Imperfect Affections
“I’ll just put these in water,” I say, leaving the basket and the flowers on the table.
She plops down in a chair. “I wanted to check on you to make sure you’re okay after last night.”
My laugh is uncomfortable. “I’m sorry you had to witness that.”
“I’m also here to apologize in case it seemed as if I was snooping. Sam and I just happened to be outside. We were up late, talking. When I saw the state of your husband, I was worried about you.”
I open and close cupboards, looking for a vase. “You really don’t have to explain. If anyone should apologize, it’s me.”
“Are you kidding?” She jumps up and walks to the cupboard next to me. “Why should you say sorry for something Leon did?” Going on tiptoes, she takes a vase from the top of the shelf. “Here. This is what you’re looking for.”
My cheeks heat as I take the vase. It’s obvious I don’t know my way around the kitchen. I hide my embarrassment by turning to the tap and filling the vase with water. “I guess it doesn’t say much about me if my husband goes out to get drunk on our honeymoon.” Not that it’s a real honeymoon, but that’s what it must look like from the outside.
“It says nothing about you. It says a lot about your husband though. It says he’s a dick.”
I leave the vase on the side and face her slowly. Leaning my weight on the counter, I bite my lip. Letting her believe that will be a terrible lie, and I already feel horrible enough about concealing the truth. Plus, I don’t want her to think badly about Leon when I’m the one who drove him to drinking.
“It wasn’t his fault,” I say. “It was me. I did something that hurt him badly.”
She takes the vase and carries it to the table. “Looking for answers at the bottom of a bottle isn’t a very mature move.”
“It’s…” I hesitate. For lack of a better word, “Complicated.”
“If you want to talk to someone, I’m your friendly neighborhood advice giver.”
My laugh is halfhearted.
“No, seriously.” She sticks the flowers in the water and fluffs them out. “I’m a good listener. So if you ever feel like talking, I’ll keep my advice to myself.”
I smile. “I appreciate that.”
“’Kay. Now that that’s out of the way, where’s that coffee you promised?”
While I make coffee, she tells me about their plans to add a nursery to the house. By the time we’ve finished our first cup, I know every hack for making a house baby safe. After our second refill, I’m also familiar with all the suppliers of jungle gyms and which ones are the best quality for money.
“Gosh,” she says, carrying her empty mug to the sink. “Will you listen to me? I must be boring you out of your mind with all this baby talk.”
“Not at all.” Zelda is like a ray of sunshine. Her visit is exactly what I needed.
She pulls her phone from her pocket and checks the time. “I better get going. I have a load of washing in the machine that should be done by now.”
“Thanks for the rusks and the flowers.”
Giving me a finger wave, she says with a wink, “You’re welcome.”
After seeing her out, I tidy the kitchen and change the sheets on the bed. On my way to putting the sheets in the washing machine, I pause in front of the window. The day is sunny, and the sky is a deep, happy blue. Outside of these walls, there’s freedom. Inside, there’s not. In here, I’m meant to serve a sentence. It’s tempting to break our unspoken vow of silence and to tell Leon the truth, but I have to remember why I’m doing this, for whom I’m doing this. I’m doing this for my mother.