A Song In The Daylight Part 25

When she explained, Kai looked skeptical. Skeptical but naked. "Does he really check such minutia?"

"He really does."

"Who's got the time?"

"He does. That's his job. This is what he does. He checks things."

Kai didn't roll his eyes, didn't even squint, just slightly narrowed his irises.

She got defensive, though he had said nothing. "Someone has to."

"I said nothing."

"Kai, whose job is it going to be? Mine?"

He shrugged in bed, shook her a little, to rumble her mood up. "I'm glad it's not me. Spending my day looking at little numbers on the screen, seeing if the dollar spent matched the thirty-second call."

"He didn't always do this," Larissa defended, defended her husband to her lover! While lying naked in bed, having barely finished arduous protracted congress, waiting any moment, any second to start again, windows open, cool breeze, leaves green, blooming spring. "Once we had no money."

"This is much better," Kai said. "Now he can count it."

"That's not all he does." Though actually that was all Jared did. That was his job. Counting money. $3.4 billion in net income a year. Somebody had to.

Kai didn't want to talk about Jared anymore. And neither did Larissa.

On Tuesday, she left rehearsal and stage production early and went to the mall, where in one of the kiosk stalls, she bought a hundred-dollar pre-paid phone, number untraceable. She paid for it in cash.

7.

Surveillance, Human

Before, Larissa went months without seeing a familiar face; now she saw them everywhere. In Stop&Shop she ran into Rita, one of Michelangelo's friend's moms. "What are you doing all the way here?" asked a friendly Rita.

"I could ask the same of you," Larissa replied.

"I was in the neighborhood, thought I'd try it out. Looked big and new."

"Yeah, me, too."

"You want to grab a coffee? They've got a Starbucks right on the premises."

"Maybe another time? I'm in a bit of a rush."

And then by herself in Neiman's lingerie department. Suddenly: "Larissa!"

And it was her friend Diane, the wife of Frank, who happened to be Asher's guidance counselor, who once every couple of months played poker with Jared. She could see it now. Diane tells Frank that Larissa bought a $400 sheer lace black babydoll, and Frank asks Jared while he's laying down four queens if the black babydoll has paid dividends and Jared returns home inquiringly.

"Shopping for a friend's birthday," Larissa said. "As a gag. Trying to find something wholly inappropriate. Any suggestions?"

"Well, what you've got in your hands should do the trick."

"You think? Thanks."

Larissa, pulling out of Albright, waiting for the cars to pa.s.s before she could make a right, and an oncoming car, pulling up alongside her, window rolling down. "Larissa!" What are you doing in this part of town?" It was one of Maggie's teacher friends, Amy.

"Having my car checked out," said Larissa. Such a trivial thing. Yet people clearly had little to talk about, little to do, little to think about. Because Amy told Maggie, and Maggie told Ezra, and Ezra the very next Sat.u.r.day night said, "Everything okay with your Jag, Larissa?"

"Yes, of course, it's fine. Why?"

"Amy said she saw you were getting your car fixed."

"No, not fixed," Larissa said, trying to mask the exhaustion, the irritation, the fear out of her voice. "Not fixed. Oil needed to be changed."

Jared came back in the dining room with more drinks. "I thought we just changed the oil on it a few weeks ago?"

"Yes, but the engine was running rough on it. Rumbling. Sure enough, oil needed to be changed."

"Again?"

"Guess so."

Maggie chuckled. "How fast is Larissa riding that engine that her oil needs to be changed every two weeks?"

She and Maggie were ambling to Neiman's one Thursday and who should come walking toward them but Fran, her nail companion.

"Larissa, baby! Where've you been? I haven't seen you in monthloads."

"Hi, Finklestein. Maggie, Fran."

"Hi, Maggie." Fran, so smart in her skin-tight jeans, her loose striped sweater and spiky boots, turned to Larissa. "Have you found a better place?"

"No, but it hasn't been that long. In fact, I'm coming tomorrow."

"Ah, I can't tomorrow. Maybe next Friday?"

"Absolutely, Finklestein."

And as they walked away, Maggie said, "You haven't done your nails? But look at them. They always look freshly manicured."

"Mags, have you tried the Sally Hansen Diamond Strength Nail Hardener? The stuff keeps your nails for ever. I just reapply every couple of days. You should try it."

Maggie showed Larissa her bitten-off nubs. "Not for me."

Larissa breathed out a small sigh of released tension.

Oh, but the joy ride on his bike. Straddling it, flying in the clover fields through the dandelions, their white florets raining down like daisies on postcards, like summer wishes. To think that Union County of the state of New Jersey could hold paradise.

8.

Much Ado on the Stage

"I want to come to your play." It was set to open the first week in June, before the proms and after the interminable Memorial Day weekend spent without him.

"Are you crazy? No."

"Why can't I come? I'll sit in the back. I'll watch. After it's over I'll go."

"Kai, don't be silly."

"I'm not being silly."

"You're not serious."

"I am."

"You can't come."

"Why?"

"Kai. Do I really have to explain it?"

"It turns out that yes, you do."

"You can't come because if Jared catches one glimpse of you, he'll know. At the very least, you'll raise his suspicions. He'll start to snoop around. He'll become more watchful. He won't think it's a happy coincidence. He won't think it's normal. Why would you, of all people, come to my play?"

"I'll come on the day he's not there."

"I'm there every night, so he's coming every night."

"Even if he sees me, is he really going to think about it all that much?"

"Yes!"

"He won't see me."

"He will. By accident, he will. Michelangelo will run up your aisle and drop his Milky Way candy in front of your seat. Oh, hi, you'll say to my husband."

"I'll act like I've never met him."

"But you have! Kai, I'm serious. No."

"Really, no?"

"Really, no." And when she saw his wounded face, she said, "I'm begging you. Please."

"Am I even real?" asked Kai.

Funny, that. That's what Larissa kept asking herself. Was she even real?

Chapter Five.

1.

Split Rock