The next morning, Elena drove to Jillian’s house listening to Christian rock and feeling happily superior. That was the only reason she did this, and she was old enough to be honest with herself about it. She was a hardened older lady, and she knew she helped Jillian because it gave her pleasure to have Jillian on the end of her hook and at her mercy. It gave her pleasure, also, to witness Jillian’s life, which she had heard about in great (if muddled) detail at church healing groups, which she often led. Jillian’s life was shitty, and Jillian didn’t know how to improve it because she was too stupid.
Elena was old enough not to lie to herself about the way she really felt about things.
Jillian was the kind of person who went for the short fix instead of the long fix. She knew nothing about sacrifice and never would, and it was a pleasure for Elena to watch Jillian fail, because Jillian’s way of life stood in opposition to Elena’s. It wasn’t that Elena didn’t want two cookies and a bag of chips with lunch, just to grab an obvious example of something symptomatic, but she knew it would rot her body, so she abstained. Elena delighted to hear Jillian talk about her plans to diet, because she knew that Jillian was too weak and was all talk. That was another thing that Elena wasn’t, and that was all talk. If she wanted to volunteer at a homeless center, she did it. She forwent the “Oh, how nice of you”s she knew she’d get if she told her friends as soon as the idea came into her head, and the reward for this tight-lippedness was a solid, sturdy respect that was given to a woman who was so humble and selfless that she didn’t even ask for congratulations, but just went out to the homeless center and volunteered.
Elena noticed that she smelled like Woolite. Jillian will smell like baby burp, even though she doesn’t have a baby, thought Elena.
Elena drove with nice posture. She parked, she got out of the car, she walked up the stairs, and she made no plans. With an upper hand like Elena’s, there was no need to rehearse. Not with someone like Jillian, at least. It was like talking to a filth-covered child.
She had keys, but out of the appearance of politeness, she rapped curtly on the door several times and heard, “Oh, hey, I unlocked it, come on in!” from the other side of the threshold.
“Are you about ready, Jillian?” asked Elena.
“Oh, I’m running a little late, but Adam’s ready. I still have to take the dog out.”
“Hmm, okay. Adam!” Adam walked to her like he was walking to the gallows. If he were her son, she would tell him to stand up and show some respect or some grace or dignity, but he was Jillian’s son, so his behavior was meaningless. He was a way for her to bond with Barb from Sunnyside Up. Their banter had been solidifying into a friendship, and she looked forward to seeing Barb again. So, there you go. That was another reason to like helping Jillian.
“When will your car be out of the impound?” Elena asked.
“Oh, uh, I have a court date next week, so I’ll get it out when I have my court date next week.”
“Okay, good,” said Elena. “What day?”
“My date is on . . . Tuesday.”
“All right,” said Elena. “I’ve been planning on going out of town for a while, but I haven’t been able to since I’ve been helping you out.” Elena was just riffing. “So I’m going to plan to be out of town on Wednesday, then, that’s great news for me, Jillian.” Elena ushered Adam to the door, but slowly. She was waiting for it.
“Um, okay,” said Jillian. That tension in her voice was so rewarding, that little bit of attitude, that little bit of aggression, but the absolute understanding that there was no way to give it vent and that she, Elena, was essentially impervious.
“I guess if you don’t have your car by then, you’ll have to find someone else to drop him off,” she said. Then she left.
Jillian, for the fourth or fifth time in her life, realized she was capable of murder.
“Can we listen to something else?” asked Adam.
“No,” said Elena. “I’m doing you a favor, and you’ll listen to my radio.”
“I get to listen to my music, usually,” said Adam.
“Well, I don’t have any of your music,” said Elena.
“Can we get some breakfast?” asked Adam.
“Didn’t your mother give you breakfast?”
“No, we didn’t have time,” said Adam.
Elena felt like a kidnapper. She could imagine herself driving Adam out to the woods and drowning him in a creek or knocking him unconscious and burying him alive (even if he did dig himself out, what would he do then?) and then driving home. Who would people believe? She would tell her husband that Jillian wasn’t at home, no one was, wasn’t that weird? so she just came home. Then she would say hateful things about Jillian, just to not seem suspicious. And who would they believe? Why would Elena murder the child? Jillian was like a frightened hamster, with every reason to snuff out her own youth. It would be an easy setup.
She pulled up to the day-care center after that thought and remarked to herself that the drive had seemed faster than usual.
Gosh, was it Friday already?
3
Randy got back from Kelly’s late that night and was giddy about the website, which they had just “launched” or whatever. Randy showed it to Megan and it looked like any old shit and, god, what was wrong with her, she couldn’t even fake it anymore. She couldn’t even say some stupid shit like “I’m so proud of you” or even “Good work, baby” with a
