The Almost Moon - Alice Sebold [103]
Hamish walked in just as I was pushing the last of the hot dogs into my mouth. He came over to me and turned me around to face him. My cheeks full of food.
“I’m sorry for up there.”
I chewed and made a waving motion with my hand to indicate that it was fine, that it hadn’t meant anything.
“It’s just that you can be so cold, and I know you’re not at heart. I’ve always known.”
I looked at him. My eyes bulged as I swallowed.
“It wasn’t Manny, was it?”
I saw the phone hanging on the wall near the kitchen table. Wondered who I could call to help me if Hamish refused. And I saw my purse sitting upright in the middle of a gingham place mat. Why had I taken the gun? What did I think I was going to do?
“It just makes sense. I was out working on the car and I thought, What is she doing here? Why is she borrowing a car? Mom told me Jake was here, and you said Sarah was too. The only reason why you’re not with them is because they don’t know where you are.”
“You’re very smart today,” I said.
“Chalk it up to postcoital genius,” he said. He turned and opened the fridge. “Besides, it fits. You came looking for my mom last night.”
He grabbed a quart of chocolate milk and brought it over to the counter, where he stooped to get a glass.
“Are you going to tell?” I asked.
He poured his milk and faced me again, leaning back into the counter.
“You asked me yesterday if I ever thought of killing my father. Well, I did. I think a lot of people do,” he said. “They just aren’t honest about it. You actually went ahead and did it.”
He took something from his pocket, a set of silver keys, and threw them at me. They landed at my feet.
I squatted down to get them.
“My mom won’t forgive you,” he said. “She’s turning very moralistic in her old age.”
I could feel already that I would be outside soon, that I would put the key I held in my hand into the ignition and back the car out of the driveway.
“Maybe it’s Sarah I’m meant to end up with,” he said. He took a swig of his milk. “After all, I love her mother.”
It was like a sock in the stomach, and he saw it.
“Too much,” he said. “I know.”
“I have to go now, Hamish,” I said, wishing I could leave him with some perfect phrase.
“Where?”
“I haven’t figured that out yet,” I lied. “I’ll leave the car somewhere. I’ll call you and let you know where it is.”
He turned. I grabbed my purse from the table and followed him through the kitchen and then the living room. I saw a vase I’d given Natalie countless years ago. It was filled with store-bought flowers.
Behind the garage where Hamish kept the extra cars he worked on, he got inside a nondescript late-’80s Ford and signaled for me to wait. He turned the engine on and backed up until the nose of the car was facing toward the street, then got out with the engine still running.
All I could see was the open car, waiting. All I could think was with each leave-taking, those who remained behind were safe from me.
“I wish I was enough to make you stay,” Hamish said. He hugged me, and for a moment he was my father and I was his child.
He stroked my hair and then squeezed me one last time for emphasis. I felt the increased heft of my purse on my forearm.
“I’m here if you need me.”
I nodded my head. Words had begun to desert me for the first time.
“Take care of yourself,” he said. “I’ll wait for your phone call.”
“Phone call?”
“About the car.”
“Thank you, Hamish. Tell your mother I said good-bye.”
I got into the driver’s seat and tucked my purse beside me. Only the final click of the car door shutting made me sure that I could go.
I did not look at him again. I put the car into gear and started down the driveway, passing to the right of Hamish’s car and onto the grass. As I reached the road, I turned on the radio. Swing music, when I had expected heavy metal or alternative rock. I listened to the muted cheer, then shut it off. I tucked in my chin and made the left toward Phoenixville.
FIFTEEN
It was still early in the evening. The clock on the dash read 7:08, and