Page 60 of The New Couple in 5B

I put my hands to my belly. I’m just barely starting to show, and Ella looks pleasantly surprised. “Oh,” she says. “Congratulations. When are you due?”

“In the spring.”

We are interrupted then by a bloodcurdling scream from Miles’s room. Ella rises quickly and shuttles down the hallway, but I don’t follow. I know it’s all theater from the little devil.

“You will stay in your room until you can behave yourself,” I hear Ella say from down the hall. She returns, shaking her head.

“I have my hands full with that one. It’s a good thing Lily is such an angel. He can be a terror. I hate to admit it but he tries my patience.”

She says it with a smile, though, unruffled. I can’t imagine her losing her temper.

“You seem to handle it all with ease.”

She laughs. “I assure you, it’s an illusion. Motherhood is not for the faint of heart as you’ll soon know, I imagine.”

Yes, I think with some mingling of happiness and a sudden trepidation.

I’ll know soon enough.

eighteen

It’s dusk when a soft knock on the door wakes me from a deep slumber.

Dream images cling. A hallway of doorways, each one a different tarot card. I chase Sarah through the basement maze of corridors. A bucket of blood spilled on our new rug.

How long have I been sleeping? The light outside is already growing dim.

That soft knock again.

My phone is lying on the table next to my head, the screen full of message notifications, emails, texts. I start scrolling through them as I head to the door. Through the peephole there’s Ella, standing in our shared foyer, holding a small Dutch oven.

“I made a chicken soup,” she says as I open the door. She’s chic as always in an oversize camel cashmere sweater and leathery leggings. “I know what happened yesterday, dear. I’m so sorry. Can I come in?”

“Of course,” I say, standing aside. “Thank you.”

She walks through the apartment to the kitchen, and I follow. “I’ll put it on the stovetop. You can just leave it to simmer on low. Stick it in the fridge after an hour or so if you’re not going to eat it tonight.”

She knows her way around our kitchen, puts the pot on the burner. I’m always moved by her kindness, her thoughtfulness. The aroma is heavenly. It’s the savory smell of comfort.

“It’s so good of you, Ella.”

She waves at me to indicate it’s nothing. But it’s something.

Just at that moment, a text from Chad comes in, and I read it while Ella stirs the soup.

I’m sorry. About everything. Let’s talk tonight. I love you, Rosie.

Some of my tension and sadness releases, and I text him back right away.

I’m sorry, too. Come home right after the show, okay? I love you.

I am rewarded with a heart emoji.

“We missed you at game night last night,” says Ella as we return to the living room.

“Oh, I wasn’t up to much of anything—after what happened.” The myopia of old age? I found a woman’s dead body, a family member, hanging. Someone she maybe knew, as well. And she’s calling me out for not coming to game night, an invitation that I never officially accepted?

She stops at the dining room table, rests a hand on the wood a moment.

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