Page 41 of The Wives of Hawthorne Lane
Peter has written now:
Just thinking about you. I hope you’re having a good day!
Libby smiles to herself as she types out a reply:
It’s been busy, but good! Yours?
He replies almost immediately:
Better now that I’m talking to you ;)
Libby’s smile widens. How nice it is to know that someone is thinking of her.
She was surprised to discover just how much she liked seeing a familiar name on her phone screen, how much she missed having someone,anyone,ask her about her day. Peter isn’t her usual type—his rectangular glasses and combed-over hair are nothing like Bill’s athletic build and charming smile, though Libby supposes he’s cute in a nerdy sort of way. But above all, talking to Peter has been a good distraction. She realizes now that Erica was right—shehasbeen in a better mood lately. Less of that burning anger she’d felt when she first learned about Bill and Heather. She’s found herself checking Heather’s Instagram page less often since she and Peter started exchanging messages too. And she recognizes that this is a good thing. All it was doing was making her more bitter.
When Libby reaches Green Fare, it’s packed, a line snaking from the small café to the sidewalk. Personally, Libby can’t understand why Erica loves this place so much, but judging by the dozens of people waiting for their lunchtime wheatgrass smoothies and kale salads, she’s in the minority on that one. Libby studies the menu board hanging over the registers. What the hell is in a protein wrap? Next time, she’s definitely choosing a different lunch spot. Someplace where the wordketois nowhere on the menu.
She pulls out her phone again, considering sending another message to Peter while she waits, but she finds that he’s already typing, three little dots pulsing on her screen. She feels a quiver in her stomach as she always does when waiting for Peter’s next message, bracing herself for what she suspects is coming soon.
Peter hasn’t asked her to meet in person yet, but it’s only a matterof time, right? That’s what these sites are for. And yet, as much as she’s enjoyed his messages, she’s not sure she’s ready for that. With what they’re doing here, texting, slowly opening up to each other in measured steps, she feels like she’s in control, like she hasn’t committed to anything yet. But as soon as she meets Peter, as soon as he becomes a real flesh-and-blood person in her life, things are bound to get more complicated. Is she ready for complicated?
The three little dots disappear from the screen and Libby sighs, dropping her phone back into her purse. She’ll cross that bridge when she comes to it. For now, it’s just nice to feel a little less alone in the world, even if her connection with Peter is confined to the little rectangle of her phone. At the very least, it keeps her from dwelling too much on thoughts of Bill and—
“Heather! Order for Heather!”
Libby’s head snaps up at the sound of the name and she sees one of the staff members holding up a large green smoothie. “Pickup for Heather!”
Libby frantically scans the room.Heather is a fairly common name, right?There’s no reason to think that it’sBill’sHeather. What are the chances of—
But then she’s there. Heather. As if she’d stepped out of the pixelated images Libby has lost so many hours staring at and into vivid, three-dimensional reality. Libby watches her walk up to the pickup counter and collect her drink, smiling at the worker who made it for her.
Libby wanders off the line, her eyes fixed on Heather, as if she’s been lulled into a trance by her presence. She watches as Heather places the straw between her lips, slick with a coat of cherry-red lipstick, and pulls a deep sip. There’s something so suggestive about the gesture, about the way she moves, about the sway of her ultra-trendy cape jacket as she heads for the door.
Libby follows her, picking her way through the crowd. She watches how the other woman walks, her cognac leather boots taking long strides down the sidewalk, her long, sleek, black hair shining in the afternoon sun.
Until now, Libby had only ever seen Heather through hercomputer screen or as a shadowy silhouette through Bill’s window. But now she’s so close that Libby could close the gap between them with a few hurried steps; she can smell the sugary-sweet scent of her perfume carried on the gentle autumn breeze. She’sreal.Heather is real, and Libby is transfixed by the sight of her, overwhelmed by the reality of her.
Heather stops as she reaches a crosswalk, flicks a glossy sheet of hair over her shoulder in one graceful movement, and waits patiently for the light to change. That’s when Libby feels it. The Band-Aid Peter had been acting as suddenly ripped from her skin, exposing the raw open wound beneath. What does it matter that she’s been chatting to some random man from the internet when Bill hasher? This woman, with her youthful beauty and sultry smile, has taken everything from Libby. And now she’s standing here, ten feet away, wholly and completely unbothered, drinking a fucking smoothie in the afternoon sun like all is right in the world.
Libby clenches her teeth, her molars grinding together painfully. The image comes to her then in a flash. It’s not a conscious thought, something she’s considered and decided upon; it comes to her at once as though it sprang fully formed from the darkest corner of her mind: She imagines herself walking up behind Heather. She imagines stretching out her arms, her palms slabbed against the wool of that stupid coat, and she imagines pushing the other woman into traffic. She can hear the crunch of bone, smell the scent of burning rubber; all of her problems disappearing in an instant—
Ping.
Libby’s phone chirps, and it releases her from whatever spell she’d been under like a cold shot of reality injected straight into her veins.
Where did that come from?she thinks as she checks the screen with trembling fingers.I’m not that person.Ican’tbe that person.
I’d really like to meet you, Libby. Even if it’s just for a cup of coffee. If you’re ready?
Libby stares down at the phone, frightened of the darkness that just took hold of her. The truth is that she doesn’t know if she’s readyto put herself out there, but maybe it’s what she needs to do. This unhealthy obsession with Heather has to stop. Libby doesn’t like the person it’s turning her into, someone capable of such terrible, violent thoughts. That’s not Libby. Or at least, it’s not who she wants to be. She wants to be the idyllic, uncomplicated version of herself that Peter sees; she wants the clean slate he’s written her story on. But in order to do that, she needs to stop wallowing in the anger and pain of her past with Bill; she needs to find a way to let it go, to move forward. Maybe forcing herself to take this step with Peter is the way to do that. Even though it scares her, maybe it’s the very thing that will save her.
Yes. I’m ready.
27
Maggie
Benton Avenue
