“Why exactly am I working again?” Abby asked Randall that night over dinner. They were at Jacque’s, sitting at their usual table. It overlooked the water, and tonight, at Randall’s request, the sliding glass wall in front of them had been left open to allow the cool ocean air into the restaurant. Dinner at Jacque’s usually cost between $200 and $250, depending on how much Randall drank. By this point Abby didn’t even notice how special it was supposed to be.
“It’s going to save us on our insurance,” Randall said. His mouth was full of lobster. Butter was dribbling down his chin.
“I did a terrible job today. Terrible. I’m an idiot.”
“Oh Sugartitties, it couldn’t have been that bad. Pass me a cheddar scone.”
She handed the whole basket of mini scones to Randall. He broke one in half and used it like a sponge to suck up the butter from his chin, and then he popped it into his mouth. The other half he crumbled in his hands and sprinkled like some seasoning powder over his baked potato. She watched this with no expression on her face.
“How’s everything here?” asked the waitress as she topped off their glasses of lemon water.
“Lovely,” said Abby.
Randall nodded.
“So,” Abby said, after their waitress had gone away, “the receptionist had me folding invoices and I didn’t even realize how they worked. Like, they have people’s addresses on them, and you have to match this little section of address up perfectly with the envelopes. They’re like a matching set, only you have to get them folded just so, or the address is too high or too low in the window and it doesn’t work right. You know what I mean, right?”
Randall nodded and took a big drink of his wine spritzer. His face was red and covered with beads of sweat. More and more often these days, dinner was becoming something like an aerobic workout for him. He’d grunt, pant, sweat, huff, puff. Abby often wondered if he might die sometime when they were eating. Right here, right at Jacque’s, at their table overlooking the sea. Klonk. She could picture it perfectly.
“Here you go,” she said, sliding a dish of butter over to him. Did he think it was strange that she ordered a side of butter and a side of sour cream with every dish she got, and then eventually passed it to him?
“You’re a smart girl,” Randall said. “You’ll get the hang of it.” This was Randall’s way: Only if she put herself down would he boost her up. Only if she had low, childish, non-threatening goals would he cheer her on. Of course she recognize
d that folding invoices and stuffing them in envelopes was pretty damn easy, but she was rusty at life.
“Do I have to stick with this?” she asked. “I’ve wanted a job for years. A real job. Something to do with my education. Now, it finally happens but it’s doing something I hate, that I’m terrible at it.”
He was too busy eating to answer her.
“Can’t I get a job doing something else?”
His mouth still full, he shook his head.
“Well then, do I have to go back there?”
He nodded.
“Why?” This would be her final act of disobedience. She knew him well enough to know that he was on the edge of getting angry.
He took a drink of water and set the glass back down on the table with force, but with enough restraint not to draw attention to them. “I’m not going to have those motherfuckers in the factory getting a better deal on insurance than we get. What kind of fool would that make me?”
Chapter 5
The summer before she graduated from college, Abby was home with her family, preparing to go on vacation with them. Her sister Kaitlin had won a singing competition and the grand prize was an all-expenses paid trip for her and her family to the international finals in Copenhagen. The contest was only three days long, but their reward spanned a full week. In this extra time the Temperleys planned to cram in visits to three other countries.
“You know, you can ask him if he’d like to come with us,” Abby’s mother told her a couple of weeks before they were due to leave.
“I’m assuming you mean Derek.”
“Of course that’s who I mean.”
“Why would I want to invite him?”
“Well, you’d only ask him if you wanted to.”
“He couldn’t afford it.”
“We could pay his way. It’s not too late to buy him a ticket. I talked to your dad about this. He thought it’d be fine too.”