Love on the Sound Page 2

  She made her way past the colorful murals of various famous women athletes painted on the outside walls and wound her way up the stairs to the human relations department. One nice thing about Warrior was that the offices were fairly bright and airy, with lots of windows, so her cubicle didn’t seem quite so dismal. Still, she hoped that her two and a half years tenure would soon qualify her for one with a view of the outside world.

  The office was quiet, one of the reasons she loved her hours. She had a half hour before everyone arrived, including her boss, and could wade through her emails and voicemails before the chaos began. Of course, that meant leaving a half hour before everyone else so sometimes the backlog of email from the day before made it not as worthwhile, but Amy still liked having those thirty minutes to allow her foggy brain—never at its best in the morning—to wake up.

  While she waited for her computer to whir and click to life, she sat back in her chair and stretched. Her glance fell on a photo of Kevin she had clipped to her bulletin board. She’d taken it last summer, on a camping trip on the Rogue River in the southern area of the state. The slanting late afternoon sun washed over his hair. His green eyes glowed in the light behind his wire rim glasses, and a lazy smile played at the corner of his mouth. He leaned propped against a boulder, legs crossed at the ankles. She liked the way the photo showed the muscles in arms—he was lean, and on the shorter side, for a guy, at 5’7”—but he was actually pretty built.

  It had been four years ago that they’d met at a music store. He played keyboard and the piano and had been rifling through sheet music, while she had been picking up new strings for her guitar. He’d invited her to an open mic night at the neighborhood café where he played with a few friends. At first, she’d said no, since she had plans with friends already, and he’d told her he worked in City Hall as a staffer to one of the commissioners—she wasn’t looking to date some policy wonk. In the end, her plans fell through, and she figured it was worth checking out the café, more for the chance to get to play than anything else. He talked her into joining them on stage, and then the two of them sat talking over coffee long after his friends left. A year later, they were married.

  She ran a finger over the corner of the photo and sighed. On impulse, she opened up her e-mail program—87 new emails, yikes—and dashed off a quick e-mail. “Sorry if I conjured up my evil twin this morning. Miss you…love you…see you tonight.” That would probably be enough—they kept their emails short since he got paid with taxpayer dollars. Feeling a bit better, she turned to her calendar. A new employee orientation appointment with Sally Lewis at 9:00 a.m., to review the company benefits and policies. Sally had sounded a lot like Cerie on the phone—razor sharp humor and no-nonsense. Amy made a note to see if Cerie wanted to take the new girl out to lunch on their usual Friday trip to Martie’s, a local Italian restaurant down the street. A note to call the insurance company about an employee’s denied claim—and weren’t those always fun? Departmental staff meeting at 11:00 a.m. Bleh. Her boss, Mitch, was nice enough, but tended to go on and on. She hoped that he wouldn’t be in a motivational mood today and require them to summon up fake perky enthusiasm or do some sort of team bonding exercise.

  It was 8:45 before she finally tore herself away from the emails—she’d gotten through almost all of the original 87, but like rabbits, they kept multiplying and now she had twenty more that had come in while she’d been dealing with the others. She was pulling together the requisite forms in preparation for her meeting with Sally when Cerie sauntered into her cubicle.

  “Look what I found at reception.” She laid a tissue wrapped bouquet of pure white spider mums mixed with leafy ferns and regal blue irises on Amy’s desk, and tapped the paper with a long, purple coated fingernail. “Are those just-because-I-love-you flowers or the honey-I’m-sorry-for-being-a-total-asshole variety?”

  Amy softened at the sight of the blooms. She tilted her head back and gave her friend a wry smile. “I guess he wasn’t really a complete asshole…but yes, the latter.”

  Cerie gave a full-throated laugh and shook her head, close-cropped dark curls gleaming under the fluorescent lights. “Honey, if you say he isn’t an asshole now, then the flowers worked. And, you haven’t even opened the card yet.”

