Page 10 of Monsters
“The terrible twos are what’s wrong,” Lily mutters from the kitchen. “Salem should be home soon. He was visiting a friend.”
I look at Delilah. “Hey, do you want to go to the park with Aunt Evelyn tomorrow?” I ask, hoping it’ll be enough to distract her from licking outlets.
She sniffs and nods vigorously. “Yeah, and see Penguins?”
I look at Lily, who throws her hands up and shrugs. “Don’t ask me. We have no idea.”
I smile and pick Delilah up, pulling her into my lap. “Sure, we can find some penguins.” I kiss her temple, which seems to relax her, and she scoots off me to the pile of toys sitting in the living room, completely oblivious to the fact that she had just been screaming bloody murder a moment ago.
“Toddlers,” I mumble, standing and walking over to Lily, who is leaning against the counter cupping her glass of wine.
“Tell me about it.” Her wide eyes are unfocused and cloudy. “It’s no joke. I’ve never felt so impatient and frustrated in my life.” She looks over at Delilah, who is now playing quietly with a wooden cricket toy. “And then I look at her precious, little face… like, she is the epitome of perfect, you know?” Her voice catches, and she laughs maniacally. “God. Being a parent is such a dichotomy. One second you want to rip your hair out, and the next, you’re staring at the baby monitor, watching them sleep.”
I laugh. “You’re doing a great job, though.”
We toast our glasses, and for the first time since I arrived, she looks at me. “How areyoudoing? How’s school?”
I shrug. “It’s fine. I’m learning a lot.”
“That’s good. Are you still seeing a therapist?”
I stiffen. “I stopped over the summer.”
She groans and takes a sip of her wine. “You know how I feel about that. You need to talk to someone, Evelyn.”
I nod. I didn’t tell her what happened, or why I went off my medication, either. It made me numb and feeling numb was worse than feeling too much. It reminded me of that house, and the things I did. The women who were too drugged to know they could leave. Plus, there are things I want to keep to myself—things Ineedto do for myself. For my soul. For healing. And I know she wouldn’t approve.
“I will. This semester has been really crazy.”
We chat about Paris, Salem’s family, and Lily’s newest exhibition at the gallery. She’s the only person I know who seems creatively fulfilled, and it brings me joy to see her living her dream. After a few minutes of catching up, I push Lily into the bedroom to take a shower, and I sit on the floor to play with Delilah. Being around kids is strange now. I used to love them—I even babysat in college. But ever since it happened to me, I feel like a fraud. It’s like they can sense something is amiss—like I’m tainted or something.Marked.As if someone like me, with my haunted past, could never care for these innocent souls.A whore, whose best attribute used to be how to seduce.No. That was Eve Winters…
It doesn’t stop me from loving the hell out of Delilah, though.
When Lily is finished, she saunters out of the bedroom, towel drying her hair. I’m about to offer to make dinner when Salem walks through the front door.
“Sorry I’m late, mon loup,” he murmurs, bending down and giving Lily a long kiss.
If I actually believed in soulmates, Salem and Lily would be it.
“Hey, Evelyn,” he says quickly, wandering over and kissing each cheek. “Nice to see you again,” he adds. Lily gives me a small smile. I’m sure Salem tells her about our meetups, but she never says anything.
“Hi, petite fille,” he says, bending down to Delilah and rubbing her arms. “Mama said you were having a hard day today. I’m sorry, mon petit chou.” He kisses her cheek, and she brushes him off.
“I’m playing, dada.”
We all laugh, and Salem shrugs as he stands. “I’ll start dinner.”
“I can do it,” Lily offers.
He makes a huffing sound. “Sit. Relax. Talk with Evelyn. I’ll take care of it. Let me put Delilah down first.” He scoops Delilah up, singing some sort of jingle about taking a bath.
Lily and I get another glass of wine and catch up. Living in different countries, especially after Delilah was born, means we don’t get to see each other as much as we’d like—maybe five times a year, especially with my class schedule. But we talk on the phone all the time, and we FaceTime every weekend. I tell her about my adventures in the Bodleian, both yesterday and earlier today. Salem puts Delilah to sleep and cooks us a lovely dinner—a sausage and vegetable ragu over penne pasta, with globs of ricotta cheese on top. We toast to Oxford, to being alive, and Salem leads a quick prayer.
Lily and I grew up Catholic and went to Catholic school, but the fact that she married a man who went on to become a priest still makes me laugh. She’s so ornery and stubborn, and the least religious person I know. It surprises me that she accepts his religion so easily, but she does. She told me once it was one of the reasons she fell in love with him. He’s not one to preach about religion. He’s thoughtful and progressive, so I know their morals align most days. Still, I sometimes wonder how she ended up with the kind of person she used to hate growing up. And then I see the way she looks at him, the way her eyes light up and the corners crinkle in delight. The way she slaps her thighs when he makes a joke, throwing her head back, reaching out and gripping his hand.
A familiar, gnawing feeling creeps in. I don’t want to date anyone—in fact, I haven’t dated anyone in nearly six years. The closest I’ve gotten is when I humiliate men in bars as I reject their advances. Brush them off like they are dust on my collar—like I have the power to do so, because I do now.
There’s a lull in the conversation and Lily clears her throat, giving Salem a look.
