Household Gods

With Justin still in her arms and Kimberley clinging to her leg, she stared Frank down till he gave way and let her into the house – her own house, she made a point of noting. Even after a week of being run by somebody else, it had its familiar smell, the smell of home. There was a clear component of baby lotion and slightly sour milk, microwaved dinners and fruit juice. Next to spilled wine, burning charcoal, and the sweat-dung-dirt stink of a Roman city, it was heavenly.

The place was clean. Cleaner than it had been when she left it – Frank was an astringent neatnik. The microwave in the kitchen was brand-new. She smiled; trust Frank, yet again, to suit his own convenience. She smiled at the faucet, at the coffeemaker, at the stove, at the refrigerator. She wanted to hug the refrigerator. And the washer, and the dryer. All the things she’d taken for granted, that she’d been forced to live without.

“We’ve got our suitcases all ready to go,” Dawn said as she left the kitchen to make the rounds of the rest of the house. “Unless you’d rather we stayed for a little while? Will you be all right by yourself?”

Nicole glanced automatically at Frank. His expression was distinctly sour, but he nodded. They were both trying very hard to be decent about things.

“I appreciate that,” Nicole said. She surprised herself: she meant it. “I will be okay, I think. If I start to feel rocky, do you mind if I call you?”

“No, not at all,” Dawn said. “Not in the slightest. Here, let me put our number up by the phone, why don’t I? Kimberley, you see this number? If your mommy starts to feel sick and can’t dial the phone, you call it, all right?”

Kimberley looked as if she wanted to burst out crying, but was too big a girl now to succumb to the urge. She held her head up high and nodded.

Nicole hugged her again – any excuse for a hug – and said, “I don’t think you’ll need to do that, honeybunch. I feel fine.” And she did. She felt wonderful. That wasn’t the whole of it, or even a tenth part, but it was as true as that she stood, at last, in her house in West Hills.

Frank eyed her a little oddly – hoping she was right, afraid she was wrong, she supposed – but then he said, “Okay. We’ll finish packing up, then. It won’t take long.”

Frank was efficient – efficient to a fault sometimes, as in the way he’d dumped her. She wasn’t at all sorry to see him and Dawn out of her bedroom, her house, and, for that matter and however temporarily, her life.

The children hugged and kissed them both good-bye. Frank was their father; Nicole could hardly mind that they seemed sorry to see him go. But it was as much as she could do to keep a smile on her face while they did the same to Dawn. For all her good intentions, she couldn’t help wondering which of those two would be the first to trade the other in for a new model.

Meow, she thought. But it felt good. It felt – cathartic. Yes.

Then, at long last and yet also a bit soon, they were done. Nicole was alone in the house with her kids. She caught herself looking around for Julia, to ask her to lend a hand.

It amazed her how much she missed Julia. Not just the helping hand. The company; the alliance against the world; even, to an extent, the friendship.

“This is funny, Mommy,” Kimberley said from waist level, where she’d been since Nicole came into the house. “We’re not home with you in the daytime very much.”

“You aren’t, are you?” Nicole said. They were at daycare during the week and at Frank’s on the weekends. She’d had to stop and remember that, after so much time inhabiting the body of a widow who worked out of her own home. She was going to miss some of that. Having the kids so close, day and night, weekdays and weekends. Not having to commute.

She hugged Kimberley yet again, and Justin for good measure. Kimberley grinned at her, with Justin half a beat behind, as he always was. “Monday we go to Woodcrest,” Kimberley said. “I can’t wait. It’s way cool, Mommy!”

So much for Josefina. Nicole thought.

“Tomorrow!” Justin said emphatically.

Kimberley rolled her eyes and put on an elaborate give-me-strength expression. “No, Justin. Not tomorrow. Monday.”

She knew the days of the week; Justin didn’t. Anything that was going to happen in the future would happen tomorrow, as far as he was concerned.

Wouldn’t it be nice if the world really worked that way?

But then, from the perspective of eighteen centuries ago, everything in this century really was tomorrow. Somewhat bemused by the thought, Nicole wandered into the bedroom, with the children tagging after her. There was a lingering strangeness in the place: a hint of Dawn’s perfume and Frank’s aftershave. She’d crank the air conditioning in a minute, and blow it all away.