What We Both Know by Fawn Parker

Author:Fawn Parker [Parker, Fawn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: McClelland & Stewart
Published: 2022-05-03T00:00:00+00:00

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CATHERINE AGREED TO STAY the afternoon with Baby, which means I have time to drive into the city. There are boxes in Pauline’s apartment that her roommate packed up and left outside the unit door. She said she would rather not see me, and no hard feelings, but it would be too emotional for her. Plus somebody else lives in the room now, and they haven’t been told about what happened. I can’t help but feel that she is angry. I don’t blame her; I’ve left the things with her for over a year now, not wanting to go into the apartment again. When I went in during the first few days after the incident, none of it was real yet. I kept looking over my shoulder expecting to see Pauline walk into the room and throw herself on her bed. Her bed, the last place she ever was to have an idea, a memory, a breath.

On my way I try again with the home nurse line. Describing Baby out loud feels like I am defaming him. Somebody is available this week for a consultation, they say, and I want to hang up again. How am I to ease him into the idea in under a week? But, I am nearing the apartment building and want to get off the line, so I agree, and consider calling back later to cancel.

As I near the building I feel lighter in my seat. A few more blocks and I may not even be able to press the gas pedal. I pull off of the main street and onto the side road where her building is, and her roommate is out on the balcony digging around in a planter. She is wearing a red button-up dress and a straw hat, and looks out of place so near the city’s downtown core. I get out of the Jeep and when I shut my door she looks up, waves. So, we will pretend we did not agree not to see each other. I wave back.

The furniture in the apartment has been rearranged. I am relieved when the roommate does not offer to show me around, instead hovers by the doorway with the boxes at her feet.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come earlier,” I say. I stack the boxes so that I may be able to carry both down to my car in one trip, and not have to come back into the apartment again. They are light, probably filled with clothes.

“You look like her,” says Meaghan.

“Thank you,” I say, and carry the boxes down the stairs as quickly as I can, and load them into my car, and drive two blocks and park and begin to cry.

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