(And if you think Graham’s longest, most consistent, most satisfying relationship with a woman was with his cleaning lady, you’d be wrong. It was with his dental hygienist, Louisa. He had been her very first patient, back when he was twenty-nine and she was twenty-four. She had been a young, pretty, intense, black-haired girl who cleaned his teeth silently and thoroughly, and now she was not so young, but still just as pretty and just as intense. Every time Graham came in for an appointment, Louisa would greet him and then say to the receptionist, “He was my first patient! Can you believe that?” Then she would clean Graham’s teeth and afterward she’d say, “Still not a single cavity! You’re amazing!” and Graham would say, “I owe it all to you,” and then they would both say bad things about people who don’t floss, and that would be the end of it for six months. They never argued, never got jealous, and Graham didn’t have to remember her birthday. It was, he often thought, everything a relationship should be.)
Audra had moved in shortly after Elspeth had moved out, and they had lived in that apartment until they got married a year later. Audra had brought her own mountain of possessions and formed her own relationship with Mrs. Batista (and many of Mrs. Batista’s relatives). In no time at all, Audra’s cosmetics had littered the bathroom counter where Elspeth’s cosmetics used to be, and Audra’s jewelry rested on top of the dresser, and Audra’s clothes hung in the closet, and Audra’s books lined the bookshelves, and her prints went up on the walls, and her beaded lamp stood on the nightstand, and her former roommate’s ex-boyfriend’s grandmother’s sister’s quilt covered the bed for some reason Graham could never quite figure out. Soon the apartment lost that sad abandoned dorm room look, and took on the happy cluttered look of home.
But Audra had owned no kitchen equipment because Audra never cooked, and it was weeks before Graham got around to replacing the frying pan. He kept forgetting. He would forget all about it until he needed it. Then he would reach down to the low cupboard where Elspeth had kept it and his fingers would touch nothing but the bare dusty shelf and he would realize all over again that it was gone.
—
Graham opened the door of the apartment, and Audra and Julio were standing right there, two steps away. Julio wore his doorman uniform and looked oddly out of place, like a suit of armor propped up in your living room.
“That is just terrible news,” Audra was saying.
Graham felt suddenly hollow. “What is?”
“Well, Julio’s uncle— I’m sorry, Julio, what’s your uncle’s name again?”
“Enzo,” Julio said.
“Thank you,” Audra said. “Julio’s uncle Enzo and his family live in Queens and the people in the apartment above them hadn’t had their water boiler serviced in, I don’t know, like a million years and it burst and leaked through the ceiling and they have just untold water damage to their apartment now.”
“I see,” Graham said carefully.
“And apparently insurance will cover it,” Audra continued, “or some of it, which is the good news, but they can’t live there for at least several weeks, which is the bad news. So Uncle Enzo and his wife, Dominga, are going to move in with Julio’s mother,” Audra said. “But Julio’s mother and his aunt Dominga have not spoken since 1986—”
“Actually, the very last day of 1985,” Julio said.
“Because Julio’s father—whom I now believe is deceased?” Audra paused and looked at Julio, who nodded.
“Sorry to hear that,” Graham said, and Julio made an accepting sort of face.
“Well, apparently Julio’s father got very drunk at a New Year’s Eve party in 1985,” Audra continued, “and patted Aunt Dominga’s bottom in the kitchen and Julio’s mother happened to be coming into the kitchen right at that split second and saw it. And I’m sorry to interrupt myself here, but, Julio, shouldn’t your mother have been mad at your father instead of Aunt Dominga?”
“Oh, she was mad at both of them for quite a while,” Julio said. “But my father convinced her it wasn’t his fault—he said, ‘Now, honey, you know that men are just powerless over their lower urges.’ So after a while Mama decided that Aunt Dominga had encouraged it by wearing dresses that were too tight and flirting with every man in sight. And my aunt Dominga said, ‘What are you talking about? I was minding my own business, just checking the rosca de reyes in the oven!’ and Mama said, ‘It’s the way you were checking the oven, bending over like that,’ and Aunt Dominga said, ‘Do you know another way to check the oven?’ And Mama said, ‘You were all but horizontal!’ and Aunt Dominga said, ‘Well, it’s not my fault he prefers my behind to yours.’?”
Julio was an even better storyteller than Audra. Audra told stories in her usual voice, no matter who was talking, as though the whole world spoke with breathy excitement. Julio’s voice went with the dialogue, rolling into the deep baritone of his father, rising to the indignant tones of his mother, sliding into the smug tartness of his aunt.
“And they truly haven’t spoken since then?” Audra asked.
“Pretty much,” Julio said. “Though at my sister’s wedding last year, Mama went up to Aunt Dominga by the punch bowl and said, ‘I might have guessed you’d wear red—it suits you.’?”
Audra was shaking her head slightly and clucking. “So now,” she said to Graham, “Julio’s mother feels that she must open her home to her brother but she refuses to sleep under the same roof as Aunt Dominga, so she’s moving into Julio’s apartment, which is just a studio and nowhere near big enough, so I told Julio he should just stay with us.”
“Of course,” said Graham, who, for several minutes now, had been secretly fearing that Aunt Dominga was coming to live with them. “Of course. We would be happy to have you.”
That was the truth. Julio was an easy houseguest and Graham was fond of him. And anyway, Graham was so relieved that the terrible news wasn’t that Julio had been fired and was moving away. Graham couldn’t stand to lose anyone else right now.
—
Olivia arrived at the office the next day pulling a suitcase that looked about the size of the love seat in Graham’s living room. Actually, maybe the love seat was a little smaller.
“Phew!” Olivia said, blowing out a breath. Her bangs were stuck to her forehead.
“Going somewhere?” Graham asked.
“To Kentucky to see my parents,” Olivia said, fanning herself with the collar of her blouse. “I have to leave for the airport straight from here. You will not believe how much this thing weighs!”
Graham looked at the suitcase. “How much does it weigh?”
“I have no idea,” Olivia said. “That was just an expression.”
“But, I mean—” Graham paused doubtfully. “Won’t you have to pay a fee for oversize baggage?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Well, if your suitcase is over a certain size, the airlines charge you a fee.”
“They do?” Olivia looked shocked. “How much?”
“About a hundred dollars, typically.”
“A hundred dollars!” Olivia cried, dismayed. “That’s like twenty Frappuccinos!”
“Well, yes.”
“How heavy can it be before they charge you?” Olivia asked.
“Fifty pounds, I think.”
They both regarded her suitcase suspiciously, as though it were an alien spacecraft.
Olivia looked over at Graham. “How much do you think it weighs?”
Graham picked up the suitcase, the tendons in his arm creaking. “More than fifty, I think. You might have to repack.”