I looked around crazily.
—Joan, please. You’re—
—I’m depraved, I said. Isn’t it fun?
Outside, it was quiet. The coyotes had gone about their evening. Soon Eleanor would be back with the rags and I would use them for the blood. I didn’t have a washing machine so I would have to bag them and drive them to the dump. I didn’t remember a washing machine in the Poconos. It was possible we didn’t have one in that crappy mountain home.
—I’ve just never seen you like this, Leonard said.
I turned away and walked toward the window. I could see very clearly where the child had fallen. I would have to move out of this horrible house immediately. I could never comprehend how someone could continue to live in a place where a loved one had died.
—Joan!
—Shh, darling. I have a craving for a chopped egg sandwich. With mayonnaise and some nice cracked pepper. Let me make us a platter. You can’t take the pill on an empty stomach.
He nodded agreeably and I moved to the kitchen. My voice just then had come from deep in my lungs, not from the back of my mouth, as a different older man once remarked of me. Speak from here, he told me, jabbing me just below my breasts. You sound unattractive when you speak from the back of your mouth. It’s low-class.
It was strange to no longer be in pain after all those hours of it. I boiled the water for the eggs with a drop of vinegar, as my mother had done. Not as she’d taught me but as I’d watched her do. I boiled the water and felt the blood drying in my underwear.
Lenny once said he could understand how a woman like me could turn a man crazy. Not even my looks, he said, which were formidable (formidable!) but my presence. I was very real, he said.
It didn’t take me long to drop Lenny down the rabbit hole. By that point I knew a good amount about Lenore. I knew her favorite colors and music and foods and precisely the shitty way she prepared an egg. Absently I drew my hair into a sloppy chignon. I’d seen several pictures of Lenore—in the ocean and in the pool and at formal events—and I’d noted the way she crossed her arms and smiled when she was shy. I imbued my knowledge of her and his love for her and his betrayal of her into my role. Had I been going after a part, had playing Lenore been an audition, I’d have nailed it.
I’d learned that I could keep him in the hole the longest when I never let the Lenore spell be broken. Mostly that meant being fawning, treating him like he was the most learned man in the world, the most gallant and benevolent and brilliant. It was exhausting.
The eggs were just barely cooked when he called out to me.
—Lenore, he said.
—Just a moment, darling. I have to get these eggs off the heat so the yolks don’t overcook. I know how you hate a powdery yolk.
—Yes, but I also don’t like it too wet.
—Of course.
I ran the eggs under cool water and began to peel them while they were still hot. My mother could touch the bottom of a boiling pan. She could hold anything without mitts. Indeed, her hands were callused, but I always suspected there was something else at work. Witchery.
I mashed the eggs between the tines of a fork. I added a tablespoon of mayonnaise and a teaspoon of horseradish sauce. I added smoked sea salt and freshly cracked black peppercorns.
As I approached Lenny, he finally looked below my waist.
—Lenore, my dear, did you spill something on yourself?
—Not exactly.
—What is that? he asked, pointing to my thighs. Lenore, is that blood?
—I lost our baby.
—Oh, dear.
—But it’s all right, I said, sitting beside him and taking his hand in mine. We’ll try again.
He nodded and looked all around the room. He wrung his hands as old men do.
—Was it painful, my love?
—Not too bad, I said.
—Sometimes it’s for the best, you know.
—You’re right, darling. You’re right about everything.
—Oh, Lenore. That’s kind of you. I’ve studied and read my whole life, my love. I come from a long line of wise men.
—Please, dear, try some of this egg salad.
—My Lenore, he said, not a woman of the kitchen.
—Well, you didn’t marry me for my cooking.
He nodded. He licked his lips. He brought his wrinkled hand around to rest on my rear, cool and wet with blood.
—Darling, you’re aroused, he said.
—Oh, always when you touch me. You know that. But now is not the time. We wouldn’t want to make a mess.
—Wouldn’t we, he said, smiling impishly.
—I suppose I could lay down some sheets.
—Go lay down some sheets. I’ll eat my lunch and be right behind you.
My legs felt rubbery as I walked up the spiral staircase to the hottest bedroom in the world. I’d taken two Klonopin right before my child was born and the effect was finally at work.
I heard the wretched sounds of him eating, the dentures clacking, the whole mouth working to move the soft food down the throat. That noise was enough of a reason to kill him. My white dress was bright red from the waist down. It was rather lovely. I figured I could dye the whole thing red. I took it off and used it to wipe between my legs. I put on a clean pair of underwear and a green t-shirt that said MONTANA on it. I would love to tell you it belonged to Big Sky, but it didn’t. There was a night he came to my apartment wearing the same t-shirt. After we fucked, as he was putting the t-shirt back on, I was struck with the usual fear. He was about to leave. I never knew when I’d see him again. Every time could be the last time. He was going home to her. She got
