Page 78 of The Housemaid
Suzanne doesn’t answer me, suddenly distracted by something.
“Does it start at seven?” I press her.
“Mm-hmm,” she says.
I glance over her shoulder to see what has grabbed her attention. I roll my eyes when I figure it out. It’s Enzo, the local landscaper who we hired to work on our yard a couple of months ago. He does a good job—always works hard and never makes excuses—and he’s admittedly pretty easy on the eyes. But it’s crazy the way everyone who comes to our house when he’s working slobbers over him and then suddenly remembers they have some yard work they need done.
“Wow,” Suzanne breathes. “I heard your yard guy was hot, butdamn.”
I roll my eyes. “He just works on our lawn—that’s it. He doesn’t even speak English.”
“I’m okay with that,” Suzanne says. “Hell, that might be a plus.”
She won’t let up until I hand over Enzo’s phone number. Not that I mind. He seems like a nice enough guy, and I’m glad he’s getting some extra business. Even if it’s only because he’s hot, and not because of what he does.
When I get out of the car and pass through the gates, Enzo looks up from his hedge clippers and waves his hand in greeting. “Ciao, Señora.”
I return his smile. “Ciao, Enzo.”
I like Enzo. Even though he doesn’t speak any English, he seems like a kind person—you can just tell. He plants all these beautiful flowers in our yard. Cece sometimes watches him, and when she asks him about the flowers, he patiently points to them and says their names. She repeats the names, and he nods and smiles. A few times she asked if she could help him, and he looked at me and asked, “Is okay?” When I agreed, he gave her a job to do in the flower bed, even though it probably slowed him down.
He has tattoos all over his upper arms, mostly concealed by his shirt. One time when I was watching him work, I saw the name Antonia etched in a heart on his biceps. It made me wonder who Antonia was. I’m pretty sure Enzo isn’t married.
There’s something about him. If only he spoke English, I feel like I could confide in him. That he might be the one person who would believe me. Who might actually help me.
I stand there, watching him clip our hedges. I haven’t worked since the day I moved in here—Andy won’t let me. I miss it. Enzo would understand. I know he would. Too bad he doesn’t speak any English. But in a way, that makes it easier to confide in him. Sometimes I feel like if I don’t say the words out loud, I’m going to lose my mind for real.
“My husband is a monster,” I say aloud. “He tortures me. He holds me hostage in the attic.”
Enzo’s shoulders stiffen. He lowers his clippers, his brow furrowed. “Señora… Nina…”
My stomach turns to ice. Why did I say that? I should never have said those words. It’s just that I knew he wouldn’t understand me, and I felt like I needed to tellsomebodywho wouldn’t rat me out to Andy. I thought it would be safe to tell Enzo. After all, he doesn’t even know English. But when I look into his dark eyes, there’s understanding there.
“Never mind,” I say quickly.
He takes a step toward me, and I shake my head, backing away. I made a huge mistake. Now I’m probably going to have to fire Enzo.
But then he seems to get it. He picks up his clippers again and goes back to work.
I hurry into the house as fast as I can and slam the door behind me. Right by the window, there’s a spectacular arrangement of flowers. I would say every color of the rainbow represented. Andy brought it home last night from work to surprise me, to show me what a spectacular husband he is when I am “well behaved.”
I peer beyond the flowers out the window into the front yard. Enzo is still working out there, the sharp clippers in his gloved hands. But he pauses for a moment and looks up at the window. Our eyes meet for a split second.
And then I look away.
FORTY-SEVEN
I have been in the attic for about twenty hours.
Andy marched me up here right after Cecelia went to bed last night. I’ve learned not to argue. If I do, it’s another stay at Clearview. Or maybe when I try to pick Cece up at the school the next day, she won’t be there and I won’t see her for a whole week, while she’s “out of town.” He doesn’t want to hurt Cecelia, but he absolutely will. After all, if the police didn’t arrive exactly when they did, she could’ve drowned in that bathtub all those years ago. I brought it up with him once, and he just smiled at me.That would’ve taught you a lesson, wouldn’t it?
Andy wants another child. Another little person who I will love and want to protect, who he will use to control me for years to come. I can’t let that happen. So I drove to a clinic in the city, gave a fake name, and paid in cash for them to insert an IUD. I’ve practiced my perplexed expression when the pregnancy tests come back negative.
This time my transgression was spraying too much air freshener in our bedroom. It was exactly the same amount I always spray, and if I hadn’t used it at all, he would have locked me in there with something malodorous, like a rotting fish. I know how his mind works now.
Anyway, somehow last night the air freshener was too much and it irritated his eyes. My punishment? I had to pepper-spray myself.
Oh yes.
