Page 42 of The Tenant
I really, really hate her. But I can’t screw this up. If I want Krista to continue to see me as husband material, I have to be able to step up in times of tragedy.
“As we gather here today, we would like to say goodbye to Goldy.” I bow my head. “We got her at the pet store and…she was the fastest of all the goldfish. She liked to eat little pellets, and she liked to swim in circles and…” I sneak a look at Krista, who is looking at me expectantly. “And she was a good fish.”
Was that enough? I can’t tell. Krista seems a bit disappointed. But I mean, comeon. How much can you possibly say about an animal that’s been inside a bowl for the entire time we’ve had her?
“I’ll miss Goldy,” Whitney says. “Whenever I was in the living room, it felt like Goldy was keeping me company. There were times when it felt like she was smiling at me. When I got home from work, no matter how tired I was, there she was, entertaining me by swimming around. And on the nights I couldn’t sleep, she was with me. Even though she’s gone, it still feels like her spirit is here. With us.” She takes a shaky breath. “And we will certainly never, ever forget her.”
Krista’s eyes well with tears. “That was so beautiful, Whitney. I agree—it does feel like her spirit is here.”
Is she kidding me? We will never, ever forget her? I liked Goldy and all, but she was afish. I’m furious with Whitney for upstaging me. Especially since she is the one who killed her. Krista might not believe it, but I know it’s true.
“I really needed to hear something like that,” Krista goes on, looking at Whitney. “Thank you so much for those kind words about Goldy. You’re such a good friend. I know this all might seem a bit silly…” She looks pointedly in my direction. “But it really does help.”
Whitney holds out her hand, and Krista takes it. A vein throbs in my temple—a dull headache is coming on. The headache only escalates when Krista starts crying again, and instead of reaching for me, she turns toWhitney, who puts her arms around her. I can’t take it anymore. I just can’t.
“All right, enough of this horseshit,” I blurt out. “I know you were the one who killed Goldy, Whitney.”
Whitney and Krista simultaneously swivel their heads to look at me. Amusement flickers in Whitney’s eyes, but Krista is furious.
“Blake!” she snaps at me. “What iswrongwith you?”
“It’s true though,” I shoot back. “She murdered Goldy, and now she’s pretending to be sad about it. Look at her. She’s obviously faking it!”
Krista turns to look at Whitney, who is now miraculously tearing up like she’s actually sad about that stupid goldfish. Give me a break.
“Blake is just upset over Goldy’s death,” Whitney says gently. “He doesn’t know what he’s saying.”
“He’s not upset!” Krista cries. “He wanted to flush her down the toilet!”
“Blake!” Whitney gasps. “How could you?”
Again, there’s that laughter in Whitney’s eyes. She’s enjoying this. She loves that Krista believes her over me.
This is exactly what she wanted to happen. I played right into her hands.
“Fine, yes, I wanted to flush the fish down the toilet.” As the words leave my mouth, I wince at the expression on my girlfriend’s face. “But I didn’t hurt Goldy! At least I’m not some psychopath who poisoned our fish withbleach! Stop being so naive, Krista!”
Krista seems traumatized by my comments, while Whitney is clearly suppressing laughter. How does Krista not see this?
Krista flashes me a hurt look. “I…I need to be alone right now. I’m going to go out for a walk.”
We were supposed to see a movie this afternoon, but I’m going to assume that’s off the table since we’re in mourning. Whitney and Krista return to the house together, while I am left behind in the newly christened goldfish graveyard. But just as they are disappearing into the house, Whitney turns to look at me, and the smile on her face makes me want to do to her what she did to my fish. I wish I could buryherin the ground.
26
It’s beena week since Goldy died.
For a couple of days after the funeral, things were tense between me and Krista. She refused to believe that Whitney could be behind the goldfish’s untimely death. And whenever I brought it up, she didn’t want to talk about it.
But she’s been cooling off. Last night, while Whitney was working a late shift, we watched a movie on TV and were laughing together, and when it was over, she even decided to make a batch of chocolate chip cookies—something she hasn’t done in weeks. And because Whitney was out, we had sex right on the couch—something we haven’t done inmonths. So maybe we’re good.
Tonight is Saturday night, and when Krista gets home from work, I’m taking her out to dinner at a fancy restaurant, which I haven’t done since I lost my VP job. She’s going to put on a nice dress, and I’ll put on my nicest cologne or some shit like that. I’ll turn up the charm and win her over like I did in the first place.
If I don’t, she’ll be gone. And I really don’t want that.
After lunch, I went for a run through Central Park, which I haven’t done in a few weeks. I pushed myself till my legs ached and my T-shirt was soaked in sweat despite the forty-degree weather, and then I ran home and took a cold shower. I’ll pay for it tomorrow, but when it was over, I feltgood.
While I’m waiting for Krista to get home from the dry cleaner, I flip on the television and grab a few of Krista’s cookies to snack on. The adrenaline from the run has worn off, and I doze off for a bit. I don’t wake up until I hear Krista’s keys in the front door. I scramble to my feet, brushing cookie crumbs off the dress shirt I changed into specially for our date.
