Dead to Her(78)
Games. Once again, her thoughts turned to Jacquie. Jason hadn’t been concerned when Marcie told him that his ex-wife had gone to the hospital in the middle of the night. He said she was an insomniac and always up and at the gym while the world was sleeping. It used to drive him crazy. Plus, she’d known William for a long time before she moved. It was hardly a surprise that she’d go visit him. Marcie had told him that Jacquie had been at the party too, casually trying to find out if Jason had spoken to her. Apparently not. He claimed not to have seen her; he had shrugged and said that now Jacquie was back, however much they tried to avoid her it was likely she’d end up moving in the same circles as them. He’d then closed the conversation down by saying they had bigger problems right now than being jealous of Jacquie.
Jealous of Jacquie. She’d wanted to punch him for that. What if Jacquie was their problem? There was still an odd edge to Jason when he spoke of her. Was that simply the awkwardness of discussing an ex-wife with a current one? Or something else? Jason had proven himself a slippery eel when it came to the truth. Was he keeping more from her? What had Jacquie been talking to him about that afternoon at Sacchi’s? Jason had called her. Marcie couldn’t forget that. Jason, who was so bad at confrontation, had called his bitter ex-wife by choice?
Had she been trying to get him back and he’d turned her down? Could she have done some digging and sent the yearbook to try to split them up? It was possible. Or maybe she wanted more than that. Maybe she’d done it for money. True, she probably didn’t need it, but taking it from Jason would still give her pleasure. She’d tried to take everything when they divorced. Maybe this was her trying to clean up again? Whoever it was who’d sent it probably wanted money. Otherwise they’d have told other people what they’d discovered and Marcie would be in the crap right now. The thought was a relief. Everything was nearly always about money.
What was it Mama used to say? Her pearls of wisdom on the world? Money, sex, and power are the father, the son, and the holy ghost of life, honey. Just remember that. And women can get all three if they’re not stupid. So don’t be stupid.
The city looked different at dusk, the night coming to life as the day died, shadows like ghosts under each streetlamp, and she finally headed to pick up their food and take it home. Jason was in the kitchen, plates and cutlery ready, two glasses of wine poured. “Where have you been? You’ve been gone for nearly two hours.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, leaning in and kissing him. “There was a line and you know how I hate to wait so I went for a drive. Got carried away.”
“I thought you weren’t coming back.”
He sounded so lost and lonely her heart almost melted a little. Almost.
“I’m not going anywhere.” She smiled through gritted teeth. “I just needed some space.” She nodded toward the cartons. “Kung Pao Shrimp. And a couple of your other favorites.”
“You sure you’re okay?”
“Sure,” she said. “I love you.” Hollow words. She found herself thinking of Keisha when she said them. Wild, free, and open Keisha. So different from this liar of a husband of hers. Her heart would recover though. It always did.
They ate as if everything were normal and then before they went to bed Marcie called the hospital to see if there had been any change. There hadn’t. They hadn’t heard from Virginia or Iris all day, and Marcie hadn’t called them either. They were all withdrawing to process what had happened to William, and she wished she could do the same without the rest of this shit strangling them.
This evening she and Jason both undressed in the same room, Marcie dropping her clothes on top of the party dress and mask abandoned on the floor what felt like a lifetime ago. They had sex. Bodies going through the motions, enforced intimacy between sudden strangers. Finally, they fell apart, both panting. Neither of them spoke and within minutes Jason fell into a deep sleep, leaving Marcie wide awake and staring at the ceiling, wishing the man next to her and his lies were still in the guest bedroom.
At around five the thunder started, low rumblings overhead that grew into a storm, lashing the house with wind and rain and keeping the morning dark. By seven, they knew that William hadn’t died in the night. He was breathing by himself and whatever life he’d been left with was refusing to give up. He was here for the long haul, living in the dark, hooked up to machines. He could afford to be. Marcie wondered if poverty would have been better for William now. At least he’d have been able to let go. To die with dignity. Instead, he’d be left to rot away in a hospital bed like some awful zombie for the next however many years they could keep him breathing.
She made coffee, the rain keeping them housebound for now, as Jason took calls from clients and the other attorneys in the firm, and for a while Marcie stood outside the study door, watching him through the narrow gap. She felt something between awe and dread at the emotion he was managing to instill in his voice without any showing in his face or manner. Who was this chameleon she’d married? He’d be at work by lunchtime, she heard him say, which was a relief. She’d have the afternoon to herself. Maybe she’d sleep. God, she needed to sleep.
48.
Keisha had found the storm comforting before the lights went on and the new day started. It was as if all the madness in her head had fled this cell and taken to the skies. She felt empty. There had been so much talking yesterday, so many questions, that her head had been left whirling. Some she’d answered and some she hadn’t, depending on what her lawyer had told her to do. She’d been a good puppet as he pulled her strings and it was easier than thinking for herself.