Jillian Read online

  She didn’t separate the colors, just separated the clothes randomly into two machines and started them with extra soap. The clothes smelled a little musky. Back upstairs she opened her bedroom window and Adam’s, put sheets on both of their beds, made them up with the pillows and everything, tucked a stuffed animal under the sheets on Adam’s bed, picked up his toys from the floor and put them in his bin. She hung up the clothes she’d decided weren’t dirty. She took the bras from the tub and threw them into the hallway. She went and got the cleaner and the paper towels and the kitchen sponge and removed the film of hair and lint from the bathroom and polished the surfaces as well as she could. Then she dried the bathroom a little with paper towels, filled the sink with cold water and hand soap, and submerged her bras in it. She turned the fan on in the bathroom, threw away the paper towels, and dusted the surfaces in her room and Adam’s, then she ran the vacuum again.

  By then it was time to change the laundry.

  She came back upstairs, rinsed her bras, and hung them over the shower rod. She watered the two dry-looking plants in the kitchen and put the hot, dull-smelling plates back into the cabinets. The sun was going down, and she didn’t want to know where the dog was, not yet, not until everything was in place and she could enjoy it. She got an old blanket, folded it, and put it by the couch.

  “That’s Crispy’s bed for now.”

  She got hair bands and used them to hold the cabinets closed, like in Emily’s kitchen.

  There was no juice in the refrigerator. She needed to go shopping.

  She sat down next to Adam and they both called, “Crispy,” and Crispy walked up to them slowly, wagging her tail fast and slow at alternating speeds.

  “Crispy!”

  Wag . . . wag . . . wagwagwag.

  “Good dog, come here, Crispy!”

  They all played for a minute, then Crispy sat on her bed. Jillian put away the laundry and made a grocery list, and when she looked over at Adam and Crispy watching TV together, she thought she was going to start crying, she was so close to being able to sit with them and relax.

  “Will you be a good girl?” asked Jillian.

  Crispy looked from side to side.

  “We’ll be right back, okay? Will you be a good girl?”

  In the car, Jillian said, “We’ll need to get her a crate for when I’m at work, and I think she needs some fetch toys, but we can use an old sock for now. Tie it in a knot. We can use peanut butter for treats, too, to save money for now.”

  Just talking out loud.

  “What movie do you want to watch tonight, Adam?”

  When they got back from the store, Jillian said, “One more thing before dinner and movies, okay?” and that’s when she sent the photo message to Megan.

  PART 2

  1

  That dog, that silly little dog (and, but, not that it was Crispy’s fault) distracted her so much. The dog wasn’t in the car, not physically, but, you know, Crispy’s essence was in the car. The thought of Crispy, thinking about all the things Crispy needed. She was on the way to pick up a discounted crate from someone ten miles away, and the crate came with a pillow and it was in very good condition, according to the description online.

  The crate would be forty, and she could go get bulk food at ALDI and not buy any lunch at the cafeteria and she could afford it. That’s what she was thinking about when she ran the red light. It was yellow when her nose was over the crosswalk, wasn’t that the law?

  “Isn’t that the law?” she argued.

  “Ma’am, step out of the car,” he said because she said she didn’t have her license.

  “Okay, but I’m sorry, it’s the law isn’t it?” Because she really did have her license, it was just that, you know.

  Trembling, she handed it to him, hoping he wouldn’t have some kind of machine that would get her in trouble. He raised his eyebrows and walked back to his car. Oh my god. The machine that would get her in trouble was surely in his car.

  “Step out of the car please, ma’am.”

  “But I gave you my license. I don’t have to get out of the car.”

  Why do they always fight it, these silly little mothers with their shit-filled cars and that frantic look in their eyes that made you—whether you were the type or not—want to smack them?

  “Ma’am, I’m not asking,” said the officer.

  She exited the vehicle. The officer put his hand on his weapon, leaned back on his heel, and dared her, silently, to go ahead and try it, whatever it was.

  “So, I don’t see what the problem is. I’m just on my way home from work and I have to pick up my child. I was just going to get a crate for my new puppy.” She said this like it was a threat. She looked at him like she hated him and needed him and that was the push he needed to detach. Floating free there, free from compassion, he smiled.

  Why is he smiling? Her feelings, which were ricocheting, strengthened. They didn’t define themselves, but they strengthened.

  They always try to make you feel like you’re getting in the way of them doing something more important, as if there’s anything more important to an officer of the law than enforcing the law.

  “Seems like you have some outstanding fines. Are you aware you’re driving with a suspended license?”

  “I told that woman that I was told I didn’t have to pay.”

  “Turn around, ma’am.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Ma’am,” he said, putting his hand on his piece again, oh god, he loved putting his hand on his piece. “Turn around and put your hands on the vehicle.”

  Jillian’s stomach plummeted and things became slow. She saw people looking at her as they drove past. Her body relaxed and she did as she was told. The officer used his radio to say, “Bring a tow truck to Palatine and Quentin, we’ve got a car that needs to go to the impound.”

  Jillian was too angry to cry, was that why she wasn’t crying?

  “Oh, and bring some trash bags. Car’s full of shit.”

