Read Online The Forms of Water by Andrea Barrett - Free Book Online Page B

“We have things to do. I’m
moving,
in case you’ve forgotten.”
    Brendan cut smoothly and gently into her angry speech: “Where to?” he asked. He might have been talking, Henry thought, to one of the strangers at his stoplight.
    â€œWhere to?” Kitty said mockingly. “Lise was able to find me an apartment in her complex. Two stories, a little patio with a bit of grass all my own. I’m sure I’ll be very comfortable.”
    â€œTwin Oaks?” Henry said. “You’re moving there?”
    â€œYou have a better idea?”
    â€œLet’s go in the kitchen,” Henry said. “Please? We need to talk.”
    He strode off, hoping Kitty would follow. Behind him Brendan said, “Henry? You know we ought to get going,” and then, as Henry turned the corner, “We can go in a minute, I guess. I’ll just sit here and talk to Lise …”
    Kitty followed Henry. “What are you doing here?” she said. “I asked you not to come … and what in the world are you doing with Brendan?”
    Her voice was so biting that he realized he couldn’t safely tell her the truth about anything. She twisted his words; she twisted his every move. She hates me, he thought with surprise. He couldn’t remember anyone ever hating him before.
    â€œI’m bringing him over to Wiloma’s,” he lied. “She and the kids wanted to see him. Then we’re all going out to dinner. The Home loaned us the van.” He hoped Kitty wouldn’t remember that he wasn’t supposed to be driving. She glared at him, waiting for something more. “I thought I’d just swing by here, since I was out,” he said lamely. “I need to pick up a couple of things, some extra blankets, some clothes I forgot …”
    Kitty wrapped glasses silently. She had always been able to wait him out, wait until his nervous voice filled the silence and he hung himself. He forced himself to change the subject: “How are the girls?”
    â€œLike you care.”
    â€œYou know I do—you know this is killing me. You think I like seeing you forced out of our house?”
    â€œYour
house,” Kitty said bitterly.
“Your
house,
your
development,
your
stupid, stupid projects—when was any of it ever
ours?
When did you ever think about what the girls and I might want?”
    This was so manifestly unjust that Henry stared at her. He had always, always, done everything for her and the girls—all his work, all his buildings and projects and plans and dreams. “That’s not fair,” he said. “If Coreopsis Heights hadn’t failed—I was trying to make something for all of us, make enough money so that you and the girls would be really secure, so you could do whatever you wanted.” He had said this before, he thought. Or something like this—he had told his sister, years ago, that he couldn’t stay in Coreopsis while Da was sick because he had to go make enough money to save them all.
    â€œAnd Anita?” Kitty said. “What was that?”
    â€œA mistake. I made some mistakes. Can’t a man make a mistake now and then?”
    â€œI heard you’re working at a box factory. Another mistake?”
    â€œIt’s just temporary. It’s what the employment agency had. It’s just until I get back on my feet and we get all of this straightened out.”
    â€œDon’t kid yourself,” Kitty said, whacking silverware into a box.
“We
—we aren’t straightening anything out.
We
aren’t a
we
anymore. I’m moving Wednesday, and once I get out of this place and the lawyers finish up,
we
aren’t going to see each other again. Not if I can help it.”
    Henry backed away from her, wondering when she’d gotten so mean. “I’ll just go get what I need,” he said.
    â€œYou do that.” Kitty tore open another cabinet and began stacking