Close Your Eyes

‘Thanks,’ he said.

‘Let me . . .’ I said. I sat on an airport bench and rummaged in my purse for a pen. I found a ballpoint and wrote, Dear Alex, on the title page. Then I wrote Love, Lauren. I added the date. I stared at the blank inch I had left for something careful, something meaningful, some poetry.

‘I’ll come home for your wedding,’ said Alex.

‘Shut up,’ I said.

‘Seriously. He’s going to stop trying eventually.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘You know what I’m talking about,’ said Alex.

I glared at him. Then I admitted, ‘You’re right. I do.’

‘Say it to Gerry,’ said Alex, ‘not to me.’

We were still for a moment. I looked back at the book but couldn’t think of anything to write. ‘It’s okay,’ Alex said finally. ‘I’ve really got to go.’

I stared at my message: Dear Alex, Love, Lauren, 9/08/10. Starting to cry, I wrote, Goodbye.

Alex took the book and pulled me into his arms. We hugged for a minute, and then Alex broke free. ‘Here,’ he said. He took a small object from his pocket. ‘It’s the earring. I don’t want it anymore.’

‘What do I want with one damn earring?’ I said.

‘What do I want with one damn earring?’ said Alex.

With that, he kissed me on the forehead and walked toward security. The earring was cold in my hand.

Chapter 5

The listing was a 2/1 on Texas Avenue. White picket fence, yard that needed landscaping, minimal termite damage. My clients, a day-care worker and her musician boyfriend, were waiting for me, their Vespas parked side-by-side in the gravel drive. I waved gaily as I pulled to the curb.

‘Hey, Lauren,’ said Mitch, touching the top of his hipster fedora.

‘Hello, hello!’ I said, smiling hard. Liz was slim with red hair. On her jeans, she had small handprints in green and yellow paint.

‘I like it,’ said Liz. ‘I like the window boxes.’

‘This is a great street,’ I said. ‘Close to campus, but more young families than students.’

‘Let’s go in,’ said Mitch. ‘Lead the way, lady.’

I smoothed my Ann Taylor pantsuit. I was too old to be called lady by some skinny drummer, but I knew when to keep my mouth shut. ‘Follow me,’ I said, heading up the cement walkway. I found the lockbox, entered my Realtor code, and removed the key.

‘There’s a big crack in the foundation,’ said Liz, pointing.

‘Interesting,’ I said. ‘These old houses . . .’ I couldn’t really think of what to say, so I trailed off.

‘These old houses what?’ said Liz.

I cleared my throat. ‘Some have foundation problems. Some have charm. Some, Liz, have both. Foundations can be fixed.’

‘Oh, okay,’ said Liz, taking Mitch’s hand and stepping across the threshold.

‘The fireplace works,’ I said. ‘Nice light here in the living room.’ I consulted my cheat sheet. ‘Built in 1942. Kitchen renovated last year.’

Mitch looked around, nodding. He was so thin it made me wince. Liz made her way through the house. It was empty and smelled a bit like mold. If the homeowners were my clients, I would have put a simmering pan of apple cider on the stove.

‘Whoa!’ said Liz. We followed her voice and found her in a top-of-the-line kitchen. Stainless-steel fixtures, Corian counter-tops, stained concrete floor. ‘This is amazing,’ she said. ‘Look, hon, if I’m washing dishes, I can see the trees!’ She mimed scrubbing a pot, gazing at the large backyard. Mitch stood behind her and put his arms around her waist. She leaned in to him. ‘It’s wonderful,’ she said.

Mitch kissed the top of her head.

Out of nowhere, I felt a panic attack coming on. ‘I’ll be right back,’ I said. ‘I’ll leave you two lovebirds.’ I walked quickly, finding a bathroom off the master and slipping in, shutting and locking the door. In the mirror, my face was very pale. I sat down and put my head between my knees. I concentrated on my breathing.

‘Lauren?’ said Mitch. He was knocking, hard.

‘Okay,’ I said, standing and brushing dust off my pants. ‘I’m fine. There’s an oversize tub. Chrome-plated faucets!’

‘You’ve been in the bathroom for, like, a half hour,’ called Liz. ‘Um, I’ve got to get back to work.’

‘Right, right,’ I said. I unlocked the bathroom door and opened it. I smiled as brightly as I could. ‘So, looks like we’ve got some Kohler bathroom fixtures.’

‘Have you been crying?’ said Mitch.

‘No,’ I said. But when I touched my face, it was wet.

‘Thanks for showing us the house,’ said Liz. She was holding Mitch’s hand. ‘We’ll, um, we’ll be in touch.’

‘Great!’ I said. ‘Awesome.’ I followed them out of the house and returned the key to the lockbox. I waved as they made their way down the street. Then I called Gerry.

‘I am going crazy,’ I said when he answered.

‘What?’ said Gerry. ‘Where are you?’

‘Texas Avenue and Liberty Street,’ I said. ‘I’m having a heart – or a panic – attack. Maybe both.’ But just being on the phone with Gerry made me feel calmer.

‘It’s okay, honey,’ said Gerry. ‘I love you. Do you want me to come get you?’

I lay down on the lawn underneath a coffee tree. ‘I’m sober, I swear,’ I said. ‘The sky is very bright.’

‘Good God,’ said Gerry, laughing.

‘I’m scared, honey,’ I said.

After a while, I heard a car pull up. When I opened my eyes, Gerry was standing above me, his sweet face blocking the sun. ‘Get up from underneath that tree,’ he said.

‘Or maybe you should join me,’ I said.