I wasn’t thinking clearly

“Meantime”—she glanced at her watch—”I’m starving. We missed dinner, and the kids have to eat. I ordered pizzas.” “You did?”

“They said half an hour. If they don’t get here soon, somebody’s head’s gonna roll.”

“Somebody’s already did.” I didn’t intend to joke. “Really funny, Zoe. Bag it.”

“Now, there’s an advertising concept. For extra-heavy-duty trash bags?” I wasn’t smiling. I could see television commercials showing cleanup crews carrying green plastic bags from the guillotine, Jeffrey Dahmer stuffing them into his fridge, Ted Bundy storing them in his car.

I ripped skin off my lip with my teeth, tasted blood. Saltier, not as sweet as Charlie’s. Tamara’s head rolled across a shelf in Charlie’s basement, scowling.

Susan looked me over. “You really look awful.”

“You already said that.”

“Well, you do. You worry me.”

“I’m okay. Are you?”

“No, not even close. So how can you be?” “Well, I am. Or I will be.”

She picked at a cuticle. Her hands were trembling. “I wish Tim were here. Or Nick.”

I squinted, wondering why. What good could Tim or Nick or anyone do? Bags of body parts, weapons, and the personal effects of each missing nanny had been found in Charlie’s basement. Charlie’d been protecting me, but apparently it had been from himself, his own secret depravity. It was difficult to believe that old Charlie had been capable of such despicable acts, but the evidence was clear. Nothing could change that. Just as nothing could remove the warmth of his wet brains from my skin, or his surprised dying face from my memory.

From upstairs, a small voice called, “Where are you, Mommy?”

““Down here, Molly.” I felt wobbly.

“Can we have those whistles? Mommy?” Oh God. I hoped they wouldn’t start blowing those damned necklaces. “Not now.” I started to stand.

Susan put her hand up to stop me. “Karen’ll take care of Molly. Sit.”

Against my will, I sat. Actually, I sank. My legs were liquid, and I was groggy. The room tipped slightly, probably from Scotch on a shocked and empty stomach. Susan hefted her hip onto the table and leaned over me.

“Zoe,” she scolded. “You know what? Go to Nick’s. Get out of here for a while. You need a rest.”

“So? So do you.”

“But my lips aren’t bleeding.”

My lips were bleeding? I tasted them. They were.

“You’re biting them nonstop.”

“I’ll stop.”

“Go with Nick. Get pampered.” “I don’t think so.” “Why not?”

“Why not? You know why not. I can’t just leave—”

“Don’t give me that crap, Zoe. Of course you can. Molly can stay with us—”

“Oh no. Uh-uh. I’m not leaving Molly, no way.”

Upstairs, Molly shrieked triumphantly. “Never mind, Mommy!”

“Okay, Mollybear,” I called.

Susan wouldn’t stop. “Fine. Then take her along. But go. It’s only a goddam weekend. Get out of this house and off this street for a couple of days. Don’t think, don’t cook, don’t worry about work or patients or Charlie or anyone but yourself and your little girl. Do it. Go. Lord knows I would if I could.”

“I don’t know.”

“Go. Spend some time with the guy. Zoe, Nick cares about you—I could see it today. He was right there for you. I mean, the man washed somebody’s brains out of your hair.”

Susan’s phone rang again. She fumbled it out of her bag and spoke with a raw voice. “It’s okay, Lisa honey. I told you before, we’re fine, don’t worry. Did you eat? And do your homework? Well, you have to do it, even so. Turn off the television. I don’t know—as soon as I can.” The frown line etched its way back between her eyebrows, and she turned away, whispering, explaining.

Upstairs, children’s feet thumped the floors. Shouts and sounds of movement drifted down. Molly was fine; so were all the other kids. I didn’t remember going there, but somehow I’d landed on my purple living room sofa. As Susan tried to convince her oldest daughter that the crisis was over and she was okay, a chorus of raucous laughter bounced down the stairs, and I huddled under an afghan, sipping Scotch through torn and bloody lips.

FORTY-THREE

BY THE TIME PIZZAS CAME, EVERYONE EXCEPT SUSAN AND EMILY had gone home. I kept telling Susan to leave, but she wouldn’t. “I’m not leaving you alone.”

“I’m not alone. Molly’s here. Besides, Lisa and Julie saw the news. They must be freaked—”

“They’re fine for now. What’ll you have, sausage or pepperoni?”

She refused to leave, even though the weather was rapidly worsening. Big snowflakes fell heavily, the beginning of a storm expected to continue all weekend. She and the girls ate pizza, but I