  “What can I say? I’m a sucker for flowers.” Amy picked up the card and glanced at Cerie, whose ebony skin didn’t show the slightest signs of sweat from her work out. Her satin jacket cinched at the waist and screamed hot pink—something Amy would never have dared, or even wanted to wear, but it looked perfect on Cerie’s petite frame. “Someday you’ll have to tell me how you can work out like a demon and come in here not even out of breath or disheveled at all.”

  “It’s no mystery.” Cerie rolled her eyes. “It’s called a shower.”

  “I know, I know. But whenever I have to do my makeup and hair in someplace other than my own bathroom, it never looks the same.”

  “It’s a hassle,” she allowed. “But I need to get my fat ass in shape.”

  “You’re not fat,” Amy said. She pulled the card out and saw Kevin’s familiar scrawl: “Dear Evil Twin, I’ll leave the light on for you tonight. Love, The Asshole.”

  Laughing, Amy felt herself relax, the nagging worry at the back of her mind slipping away. She filled Cerie in on the argument from the night before.

  “I’ve had that exact same fight before.” Cerie nodded. “It’s no fun. But, he’s a good guy, your Kevin.”

  “Yeah, he is. Look, I have to go for a new employee meeting—Sally Lewis in Marketing. Mind if I invite her to lunch with us today? She sounded relatively sane, and she made a joke about Bert.” Amy referred to one of the middle managers, universally disliked by most employees, but especially by the human relations department, whom he called almost daily to fix everything about his job and his life.

  “Already? She’s a quick learner, that one. Sure, invite her along.” Cerie paused on her way out. “Want me to put those in some water for you so you won’t be late?”

  “That’d be great, thanks.” Amy gathered up her files and took a last look at the flowers before she headed down the hall. Kevin was going to get very lucky tonight.

  ***

  At 4:25, Amy let out a deep breath and started to close down the multiple programs open on her computer. It had been a busy day, as Fridays often were in her department—finalizing job postings, dealing with questions from employees who’d been meaning to call all week but had put it off until the last day and now wanted to cross it off their to-do list before the weekend. She noticed one e-mail open as she was about to close her program, and pulled it up. The message area was blank, but it was addressed to Kevin, with the subject line of “Thanks.” Crap. She’d meant to e-mail him a thank you for the flowers and had opened it up right after she got back from her meeting with Sally, but one thing had led to another. She debated briefly, then decided she’d see him in person soon enough. She’d thank him then. A smile toyed with her lips. In fact, maybe she would thank him by visiting the cute lingerie store over on NE Broadway before he got home. If she took the light rail, she could make it over there in fifteen minutes and probably be back by 5:30. He’d be home by then, and he’d get to see her walk in with the bag, and then he’d wonder all evening what she’d bought.

  Amy grinned and logged out of her computer, the thought of new, lacy lingerie perking her right up. It was almost as good as buying new shoes. She breezed out of the office, popping into a cubicle here and there to say goodbye, before speeding down to her bike. Outside, it was already beginning to get dark, and dull gray clouds gathered in an ominous huddle in the eastern part of the sky. Amy hopped on her bike and pedaled to the light rail station, only a few blocks away. As soon as she wheeled her bike onto the train, fat drops of rain began to plop down, slowly at first. By the time she reached the Lloyd district, it was pattering steadily down, and it was dark enough that she changed her plans and opted for the lingerie store in the mall, just steps away from the ligh
t rail station, rather than having to ride for fifteen minutes in the rain.

  Once inside, she lingered in the store, trying to decide between a slinky, lacy black camisole and panties, complete with garter belt, or a silk, hunter green chemise that frilled out at the bottom. When in doubt, go with slinky, she decided. She started to browse the underwear—on sale!—but thoughts of the cold, rainy night and her ride home made her reconsider. That, and the horde of giggling teenage girls clustered in a mob around the lacy underwear display. Thirteen-year-olds should not be wearing sexy, lacy underwear anyway, Amy thought as she stood impatiently in line and watched them. God, they made her feel old.

  Outside, the rain was coming down harder, and the sky had darkened to a deep, almost black, despite the fact it was only a bit after 5:00. When she got on the train, she checked her phone. Kevin had texted her around 4:30. “Mtg a bit late but will bhm soon.” He’d probably still beat her home, since the light rail was packed with bike riders like her who didn’t want to brave the rain.

