Not Perfect(19)

Once again, she was glad she had left most of her nice clothes on. If someone asked, she’d just say she ran out of shampoo. They’d assume she was a guest. But nobody came, and she took and took and took—bottles of shampoo, conditioner, body lotion. She thought about the towels but decided that was silly. She had those, even if they got ratty, they’d still be usable for a long time. She could fit just one roll of toilet paper into her bag on top of all the small bottles and still be able to shut it. She wished she had a bigger bag.

She went back down the steps and breezed outside, her arm over her bulging bag. At home, she distributed the tiny bottles throughout the apartment bathrooms, telling herself they could pretend they were at a hotel. She stored the rest in the linen closet. She was just about to change and go back to scanning the Internet for job openings when her doorbell rang. She froze. It was rare that her doorbell just rang, since usually the doorman called up to let her know who was here. It must be someone she knew well, but who? It must be a neighbor. That was the only thing that made sense. Mr. Wilson probably wanted to borrow an egg or something—and she didn’t even have one. She had absolutely nothing extra. She formulated excuses in her head—I was just about to go food shopping this morning, or We stopped eating eggs because we are all doing this strange vegan cleanse—as she walked to the door and pulled it open. Rachel stood there wearing her yoga clothes, her royal-blue mat rolled up in a bag over her shoulder.

“Where were you?” she demanded, walking in before Tabitha had a chance to invite her.

“Oh shoot, I completely forgot. You know the kids were sick all week. This was their first day back. I just wasn’t thinking about yoga.”

“Really? Because when we talked two days ago you promised you would meet me there.”

Rachel was right. She had promised. Why hadn’t she remembered she had an interview and made up an excuse then? She could see Rachel eyeing her suspiciously. Clearly she was dressed for something.

“Have you already been out?” Rachel asked.

“Oh, yeah,” Tabitha said. Obviously she couldn’t tell her about the job interview. “I met my aunt for breakfast. She wants to start talking about preplanning her funeral.” It was official, Tabitha was still the worst liar.

“Oh, that’s weird,” Rachel said, but Tabitha saw her soften a little. Preplanning a funeral was a touchy subject, since Tabitha’s mother hadn’t wanted to, then at the very last minute, just weeks before she was completely incapacitated, she did it all without Tabitha’s help. She even planned and paid for a luncheon, choosing the menu items in advance. There was some strange tortilla soup and an even stranger butternut squash salad. Tabitha still thought that either the place got it wrong or her mother was trying to give her a message—but what could it have been?

“It is weird, but I guess it’s good to get it out of the way, you know . . .”

“Yeah, I know,” Rachel said soothingly. “So, what are you doing for the rest of the day? Do you want to have lunch?”

“Oh. Maybe,” Tabitha said. The not having any money to pay for anything was getting tricky. “Can I call you in a little while? I just had a huge breakfast.”

“Um, okay,” Rachel said. “How about yoga tomorrow?”

“Yes, yoga tomorrow should work.”

“Promise?”

“Yes, as long as the kids are fine, I promise.”

Rachel moved toward the door, then came back and surprised Tabitha by sitting on the bench in the foyer.

“Tab, what is going on with you?”

It would be so easy to tell her everything. But then what would happen if Stuart came back? And what about the threat? She closed her eyes for a second and saw the bottom of the note: “I’ll tell them what you did.” She swayed to the left, feeling dizzy, and when she opened her eyes, Rachel was reaching out for her elbow. Tabitha smiled.

“I’m okay,” she said. “Really, I just haven’t had enough water today.”

“See, it’s exactly that sort of thing that makes me wonder about you, Tabitha,” Rachel said.

Tabitha shook her head and brushed her hand through the air, as if to say it was nothing. Stuart’s words still ran through her head, and she had to work hard to look normal. Would he follow through with it? She just couldn’t take the chance. She didn’t want anyone to know what she did, or what Stuart thought she did. Her biggest concern at this point was that the kids would hear about one or both of the things—that would be the worst possible outcome. No, she reminded herself, not the worst—that may have already happened—but the worst that could happen from this point forward in a long line of possibly terrible things. She’d wait it out. There was no other choice.

“I’m totally fine, I promise. It’s just that the kids are each having a hard time—they miss Stuart, and it’s always more chaotic when he’s away. Things will settle down. I promise.”

“Okay, well, I worry about you.”

“Thank you. I know you do. But you don’t have to.”

Rachel stood up and pushed the yoga mat back over her shoulder. She went to the light switch near the door and pushed it up and down. Nothing happened.

“It’s so dark in here,” she said. “You should really replace the light bulbs.”