‘Like you’re detached from yourself?’
Kate plunges the cafetiere.
‘Yes, exactly that,’ Marisa says, surprised at the perspicacity of the question. Jake hasn’t been able to grasp this concept at all.
‘It must be a bit scary. It’s you doing it but at the same time … I suppose … it’s not you? Sorry, that was so badly expressed—’
‘No, I mean don’t get me wrong, I love it,’ Marisa interrupts. ‘I love knowing I’m bringing new life into the world and seeing how happy Jake is.’
‘I am too!’ Kate says and she leans over and squeezes Marisa’s hand. ‘It’s so special.’
This is it, Marisa thinks, this is why Kate is so uncomfortable to be around. It’s because she has no boundaries. She is constantly trying to insert herself into situations that have nothing to do with her, to assert an intimacy that doesn’t exist and needs to be earned. There’s a desperation to her closeness. Marisa does not want to be her friend.
She withdraws her hand.
‘Thank you for the tea,’ she says. ‘I’d best be getting back …’
‘Yes, yes, of course. And I need to get to work. I’ll tidy up down here – you go up.’
Kate gathers the mugs, taking them to the dishwasher. And Marisa might have imagined it, but she could swear that she saw Kate’s eyes fill with tears that went unacknowledged. I can’t take this on as well, Marisa thinks as she goes back upstairs. Kate’s emotions are her own business. She sits at her desk, picks up the paintbrush and instructs her thoughts to settle. She takes a deep breath and regulates her exhalation to the count of four. But for the rest of the afternoon, there is a shadowy disquiet crouching like a cat in the corner of the room and she cannot ignore it, no matter how hard she tries.
9
Later, when Jake is back from work, she talks to him about it.
‘So Kate turned up in the middle of the day while I was in the study,’ she says, as he’s unpacking his briefcase – one of those black, fabric expandable ones that contains his laptop and multiple chargers and, sometimes, dampened gym clothes scrunched up in a separate pocket.
‘Oh that’s nice.’
He is distracted and she has to talk to his back as he moves around the room, taking off his jacket and loosening his tie before dropping down onto the sofa. Almost instantly, he starts scrolling through his phone.
‘Yeah, it was a bit unexpected, actually. It totally messed up my concentration.’
He looks at her, surprised.
‘I’m sorry,’ he says, his phone still in his hands but lowered now, its screen black.
She waits, her silence pointed. Jake shifts in his seat.
‘That shouldn’t happen,’ he says. ‘This is your home. You need to be able to work undisturbed. I’ll have a word with her.’
‘No, don’t,’ Marisa says. She doesn’t want Kate to know they have discussed her. ‘I’m probably making too big a deal of it. I guess, what with the hormones and stuff … well, maybe I’m losing perspective.’
‘Yes. How are you feeling, Marisa?’
‘I’m fine. All going well down there.’
She glances at her stomach, which still lies flat against the waistband of her tracksuit bottoms.
‘I’m glad to hear it,’ he says, returning to his phone. She is losing his attention. He starts tap-tapping at the screen, fingers moving with smooth fury against the glass.
‘Can I ask you something?’
‘Mmm,’ Jake says, not lifting his head.
‘Is it just me or is Kate a bit …’ she searches for the right word – one that will be accurate and yet not too critical because she knows that Jake hates bitchiness and that she has to pitch her sentence carefully. ‘Needy?’
At this, he drops the phone onto the sofa cushions, stares at her and crosses his arms. A crinkle appears just above the bridge of his nose. He pauses before answering.
