“Do not just open that door, man,” he says. “Come on. What’s the matter with you?”
“I wasn’t going to, man!” Felix says. He pulls his arm free.
The knocking comes again. A woman’s voice calls to them.
“Hello?”
The housemates are quiet and stand still.
“Somebody answer her,” Malorie says, getting up from the piano bench to do it herself. But Tom is ahead of her.
“Yes!” he calls. “We’re here. Who are you?”
“Olympia! My name is Olympia! Let me in?”
Tom pauses. He looks drunk.
“Are you alone?” he asks.
“Yes!”
“Are your eyes closed?”
“Yes, my eyes are closed. I’m very scared. Please let me in?”
Tom looks to Don.
“Somebody get the broomsticks,” Tom says. Jules leaves to get them.
“I don’t think we can afford any more mouths to feed,” Don says.
“You’re crazy,” Felix says. “There’s a woman out—”
“I understand what’s going on, Felix,” Don says angrily. “We can’t house the whole country.”
“But she’s out there right now,” Felix says.
“And we’re drunk,” Don says.
“Come on, Don,” Tom says.
“Don’t turn me into the villain,” Don says. “You know as well as I do exactly how many cans we have in the cellar.”
“Hello?” the woman calls again.
“Hang on!” Tom responds.
Tom and Don stare at each other. Jules comes into the foyer. He hands one of the broomsticks to Tom.
“Do whatever you want to, people,” Don says. “But we’re going to starve sooner because of it.”
Tom turns to the front door.
“Everybody,” he says, “close your eyes.”
Malorie listens as his shoes cross the wood floor in the foyer.
“Olympia?” Tom calls.
“Yes!”
“I’m going to open the door now. When I do, when you hear it’s open, step inside as quickly as you can. Do you understand?”
“Yes!”
Malorie hears the front door open. There is a commotion. She imagines Tom pulling the woman inside like the housemates pulled her inside two weeks ago. Then the door slams shut.
“Keep your eyes closed!” Tom says. “I’m going to feel around you. Make sure nothing came inside with you.”
Malorie can hear the broomstick bristles against the walls, the floor, the ceiling, and the front door.
“Okay,” Tom finally says. “Let’s open our eyes.”
When Malorie does, she sees a very pretty, pale, dark-haired woman standing beside Tom.
“Thank you,” she says breathlessly.
Tom starts to ask her something but Malorie interrupts him.
“Are you pregnant?” she asks Olympia.
Olympia looks down at her belly. Shaking, she looks up, nodding yes.
“I’m four months along,” she says.
“That’s incredible,” Malorie says, stepping closer. “I’m about the same.”
“Fuck,” Don says.
“I’m a neighbor of yours,” Olympia says. “I’m so sorry to scare you like this. My husband is in the air force. I haven’t heard from him in weeks. He may be dead. I heard you. The piano. It took me a while to get the courage to walk here. Normally, I’d have brought over cupcakes.”
Despite the horror everyone in the room just listened to, Olympia’s innocence breaks through the darkness.
“We’re glad to have you,” Tom says, but Malorie can hear exhaustion and the pressure of looking after two pregnant women in his voice. “Come in.”
They walk Olympia down the hall toward the living room. At the foot of the stairs, she gasps and points to a photo hanging on the wall.
“Oh!” she says. “Is this man here?”
“No,” Tom says. “He’s not here anymore. You must know him. George. He used to own this house.”
Olympia nods.
“Yes, I’ve seen him many times.”
Then the housemates are gathered in the living room. Tom sits with Olympia on the couch. Malorie listens quietly as Tom somberly asks Olympia about the objects in her house. What she has. What she left behind.
What can they use here.
eleven
Malorie has been rowing for what feels like three hours. The muscles in her arms burn. Cold water sloshes in the boat’s bottom, water she has splashed, little by little, with each dip of the oars. Moments ago, the Girl told Malorie she had to pee. Malorie told her to do it. Now the Girl’s urine mixes with the river water and it feels warm against Malorie’s shoes. She is thinking about the man in the boat they passed.