Page 32 of Service Included

We just finished kayaking.

I thought you hate boats? And WE? Who is WE???

Aleesha

Just hate that loud nasty diesel guzzling dick substitute.

Aleesha’s ex, also a lawyer, had bought a powerboat with the contingency fees from a settlement that Aleesha swore he’d deliberately delayed finalizing until after the divorce so that he didn’t have to declare it on his income for their community property division. Shithead.

Aleesha

Kayaks are quiet.

Only a crazy woman would describe a summer weekend on Lake Union, with its bikini-clad paddleboarders, party boats, and float plane runway, as quiet. Something—or better, someone—had possessed her friend.

Still haven’t answered the question, counselor. Who is this WE?

Aleesha

Met a guy at the rally. He's from Cali, here for one day. I'm showing him around.

Aleesha

Have to go.

Nooooo! Tell me more!

Megan sent an emoji face she thought was happy/confused but was as likely to be laughing out loud, then one that looked like a coat, followed by, naturally, an eggplant.

You may be off the water, but don’t forget to use a life jacket.

Aleesha

Thanks, next door mom.

Aleesha’s daughter, the same age as Callie, was with her dad for a week, so at least one of them might have fun tonight.

Megan left the small pile of things that remained to be crammed into her car sitting in the garage and went to the kitchen. Bare cupboards, doors opened to confirm the emptiness, faced her. Without contents, the white cabinets looked old and a bit dingy. She supposed a fresh coat of paint would recreate a bright and inviting kitchen, but nothing would bring back the table where she’d done homework or the metal bread box that she’d opened every morning when she’d packed her lunch. Even her mother’s cork bulletin board, which haddisplayed first Megan’s and then Callie’s school pictures, was gone, the only sign of it a darker rectangle against the sun-faded wall. A household’s heart had ceased to beat.

She felt tired. So very tired.

The knock on the front door ricocheted around the bare wood box the entryway had become and carried through the empty house all the way to the kitchen. As she turned, the front door creaked. Her heart thudded with awareness that she was completely alone. Whoever was coming had a key.

“Megan?”

Nico.He’d returned. Her body seemed to recognize that she had nothing to fear before her brain, because she found herself leaning toward the door, anticipating his entry.

“Megan?” His voice was nearer.

“In the kitchen.”

Within seconds, he was in the room, another brown paper bag in his hand. “Went out to drop off the library donations before they closed.”

“Oh, good. Thanks.” That meant no retrieving the third magazine box before she headed home, since the library was closed on Sunday.

In the silence, Nico crossed to the sink and turned on the tap. Water drummed in the stainless steel basin, loud enough that she was sure he couldn’t hear the thudding in her chest.

She set her phone on the counter to stop herself from staring at the dark screen. She could give up that twenty-first century version of a shield and focus on Nico, since he’d presumably come back precisely to be with her.

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