I’m outside. At the door.”
At the door? Now? Oh my. I was a mess. My hair tangled, hanging half out of a tired ponytail. Dressed in torn baggy jeans and an old gray sweatshirt, no makeup at all. Still holding the phone, I went to the door and peeked out the peephole. Yep, Stiles was there, his forehead round as my fishbowl peephole, a cell phone at his ear. I smoothed my hair with my free hand and opened the door. We stood face-to-face, still talking on the phone.
He was holding a big pizza box and a bottle of wine. “What kind of pizza is it?”
He gave his half grin and disconnected his phone. “Can I come in?”
He looked so boyish, standing there, I had to smile. The pizza was white, covered with garlic, artichoke hearts, and shrimp. I was glad to see him but not certain why he’d come. Were we actual “friends” now? Were we going to hang out and watch a TV movie? Or was he here to talk more about the case—maybe to tell me about the bag of body parts? Molly had joined us. She stood beside me, gaping at him. It wasn’t the time to ask.
“Molly, this is Nick Stiles. Nick, this is Molly.”
“Mommy, ‘sthis your boyfriend?” Her whisper was loud.
“Nick’s my friend,” I answered, my face warming. Molly had never tasted artichokes, but she seemed to want to impress Nick and gobbled down two slices. After dinner, we played board games. Chutes and Ladders, then Perfection. Molly, an expert, beat us at both. Then, as I was hoping to take her up to bed, she and Nick began a jungle jigsaw puzzle, spilling pieces all over the floor.
“Start with the corners,” she advised. “It’s easier that way.”
“Like this?” Nick held up a piece.
“Yes. Very good. Now, find all the pieces with a flat side and connect them. Those are the sides.” “Help us, Zoe,” Nick invited me.
“Mom hates puzzles,” Molly explained. “Don’t bother asking her. It’s hopeless.”
Chatting and laughing, sifting through the pile, they isolated all four corners and separated pieces with flat sides. I sat beside them on the floor, sipping cocoa, watching them play, wondering if we looked like a family. If this easy comfort was how it felt to be part of one. We floated through the evening, and when I finally managed to get Molly to bed and tucked her in, Nick was waiting in the hall. At last I’d be able talk to him privately. I’d ask about the body parts, about Susan and the finger. But as I started to speak, he took my hand and gently put it against his lips. His eyes, when I looked up, seemed to see through mine, into my head. His arms wrapped around me, and I leaned against him, feeling safe and protected, letting my questions float away
That night the moon was full, casting its rays, spreading its dust. As wolves howled, tides shifted, and lunatics raved, I, too, must have been swayed by moonbeams; I have no other explanation or excuse. Before I knew it, Nick’s lips were on mine, melting my mouth. That night, Nick’s face was what I saw last in the moonlight. And it was what I saw first when I awoke, a little after dawn.
TWENTY-ONE
THE BED WAS RUMPLED FROM THE NIGHT. SO WAS MY MIND. Images and memories lingered, heavy like smoke. Maybe it had been the wine or the full moon, maybe my weakness after several long years of sleeping alone, but somehow I’d stopped thinking and allowed myself simply to let go.
Michael’s pillow was smashed; it wasn’t Michael’s anymore. Nick had claimed it along with Michael’s place in my bed and in my body. I’d kissed a chest less hairy than Michael’s, tangled with longer legs, sucked on fuller lips for the first time in over a decade. And now, after just one evening, Michael seemed vague, limited, and long ago. In the most primitive way, I belonged to a new man. An invader who’d conquered me, inch by inch. I’d been alone for so long that I’d forgotten about the details of sex, the anticipation of each progressive step, the artichoke process, the peeling away of clothes, boundaries, inhibitions. And all the firsts. First ear nibble, first breast squeeze, first grinding of hips. Had I ever been that excited with Michael? Had I ever let go entirely, trusted him completely, cried out without caring that he’d hear? I didn’t think so. Sex