Perfect Tunes - Emily Gould Page 0,56

body relax. “Yeah, that’s definitely part of our cultural identity. How about you?”

“Ohio, so all the dying-rust-belt-town clichés. Most of my parents’ friends growing up worked for the Limited and Bath and Body Works; their corporate headquarters employs, like, half of Columbus. They weren’t farmers or steel mill workers, at least not in that generation.” She shrugged. “I’m second-generation boring.”

He widened his eyes. “Are you kidding? You’re so far from boring. I think you’re the most famous person I’ve ever hung out with. Definitely the most famous parent at Rainbow Tots.”

“Not even! Abigail’s mom was in an extra in Eternal Sunshine.”

“Wow, like, a featured extra? Did she have a line?”

“I think she would be delighted to tell you all about it; she gave me like a loose thirty-minute set about it when we worked at the bake-sale table together.”

Matt laughed again, and this time it didn’t seem like a performance at all. “You’re so funny, God. I can’t tell you how long it’s been since I’ve had any nonwork adult conversation, basically.”

“So the bar is set really low, is what you’re saying.” They were both grinning stupidly. He was so receptive, so easy to parry with.

“You’re vaulting over the bar so effortlessly. You are Olympic-level vaulting over it.” He accidentally bumped her knee with his large one under the tiny tabletop, but then he let their knees rest against each other. Laura felt a jolt, then that completely bypassed the analytical-mode part of her brain. She drank the last sip of her fashionable juice glass of red wine and stood up. “Excuse me a sec? I’m just gonna call and check in with the sitter.” She was going to be home at midnight.

9

One morning in the fall of 2007, Laura got up before anyone else and went into the kitchen. As usual, Matt had done the dishes, but he had, also as usual, left a few stray water glasses in the sink, plus the bowl that had contained the candy they’d shared while staying up too late watching TV. The dish drainer was full, stacked like a Jenga puzzle so that if Laura made one false move while unloading it, the plates would come clattering down and wake up everyone. She moved with finicky precision, lowering them gently one by one. When the drainer was empty she filled the kettle and set it to boil. She would grab it just before it whistled. Then she washed the dishes that Matt had left and started getting food out of the fridge for breakfast. Butter, eggs, bread, jam. If she got lucky, she would have a minute or two to herself at the kitchen table to drink coffee and stare at the wall, listening for the first sounds of stirring from the girls’ bedroom. If she didn’t get lucky, they would soon be upon her, all of them, leaving no inch of physical space in the kitchen or any other part of the apartment until they were tucked back in bed that night. She had not even cracked the first egg when she heard them, and then the day began.

The girls ran into the kitchen in their sleep T-shirts yelling at each other about something. There was still something toddlerish about their big heads and jutting bellies, but at five they were quickly becoming more like kids than babies. They could have conversations, and they required detailed explanations. They were, luckily, truly friends, and had handled the transition to living together as a welcome addition rather than a competition or a threatening intrusion. They called themselves sisters. Marie called Matt “Matt,” but sometimes Kayla slipped and called Laura “Mom.” Her mother had moved to California after Matt and Laura’s wedding and now saw Kayla only a few times a year. She sometimes sent checks that Matt sometimes did not cash. How Matt felt about this was a mystery to Laura; even on the rare occasions when they were awake and the girls were not, their conversations were mostly about logistics. They were always too exhausted to talk about how anyone besides the girls was feeling.

“What are we doing today?” Kayla asked Laura. “It’s Saturday, right? Can we go to the park? Can we go to the zoo?”

“First we have to eat breakfast, and then we can figure out what we’re up to,” said Laura. “Your aunt Callie might come by later. I’m going to see her play music tonight.”

“Can we come?” Marie asked as they started to fork up their scrambled eggs.

“No,