Chapter 12 - The Hallway Closet She Wanted to Open Alone
The doorbell rang just after two, in that flat afternoon quiet when the house ticks louder than it should. I had just gotten Lily down for her nap upstairs, and the hallway still smelled faintly of the chicken soup I'd heated for lunch. Through the peephole I saw Vanessa.
She wore jeans and a loose gray sweater now, her hair pulled down, no makeup except something around her eyes that looked tired. Her beige satin dress was gone, and without it she looked smaller. She held her purse tight against her stomach, like she was still holding the shape.
"Hi," I said, opening the door only partway. "Lily's asleep."
"I left my scarf," she said quickly. "The cream one. I think I hung it in your hallway closet last night. I can just grab it."
She stepped forward before I could answer. I let her in because it felt wrong not to, and she walked straight past the living room toward the hallway where the white paneled door stayed closed, its black lever handle catching the light.
I felt my pulse move up into my throat. That door had stayed closed all night while everyone kept glancing at it. Now in daylight it looked ordinary, paint a little scuffed near the bottom where Lily's shoes had hit it.
"It's probably in there," Vanessa said, reaching for the handle.
"Wait," I said.
She stopped with her hand an inch from the metal. Her shoulders tightened.
I kept my voice low because of Lily upstairs. "That's my house, Vanessa. We're not doing separate trips to that closet. If we open it, we open it together."
Her hand dropped. "It's just a scarf, Maya. Don't make this weird."
"It's already weird," I said. "Last night Lily said you hit it. Then she talked about the little thing with flowers in the closet. I haven't forced anything. But I'm not going to stand in my own hallway and let you go in there alone."
She stared at me, then at the door. "Mark put you up to this?"
"No," I said. "Mark and I talked about doing this right. With a doctor. No accusations. He left this morning to talk to you calmly."
At his name her face changed. Anger first, then something wetter underneath. "He doesn't believe me either."
I pulled my phone from my back pocket. My hands weren't quite steady. "Then let's not have it be just you and me remembering it different. I'm calling him. On speaker. We all hear the same thing."
"Don't," she said.
"I have to," I said, and I tapped his name.
He picked up on the second ring. "Maya?"
"I'm here with Vanessa," I said, keeping my eyes on her. "She's at my house. She came for a scarf she says she left in the hallway closet. I'm putting you on speaker so we're all here for this. Okay?"
A pause. Road noise behind him. "Okay. I'm here."
Vanessa looked at the phone in my hand like it was something hot. "You planned this."
"I didn't," I said. "But I'm not closing my eyes again."
For a long moment nobody moved. The air conditioner kicked on, and a draft moved the little frame on the hallway wall. Upstairs, Lily made a soft sound in her sleep and then went quiet again.
Vanessa stepped closer to the white door. She put her body between me and the handle, the way she had last night when she'd laughed too loud near the hallway. "Fine," she said. "Fine. I'll get it myself. Just me."
I nodded once. "Okay. Open it yourself."
She looked surprised that I didn't block her. She gripped the black handle. Her knuckles went white. She didn't turn it right away. She just stood there breathing, forehead almost touching the panels.
"Vanessa," Mark said through the speaker, quiet. "Just open it."
She turned the handle.
The door swung inward a few inches, then stuck on something soft. She had to push. Inside, the closet was narrow, coats on the left, a stack of board games and an old vacuum on the right. And jammed on the floor behind the door, half-folded over itself, was a beige curve of elastic fabric with straps hanging loose.
She tried to shift to cover it, but it was too late. I could see the inside lining clearly in the hallway light. White cotton printed all over with small pink and blue flowers.
A belly pad. Not skin. Not a pregnancy. A prosthetic with flowers on the inside, stuffed to fill out that satin dress.
May you like
I heard a sharp breath catch, and realized it was mine. On the phone, Mark went completely silent, then said, "God," very low.
Vanessa didn't pick up any scarf. There was no scarf. She just stood there with the door half open, staring down at the flower print, her hand still on the black handle.
