Eliza Starts a Rumor(22)

“Where are you going? To see your boyfriend?”

“Do you hear how ridiculous you sound?” she snapped. “Stop turning this around!”

“Walk out and you’ll regret it,” he yelled, as if choosing a staple threat from a canned domestic dispute.

At that moment, suffocating was the only credible threat that concerned her, plus if none of this were true then she knew from experience that they both needed to calm down, separately. She slipped on her Uggs by the door and left. No coat, no money, no bra; no bra was the biggest problem. Still, she kept walking. When her breath settled, she sat down on the side of the road and read the post again, calmly. Then she read the first post. Her chest tightened back up. Could this really be Spencer? Am I being paranoid? She didn’t think she was. Olivia did know one thing for sure: she had never felt this kind of betrayal before. Whether it was real or imagined, she didn’t like it.

Her tears flowed, not hysterically, but consistently. Quite out of nowhere she spotted a high-spirited dog trotting down the road. He stopped and looked at Olivia, as if sensing her desperation. She smiled through her tears and reached out to pet him. “Hey, boy, are you lost?”

He perked his ears up, but then bolted away from her until he was invisible among the trees.

A voice called out from the distance, “Here, Truffles, I have a treat. Come on, boy!”

She hoped the dog with the funny name was heading back home. She thought maybe she should do the same, but she needed more time.

She started walking, purposefully breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth. Soon she found herself in town, her mouth dry from gulping down air; she needed a drink. She entered the Café Karma Sutra and went right up to the counter. Her breasts were so full under her T-shirt that she felt as if she were naked. She remembered she didn’t have any money. She approached the multipierced barista a bit timidly.

“May I please have a cup of water?”

“Did you bring a receptacle?” he countered.

She was confused by the question. She hadn’t brought a receptacle. She wasn’t even sure what that meant. Why did she ever leave Manhattan? There she would have a million places to run away to, where everyone spoke the same language. Now she was alone and thirsty in a foreign land. She felt the red blotches returning to her face. They were radiating heat. She read the words painted across the wall behind him: “I Am Perfect Because I Exist.”

False advertising, she thought. She hated when people pretended to be so Zen but were in fact quite the opposite. It should read, “I’m Perfect If I Exist with a Receptacle.” Her eyes teared up and her breathing accelerated. The pierced guy seemed to notice. He took pity on her and filled a glass with water.

“Here,” he said in a tone more capitalistic than karmic.

“Oh, a receptacle.” She smiled, trying to appear sane.

She turned around and bumped smack into Alison Le and her baby. She recognized her from somewhere, but was too out of her mind to remember where. And she didn’t care to find out. She ducked her head, her eye on the door. Fake left; go right, she thought. She had no idea that Alison was desperate for adult interaction and that she had no chance of getting away.

“Olivia, right?” Alison smiled. “We met at the real estate office. Alison.”

Olivia nodded and shook her hand with one eye still on the door to purposefully signal brevity.

“How are you?” Alison asked naturally. There was nothing natural about her response. Olivia tried to hold back her emotions, which caused them to escape from her mouth in a gust of pain so guttural that she even startled herself. People stared. The “fixer” in Alison took over and she leaped into action.

“I live right down the street. Do you want to get out of here?”

Olivia shook her head yes.

“OK. Wait one second.” Alison directed her to a chair and headed to the counter. She thought comfort food might be in order.

“Two rain forest muffins to go, please.”

“Did you bring a receptacle?” the pierced barista asked.

“I have no clue what you are asking me,” Alison replied.

Olivia laughed, which made her smile. Thank God that she was OK enough to do that.

They walked back to Alison’s house, just a few doors away, in silence, each holding a bagless muffin in their hands. Zach had fallen asleep in the stroller, so Alison left him in the foyer of her house and set them up in the living room. Olivia was quiet, somber really. Alison wondered if she should change the subject and talk about the kids or ask her what she was upset about. She unwittingly did both.

“Did you see the post about Circle Time at the library on that local bulletin board?”

Tears exploded from Olivia’s eyes. They didn’t well up or pour down her face but arrived so fast and furiously that they ricocheted off the side of her nose. Alison had never witnessed anything like it, and she had witnessed a lot.

“I am the woman from the bulletin board. I am the woman,” Olivia sobbed. Alison knew exactly what she was talking about.

“Oh my God. You’re anonymous?”

“No. It’s worse than that.” She could barely say it. “I’m the wife.”

Now Alison was tearing up. A pit filled her stomach and she couldn’t get enough air. Motherhood has made me soft, she thought.