“Thanks.”
“Where is he now?”
“With his dad.”
He nodded knowingly and covered the picture in bubble wrap.
“I got a kid,” he said. “Two years old. Man, what a lot of work. How old’s your kid?”
“Five.”
“Ohh.”
“He’s hearing impaired. He goes to a special school.” Why did I say that?
“Too bad.”
“Right now he’s at school.”
A minute earlier I’d said he was with his father. I was angry with myself for such an unnecessary stumble. And angry with myself for caring what the man thought of me.
When the men left, I opened the door of the bedroom and my cat raced out. Sitting on the floor of the kitchen, I leaned my back against the cabinets. Eliza ran in circles through the apartment. As she passed me, she hissed. I pushed her away. Then she lifted one paw and scratched me across my chest, above the neckline of my shirt. Red raised lines appeared on my skin, along with a drop of blood. For a minute I thought about throwing her out the window. She must have seen the hatred in my eyes. She hissed at me again.
“What is it?”
She stood completely still.
“What the fuck’s your problem?”
She made a mental calculation and must have decided that she was better off appealing to my vanity rather than alienating me. She knew it was in her interest to remain docile and subservient to me—to give me love, whether or not it was genuine. How would I ever know if Eliza was just pretending to love me because she needed food and shelter? I suddenly had disdain for her. She was a whore, willing to sell her emotions to the highest bidder. She was willing to be the cat I needed her to be, if it meant that she would retain her position. If it meant her life wouldn’t be threatened and she’d have a roof over her head.
I opened the door to her kennel. She walked in without missing a beat. I closed it. I could just leave her. I didn’t need to bring her with me to my new home, and she knew it. She was completely at my mercy.
Before leaving, I walked through each room one last time, kissing each wall goodbye. In this apartment, I’d secured a measure of safety. I tried to hold on to that feeling, in case I never experienced it again.
The movers deposited my furniture, dishes, linens, clothing, cameras, and computers in the designated locations of my new apartment. My exquisite apartment. The Straubs could have charged six thousand a month, but they were renting it to me for two thousand.
I brought the rosewood coffee table, the leather chairs, and the dining table and chairs. (I sold the rest. I couldn’t bear for the Straubs to see that I owned any mediocre furniture.) I never could have dreamed of living in an apartment with this level of luxury—a luxury of exquisite design and exquisite execution of the design. It was a magazine life.
A whole world was opening up to me. I was now physically connected to the Straubs’ lives in a variety of different ways. I was living in their building, in close proximity to them at all times. I was also the caregiver, tutor, and confidante for Natalie. More and more, I was inextricably linked to them. Natalie was going to come to me for help with her homework even more often because now I was readily accessible. Amelia was going to rely on me more and more as a babysitter. And soon I would be carrying their child.
Ever since our agreement, Amelia had assumed an intense intimacy with me, along with a kind of proprietary manner. She had chosen me and my womb, and I belonged to her. Amelia now felt justified in keeping tabs on me. I can’t say that I minded. It had been so long since anyone cared what I did or where I went. Her attention, almost oppressive in its concentration, was a wild departure from what I was used to.
The Straubs gave me a key to the main house and told me to come and go as I liked. It was a feeling of welcome and inclusion unlike any that I’d had before. I was no longer hovering on the edge of something. I had reached the center. I had arrived.
On my second day in my new apartment, I spent several hours unpacking. I decided to borrow some garbage bags from the Straubs and was jittery with excitement at the thought of using my personal key to their house for the first time. I felt a surge of energy as I unlocked their front door.
Standing in the entry, I overheard Amelia’s voice. “Delta can fend for herself.”
I was surprised to hear Ian’s voice: “She’s derailing her life. You don’t see that?”
I resented Ian’s interference and was about to tell him so, when I turned and saw Itzhak several feet away from me. The dog’s body was tense and low to the ground, and his tail was stiff. Itzhak lunged toward me, jaw open, and his teeth closed on my ankle. I screamed.
Amelia and Ian appeared in the stair hall, both of them stunned. “Noooo!” Amelia yelled at the dog, and yanked his collar. “Get away from her!”
Itzhak crouched, growling.
“Delta, are you OK?” Ian looked shaken. He put his hand on my arm.
My heart was pounding in my chest. I was trembling. I sat on the hall bench, and Ian sat next to me. I pulled my sock down to reveal bite marks. The dog’s teeth had broken the skin, but barely.
“This is crazy.” Amelia’s voice was strident. She was extremely agitated. “He never bites anyone.” Pulling him by the collar, Amelia led Itzhak away to the home office. I heard her close the door.
I was ashamed that the dog had bitten me. I feared the incident would undermine Amelia’s belief that I was part of the family.
She reappeared a few moments later with antiseptic and a bandage.
“It’s not a big deal.” I
