Page 21 of Two is a Pattern

Annie relaxed a little and laughed awkwardly. “Yeah.”

“I wasn’t trying to invade your privacy, but I had to go in to read the make and model of that water heater, and—”

“It’s your property,” Annie said.

“Still, landlords are supposed give notice.”

“I have thought about furniture. I just haven’t had time.”

“I was thinking, since I’m home today”—she took a breath—“we could take the Jeep after the repair guy leaves. There’s a really great consignment shop not too far from here. Get you a dresser? A bed?”

“You don’t have to go to the trouble.”

“It’s not any trouble,” Helen assured her. “I never get to go shopping, and I never, ever get to go without the kids.”

“What about them?” Annie asked. “Won’t you have to pick them up from school?”

“It’s Sal’s weekend.” Helen waved her hand.

Annie didn’t know who Sal was. She barely knew anything about Helen except that she had blue eyes and thin wrists and wore no jewelry. She had three kids. She lived in this house. She sometimes taught college. End of list.

“The kids’ aunt.”

“Ah,” Annie said.

“Bruce gets one weekend a month, and his sister Sally agreed to supervise his visits because most the time, he doesn’t even bother to show up. Instead, he’s asleep on top of a secretary somewhere.” Helen sounded more tired than upset. As if she’d been worn down all the way to the bone. As if there was no muscle left to fight with.

“I’m sorry,” Annie said, lacking anything more helpful to say.

“Me too,” she replied. “But I love Sally and the kids get to play with their cousins, and I get a little break. Well, not from Zach, but one after three is still a break.”

“I would love to go shopping with you, Helen. I need a shower and a power nap, and then I’m good to go.”

“You want to talk about where you were all night?” Helen abruptly changed the subject.

“No. I’m not…ready yet. Is that okay?”

Helen nodded. “Of course it’s okay. It’s your life.”

“Thanks.”

“Tell you what. Why don’t you shower and nap in my room, and I’ll come let you know when they’re done in yours.”

A hot shower and a nap in a towel for an hour sounded like heaven. “You sure?”

“I had three kids in that bed this morning,” Helen said with a chuckle. “At least you won’t pee in it. Or leave crumbs.”

Annie left to gather her shower caddy, a clean pair of jeans, and a tank top the color of orange sherbet. When she got back to the house, Helen was at the door, talking to a man with a red toolbox, so Annie headed upstairs and closed Helen’s bedroom door behind her.

As she showered, she thought about her own mother and all the mornings she and her brother had piled into their parents’ bed before they got too old and too cool. She used to have bad dreams and climb into her mom and dad’s bed more often than Danny, even though he was younger. She would wake up tucked into her mom’s side and find her dad later, snoring loudly in her pink twin bed.

Still wearing a towel, Annie stood at the end of Helen’s bed. Light gray sheets clashed with the room’s decor, but they were soft. She pulled the comforter up over the sheets, toweled off, then put on her underwear, bra, tank top, and jeans. Then she put her wet towel over one of the pillows, laid on top of the bed, and promptly conked out.

* * *

“Annie Weaver!”

Annie sat up like a shot, her heart hammering and her ears ringing. Then she realized she was in Helen’s bed and laughed nervously at the thought that she’d almost peed in it after all.

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