My Lovely Wife(59)
Eight people laughed. Millicent nodded.
“Well then,” Stan said, turning to his daughter. “I guess it’s your turn. Convince us this is the man for you.”
Millicent raised her hand and pressed it against my cheek. She leaned in, put her lips right next to my ear, and whispered.
“Here we go.”
Forty-one
At dinner, no one mentions the news or Jane Doe. She is here with us, but we do not acknowledge her. Instead, we talk about a celebrity who has gone to rehab. Again.
We talk about a football game I did not see.
We talk about what to watch on movie night. Rory wants to watch a college-aged comedy, and Jenna prefers a romcom.
The only current event we discuss is a mall shooting in the next state over.
“Sicko,” Rory says.
Jenna point at him with her fork. “You’re the one who plays shooting games.”
“The key word being ‘game.’ ”
“But you like it.”
“Shut up.”
“You shut up.”
“Enough,” Millicent says.
Silence.
When dinner ends, they both go upstairs and retreat to their rooms.
Millicent and I stare at each other. She points to me, mouthing the words, “Was it you?”
She is asking if I am the one who attacked Jane Doe. I shake my head and point to the garage.
After the dishes are done and the kids are asleep, we go out and sit in the car. Millicent brings our leftover Halloween candy, and we share a bottle of sparkling water. She is wearing a bright blue shirt with short sleeves. I think it is new, because earlier in the day I watched her car stop at the mall.
“You had nothing to do with this woman?” she says.
“Absolutely not. I wouldn’t do something like that without telling you.” At least I don’t think I would.
“I hope not.”
“And I wouldn’t do anything to make Jenna more afraid.”
Millicent nods. “I should have known.”
“Maybe Jane Doe is lying,” I say.
“Possibly. Or maybe some random guy attacked her and she just thinks it was Owen. We don’t know what she saw.”
“There’s a third option,” I say.
“Is there?”
I unwrap a piece of chocolate, break it in two, and give her half. “What if he’s really back?”
“Owen?”
“Sure. What if it was him?”
“It wasn’t.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because it would be stupid. Why would he come back right when everyone is looking for him?”
“Good point.”
* * *
? ? ?
I am back in the beige office, waiting for Jenna to finish with her psychologist. The doctor called after hearing about Jane Doe, saying he wanted an extra session. He is afraid this new attack will make Jenna regress. I am not sure she has progressed enough to regress, but I take her anyway. Millicent says she is unable to make it, so I sit in the waiting room and watch her blue dot. My wife is at a house on Danner Drive; it is listed for just under half a million dollars.
Then she drives to a deli.
Sometimes, she goes out to lunch with clients, but I have never known her to take them to a deli.
Millicent is just a few minutes from the doctor’s office, but she does not come here. She goes to a deli, and she is still there when the office door opens and Jenna comes out. My daughter looks neither happy nor sad, which is about the same as when she went in.
It is her turn to wait while I speak to the doctor. Dr. Beige. To me he is always Dr. Beige. The name is neither fair nor accurate, because only his office is beige; his personality is not. The doctor is a colorful, arrogant asshole. I have never met a doctor who is not.
“I’m glad I asked Jenna to come in,” he says. “This new attack was quite a surprise.”
Dr. Beige does not say Jenna was surprised, but it’s what he means. This is how he gets around the doctor-patient confidentiality. “It certainly was a surprise,” I say.
“The important thing is to let her know nothing has changed. That she’s safe.”
“She is safe.”
“Of course.”
We stare at each other.
“Have you noticed any changes in her behavior?” he says. “Any kind of change.”
“Actually, I wanted to ask you something. Jenna has been having some issues with her stomach. Nausea.”
“And this started when?”
“Not that long ago, and it’s been getting worse. Is it possible these are connected?”
“Oh, absolutely. Mental stress can absolutely manifest into physical issues. Has there been anything else?”
I pretend to think about it and shake my head. “No, I don’t think so.”
I wonder if he can tell I am lying. No one knows about the knife under the bed.
Our talk is over when my phone vibrates. Millicent.
Sorry I couldn’t make it, how did it go?
Her blue dot is just leaving the deli.
Jenna is in the waiting room, doodling in a notebook while watching a daytime talk show. Her short hair makes her eyes look huge, and she is wearing a long T-shirt with her jeans and sneakers. I tell her we are going to grab a bite before picking up her brother. She smiles.