Not Perfect(29)

But that night she was restless. She dreamt that she took one thing after another off a shelf, her arms hurt from all the reaching, then put it all back on the shelf—one thing down, one thing back up, over and over again. When she finally woke up for good, seven minutes before the alarm was set to go off, all the contentment from the evening before was gone, and her head pounded. She felt achy and drained. And so mad at herself for the day before—the stealing, of course, but also charging eighty-four dollars! Why had she done that? If only she could get that back. She felt around the bottom of the bed with her feet and latched her toes onto the Michigan T-shirt. When she heard Fern coming down the hall, her gait still slow with a definite hitch, she let the shirt go and sat up. She was the only one in charge, after all. She better act like it.





CHAPTER EIGHT

Once the kids were out for the day—Tabitha hadn’t bothered to walk them to school in a week now—she literally didn’t know what to do with herself. She knew she should be looking harder for a job—that’s what her plan was for the morning—but she couldn’t stand the thought of sitting down at the computer. She needed to keep moving, to talk about yesterday, confess her sins, but to whom? And then she knew. It was crazy, but she didn’t even care. She got dressed and walked toward the huge apartment building on JFK Boulevard. This time she didn’t bother to stop at the desk, and nobody questioned her. She took the elevator to the second floor and knocked. No answer. She waited a few seconds, then knocked again, wondering if she could get into trouble for this. Was it trespassing? Soliciting? No, it was neither of those things. She ran through the worst-case scenarios in her mind. Maybe Nora was inside, sitting on the floor in her bad, altered state. Or maybe another aide was there. What would Tabitha say then? She considered leaving, just going back home, but something tugged at her. She was so desperate to talk to someone, to confess the cinnamon sugar.

She took a deep breath and pushed open the door, which she was counting on being unlocked.

“Hello?” she called. “Nora?”

No answer. She was reluctant to walk deeper into the apartment without permission. It just didn’t feel right.

“Nora?”

“Boo!” Nora said, coming around the corner.

Tabitha jumped back, clutching her chest and breathing hard. It took her a second to recover. Nora just stood there, smiling wide.

“It’s you!” Nora finally said, and Tabitha wondered if she really remembered; she seemed to.

“Yes, it’s me,” Tabitha said, trying to mimic Nora’s cheerfulness.

“Well, it is perfect timing,” Nora said. “My son just left, and he doesn’t like me to be alone.”

“Oh, okay,” Tabitha said, wondering what the plan was then. Was someone else coming? “Why doesn’t he want you to be alone?”

“I don’t know,” she said coyly. “I think he worries I’m gonna have a keg party.”

Tabitha laughed.

“Well, are you? Going to have a party?”

“No,” Nora said seriously. “I don’t like beer, and kegs are too heavy for me to carry these days. But I do have marijuana. Want some?”

Once again, Tabitha had that sensation that she was being watched or filmed. This couldn’t be for real, could it? At any second a television host would pop out with a microphone. Maybe they were permanently set up in Nora’s apartment, since she was so entertaining. Maybe her bedroom was the control room; Tabitha hadn’t seen her bedroom yet. It could be that show where one person is told to say crazy things through a small receiver in her ear. She looked at the side of Nora’s head, but didn’t see anything, not even a hearing aid. Besides, there was no way they could have known Tabitha was coming.

“Sure,” she said.

“Oh fun!” Nora said. “I hate to do marijuana by myself, and my son never wants to.”

“Why do you have it?” Tabitha asked, wondering if she was going to roll a joint or bring out a bong. She just couldn’t picture it.

“Medical purposes, dear,” Nora said. “Follow me.”

She followed Nora into the kitchen, where Nora grabbed an old-fashioned-looking tin off the counter. Tabitha looked closely, and there were two ice skaters on the lid, dressed in colorful sweaters, with Christmassy pine trees all around them. Nora lifted the lid to reveal a handful of caramel candies wrapped in wax paper. Oh, Tabitha thought, Nora probably thinks these caramels are edibles, even though they looked like normal caramels to Tabitha. She leaned in for a closer look. She hadn’t actually ever had an edible, and she hadn’t smoked pot in years, possibly a decade, though it was one of her favorite things to do in college. No, she told herself, these look like normal candies.

“Help yourself, dear,” Nora said, holding out the tin. “But I suggest only one, or maybe half of one to begin. They can be strong.”

“Thanks, Nora,” Tabitha said, reaching in to grab one. She could play along. “I’ll just take one and eat it slowly.”

“Good thinking,” Nora said, choosing one after Tabitha. She put her piece of candy on the counter and opened the refrigerator, pulling out a bright-blue bowl covered in plastic wrap. She pulled off the wrap, then reached into a cabinet below the counter and pulled out a small, disposable muffin tin already lined with six bright-pink paper holders.