Chapter 6 - The House With Two Keys
I didn't sleep after Lily said it. I lay there with the bedroom doors still cracked open and that glass of water on the nightstand catching the lamp light, and I listened to her breathing slow against my side. Her gray bunny was tucked under her chin. I kept my hand on the back of her dress and stared at those tall double doors until the cool sliver of hallway light turned warmer with morning.
By six I gave up. I slipped out and went down to the kitchen in the sweatpants I'd thrown on, barefoot on the cold tile. Our key rack was mounted by the back entry, three brass hooks under a little chalkboard that Marisol used for grocery lists. It had always been that way since we moved in. Two keys hung there. Mine was on the counter where I'd left it. The third hook was empty.
That was the point I started counting for real.
Marisol came in at seven with her tote and nodded at me like usual. Ray was already at the island drinking coffee. He'd stayed over after fixing the garage opener the night before and slept in the guest room down the hall. He did that a couple times a month when I had late work.
"Morning," Ray said. "You look like you didn't sleep."
"Movie night wrecked me," I said. "Lily kept me up."
I tried to keep it casual. I walked to the key rack and picked up the two keys that were there. "You guys see the double-door key? The bedroom one?"
Marisol wiped her hands on a dish towel. "You have it, no?"
"I thought I left it here," I said.
Ray held out his hand. "I got one. You gave me one last spring when I house-sat while you were in Sacramento. Remember? For Lily's dog?"
I did remember. I'd cut it at the hardware store on Main and handed it to him in this same kitchen. "Right," I said. "And Marisol, you have the other?"
She nodded and pulled hers from her tote, on a plain silver ring with her house key and car key. "For mornings. When you want me to clean while Lily at preschool."
So there it was. Only three keys to those doors existed. Mine. Ray's. Marisol's. No spares hidden in a junk drawer, no landlord copy. I'd installed those double doors myself and changed the lock because the original was loose.
I put the keys back and said thanks, like it was nothing.
Upstairs, Lily was still asleep with the book closed on the bedding. I went into the master bath and opened the medicine cabinet. The amber bottle of sleeping pills was on the second shelf. Dr. Patel had given me thirty, low dose, for the weeks after my wife passed. I rarely took them. I turned the bottle and counted into my palm. Twenty-one. Then I counted again. Twenty-one.
I knew I'd had twenty-four on Sunday night because I'd refilled my weekly pill case and left the bottle on the counter. I hadn't taken one since Sunday. Three missing in three nights.
I put them back exactly how they were and closed the cabinet soft.
In the kitchen Lily padded in with her bunny dragging, hair still pressed flat on one side, pink bows crooked. Marisol poured her milk and cut a banana while Ray scrolled his phone. I watched the water carafe on the counter, the big glass one with the stainless lid we kept by the coffee maker. It was full to the brim with fresh water and ice, sweating a little.
"You refilled this already?" I asked.
Marisol smiled. "Every night I fill before I leave, Mr. Moretti. So you have cold water for bed. You like it cold."
Ray looked up. "She's been doing that since you asked her to, right? After you said you were waking up thirsty."
I hadn't asked her to. Not exactly. Ray had offered a month ago when I mentioned I was sleeping badly. "Marisol can fill your carafe, man. One less thing," he'd said, and Marisol had just started doing it without me asking twice. Every evening around five thirty, before she left.
"I appreciate it," I said. My throat was dry.
I poured Lily's water from a different bottle and set the carafe back.
Later that afternoon I found Ray in the hallway checking the guest room thermostat. Lily was in the living room where I could see her, building blocks on the rug. I kept my voice low.
"Hey, we doing movie night again? Lily wants to. I was thinking we'd turn in early tonight, like eight. Popcorn in bed, lights out."
Ray leaned against the doorframe. "Tonight? I was gonna head home but I can stick around if you want company."
"Stay if you want," I said. "More fun with you here. Marisol said she'd drop off that extra blanket anyway around seven."
He nodded. "Sounds good. Early night sounds good for you, honestly. You need the sleep."
I went back to the bedroom and washed the glass from the nightstand in the bathroom sink. Dried it with a clean towel. On the ornate nightstand I set it empty for now, next to the crystal lamp base. From the kitchen I brought the carafe, still full, and left it on the dresser. I told Marisol when she came back with the blanket that Lily and I were doing the bed movie thing and I wanted fresh water by the bed, just like usual.
"Of course," she said. She picked up the carafe without me asking and poured a fresh glass half-full, exactly like the nights before, and set it on the nightstand. "Cold for sleeping."
Lily watched from the bed, bunny in her lap, book closed. She didn't touch the glass. I didn't either.
I told myself it was crushed pill, dissolved. It had to be. Only someone who came when I was sleeping, who had the key and the routine, who refilled the water every night and counted on me drinking it, could do it that quietly.
After Marisol left and Ray settled on the couch downstairs with the TV low, I kissed Lily's head and whispered that she would stay right with me all night, no matter what. She nodded into my shoulder.
May you like
The bait was set. The camera I'd bought at the hardware store that morning was already tucked inside the bookshelf, lens angled at the nightstand and the double doors.
Eight o'clock would come fast.
