Confessions on the 7:45(54)

“I’ve never been married, not even close,” said Martha. “So what do I know?”

Martha looked down at an emerald ring she wore on her right hand, turned it, its brilliance catching the candlelight. A beautiful cushion cut in a white gold band.

“In fact, I’m not sure I’m the marrying type,” Martha went on.

“No?”

Selena couldn’t help but take in the details of the other woman—her perfect manicure, the expensive drape of her clothes, her dewy flawless skin. This was a woman who spent a lot of time on her appearance—one who had a lot of time to spend. And money.

“My parents—they weren’t happy,” the other woman said. “There was violence. Infidelity. I guess I carry that with me.”

There was something about the way she said it and Selena felt a jolt. Did they really have that thing in common? Of course, lots of people grew up caught in the crossfire of a bad marriage. Or was it some kind of dig? Did this woman know more about Selena than she should? No. That was crazy. How could she?

Her phone pinged. Graham: What the hell are you doing in Tribeca? Did you leave with Will?

He was obviously tracking her. She ignored his text. He didn’t have a right to get weird about where she was and who she was with. He could fuck right off.

“That’s hard,” Selena said, keeping her voice lightly sympathetic.

“Did your parents have a happy marriage?” asked Martha.

What was it about Martha? This uncomfortable insta-intimacy. She wanted to tell Martha that her father had been chronically unfaithful, that her mother had endured for the sake of her children. That Selena believed it had scarred her, the way it had Martha. But she didn’t. She was here for damage control, not to reveal more personal things about herself to this woman. She wanted to extract herself gracefully from this mess, not become more entangled.

“No,” said Selena. “Not really. But my mother’s second marriage is happy. So maybe it’s just about finding the right person.”

“Well,” said Martha, draining her rosé and lifting her hand to the waiter for another. He practically raced over to take her empty glass. “You seem like someone who really has her life together.”

Selena laughed, feeling a rush of pleasure that at least she was putting up a good front. “I hope that’s true. I wonder if anyone ever feels like she has her life totally together.”

Martha smiled. “Maybe not.”

“Most of the people I know are just making it up as they go along. Good days. Bad days. That’s how it goes, I think, maybe for everyone.”

Another text from Graham: I know you never stopped caring about him. There are all kinds of infidelity, you know, Selena.

Oh, really. He was going to try to pull that crap? Selena picked up the phone, ignoring his second text, and stowed it in her bag.

Martha nodded toward where Selena’s phone had rested. “Hubby wondering where you are?”

“He is,” she said. “I should probably head out after this one.”

The waiter brought another glass for each of them. She hadn’t even realized that hers was nearly empty.

“I thought he was away.”

Shit. “He is. But he still wants to say good-night.”

“Sweet.”

Selena took another sip of her wine. She felt the fatigue of this awful day pull on her eyelids, settle like an ache in her head. That sense of freedom she felt when she first left the house and headed into the city now felt more like an unmooring, like she could just float away into space.

“So what about the nanny?” Martha asked. “Are you keeping her on? Even after your suspicions?”

She had managed to push Geneva completely out of her mind. She’d always been good at that, putting unpleasant things away to focus on something else. Maybe she got it from her mother.

“Well, that might not be an issue,” she said. “She didn’t show up for work today. That’s why the kids went to my mom’s place.”

“Oh, wow,” said Martha. “That’s weird, huh?”

“People can be unreliable,” said Selena. Again, the urge to tell all was strong. Selena took another sip of her wine instead.

“Kind of a coincidence, though, right? You confront your husband and the nanny disappears.”

Something cold moved up Selena’s spine. She thought of that moment when she felt Graham staring at her from the bay window. How strange he seemed.

He’d never hurt anyone. Not like that. Why did she feel the need to keep reassuring herself? Maybe because a part of her, something buried deep, knew it wasn’t exactly true. That, in fact, he had hurt someone once.

“I’m not sure one thing has to do with the other.” She knew it sounded stiff.

“Oh,” said Martha, waving her hand. She issued a little laugh. “Don’t mind me. I just have a dark imagination. Of course, you know your husband, you trust him. And there must be a million good nannies out there. Probably for the best.”

A heartbeat, a sip of wine. Martha made a quick glance at her own phone.

“Things always happen for a reason,” said Selena.

“Exactly.”

They chatted a while—about restaurants they liked, plays they’d seen, married life, single life. It was easy, enjoyable, and for a while she forgot all about the ugliness waiting outside the door and it just felt like one of those stolen hours with a friend, where everything was easy. The dark reason for her errand seemed distant, almost incidental.