The Better Liar(89)

“Is she going to date him?” I pulled the cork out of the wine bottle, careful not to break it.

“I think she was considering it. He’s Brody and Tanner’s dad, so she didn’t want to give up the dream.”

“I thought he left her when she was pregnant.”

“He did, for some other chick who’s not half as cute. Anyway, he said if they were talking again they should share passwords, and then he went through all her accounts immediately and decided that I’m what the Scientologists would call a suppressive person and I need to be excommunicated—”

“He’s not a Scientologist, is he?”

Eli puffed his cheeks out and let a little bit of superhydrated carrot dribble onto his chin. Dave laughed and wiped it away. “Do you see me or your mom dribbling food on our chins for fun? No? That’s because it’s not polite.”

“Bah gah,” Eli said.

“You question the system,” Dave replied, pursing his lips. “I can see you were raised by a suppressive person. No, he’s not a Scientologist, just shitty. Whoops. Don’t listen to that, Eli. What I mean is that he is an insecure weasel who thinks having control is the same as having character. So he told her not to talk to me anymore, because I told her to ignore him. Well, that’s not what he said to Elaine. To Elaine, he said I’m obviously secretly in love with her and trying to steal her away.”

    “Could you ever be with Elaine?” I asked from the stove.

Dave frowned in the middle of sticking the spoon into Eli’s mouth. “Well, we’ll never know, will we?” he said, quirking an eyebrow at me. “Anyway, she told him about, uh, a fun activity he could try, and I think that was the last round of him. She’s moving on, finally.”

“I love you,” I said.

He glanced up and smiled. “Thanks, baby. Eli loves you too. Look.”

Eli grinned at him, his face mostly orange.

“We should take a picture,” I said. “For when he’s older.”

Dave’s face lit up. “Yes!” He dug out his phone. “Wait, come over here and sit next to him.”

I left the spoon in the pot and went to the table to crouch next to Eli’s chair. Eli glanced at me and slapped one orange hand onto my face. I yelped.

“Yeeees,” Dave said, looking at the screen. “I’m so glad we caught that moment. Come here.” He leaned in as if to kiss me, and then licked the carrot off my cheek.

“Ew,” I said.

He kissed me on the mouth and I gave in, tasting carrot.

“What else happened today?” I asked, going back to the stove. The sauce was reducing. Time to put the lid on. I checked the oven temperature.

Dave thought. “We finished our risk analysis project…I gave a little speech…Oh, Sarah got in trouble.”

“What for?”

“What do you mean what for? For dress code. Joanna’s had it out for basically all the women in the department for months. Today Sarah wore jeans with holes in them because it was Friday, but the holes were too far up on her thighs, so now she’s been formally reprimanded for the third time and her case is going to HR. Do you think I’d get formally reprimanded if I wore jeans with holes that high?”

    “I mean, all they’d be seeing is your boxers. Maybe if you wore tighty-whities.”

Dave laughed. “Would you still love me if I wore tighty-whities?”

“I’d still love you if anything,” I said.

“Okay, kiddo, you’re through,” Dave said, wiping Eli’s mouth and hands. “Come say good night to your mommy and we’ll go get a bath. Is there enough time for a bath before dinner?”

“I’ll do his bath.”

“You will?”

“Yeah.” I stepped back from the counter and collected Eli from Dave’s arms. “All you have to do is watch to make sure dinner doesn’t explode. It’s done in forty minutes, I set a timer.”

“Wow. Helpful Fridays. Is it likely to explode?” Dave called after me as I carried Eli upstairs.



* * *



—

The guest room was at the top of the stairs, its door still open. I looked inside and saw that the duffel was gone. She’d come to the house again, maybe while I was at the store, or maybe she’d let herself in while I made dinner, slipping upstairs in bare feet so she’d be quieter.

Eli wriggled in my arms. He’d wet his diaper. I hurried to the bathroom, turned on the water, and set him naked in the tub. He flapped his hands and sent two wings of water arcing up to sprinkle me.

It wasn’t hard to wash him, although I hated it, his helplessness; his body was so small. How long until he would be able to wash himself? I didn’t remember ever having been washed by my mother, although I was sure she had done it at some point, maybe hating me just the same.

I still remembered what it felt like when Dave and I had started trying to have a baby. The decision was nonexistent; he’d always wanted to have a big family, and I wanted to give him everything. And it was another way to tether him to me and me alone; his family was nearby and we spent a lot of time at their houses before we bought our own, so that he devoted almost as much time to being a Flores man as he did to being my husband, mine.