Tuesday morning I went to San Rafael to get the materials I needed to build the cage and then went back to the studio to start prepping the wood. I was unloading everything from my truck when Rae left to take Diego for a walk; I was still out there when she returned. She didn’t acknowledge me, and I didn’t acknowledge her, not even when Diego ran over to investigate what I was doing. I assumed this meant Rae and I had a mutual understanding that we would steer clear of each other while October was out of town, and that suited me fine. But later in the afternoon, as I was measuring for the double grid that would be the floor of the cage, Rae came back outside.
She walked to the opposite side of the table and used a hand to shield her eyes from the sun. Instead of her usual almonds and raisins, she had a bag of dried apricots, and as she held one between her thumb and index finger, the sun shone through it the way a flashlight illuminates the veins of a hand.
I took my time with the piece of wood I was working on and then put down my pencil and waited for her to say whatever it was she wanted to say. Sweat dripped into my eyes, and I wiped my brow.
“I told you everything would go back to normal once Chris got home, yeah?”
I think she was waiting for me to put my hurt feelings on display for her, but she would wait a long time for that. I could feign indifference better than anyone. I gave her nothing.
“They’re in Big Sur, in case you’re wondering.” She ate the apricot she’d been holding. “A little romantic getaway at the Post Ranch Inn.”
I watched foamy saliva collect and pool in the corners of her mouth when she talked and chewed at the same time. And as I stood there listening to her, I wondered if she was deliberately trying to hurt me or simply trying to prove her point.
“I happen to know you’re the one who asked Cal to fly home,” I said. “He told me.”
She looked confused, and I corrected myself. “Chris, I mean.”
“Right. October mentioned you and Chris are what, childhood friends or something? What a coincidence, yeah?”
She was doing it again. Insinuating that I had some ulterior motive to come in and steal October from Cal. She had no clue.
“Some friend you are,” she said.
I hesitated to respond. In my opinion, this was none of Rae’s business. But I didn’t want her meddling any further. More specifically, I didn’t want her telling Cal anything that would hurt him.
I took a deep breath, tried to center myself and said, “Listen, this job is important to me, and I’m not here to mess up anyone’s life. What happened between me and October was a mistake. I get it. She gets it. It’s over.”
“Very happy to hear that,” Rae said.
She made like she was going to walk away, but then she stopped, looked at me, and when she spoke again it was as if she’d taken off a mask.
“You know, I went to art school for a while,” she told me. “I thought I wanted to be an artist, but I quickly realized that I didn’t like making art as much as I liked being around it. I dropped out. After that I couldn’t get a job in the art world to save my life. When I met October, I was working as a receptionist at a company that makes pasta sauce. I thought her work was special. I told her that if she ever had a place for me, to call. About a year later, she did.” Rae paused, seemed to waffle a little, as if perhaps she was revealing too much. “I appreciated that. I owe her a lot. All I’m doing here is looking out for her.”
“Maybe you underestimate her. Maybe she can look out for herself.”
“Maybe you don’t know her as well as you think you do, yeah? Maybe I’ve seen her get hurt. And maybe I know that when she gets hurt, she doesn’t get over it for a long time. Chris has his issues, I know. But he can’t hurt her. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
I nodded.
“Good,” she said. “I’m glad we had this talk.”
I nodded again, and she went shuffling back into the house.