Chương 4
Her landlord, Denise, was seventy-one and had the practical hostility of someone who had managed rental properties for four decades.
“Three of them rang my bell,” Denise said. “One asked whether you were home.”
“What did you tell them?”
“I told them the building had termites.”
Mara blinked.
“We don’t have termites.”
“I know. They don’t.”
Ethan covered his mouth to hide a smile.
“Denise, don’t lie to reporters.”
“I didn’t lie. I said, ‘You people are like termites.’ They heard what they heard.”
Mara looked at Ethan.
He lost the fight and laughed.
Denise continued.
“You stay somewhere else tonight.”
“I can’t let them chase me out of my own apartment.”
“Yes, you can. That’s what doors are for. You come back when they’re bored.”
“They may not get bored.”
“They always get bored.”
Mara closed her eyes.
“Thank you.”
“You want me to water the basil?”
Mara had forgotten the basil.
“Yes, please.”
“It looks bad.”
“It always looks bad.”
“You overwater it.”
“I don’t.”
“You do.”
“Denise.”
“I’m just telling you.”
Mara smiled despite herself.
“Good night.”
“Your mother called me.”
Mara opened her eyes.
“What?”
“She found my number somehow.”
“Oh, God.”
“She seems nice.”
“She’s not.”
“I like her.”
“Please do not organize anything together.”
“No promises.”
The call ended.
Ethan looked toward the grocery store.
“I have a hotel suite downtown.”
“No.”
“My apartment.”
“Your building has a doorman. They’ll find it.”
“My parents’ other house?”
She stared at him.
He nodded.
“Right. Bad suggestion.”
Her phone buzzed again.
This time it was a text from Thomas Weller.
I owe you an apology. Not for the salute. For what I said after it.
Mara read it twice.
Then:
I should have known better.
She typed a reply and deleted it.
Typed another.
Deleted that too.
Finally she wrote:
You should have.
His response came less than a minute later.
Yes.
No defense.
That helped more than she wanted it to.
She put the phone down.
Ethan watched her.
“Weller?”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
“He apologized.”
“For what?”
“You know what.”
Ethan rested his hands on the steering wheel.
“I still think you’re being hard on the wrong person.”
Mara turned toward him.
“The wrong person?”
“I mean Sloane is the one who hit you.”
“And I’m allowed to be angry at more than one person.”
“That’s not what I—”
“No, I know what you meant.”
He looked away.
People pushed carts under bright parking-lot lights. A child in dinosaur pajamas was crying near the entrance. An employee gathered loose carts one at a time.
Mara felt suddenly exhausted.
Not dramatic exhaustion.
Not the sort that came with collapsing into somebody’s arms.
She wanted clean pajamas and a bowl of cereal and twenty minutes without being interpreted.
“Take me to Lena’s.”
Ethan glanced back at her.
“Your Navy friend?”
“Yes.”
“She know you’re coming?”
“No.”
“Maybe call first.”
“She’ll tell me not to come.”
“Why?”
“Because she has a baby.”
“Then maybe don’t show up unannounced.”
Mara stared at him.
“What?”
“You’re right.”
His eyebrows rose.
“I’m going to enjoy that for five seconds.”
“Three.”
He counted silently.
She called Lena.
Lena answered on the seventh ring.
“If this is about the video, I already know.”
“Hi to you too.”
“Where are you?”
“In a grocery-store parking lot.”
“Of course you are.”
“Can I sleep at your place?”
“No.”
Mara looked at Ethan.
He mouthed, Told you.
Lena continued, “Because reporters called my husband’s office twenty minutes ago.”
“How did they even know you?”
“Someone found an old deployment photo.”
Mara rubbed her forehead.
“I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault.”
“Still.”
“Come to my sister’s condo in La Mesa. She’s in Phoenix. I have the key.”
Mara exhaled.
“Thank you.”
“Also, I’m mad at you.”
“For getting slapped?”
“For never telling me you were dating into a family that owns three hotels and apparently a communications department.”
“I told you they were rich.”
“You said comfortable.”
“To me, that’s rich.”
“No. Comfortable means somebody has a second refrigerator. These people have a foundation.”
Ethan looked offended.
“We also have second refrigerators.”
Mara covered the phone.
“She can hear you.”
“Good.”
Lena said, “Is Ethan there?”
“Yes.”
“Tell him he owes me tacos.”
“You owe Lena tacos.”
“For what?”
“I don’t know.”
Lena answered for herself.
“Emotional damages.”
Ethan sighed.
“Fine.”
Mara smiled again.
It lasted a little longer.
Lena’s sister’s condo smelled faintly of lavender detergent and cat food, although no cat appeared.
By midnight Ethan was asleep on the couch.
Mara sat at the kitchen table with Lena, who had arrived after putting her baby down and persuading her husband to stay home.
Lena Ortiz had been a Navy nurse with Mara and still wore her hair in the same severe knot she had worn on deployment. She now worked three twelve-hour shifts a week in an emergency department and had the permanently unimpressed expression of someone who had spent too much time explaining to adults that chest pain and cocaine were a poor combination.
She watched the video once.
Then again.
On the second viewing she paused after Weller’s sentence.
“There,” she said.
Mara drank cold coffee.
“I know.”
“He makes us sound like cowards.”
“I know.”
“He was pissed.”
“I know.”
Lena looked at her.
“You want me to stop saying things you know?”
“Probably.”
“Fine.”
She pushed the phone away.
For a while they listened to the refrigerator cycle on.
Ethan shifted in his sleep.
Lena said, “Your face okay?”
“Yes.”
“Want me to look at it?”
“No.”
“Good. I’m off the clock.”
Mara wrapped both hands around the mug.
“Do you remember Ruiz?”
“Caleb?”
“Yes.”
“He sells boats now.”
“What?”
“Not big boats. Like fishing boats. Somewhere in Florida.”
“How do you know that?”
“He sends Christmas cards.”
“He sends you Christmas cards?”
“You don’t?”
“I don’t send anyone Christmas cards.”
“I know. You’re terrible.”
Mara stared into the coffee.
May you like
“Do you remember what he said outside?”
Lena’s face changed.