  Luckily, they didn’t live far from the light rail station, and her poncho protected her from the worst of it, but Amy was shivering and her face was wet with rain by the time she pedaled onto their street. Her stomach sunk a bit when their house came into view, quiet and dark. No porch light. She wheeled her bike onto the covered porch and stripped off her rain gear, leaving it draped over the porch swing. She grabbed her flowers from the basket and shouldered her backpack.

  The house felt all the more quiet in the darkness. Lonely. Amy headed straight to the thermostat and flipped it up to near 70. He’d be home soon, she told herself. If he sent the text at 4:30, the meeting might have finished at 5:00. She checked her watch. Almost 5:45. So any minute now, he’d be walking in. She debated about changing into her newly purchased lingerie and surprising him when he walked in. But, damn, she was cold.

  Instead, she ducked outside onto their back porch, where a covered overhang protected a cord of firewood. She wrestled a few logs inside and then gathered up the kindling. She sat in front of the fireplace, waiting for the newspaper and kindling to catch and watched as the flames began to lick higher and higher. Dumping a few logs on top, she closed the grate and sat back, enjoying the warmth and the crackle as the fire began to eat away at the wood. Once she’d started to thaw out, she decided to light the many candles she had scattered around the living room before she put the matches away. She put his flowers in water and set them on the mantle.

  The clock read 6:15 now. Amy checked her phone to see if she’d missed a call from Kevin while she was out getting the firewood. No messages, no texts. It was starting to seem uncomfortably like a repeat of last night, but she reined in her temper. He said he’d be home soon, she reminded herself. Probably he was regretting his offer to make dinner and was stopping to pick up some take out, maybe from her favorite Thai place.

  As the minutes ticked by, her stomach began to growl. The candles flickered against the walls, and the fire popped cheerfully as she sat on the couch trying to read the newspaper. Trying to pretend she wasn’t watching the clock, waiting. She read the same paragraph over three times before throwing the paper down in disgust. 6:45.

  Disappointment settled heavily over her, tears pricking at the back of her throat. She looked up at the mantle at the flowers and felt like hurling them against the wall. He’d promised. He knew how important it was to her, and still, he was at his damn job. Just like you thought he would be. Too angry to even speak, she fired off a text message to him.

  “WTF. It’s 6:45. Where r u?”

  There was no reply.

  It was a little after 7:00 when the doorbell rang. Amy considered ignoring it—she was not in the mood to deal with a sales pitch. Still, she peered through the peephole in case it was one of her neighbors and saw the uniformed officers outside. It wasn’t too unusual to see cop cars in her neighborhood—just a few months ago the area had been cordoned off while they searched for a breaking and entering suspect. She hoped there hadn’t been another break-in. She swung open the door, and the officers—a petite woman with short, dark hair, and a tall man in his late forties with a bald spot—held up their badges.

  “Can I help you?” she asked curiously.

  “Are you Amy Malone?” the male cop asked.

  “Yes.” Amy arched a brow. Now she was really curious.

  “I’m Officer Ashley, and this is my partner, Officer Ryan,” he said. “May we come in?”

  A frisson of dread settled to rest in her stomach. She gripped the door and fought against an irrational urge to tell them no. “What’s this about?”

  The two officers looked at each other. “We’d rather come inside, ma’am,” Officer Ryan said.

  And just like that, she saw it in their faces, saw the way their mouths were etched in grim lines, in the uneasy stiffness of their body posture. Kevin. She backed away from the door, away from them. They followed, and she kept backing up to the living room entrance. She placed a hand on the arched entryway for balance. He was hurt. They would take her to the hospital. Yes, that was it.

  “Do you know a Kevin Malone?” Officer Ashley asked.

  She lifted a hand and pressed it over her pounding heart. “He’s my husband.” Suddenly she found it difficult to take a breath. She gulped in air. No. “Is he hurt? Where is he? In the hospital?”