  Ah, but then she started crying. The officer put his hand on her head and led her to the cop car and, still with his hand on her head (which covered over half of her skull), he made her duck into the backseat.

  She was formally served and fined and her court date was mandatory and she had no car to get to work, so she didn’t know what to do when she finally got home that night at 11:30 p.m. Elena from church group was sitting with Adam teaching him to color in between the lines, even though it was 11:30 p.m. and he already knew how.

  “Why don’t you go get ready for bed,” said Elena. Adam hopped up and did as he was told, mostly because he was exhausted and wanted to go to bed and was sick of being bossed around about how to color, but his obedience to another woman’s orders still hurt Jillian’s feelings.

  “Where’s Crispy?” asked Jillian.

  “In the bathroom, sleeping with the lights off,” said Elena.

  * * *

  • • •

  “Do you know where Jillian is?”

  “No, do you?”

  “No, I thought you might know.”

  “No, she didn’t say anything.”

  “Was she here yesterday?”

  “Yes.”

  “But not today?”

  “No.”

  “Can you cover for her?”

  “I have been. I mean, yeah, it’s fine. Of course. Do you need anything?”

  Dr. Billings shrugged.

  Yesterday, Megan was still feeling demolished from the weekend and she and Jillian hadn’t really talked, but Jillian had seemed normal. Her absence was intriguing.

  Jillian was at home. She turned off her phone. When Elena showed up that morning to drop Adam off at day care, Jillian was dressed.

  “Thank you so much for doing this for me.”

  “It’s fine, what are friends for?�
�

  “No, I mean, I really owe you one. Whenever you need something, if it’s something I can do, you know, I’ll do it.”

  Elena put her hand on Jillian’s shoulder and said, “I know.”

  Jillian walked them to the door, said, “Just going to take the dog out once more before getting on the train,” then went to the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror. She started punching herself in the cheek and making a face like she was screaming. She stopped hitting herself, grabbed the edges of the sink, leaned forward, and started making a face like she was screaming even louder. She panted for a second and then took off all of her clothes and put on a nightgown.

  The next day, Dr. Billings said, “Did you hear what happened to Jillian?”

  “No,” said Megan.

  “She hit a deer with her car. Her car is totaled. She lives in the suburbs, you know. She called me this morning. She was at the doctor and trying to get her car fixed yesterday.”

  “Huh,” said Megan.

  “It’s terrible,” said Dr. Billings.

  “Yeah, terrible,” said Megan.

  “Can you make her reminder calls?”

  “Sure.”

  Later, Randy asked, “Why are you smirking like that?”

  “I don’t know,” said Megan. She took off her jacket and bag and shoes, opened a beer, and said, “I don’t know.”

  Randy sat at the table.

  “I think the self-destruction that I predicted for Jillian is finally happening.”

  “Congratulations,” said Randy.

  * * *

  • • •

  Jillian wasn’t sitting at her desk the next morning when Megan arrived, but Megan could sense her in the office. Megan could hear the other doctor, Dr. Schraeder, talking behind a partially closed door, and she could also hear Jillian saying “Yes ma’am” in a childish voice.

  “Hi, Jillian,” said Megan when Jillian came out into their desk area.

  “Hey, Megan.”

  “How are you? Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, you know, I just hit this enormous deer with my car,” she said.

  “Oh, no,” said Megan.

  They worked quietly. Dr. Billings came out and said, “Jillian! Good to see you again. How are you?”

  “Oh, I’m still a little shaken up more than anything. But my back is killing me, too, and my car is, you know, absolutely useless. Umm . . .”

  “Where were you driving that you came across a deer?” he asked. His question was innocent.

  “Oh, I was picking up a dog from a rescue center outside of town.”

  Bold, thought Megan. A very bold choice.

  “Ah, good. Was the dog hurt at all?”

  “No, no one was hurt, we’re all fine.”

  “Good, good. Well, good to have you back.”

  A truly needless fib. Megan sort of admired it.

  Dr. Schraeder came out of the examination room. “Here you go, Jillian,” she said, putting a piece of white paper on Jillian’s desk.

  “Thank you so much,” said Jillian.

  “Now that has two refills, and it’s free of charge, okay? I’ll cover it.”

  “Thank you so much.” She breathed this, lower than a whisper.

  When the doctors and patients had left for the day, Jillian said, “Hey, I’m sorry for leaving you all alone.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “Yeah, everyone’s being really nice about it. No one’s mad and Dr. Schraeder just gave me a prescription for some thirty-milligram Tylenol T3s with codeine,” she said. “You know, for the pain of my injuries.”

  “Oh, wow, I didn’t even know she could prescribe that.”

  * * *

  • • •

  It was always interesting the way things worked out, thought Jillian on the ride home, the train taking her where she needed to go, chugging along, her thoughts free to roam. A bottle of midgrade painkillers in her purse. A kind of general hilarity all around her. She’d thought she might get fired or reprimanded and she’d been planning to settle into a comfortable depression, but no. They’d been really nice. And Megan hadn’t said anything about the dog, and it tickled Jillian that Megan could be so understanding.

