The Photographer, Mary Carter [the best novels to read .TXT] 📗

going to notice what time Fritz returned. Any minute he was going to step toward me and unbutton my blouse. I would have liked to tell him it was OK. I wanted him too.

At no time did my desire for Fritz eclipse my love for Amelia. The two things coexisted and fed off each other. I hoped to be the center of their worlds.

“Good night.” Once he made the decision to leave, his face drooped down and his shoulders rounded. He turned and walked out the front door. His departure was mildly disappointing, but I couldn’t dwell on it, given all that I’d accomplished in the last twelve hours.

Now I had unlimited time to admire every aspect of the apartment anew, with the knowledge that I was going to spend the entire night there. The design, the materials, and the workmanship were on par with the main house. The reclaimed elm wood floor, high-end appliances, marble countertops, plumbing fixtures, hardware, tile backsplash, recessed lighting, the windows, and the cabinetry.

A number of years earlier I’d been involved with a highly skilled cabinetmaker, so I knew about the time and expense involved in bookshelves like these. The attention to detail. The cabinetmaker and his wife had occupied an apartment down the hall from me when I lived in Queens. I was close friends with his wife, but eventually she found out that he and I were having sex in my kitchen in exchange for my cabinets.

Amelia had lent me a pair of her pajamas. The faint smell of her lemon-and-bergamot perfume still lingered on them. I knew she would never wear them again after I did. She would either give them away or throw them out. She assumed that I’d love wearing her pajamas. She was right.

That night, I dreamed that I was trying to escape from a dragon. I found a temporary refuge—a small cardboard house, the size of a child’s playhouse. I stepped inside the playhouse and closed the door. I could hear the dragon outside. When it started to rain, the playhouse collapsed into a pile of mush, and then the dragon saw me with the crumbled playhouse all around me and he realized how vulnerable I was. Only then did he go in for the kill.

After having showered and dressed in the same clothes from the day before, I had a chance to study the apartment in daylight. The living room had sliding glass doors that opened up to a small patio and the backyard. I wondered whether Gwen had been allowed to use the entire yard, or whether she’d been confined to the patio.

At 10 A.M., I joined everyone upstairs for a late breakfast.

“Hello, beauty!” Amelia called out in a vibrant, positive voice.

I didn’t often experience the Straub house in the morning light. The southern light streamed in through the skylight from above—an intense, unfiltered, unrelenting California kind of light. I had a fresh surge of appreciation for the Straubs’ architectural talent.

The dining table was already set, including a place for me. I sat down and Fritz brought me a cappuccino. Amelia served me a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon. Her appearance had improved significantly overnight. She’d obviously washed her hair, and her gray roots were less noticeable because she’d pulled her hair back in a ponytail. The circles underneath her eyes had disappeared, likely with the help of her seventy-dollar concealer, which she’d applied for the first time in weeks.

“What if you rent our apartment from us for the rest of the year?” she asked.

Bells echoed in my head, and then Aida again. I feared that my voice would crack if I answered, so I said nothing, hoping that my silence would indicate thoughtfulness, as opposed to hyperventilation or euphoria.

I took a sip of my cappuccino and wiped the foam off my upper lip.

“You’d be close by.” Amelia took a seat next to Natalie.

I thought Amelia expected me to voice an objection or a concern. “My cat,” I said.

Amelia placed her hand on Natalie’s shoulder. “It would be incredible for Natalie.” Natalie looked at her mother’s hand as if it were a bug.

“You can pay the same rent you’re paying now,” Amelia said. “Babysitting would be so much easier.”

“Your cat would like it too,” Natalie said. She was wearing pajamas decorated with question marks of varying colors and sizes. Her long lashes stood out against her pale skin.

I didn’t reply, but, of course, of course, I knew what my answer was.

“Just consider it,” Amelia said. “Especially given what we discussed yesterday. It all makes so much sense.” She raised her eyebrows meaningfully.

I looked at Natalie to see if I detected a reaction, but fortunately, she’d backed away from the confrontation with her mother.

“It’s a beautiful apartment,” I said.

Fritz sat next to me and served himself bacon and eggs. He took a bite of his undercooked bacon. I sensed a fissure in the family. “Only downside is you’ll get sucked into babysitting more often than you want to.” He laughed in a self-deprecating manner.

I wasn’t listening anymore. I was suspended above my body, watching my new life emerge.

The lease on my Crown Heights apartment was up May 15. I tried and failed to get out early. Since I had enough money in the bank to cover both apartments for an overlapping month, I never mentioned the situation to the Straubs. The extra rent was a small price to pay. I didn’t want to wait.

Once I began packing, my cat, Eliza, tried to sabotage the move. She stood in front of the kitchen cabinet that held my pots and pans so I couldn’t reach them. When I tried to pack the dishes, she blocked that cabinet too. Eventually I gave up and locked her in my bedroom.

The move proved an opportunity for me to streamline my belongings and part with old clothing, photos, and knickknacks that were weighing me down, literally and figuratively. In the process, I cleaned up the digital files on my hard