. I was happy I had a little energy for it, because I’ve been so tired, you know?” I nod. I know. She’s been so tired. “I parked in the lot off Riley Road. I was just going to walk a mile or two and then turn back. I didn’t want to overdo it. There were other people there, you know? It wasn’t crowded, but I wasn’t alone either. There were a half dozen other cars in the lot. I passed people on the trail. I didn’t think it was unsafe.”

I swallow. What does she mean when she says unsafe?

My eyes go back to her arm.

“What happened, Lily?”

I see the movement of her throat when she swallows. “I saw Jake, and at first I was glad to see him. Surprised but glad. It had been so long. We started talking, and he got to telling me how it had been a bad day for him. A patient had died. He’d lost a few patients this week. I didn’t know he ever lost patients. I thought he saved them all. I was wrong. It was getting to him, losing patients. He said usually it didn’t, but the patients he lost this week were harder than most. Jake told me about it. It was why he was there, I think, to clear his mind, to blow off steam. We walked together for a while, just talking, catching up. And then, I don’t know, he said we should go down one of those unmarked trails, into the woods. He’d seen deer on the path earlier and he wanted to see if they were still there, so he could show me. It was a mother with two spotted fawns, he said. I should have said no. But it’s Jake, you know? I know Jake. It’s not like he’s a stranger.”

Lily pauses. The anticipation builds, the suspense killing me. I know what she’s going to say, or at least I think I do. I still need her to say it.

“What did he do, Lily? Did he hurt you?”

“I’m so sorry, Christian,” she says, a spasm, a vibration to her voice as she says it. She isn’t crying, but she is on the verge of it. Her chest is heavy when she breathes, her lungs falling into her with each breath, practically gasping.

I cup her face in my hands. I tell her, “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Lily talks faster now, her words rushing out like water from the tap. “He said he and Nina have been having trouble. He started telling me about it, about how she’s been distant lately. Her mother has been sick. They found a mass, among other things. I think I told you that. It’s an emotional burden. And Nina has been caring for her mother, which leaves her emotionally unavailable for Jake. Jake said that he needed affirmation and affection from Nina that she wasn’t providing, that she couldn’t provide because she’s always with her mother. He understood—he was sympathetic, but that didn’t mean that, as a man, he didn’t have needs of his own. That’s what he told me. I didn’t know what to say. It was so personal, Christian. It was awkward. It didn’t feel like he should be telling me any of it. Nina is my friend, not him. It’s the kind of thing women tell their girlfriends. I said nothing back, I just listened, and then Jake told me what a good listener I was, how he was so grateful for me. If only Nina could be more like me, he said.” She pauses. “He tried to kiss me, Christian,” she says, and I stand up and fly into a silent rage, not at Lily but at him. I know him. We’ve had dinner together, a handful of times. I’ve been in their home and they’ve been to ours. I recommended him to a friend whose wife needed surgery to have a brain tumor removed. I vouched for him, and then he makes a pass at my wife.