Page 69 of We All Live Here
•••
Lila is loadingthe baby seat and cot into the Mercedes when Jensen arrives. She has been rooting through the garage, which still contains a teetering mass of boxes from when she and Dan moved in—she can’t remember what most of them contain—and is pulling out an overstuffed crate of large plastic baby toys. She dumps it on the back seat when she sees him standing by the gate. She’s had to lower the roof of the convertible to get everything in, and now the plastic arc of dangling ducks, an enormous rubber giraffe, and the wooden bars of the cot stick out of it, like some kind of clown vehicle.
“Having a clear-out?” he says.
“Something like that.”
He watches as she adds a plastic baby bath. “I’ve caught you at a bad time. I’ll come back.”
“No, no, it’s fine. What is it?” She is aware that she’s radiating ill-humor. The call with Dan has left her in a filthy mood. She hates that they’ve been separated this long yet he can set her off, like a hair trigger, reducing her to tears of rage and impotent fury. But he is not having her precious baby things for the new child. The idea of Marja carrying Lila’s car seat into the playground—the car seat that should have housed her third baby—makes her feel as if her head is exploding.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
She lets out a long breath and brushes the dust from her jeans. “I’m fine. Sorry.”
“I just came to drop an invoice off to Bill.”
“What invoice?”
“The latest installment of the garden.”
She frowns. “Bill’s been paying for that?”
Jensen looks briefly uncomfortable, as if he has just revealed something he shouldn’t. “Uh…yes?”
“No,” she says. “I’ll pay it. It’s my house.”
“But he—”
“Just give me the invoice.”
He hands it over reluctantly. She unfolds the piece of paper, reading it and wincing reflexively before she reminds herself that this is fine. She will get her first payment for the book within weeks. “I’ll sort it out when I’ve done this,” she says, mustering a smile that isn’t really a smile at all.
His hands are thrust deep into his pockets. He seems troubled, which makes her feel bad, but right now she has to head to the dump. Some small part of her is afraid that Dan will even now be on his way here, convinced she is lying, and she wants to be able to throw open the garagedoor and reveal that she is not “fucking impossible” actually, because the items really have gone.So take that, Dan!
They stand there for an awkward moment. Then Jensen takes a step backward and lifts a hand. She sees his pickup truck parked across the street and experiences a residual prickly glow, thinking of the two of them in it in the dark, the weight of the vodka bottle on her lap.
“That’s it, really. I guess…I’ll see you Monday.” Jensen gives her a little wave, then turns and walks back toward the van.
Lila gets into her car, checks she has her purse and her phone, and turns on the ignition. A click. Then nothing.
She wiggles the gear stick to make sure it’s in neutral, and unlocks the steering wheel, then tries again. The engine resolutely refuses to turn over. “Bloody hell.”
She tries to calculate how long it has been since she started the Mercedes, whether she has left lights on, draining the battery. It is clearly not going anywhere. She tries one more time, even though she knows what will happen even before she does it. Then she bangs the steering wheel with a fist and lets her head come slowly down to rest on it. Why the hell had she bought a stupid unreliable vintage car instead of the sensible modern runaround she could have got for a tenth of the price? She had heard her mother’s voice in her head when she had seen it:Lila! Darling! You should do the thing that will make you happy! Always use your finest, most favorite things for everyday!
“Flat battery?”
She isn’t sure how many minutes she’s been there, her eyes screwed shut, but when she opens them, Jensen is standing a few feet away on the drive.
She nods, oddly embarrassed. He must have witnessed the whole thing.
“Want me to go home and fetch my jump leads? I could start you up.”
She makes a few mental calculations and pulls a face at him. “I don’t think I have time.” She sighs. “Jensen, could I ask you a massive favor?”
He waits.
“Could you drive me to the dump?”
