Anna was manic with desire. Bruno’s smile was natural but perplexed. “What are you thinking?” he asked in his usual, accented English.
Sinking? Anna thought. I’m not sinking—I’m swimming! Bruno wore flannel pajama bottoms and a ratty white undershirt. Anna had on nothing but a robe. She’d stripped to nakedness and resignation after her walk the night before. She stood, took hold of Bruno’s shoulders, then swung her right leg over his lap and eased herself onto him, pressing her chest into his body. She kissed him once, then again. She undulated. Her robe fell open. It was the act of her body beckoning its finger. She felt his cock begin to stir.
Bruno kissed her back, but it was a pat and friendly kiss. He shook his head. “Not now. We do that later, jo?” Anna frowned. “Don’t pout,” Bruno said as he winked and tap-tap-tapped her outer thigh in a way that meant You get up now, okay? and with that, Anna rose. Bruno stood and stretched and yawned and then he reached out and ruffled her hair as if she were one of their sons. He slugged back the last swallow of his coffee. “Maybe you can clean up since I did the cooking?” Then he went into his office and shut the door behind him. Anna sank back into the chair. At the sound of Bruno’s office door clicking into place, something in Anna slammed shut too. A closed door reminded her of everything about her life she hated. And she hated it twice as much as she had the day before. The brief vacation from heartbreak made the desolation that remained all the more acute.
Anna washed the dishes then dressed and walked over to get the children. “Did you have a nice time?” Ursula asked. Anna told her nicely that the party was nice and it was also nice to get out of the house for a nice evening out. If she said “nice” enough times she was sure she’d decide that it had been wholly wonderful.
“You’re out of the house every day.”
Anna caught the indictment. She stood in the doorframe, Polly Jean on her hip. The boys barreled past her. They ran down the street to the house. “Ursula, is there something you want to say to me?”
Ursula backed down. “No. Most days you do leave the house. This is true. That’s all.”
Later that afternoon, she informed Bruno that she was going for a long bike ride. “Two hours. Maybe more.” Bruno was clicking through computer files and sorting papers in his office. She asked him to listen for the children. Bruno grunted. “Polly’s upstairs napping,” Anna said as she tied her shoes. Bruno grunted again.
Anna returned home more than three hours later. “I had a good ride,” she announced in the direction of Bruno’s office. He grunted once more.
THERE WAS LITTLE WAY around Anna feeling awkward and adolescent in Monday’s German class. She hadn’t messaged Archie since she’d hung up on him, and he hadn’t tried to reach her either. It was petty, this fuming, Anna knew. But a minor bruise still hurts when you poke it with your finger. For the first full hour Anna didn’t even look in his direction and instead watched Roland lecture on German particles, those sly idiomatic words that serve as a sentence’s emotional barometer. Yeah? So? Of course! Really? Duh! Just. Whatever. Archie watched Anna not watching him. Mary sat between them, unaware of the tension. At break, Archie pulled Anna to the side in the Kantine before either of them went through the line.
“You didn’t need to get mad at me.”
“I wasn’t mad. I was drunk.” That wasn’t a lie.
“I was with Glenn and his wife and their friends.”
“I didn’t know your brother was married.” There was so much of Archie she didn’t know.
Archie cleared his throat. “Glenn doesn’t know. About you.” Anna stared him down in a way she had no right to. Archie gave in. “It was a fix up. It ended with a hug. She might have wanted more.” He hadn’t needed to tell her that.
“Really. And what did you want?” Anna wearied of herself. She had no claim on jealousy.
Archie gave a moderate sigh. “I’d have liked to not have been there at all. If I can’t be out with you, I’d rather be home alone. Really.”
It shouldn’t have, but this satisfied her. In any case, Anna couldn’t admit to what she couldn’t explain. “Let’s just get coffee.”
ANNA HAD LOVED STEPHEN, or thought she had. Anna thought she still loved Stephen, though she wasn’t sure. But Anna did love Polly Jean, and in a way that was like loving Stephen.
AFTER THE BREAK, THE group returned to class and Roland moved from particles to a review of the four German cases, beginning with the accusative case. What a word, Anna thought. Accusative. It pointed a bony finger in her direction (as everything and everyone seemed to be doing of late). She copied out the chart that Roland drew on the board and tried to summon even a little self-empathy.