A Nearly Perfect Copy - By Allison Amend Page 0,88
fertility medication made her a teenager again—mood swings and breast tenderness. She had almost thrown a coffee cup at Colin the previous morning when he ate the last piece of raisin toast.
Elm hadn’t anticipated that seducing her husband would be so difficult. She had a very small window, she realized, to pretend to get pregnant before she flew back to France. Michel had given her explicit instructions when he called to tell her they’d successfully extracted and replicated DNA from the samples she’d left with him.
She asked Wania to stay overnight with Moira and booked a fancy dinner and a hotel room in Midtown. But though it was Friday, Colin got stuck at work and didn’t make it back to the city until after nine p.m.
When he walked in, Elm and Wania were watching television. Moira lay in her pajamas in a sleeping bag on the living room floor.
“Hi,” Colin said sheepishly.
“Hello,” Wania whispered. “The baby’s asleep.”
“Not a baby,” Moira mumbled, barely conscious.
“Then let’s go sleep in your big girl bed,” Elm said, ignoring Colin’s hello. “Wania can take you.”
Moira was too tired to argue. Wania lifted her up and carried her down the hall.
“I’m fucking knackered,” Colin said, falling onto the couch, not bothering even to set down his briefcase. “And we missed dinner.”
“Well, I ate,” Elm snapped. “Pizza with Wania and Moira.”
“I’m so sorry,” Colin said. “I know you went to a lot of trouble.”
“Yeah, well …” Elm focused on the television.
“Is this Finding Nemo?”
“It’s oddly compelling,” Elm said. “Even the five-hundred-and-first time.”
There was a silence that lasted so long Elm wondered if Colin had fallen asleep. “Can we go, still, to the hotel?” she asked.
“Ummm,” Colin considered. “Okay. I’ll just shower, then.”
“No,” Elm said. “Shower there. I’ll help you.”
Colin smiled tightly in a way that showed more politeness than interest. He stood and went over to the table where the leftover pizza was oozing onto the cardboard box. He rolled up a piece and shoved the whole thing into his mouth, chewing as he went down the hall to the bedroom.
Elm peeked into Moira’s room. Wania was lying in the trundle, reading a gossip magazine. “We’re going now,” she said.
Wania nodded. “Okay. Have a good time, then.”
Elm paused. She suddenly had an overwhelming desire to confide everything to Wania, to hear her calm, lilting acceptance. She was outside of Elm’s world, and Elm wanted Wania to take her in her arms the way she did Moira when the little girl was upset about something. This was a skill Elm had never mastered, the art of comforting. She felt how inept she was at it every time Moira attempted to seek solace. But the desire to tell Wania that she was attempting to get pregnant with Ronan’s clone faded just as quickly as it had arisen, and Elm realized how stupid it would sound. When she had the baby, if she had the baby, she could never tell anyone who he really was. Ever.
When Elm walked into the bedroom, Colin had changed from his suit into a pair of jeans and a collared shirt. She walked over to him, sorry for being so cold to him earlier. She hugged him to her and heard him sigh heavily, felt his breath hot on her neck. He pulled away. “I—” he started.
Elm said, “Let’s just go.”
She checked them into the hotel while Colin waited just behind her. Once in the minuscule room he flopped down on the bed facefirst. “I should shower,” he mumbled, sounding much like Moira’s sleepy insistence.
Elm lay down next to him on the bed. “I miss you,” she said.
He rolled over; his eyes remained closed. “I miss you too. Work’s been … I don’t know if I can take it any longer, Elm.”
Elm didn’t say anything. He couldn’t quit now. They’d need the money, especially after she’d raided their accounts to pay Michel.
“It’s bad, Elm.” He pulled his knees to his chest, fetal style. “I haven’t told you because, well, it’s not that I don’t want you to worry, rather … it’s proprietary, but more than that, it’s just that it’s borderline, well, fuck, it’s … it’s one of those things it’s better not to know.”
“Okay …” Elm stretched the word out. She didn’t really understand what he was saying. She knew it was important. She knew she should pay attention, but she was so singularly focused on her goal that she was having trouble concentrating.