Not Perfect(87)

“I think I am responsible for my mother’s death. She was very sick, she was going to die anyway, but I think I sped it up with morphine,” she said. “And I think I may have killed someone I cooked for. I had a business, cooking out of my house, and it was late, I had finished for the night. They called, I agreed. The normal channels were not gone through. He had a peanut allergy but I didn’t know, I used peanut oil. I think of him every day. I know he was in great trouble, but I don’t know what happened. I never reached anyone.”

“I hear a lot of ‘thinks’ and ‘not knowing,’” he said matter-of-factly. “From what you just told me, it is also possible that you aren’t responsible for any deaths. Am I hearing that right?”

“Well, I’m pretty sure I am,” she said.

“You need all the facts,” he said. “If there is anything I’ve learned, it’s that you need all the facts.”

“If you’re pushing me to get all the facts, why don’t you want them for yourself?” she asked.

He looked at her quizzically.

“The possibility of being drugged?” she said.

“No, it’s too late for that,” he said. “Believe me, it is too late. That fact wouldn’t help me now. But your facts, those could help you. Here’s a fact: there’s a lot of peanut oil that will not cause an allergic reaction. I know, Tara has a peanut allergy. The doctor even said she could have certain oils and not have a problem. We don’t do it—I don’t dare—but did you know that?”

“I did,” she said slowly. “I do. But I don’t know exactly what kind of oil it was. I threw it out.”

“Maybe it was the kind of oil that was okay,” Toby said. Tabitha just shook her head. He got up, tentatively, and Tabitha thought he might be walking out. She didn’t know Tara had a peanut allergy. She imagined Toby must have a zero tolerance level for any indiscretion when it came to food allergies. But he closed the door quietly and soundlessly rotated the lock. He turned back to her and raised his eyebrows. She nodded. She felt like this was their good-bye. There was no way in the world he would want to be with her long term now. No way. They had both done terrible things. Even so, she let him kiss her, all the time with her ear out for the kids. They kissed and kissed and eventually she began to cry. He was so kind, so tender. He looked her in the eyes as much as he possibly could. And she looked right back. There was nothing to hide from anymore. He knew it all. He didn’t push to do more than kiss, and neither did she.

Eventually she stood and brushed her clothes to get the wrinkles out, not because she wanted to, but because she felt she had pushed it long enough with the kids. He did the same, and together they straightened the bed. She turned the lock and opened the door, tiptoeing out, a little afraid that Fern was going to say she knocked but no one answered, or that she would ask where Tabitha had been. But Fern was sleeping now, too, with her head leaning back against Levi like they were holding each other up. Tabitha looked at Toby, who smiled. He kissed Tabitha on the head, breathing in as he did. She closed her eyes.

“I’ll call you,” he whispered.

“I need some time,” she said. “I have so much to sort through, and the kids need all of me right now. I don’t want to drag you into it. I just need time to think.”

“Okay,” he said. “But I’m still going to call.” He leaned in again to kiss her, lingering there. He was going to say something else, she was sure of it, but instead he turned and walked out. She stood there for a few seconds, thinking the house felt so empty, then she lay down on the floor in front of the kids and eventually fell asleep.



As promised, Toby called twice a day for the next week, and Tabitha didn’t answer or respond; she simply didn’t know what to say to him. But she missed him so much it hurt, which was a relief, because she thought she might never feel that way about anyone. She never missed Stuart this much. Did she ever truly miss Stuart? Toby never left a message. He just called and let it ring and then hung up, so the only notification she got was one that said Missed Call, over and over again, and, of course, the pleasure of seeing his name—Toby. On Friday, Toby called and left a message. She saw the phone ring and eventually stop, and that was all she expected, but the notification of Voicemail appeared, and she almost hit her head on the bookshelf, she stood up so fast. She immediately pressed “play”—she couldn’t do it fast enough.

“Listen, I know you want time,” he said, and he sounded as kind and sweet as ever, not mad or defensive. “But I have a problem, and that problem is named Nora. She misses you. She wants to see you and she doesn’t know how to find you. She keeps referring to you as ‘that dear girl,’ but I know who she means, unless there are a number of strangers waltzing into her apartment, which I guess is possible, but not likely. She seems sadder than I’ve seen her in a long time. Please call me back. Please come see Nora.”

Two requests, not necessarily connected. They could be, or they might not be. Please call me back was one and please come see Nora, the other. She could do one without the other, or she could do both. Today was the first day Levi was back at school for more than a few hours. He was talking more and more comfortably, though his face was so badly bruised, it was hard to look at. It was a deep purple, which was now speckled with a sickening yellow. He was going to see how long he could stand it, and she would pick him up when he called. But it would be just as easy to go from Nora’s, really. She was about to go see her, she thought she would, and just deal with whatever she found when she got there, but as she was reaching into her drawer for a bra she touched the money. All of it. The shame she felt was overwhelming. She sat down on the bed. She couldn’t go. She wouldn’t go. Instead, she gathered the money, every last dollar, and she took it to the bank where she planned to open a new account.