The apartment was large, sunny, and almost completely empty. In the dining room, which alone was as big as Pru’s kitchen/ office/living room, there was a long wooden table and two chairs. The living room, where Annali found the fishtank, was even bigger. It held only a small, old futon, a stereo, and speakers.
“Mi casa,” said John. Pru winced, thinking of the Yoga Babe’s parting words, “Adiós, amigo.” Was this some new verbal twitch he’d gotten from her? “Make yourselves at home. As much as you can, here,” he said, looking around as if he’d only now noticed the spare furnishings.
“Are you sure this is okay?”
“No problem,” he said, unloading the tray of food he’d brought up for them. “Stay as long as you need to.” He showed Annali how to carefully tap food into the top of the fishtank. All the fish came darting over, to her delight.
“Thanks,” said Pru, wishing he would stay. To keep him there another minute she said, “I feel like I’m doing everything wrong with her.”
“I don’t know if you can do anything wrong with kids.”
“Lock them in your apartment and fly to Guadalajara?”
“Well, that would be wrong.” They smiled at each other. Don’t say “I better go,” she pleaded, silently.
But then he said, “I guess I better go.”
When John left them, Annali was perfectly calm and happy, inspecting the fishtank, all thoughts of her mother vanished into thin air. Pru was going to insist she stay home with Grandma next weekend. She knew her mother’s arthritis made it difficult for her to care for Annali, but Pru needed a break. There was a dirty plate on the table, and she found herself wanting to examine it, curious to know what John had eaten for breakfast.
While Annali sat at the table, eating her pancakes, Pru walked around the apartment, snooping. She didn’t see any trace of a female, no clothes or shoes or handbags lying about, nothing that would suggest that a woman had ever lived here. How could someone disappear so completely? Hadn’t she left anything behind? Hadn’t he kept something of hers to remember her by? She didn’t know which would be worse, that he had or that he hadn’t.
John’s apartment had three bedrooms. Two were empty, except for some moving boxes and a few odd pieces of furniture. The smallest had been half-painted a happy shade of yellow. It looked like whoever had done it had stopped in the middle of the job. In the biggest room was the only bed in the place, a simple mattress on the floor. She saw the bedside table he’d talked about, the one where he’d found Lila’s videos.
The covers were thrown off the mattress, revealing the place where he’d been sleeping. She knelt down next to it; then she lay down. She took an exploratory sniff of his pillow. It had only a pleasing, fresh laundry smell. John’s bed, she realized, was situated to face the same direction as her own bed at home. She was musing that they were practically lying next to each other, on opposite ends of the same block and separated by only a series of brick walls, when she heard the front door open. She jumped up and hurried back down the hall.
“I thought I’d see how you’re doing,” John said. “It’s pretty slow down there.” He started collecting the breakfast plates, then put them down. “This place is kind of pathetic, isn’t it? I hadn’t realized it until now.”
“I don’t know,” Pru said, looking around. “It’s a beautiful apartment. But I get the feeling you haven’t spent much time here.”
He was quiet a moment. “No,” he said. “The diner takes up all my time. All my time. It was my wife’s big complaint.” Suddenly he seemed angry. “I need to get out,” he said. “Someplace that’s not this building. Outside of the city. You want to go for a hike somewhere? Like, Shenandoah?”
THAT AFTERNOON, AFTER HANDING ANNALI OVER TO Patsy, Pru and John drove all the way out to Shenandoah National Park, two and a half hours outside the city. John’s van was old and very dirty. The front end of it was perfectly flat. The cars in front were so close that Pru kept grabbing the dashboard. The radio was completely devoid of any kind of bass range, the interior upholstery was ripped up, and John looked utterly relaxed and happy, for the first time she could remember, as they bumped off the beltway and out of the city.
It was a gorgeous day, crisp and bright, and Pru was glad to ride quietly and look out the window at the changing scenery. She was still sad, from saying good-bye to Patsy and Annali. Patsy had come after lunch and they’d left for the airport, all in a hurry, because they were late, as usual. Pru always hated saying good-bye, but these Sundays were the worst. She gave Annali long hugs and kissed her face over and over.
When they drove up to the park ranger’s station, it was past three o’clock in the afternoon. The scenery was spectacular. Sunlight played in the trees, showing to advantage the leaves in the throes of autumn, preening about in golds and pear and sunburn. It was as if, knowing that death was near, the leaves had finally gotten their act together, and burst forth into their full, glorious color.
John sprang into happy action, racing up a trail, circling back to her when she lagged behind, pointing out various things in the forest that had caught his eye. She’d never seen him so lively. Any trace of his former sadness was gone. Here he was in his element. He was like a frisky puppy, jumping everywhere.
She’d changed into the Lucky jeans and Doc Martens lace-up boots before John had picked her up, the only thing close to “rugged” she could find. But the Doc Martens weren’t really meant for hiking, and by the time they stopped to