  I was in a really bad car accident, she thought. She carried herself like someone who had been in a car accident. She rubbed her shoulder and drew a breath in through her teeth. She visualized the deer and how she hadn’t screamed and how Adam had thought it was exciting. The dog barked at the deer to protect them all from the deer. The deer wasn’t hurt, it ran away, just smashed up the car real bad, and now she had horrible back pain. She shook her head and exhaled.

  If anyone asked, she’d tell them that’s what happened. “Oh my gosh, that happened to me, too,” they’d say.

  Sunset on the train was great. It was only eighty dollars a month for the pass, maybe she could get Elena to pick up Adam all the time. This might have been the best thing that had ever happened to her, getting into this silly car accident.

  She got home and let Crispy out of the bathroom. She’d pooped on the floor and chewed up the bath mat. Jillian picked up the bath mat and Crispy lunged at it. “Oooohhh, I forgot to leave you your bone, didn’t I, you crazy girl?” she said, tugging the bath mat while Crispy bore down on the other end. “Time to go on out,” she said.

  Dinner was cooking when Elena came by to drop Adam off.

  “Hey, you want to stay for dinner? I made plenty.”

  “No,” said Elena. “I have to get home and make dinner for my own family.”

  “Oh, okay,” Jillian said. “Well, anytime, you know. Thanks for picking him up.”

  They laughed at the movie while they ate dinner. It was great that the apartment was still kind of clean from the weekend. She changed her boy into his pajamas, tucked him in, and then went to the bathroom to get ready for bed. She slipped into a fresh nightgown and washed her face, something she didn’t always do. She brushed and flossed. Then she went into the dark apartment and found her purse on the kitchen chair. Crispy walked up to her and looked at her.

  “Hi, Crispy,” she whispered.

  She got the bottle of medicine just so she could put it away in the cabinet.

  When she was back in the bathroom, she looked at the bottle and said, “I’ve been in a bad accident.”

  2

  Things were still pretty awkward between Megan and Randy, and she hadn’t heard anything from or said anything to Amanda since the fight. But did she still go to the grocery store and buy dinner and stuff? Oh, totally, yeah, of course, of course, because life just keeps grinding on, right?

  That day she thought, Fuck it, and went to the smaller grocery store. The store was for rich people, but fuck it, right? There were delights there.

  She wanted to make something out of vegetables. The selection was small but everything did look so much healthier. There were summer squash the size of a baby’s arm and baby bok choy that looked clean and smooth and not like a bunch of slugs had been fucking and barfing on it in the back of a truck for weeks. So this is how the better half eats. She picked out two well-formed bunches of baby bok choy and put them in her basket. There was a wall of salad dressing in a refrigerated shelf that she stared at for five minutes. Next to that was a section for juices and anciently formulated teas with helpful bacteria. On one of the teas was a drawing of a thin female torso with a spiral on it that looked like a twister. Detoxification. Gotta get this inside me. It was five dollars. She picked up the bottle and stood in front of the case for two minutes, staring at it. It was a glass bottle. She needed a sweet potato. They were two dollars, but they didn’t have those suspicious gray holes bored into them that she was used to coring out. That would be fun. Just wash it and bake it. That would be fun, yeah.

  And something fun to eat. The snack aisle. Oh, yeah, I like this, she t
hought. Cruelty-free agave dino gummies, gluten-free-cookie mixes, puffed and naturally flavored corn and rice balls, crackers made mostly out of raw seeds, a bag of dried Himalayan goji berries. Yeah, cool.

  Ultimately these things were too expensive, so she picked a small-farm cheese and a six-pack of nice beer. “I mean, I work all the time. This is why I work, isn’t it?” she mumbled. “I’m a hard worker. I can buy this cheese. It’s just cheese, I guess.” She was standing by the cheese case, holding the cheese, looking at the cheese, and pumping herself up to buy it. “Fuck it,” she mumbled, and tossed it in her basket.

  When she got home, Randy asked, “Oh, cool, what’s the occasion?”

  “I dunno,” said Megan. “I just wanted to get us some fancy groceries.”

  Randy poked through the bag. “No snacks?” he said.

  “The snacks were all stupid,” said Megan. “It was all, like, tiny bags of dried Himalayan berries for nine bucks.”

  “Hey, nice cheese.”

  “And I got some fancy beer.”

  “Can I have one?” he asked.

  “Obviously,” said Megan. “And look at how nice that bok choy looks.”

  “Oh, yeah,” said Randy. He wasn’t looking at it closely enough. He was looking for snacks. “Do we have any bread for this cheese?” he asked.

  “God fucking damn it.”

  “What?”

  “No, we don’t have any fucking bread for that cheese.”

  “Oh, it’s okay, baby.”

  “Well, what’s the point of the cheese if you can’t eat it?”

  “We could put it on the potato. Hey, don’t look at me like that.”

  “We’re not going to put the cheese on the fucking potato,” said Megan. “That’s stupid.”

  “Well, hold on,” said Randy. In the cabinet he found some stale tortilla chips. “Here. We can eat it with these.”

  “Are those even good?”

  “They’re probably fine,” said Randy.