running faucet flowing unencumbered down the drain. The plumber’s snake stood almost triumphantly on the vanity; its tip browned with gunk fished out from the offending pipe.
“Well done,” Nina said, giving Simon a gentle kiss. “What should we do with this?”
Nina held up the snake, having adopted Simon’s penchant for keeping a flawlessly clean bathroom.
“Put it under the sink,” he said. “I’m not completely confident the drain won’t clog again.”
Nina opened the cabinet below, while Simon intently studied the water running from the faucet to see if his work really was done.
Inside the vanity, Nina spotted something she’d never seen before: a small, brown glass bottle that looked like it belonged in the medicine cabinet. She took the bottle out and examined the label. It read R&H IPECAC SYRUP, which she had a vague recollection was used to induce vomiting.
The safety seal had been removed, and it was obvious some of the contents had been dispensed. Her mother had kept a bottle around the house, and Nina recalled doing the same when Connor was little in case of accidental poisoning. But with poison control hotlines, ipecac was rarely recommended now, and people were encouraged to discard it. Nina had learned this from one of her online courses and remembered having tossed out the medicine ages ago.
“Is this yours?” Nina asked, holding up the bottle for Simon to see.
A grim look crossed his face as if Nina had unearthed something more than a bottle.
“Yes,” he said quietly.
“What on earth do you have it for?” she asked.
Simon shut off the faucet and took the bottle from Nina’s hands. He looked shaken, his eyes glazed over.
“I bought it for Emma,” he said, a bit darkly. “More accurately, to use on Emma. It was a just-in-case measure because she was a pill-popper. I haven’t really talked about it with you, but in addition to her depression, she was addicted to pain medication. It happened before the opioid crisis was in full bloom, so she stockpiled quite a bit from different doctors, something I found out after the fact.”
Nina thought: That’s how she got the pills to kill herself.
“They kept on prescribing even though she had overdosed twice. After the first time, I bought the ipecac, and I gave it to her before we went to the ER. Then her doctors told me it was dangerous to induce vomiting. I don’t know why I kept the bottle. Funny, the things you can’t seem to part with. Honestly, I didn’t even realize I’d brought it here.”
Nina didn’t know which of Simon’s belongings were part of his history with Emma. Was the blue ceramic mug he favored a present from her? Had they been antiquing together when they stumbled on the leather love seat or that area rug in front of it? There was never a good opportunity to inquire that didn’t feel slightly ghoulish. Emma rarely came up in conversation, for reasons Nina understood all too well. It had taken many, many months of silent rumination, not to mention a push from her friends, to open up about the most unpleasant moments of her own life. Again, Nina thought of Dr. Wilcox’s advice that Simon should seek professional help, but soon that was replaced by another thought, a darker one.
You’re not safe.
Hugh’s words again. Hadn’t she put him out of her mind, settled on a picture of him as a drug addict—like his sister, as she now knew? Is that how Hugh had gotten hooked? Had he been siphoning pills off Emma? Nina took a moment to think about stepping a toe or two over the line. What knowledge she couldn’t acquire in her online searches, perhaps she could find out from a primary source.
“What was she like?” Nina asked. She caught a glimpse of herself in the bathroom mirror, and for a second it was a stranger looking back at her. She wondered when this new hairstyle would feel normal to her.
“Who? Emma? Why are you asking?”
An edge invaded Simon’s voice, a whisper of how he sounded when he found her on the computer, secretly venturing into his past. He eyed her warily, but his expression remained affable.
“I don’t know; I’m just curious about the people in your life, your marriage, is all. We don’t ever talk about it.”
But her thoughts spoke more truthfully: Because I want to know more about Hugh … I want to know if I should trust him, and really, if I should pay him.