Simon swallowed and wished that he’d had a bit more to drink earlier.
“No, of course not,” Joyce cut in.
“We would prefer that your husband answer the question, please.” Bechdel leveled her gaze at him again.
“No, I am not romantically involved with her.” And it was the truth.
Simon had never cheated on Joyce with another woman.
But it was also true that he was attracted to Trina. A mixture of shame and guilt and desire had merged together into a maelstrom he’d struggled with for the last year. He wanted to help the world, to heal those who were in pain.
And now all he could seem to do was cause more pain to those he cared about.
He’d had enough. “Are we being charged with anything?” Simon asked.
“No, no. You’re free to go whenever you prefer.”
“Then we’re done here.”
Simon stood and Joyce followed him out. Outside, at Simon’s car, he turned and faced his wife.
“Do you really enjoy humiliating me that much?” he asked.
Joyce studied his face, and then leaned in to put a gloved hand on his cheek.
“I think we both love to punish each other.” She kissed him boldly on the lips, and then walked away.
Simon glanced at his watch. He had paperwork to do, charts to finalize. He should go back to the office, but instead he got in the car, pulled out, and drove towards Trina’s apartment.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN LAURA
Laura offered Susan tea or coffee, like she was in a sitcom and Susan was a visiting PTA mom. Susan asked for coffee, and Laura brewed up a pot. While the machine bubbled and sputtered, Laura pretended to be busy around the kitchenette, gathering up spoons and creating a makeshift sugar bowl out of a chipped creamer jug hidden at the back of their cupboard. She put the milk in its carton on the table in front of Susan.
Part of Laura didn’t want the coffee to finish brewing. She wanted to stay in the indefinite moment, where she knew that Dermot wrote about her—about her!—to his estranged sister. She could pretend that anything was in that letter. He could have told his sister he was in love with Laura, that he wanted to get married and have his family’s blessing before he proposed. Another part of her realized he might have said things that weren’t so kind. Maybe he talked about her struggles, and how they were affecting him. Maybe he talked about his problems at work, some that Laura had caused and others that she’d had nothing to do with. But why would he mention those to his sister, who he didn’t talk to anymore?
Susan opened with, “He really cared about you,” as Laura set down the two mugs.
A flame burned bright in Laura’s chest. And then a nausea settled over her, hard and fast.
“Is that what you came to tell me? Because I already knew that.” The harsh edge in her own voice surprised Laura, and she tried to remedy it with the next thing she said. “But I appreciate you coming all this way to tell me that.”
“How long had you known each other?” Susan asked next. Laura knew what the question really meant. How old was Laura, and how long had she and Dermot been involved?
“I’m nineteen.”
“Okay.” Susan uncrossed and crossed her legs. “That’s pretty young.”
“How old are you?”
“I’m thirty-six.” Susan pulled a lock of her perfect blowout off her face before tucking it behind her ear.
“You look younger,” Laura said honestly.
“Thank you. So do you.”
“I’ve been told that. Dermot called me baby-face sometimes.”
Susan set her cup down on the table and clasped her hands. “What else did he call you?” Her face shifted from one of interest to something else.
A few weeks after Laura started working at the hotel, she’d walked in accidentally on a prostitute with a customer. The woman had been syrupy sweet, telling Laura it was an honest mistake and don’t worry about it and let me walk you to the hallway so you don’t get lost in this big suite—the guy had booked one of the suites on the top floor—and then when they were out of earshot of her customer, the prostitute whispered in Laura’s ear that if she said anything to anyone she’d find her and stab her in the stomach.
That’s what Susan’s face reminded her of now.
So Laura was ready for something besides sweet nothings and love-letter reminiscences from Dermot’s sister.
Laura shrugged. “Just Laura, I guess.”
“When I called the police station, they told me you were the one taking care of his body.”
“I didn’t know he had a sister.”
“That’s very kind of you, but I can help from here.” Susan pulled her wallet out of her bag. “How much have you spent so far?”
“I don’t want your money.” And it was true. Laura didn’t want handouts from some long-lost sister. “Why were you and Dermot not speaking to each other? He made it seem like he didn’t have any family.”
Susan raised an eyebrow. “That’s a long story.”
“I have time.” Laura settled into her seat opposite Susan on the sofa.
