Maxim curses behind me and calls my name, but I ignore him. When I get into the elevator, he doesn’t follow, though his eyes stay locked on mine. Before the door closes, I wink, and swear I hear him curse again.
I drive aroundfor a long while before going to my sister’s, and by the time I get there, everyone is already in bed. I walk barefoot through the house, looking at every room with new eyes. It hasn’t even been a full week, and yet the house already feels different.
I hover my hand over my doorknob, but am overwhelmed with a sense that it doesn’t feel right to sleep there. I can’t shake it, so I crawl into bed with my mom, waking her gently to not startle her into cardiac arrest when seeing me.
She doesn’t ask questions, maybe too tired, only tucks the comforter in at my sides like when I was a kid. She rests her head back on her pillow and smiles slightly.
“Making your escape already?” she asks sleepily.
“Maybe,” I whisper, but she’s already fallen back to sleep.
Sleep doesn’t come for me, and I stare at the ceiling until my eyes burn.
Two weeks. Not even amonthof sleeping in the same bed as Maxim, and I’m already noticing the lack of him—the way he smells, his shins warm against my cold feet, the soft puffs of his breath.
After an hour with no luck, I determine a snack might help. Maybe some tea.
When I pad down the stairs, I find a light on in the kitchen. It’s almost enough to make me want to turn around and go somewhere I can do my own brooding in peace, but I skipped dinner and my stomach wins out as I venture into the kitchen.
It’s Vanessa sitting at the counter looking at something on her phone while eating cake directly from a Tupperware.
“Mary,” she says, her mouth still full of icing and chocolate cake. She wears little blue gel patches under her eyes and her reading glasses. The sight makes my heart ache for home again, which makes little sense because first of all, I am already here and, second, I haven’t been away for very long.
“Grab a fork.” I do as she says, taking a big bite of cake before pouring us both glasses of water. “Why is this stuff so good?”
“I think Leo puts something in it. In no world is this just a regular cake, I don’t care what he says. It’s sugar, butter, milk, eggs, flour, and a mystery ingredient that’s probably illegal.”
“And chocolate,” Vanessa points out. “Cinnamon too.”
“Cream cheese and vanilla,” I add about the frosting.
“He’s probably not spiking cake children are going to eat, right?”
“Well, he might.”
Vanessa laughs and pats the stool next to her. I finish chewing my bite before rounding the counter to sit next to her. As soon as I do, I drop my head on her shoulder.
Her arm comes up to my back for a squeeze. Sitting with her like this reminds me of being a child and having a bad day at school. Another fight, another argument with a teacher, another call home to Mom and Dad; I was never good at controlling my emotions, and it was so frustrating then. It still is, but at least now I’m better at hiding it.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Vanessa asks, and I know that if I say no she will drop it. Willa is less that way, she loves to pry and weasel answers out of us.
Instead of explaining what happened, I start with a question. “Does Nate ever try to stop you from doing your job?”
Vanessa laughs, and the sound startles me to sit up straight.
“All the time!” She licks her fork clean. “More since I got pregnant. To him, the perfect world scenario is me working from home in a secure fortress. He offered that we spend this summer in Connecticut, can you imagine?”
“Doesn’t it annoy you?” I ask. “You’re more than capable.”
“Of course I’m capable, and he knows that. But it’s not annoying to be cared for.”
“Sure, but you can take care of yourself—you don’t need him telling you what you can or can’t do.”
“Yes, but—” Vanessa looks away as if trying to find the right words. Like when she tries to explain a big topic to one of the kids. “In the same way, it feels nice to know you’ve helped someone, it feels good to be taken care of sometimes.”
“You’ve gotten sappy,” I murmur. She smiles before stretching her arms above her head. Her stomach is rounder now that she’s five months pregnant. A girl.
“Is Maxim being cruel?” she asks instead of justifying her softheartedness.
