“Andrew.”
“I’m fine here.”
“I can’t reach it.” She heard him sigh – the sound was directed toward the floor, and she turned as best she could and saw him sitting there with his head in his hands. “Just come here,” she said. “You’ve already crossed the Rubicon. You might as well help me eat.”
He got up and moved the chair over and sat down again, this time facing her at the side of the tub. He looked sad and amused all at once. He picked the plate off the tray and held it balanced against the rim of the tub as she plucked one of the ribs out of its sauce. The meat fell apart in her mouth. He said nothing as she ate, his eyes unfocussed on her, but she knew he saw her, although she had no idea what the sight of her meant to him now. Her once-beloved body. She finished the rib, put it on the plate, and rinsed her fingertips in the water.
“You’re going to smell like barbecue sauce when you get out of there.”
“Better than how I smelled before. You could get an onion and a handful of carrots and toss them into the water. Make enough soup for the weekend.”
“What a vile image.”
“Isn’t it.”
He held out another rib. There was rice and creamed spinach on the plate, but all she wanted was the meat. Maybe protein would cure her, she thought. He picked up a rib as well and started absently chewing on it. Finally they were sharing a meal. She had to smile.
“You’re an impossible woman,” he said. “You must know that.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re going to end up chained to a bed with the nurses avoiding you.”
“A fitting end to the mess I’m making of my life.”
“Now, now,” he said. “Self-pity doesn’t suit you.”
“But I’m good at it.”
He put a bone down on the plate and leaned forward to dip his fingers into the bathwater. “Listen. You’ve raised two beautiful girls, you’re a good daughter, and you’re a beloved member of an important public institution. People count on you. They admire you and they care for you. No one but you thinks you’ve made a mess of your life.”
“You do.”
“You gave me thirty wonderful years.”
“We were married for thirty-six, Andrew.”
“I know.”
“God,” she muttered, and she shook her head. He laughed. “Stop eating my supper.”
He passed her the last rib and she pushed herself forward in the bath and leaned down to expose her back to him. “You might as well make yourself useful.”
“No,” he said, and he stood, pushing the chair back toward the door. “I’ve done my duty.”
“Just wash my back, Andrew. Then you can go.”
“Feeding my naked ex-wife in the bathtub while my new wife and my ex-mother-in-law are upstairs watching Wheel of Fortune is about as much poor judgment as I’m prepared to exercise in one night. I’ll send Emily down.”
“It’s fine,” she said, and she dropped the stripped bone into the water. It floated on the surface. Seeing it there, she thought of what they’d pulled out of the lake. “Just sit down for another minute. Make sure I can get out.” She heard him pull the chair back behind the bathtub. “So did you hear about my day?”
“I heard you went in to work. That’s good news.”
“It’s the only good news from the day. We had a report of a body in Gannon Lake, you know.”
“You’re kidding me. Who was it?”
“Have you been reading the story in the Record?”
“I skimmed it.”
She pushed the bone along the surface. The dark sauce bloomed off it and stained the water pink. “They find a headless body in the story.”
“You found a headless body in the lake?”
“Not quite. A headless mannequin. She was missing her hands and feet, too.”
“That’s a bit of a strange coincidence,” he said. She heard the washcloth dip into the water behind her.
“There’s more.”
“Are you supposed to be telling me this?”
“There was a web address on the mannequin, if you can believe that. We went to the site and there’s some kind of feed, you know, like a video feed from somewhere. A room. Looks empty, but then you see a sliver of a person. Sitting in a chair. He seems to be staring at the camera.”
“That’s creepy.”
“As fuck,” she said. “What does it sound like to you?”
“Uhh,” he said, “a riddle wrapped in an enigma?”
“You’re a puzzle fan, Andrew. Does it make you think of anything?”
“It makes me think you should get some computer expert in and figure out where the upload is coming from.”
“Thanks, Sherlock.”
“Is there anyone in town missing a mannequin?” The cloth paused at her lower back. He’d seen the stitches below the waterline. “Goddamnit.”
“You thought I was faking?”
“No… but. I’m not going to touch it.”
“The skin doesn’t hurt, Andrew. It hurts inside.”
“Jesus,” he said quietly. “They really opened you up.” She felt the cloth move in a slow circle above her stitches. She pictured pulses of energy coming through the cloth from his hand and passing deep into her spine. Cleansing and healing her. She closed her eyes. His hand moved slowly along her lower back.
“Ah,” said Glynnis from behind them. “I was wondering where you’d gone.”
Andrew dropped the cloth into the water and reached for the towel on the rack to dry his hands. Hazel turned to look at Glynnis leaning against the doorframe.
“She got herself into the bath,” he said. “We ended up talking.”
“I can see that. You want me to take over?” “I’m fine,” he said.
“I’m not a wayward pet,” said Hazel. “I can handle myself.” She tried to lever herself out of the water and failed.
Andrew was unhurriedly arranging the dinner things back on the tray. He held it out to Glynnis. “I’ll be back up in ten minutes.”
Glynnis took the tray. Hazel couldn’t tell if she was furious or uninterested in the scene she’d come upon. “Are we all going to have a fight now?” she asked.
“Is that what you want?” said Glynnis.
“I’m just asking.”
“Why would I be upset to see that my husband has the capacity to care for another human being? Even one who broke his heart?”
Andrew had stood. “Just go on back up, love.”
“There’s tea,” said Glynnis, and she turned with the tray and left.
Hazel had managed herself to a bent-over standing position. She was staring at the place where the spectre of Andrew’s wife had appeared. “Jesus,” she said. “She’s either amazing or terrifying.”
Andrew draped a large blue towel over her shoulders and put his hand under her elbow. She accepted his aid, putting her weight on him as she stepped out of the tub. The hot water had loosened things considerably, almost as well as the painkillers did. “She can be both,” he said, leading her out of the bathroom. They slowly crossed the room and she sat on the bed. “Where are your night things?”
She pointed at the dresser that doubled as a sidetable. She watched him go through her things, his touch light, and she could feel his hand on her again. “Did I break your heart, Andrew?” He laid her warmest things on the bed. “I thought it was my heart that was broken. Maybe she’s confusing us.” He didn’t say anything and she reached out and grabbed his wrist.
“Did I?”
He looked down to where her fingers had encircled him. She saw him mark her naked wedding-ring finger. Had he never noticed the ring was gone? Why would she still be wearing it? “Yes,” he said. “Of course you did.” He loosed himself from her hand and ran his palm absently against his chest.
7
The body hung in the water like a closed fist. Dale held on to the railing, his fingers cold on the metal, and listened to himself breathing. His son was sitting on the cooler behind him, his head in his hands. Gus had thrown up three times after they realized what they’d found in the water. Some bonding experience, Dale thought. This lake was poisoned forever for them now.