She must have been drinking, he thought. He pondered for a second if he should hit the garage door opener, to tell the police to take her away, to have her face the consequences. He wondered if neighbors stood by their windows gawking by now, not that they were bad people, but concerned about a prowler being on the loose after a police car appeared. Between the cats and a possible intruder they got worked up easily, they had talked about this at parties, their fear of burglars, the riffraff catching up with their way of life.
Woop woop.
He saw the blinking lights of the cruiser through a gap in the garage door.
Edward turned, walked up the stairs, out of the garage, and rushed out the front door.
It was all but dark outside but for the lights by the side of the driveway illuminating the landscaping. Making his way down the driveway, he waved at the officer in the cruiser. There was a brief conversation between them, a handshake, and the police car continued down the circle driveway and out into the road. He watched the brake lights come on, then it disappeared in the distance.
He knew without having to turn and look up that Donna was standing in the window, watching. By now she probably wondered if she ought to get her purse from downstairs but she’d be too confused to comprehend what was going on, given the fact the police had come and gone. Edward waited until the lights had completely disappeared and not until then did he turn and rush up to the bedroom, taking two stairs at a time and busting through the bedroom door.
“What’s going on?” Donna asked. “Was there a robbery?”
Edward didn’t answer.
“Why did the police leave? Did you send them away? Edward, what—”
Edward pushed past her, knocking into her shoulder, making her tumble backward.
Ever since they’d known each other, Donna had never heard a harsh word from him. Edward had never so much as raised his voice at her. His ways were the subtle digs and passive aggressive taunts, never anything physical.
“Edward, will you tell me—”
“Oh my God, oh my God.” His words came out in short bursts, he was unable to catch his breath.
“What happened?” Donna shrieked as he darted past her and into the bathroom.
Edward bent over the toilet and vomited.
Donna followed him into the bathroom but didn’t flick on the light, didn’t dare expose him that way. Instead, she stood in the doorway, taken aback by Edward crouching in the darkness, heaving.
He rose and slammed the door shut in her face. He rinsed his mouth and flushed the toilet.
“I saw the police drive up. What was that noise and what’s going on? I don’t understand,” Donna said, her voice hollow with her mouth so close to the door, her fists knocking and knocking, but she never entered.
“Get dressed,” Edward said through the door. As if he knew she was still standing there doing nothing, he raised his voice. “Did you hear me? Get dressed.”
Edward rushed past her and to the window and drew the curtains, didn’t want neighbors to see them hastily rummage through the house, you never know who’s about, even at that time of night, and he watched Donna as she gauged his outfit and slipped into a pair of jeans, a sweater, and a windbreaker. She put on a pair of boating shoes—she didn’t own any boots—and flicked some cotton off her pants. She looked up and Edward stood a mere inch away from her.
“Why are we getting dressed?” How timid her voice was. He began to feel sorry for her.
“I need you to listen to me, Donna.”
“I’m listening but I don’t—”
“Now isn’t the time to ask questions, okay?”
“You’re scaring me. What is it? You’re freaking me out. I don’t understand? What’s going on?”
His breath tasted sour and minty all at once. Edward was aware of the fact that in thirty years she had not seen him in this condition: unshaven, unkempt, boots haphazardly tied. He watched her put her cupped hands over her nose and mouth, partly because she was scared, partly because her throat closed up on her, the smell of vomit not something Donna was able to tolerate.
Edward took her hands and drew them off her face, squeezed them. He turned and pulled her with him, out of the bedroom, across the landing and down the double staircase, then along a hallway and into the garage, where Donna lost her footing on the steps leading down. Edward thought about this moment later and the best explanation he could come up with was that he wanted Donna to see what he had seen—he wanted her, in some small and petty and cruel way, to feel what he had felt.
The first thing Edward tuned in to was a hissing sound coming from the water heater. A stench of oil and gasoline, and everything was covered in a layer of something and he knew the water heater was spewing water. How funny, he thought, did Donna not just tell him to listen for water rushing through the pipes?
So much he hadn’t seen earlier, hadn’t paid attention to. Everything made perfect sense, but then it didn’t: his daughter’s car, the red Grand Cherokee, had hit the back of the garage, had crumbled the wall that separated the parking space from a storage area, and had hit the water tank.
“What’s going on? Why is Penelope’s car like this? She—”
“I need you to talk to her, Donna. I need you to talk some sense into her.”
“Where is Penelope?”
“In the car. She’s in the car.”
Edward watched Donna step closer and wipe the condensation off the driver’s side window with her right hand.
“Penny, baby, open up.” There was no reaction. “Penny, unlock the door for me. It’s okay. Just a little accident.”
“Talk to her, talk some sense into her,” Edward pleaded, knocking on the window.
He felt like that time at Whole Foods when a bagger had put the wrong bag in Donna’s trunk and when they unpacked the groceries at home, they had stared at the items, knowing that they would never buy such things. That moment of not comprehending, the questioning of one’s own faculties—this was such a moment.
Edward made his way around the car to the passenger side. The door was locked.
“Penny, open the door for me. It’s okay. Everything is fine. Please open.” With a wide swipe Edward cleared the passenger window from condensation and looked inside the car, cupping his hands against the glass. “Penny, please open up.”
There was no reaction.
“Talk to her, Donna. She won’t listen to me,” Edward begged. “Penny, unlock the door for me. It’s okay. Just a little accident.” He found himself mimicking Donna’s words.
On the other side of the car Donna kept pleading, “Penny, open the door. It’s okay. Everything is fine. Please open.”