Perfect Tunes - Emily Gould Page 0,64

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Matt was working late all week, editing an ad for an agency that had the account for a national burger chain, watching gooey ooze seep from between the halves of a bun over and over again. He had told Laura a million times that he liked the soothing repetition of his work and the satisfaction of getting each puzzle piece in its perfect place, but she couldn’t help but project her own thwarted-artiste shit onto him; wouldn’t he rather be editing his own animated short films, the ones he’d worked on before he and his ex had Kayla? He always claimed that he genuinely did not. He liked doing assignments and getting paid and going home. His work was a game he was good at and his life happened elsewhere, though for years now he’d been working harder and longer than he wanted to. The reality of having two same-aged children who were going to go to college, which they’d once joked about, was now imminent and not at all funny.

The suburbs were an option, of course. Matt could commute, and Laura could teach music anywhere. But the thought of moving upstate or to the suburbs on the cusp of entering her forties was too sad to bear. It would be like definitively admitting defeat. Once she’d floated the idea to Callie, just to see what she’d say, expecting reassurances that would be comforting even if she knew they were lies.

But Callie hadn’t even bothered to lie. “No, I would not come visit,” she’d said. “You could visit me, but I don’t have time to take the PATH out to bumfuck to see how innovatively Matt has renovated your split-level. I’m busy, and you need to be somewhere we can hang out all the time when I’m in town. You’re not moving anywhere. You’re not allowed to. End of discussion.”

So as of tonight Laura still lived in her apartment. It needed a thorough cleaning but was hers, and Matt’s, and Kayla’s and Marie’s. The line of light seeping out past the door of the girls’ bedroom had disappeared around ten thirty and now Laura was alone, with nothing to do but wait for Marie to come home. She puttered around, picking up stuff off surfaces and neatening piles and putting stuff down onto other, more appropriate surfaces. She put away the pile of dishes in the dish rack and made everyone lunches for the next day, which the girls were supposed to do for themselves but rarely did. She scrubbed the kitchen countertop as she looked out the window at the curling leaves of the mulberry tree that grew in the backyard of their building, half listening to whatever was on WFMU as she tried to prevent herself from thinking about what, exactly, Marie was up to. At eleven thirty she sent her a text asking as nonconfrontationally as possible what her plans were.

“Hanging out at Anna’s. Don’t wait up,” Marie responded almost immediately. This was grounds for getting in trouble—she’d promised to be home early—but Anna was a good kid, and Laura had no fight left in her.

“Okay, see you in the morning. Sweet dreams,” she replied. She added a double pink heart emoji as an afterthought. Three dots briefly appeared, then receded. “Okay, fuck you, too,” Laura said out loud. She still felt insulted when her daughter withheld these little displays of affection. Until recently they had still said “I love you” every time they said goodbye, unselfconsciously and honestly, if reflexively. When had they stopped?

On her way to her bedroom, Laura couldn’t resist the temptation to peek in on Kayla; she craved the satisfaction of seeing at least one child safe and comfortable at home in her bed. Kayla was in bed, but awake, looking at her phone. She shifted around to glare at Marie. “Hi, knocking is a thing?”

“Sorry, honey. I just wanted to say good night.”

Kayla could be oblivious, but Laura’s sadness was too blatant to ignore.

“Marie’s still mad at you?”

“I guess so. She’s at Anna’s.”

“If I tried to pull something like that …” Kayla glowered at her, then trailed off as she saw the pain in Laura’s expression and changed tactics. “You know, I never break any rules. I should get a special reward.” She smiled to make it clear that she was joking.

Laura smiled. “Yes, that would be a good lesson to teach you about how life works.”

Kayla rolled her eyes, but kindly. “Dad’s not home yet, either?”

“Still at the office.”

There was a