  “I’m very sorry, Mrs. Malone. There was an accident. A driver in a SUV was turning right and didn’t see your husband in the adjacent bike lane.” Officer Ryan paused, her dark eyes somber. “Paramedics arrived on the scene and tried to revive him, but he sustained massive injuries. I’m very sorry, but your husband is dead.”

  Amy sagged against the entryway and clutched at the wall. One of them was talking at her, but the words went above her head. It wasn’t real. How could it be real? The policewoman was moaning—for God’s sake, it wasn’t her husband who died. It wasn’t her husband who had been left lying in the rain. It was only when Officer Ryan came forward and gently took her arm to lead her to the couch that Amy realized that the sound was coming from her own body.

  “Is there someone we can call?” she heard Officer Ashley saying, as if from a great distance.

  She shook her head and had to concentrate to stop, wanting to just keep shaking, denying. Kevin. That’s who she would call. There was no one else left.

  “A family member? A friend?” Officer Ryan persisted.

  Oh, God. I have to call Jack and Deb, Amy thought. She had to hold it together. His parents deserved to hear it from her coherently, rather than through gulping sobs. She had to call her own parents. Tricia, her sister. His work. So many calls. She took a deep breath. Then another. She wished the police officers gone with every fiber of her being. She hated them, these horrible people who tore her life apart with one simple sentence. It took every ounce of self-control she possessed to reassure them she would indeed, call someone, rather than scream at them to get the fuck out of her house.

  Officer Ryan gave her a card, with a number on it she was to call to make the arrangements, to pick up Kevin’s belongings. Amy shoved the thought away to the back of her mind, put it behind a wall and waited the eternally long minutes until they left. She shut the door behind them and then just stood there, her forehead pressed against the cold, smooth wood. Tears burned hotly in her throat, and she heard her breath start to grow in ragged gasps.

  She didn’t know how long she stood there, but her whole body was cold and shivering when she finally straightened. Her limbs were leaden, stiff as she made her way into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water. She took one sip, then almost gagged on the second. Slowly, she shuffled into the living room and curled up on the couch, pulling the blanket from the back and wrapping it around herself. Amy stared at the phone and gave in. She called Tricia first.

  “Oh, my God.” Her sister’s voice resonated with horror. Amy glanced at the clock and registered with dull surprise almost two hours had passed since the police had knocked on her door
. “Jesus. Amy, I’ll be there. I’m going to catch the first flight up, okay?”

  “Okay,” Amy whispered, almost giving in to the tears. “I have to go. I have to call his parents.”

  “I’ll be there by tomorrow morning,” Tricia promised. “Do you want me to call Mom and Dad?”

  Amy sagged back into the couch cushions. “Yes.”

  “Maybe we can catch the same flight. I’ll go see what I can find right now.”

  “I have to go.” Amy closed her eyes.

  “I know. I love you.”

  “Love you.”

  Amy clicked off. She took a deep breath. Then slowly dialed the numbers to Kevin’s parents, to tell them that their one and only son was dead.

  Much later, Amy set down the phone, the sounds of Deb’s sobs still ringing in her ears, her own tears streaming down her face. The calls to his work, close friends, those could wait until tomorrow. She leaned back against the cushions, hands pressed to her eyes. She could now have a complete breakdown in peace. But, she felt as if all the emotions had been sucked out of her. Her eyes were gritty, her head pounding. It was around the time she usually went to bed, no, she realized when she looked at the clock. It was quite a bit later. So, she would go to bed, she decided. Moving automatically, she banked the fire and closed the grates. Double checked the locks. Turned out the lights. Blew out the candles, now guttering weakly in pools of wax.

  In the bathroom, she brushed her teeth, up down, up down, side to side. She spit out the toothpaste and bent over, the cool stream of water soothing her raw throat. The shower curtain hung open, and she twitched it shut, giving in to her usual childish impulse to peek around it first to make sure no one was hiding in the bathtub, a habit that Kevin made fun of to no end. She stared at the shower. This was where she’d last seen him. Impatiently glancing over her shoulder through the steam. Annoyed with him and wishing he would just leave. Telling him he was letting the cold air in.