“DON’T HANG UP.“
I was changing, getting ready for gymnastics, when Michael called.
“I can’t talk now, Michael.” Or ever, for that matter.
“Look, that stuff about no more Mr. Nice Guy? I got pissed. You frustrated me and I lost my temper. But you know it was all smoke.”
“It doesn’t matter, Michael. Stop pushing.” “Pushing? Oh, you think I’m calling about Nana’s ring? No, Zoe, I’m calling because I’m worried about you.”
“Really.”
“Christ,” he sighed. “You bet I am, with you and your kid all alone right where all those single women are disappearing.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not single; I’m divorced.”
“You think some lunatic’s going to make the distinction? You’re an unattached woman, that’s all that matters.”
“They were all nannies or babysitters, Michael. Not moms.”
He paused; I was sure he was thinking, “Well, you’re not really Molly’s mom—she’s adopted.” But he didn’t say it. Didn’t dare. “The latest one disappeared right around the corner from you. On Lombard.”
“I heard.” I pulled on a pair of loose corduroy pants.
“How can you be so nonchalant?”
“I’m not. But it’s not like I can do anything about it.” Why was he trying to upset me? “Look, I really can’t talk now.”
“I’m serious, Zoe. Nobody knows if this maniac does strictly babysitters. How big a leap is it from a babysitter to an unmarried woman caring for a kid?”
“Thanks, Michael. That makes me feel real safe.”
“I don’t mean to alarm you. I’m just concerned.”
“That’s sweet. But you don’t need to be. And, like I said, I’ve got to go.”
“What, you got a hot date or somethin’?” His tone was sarcastic, as if the idea were absurd. There was a tiny, awkward pause while he realized that, oh, maybe it wasn’t so absurd; maybe Zoe actually did have a hot date. “Oh, hey. Do you? Is it the same guy? From the other night?” He couldn’t help it, had to ask, and I couldn’t help responding with silence, even though I had nobody to go out with. Nick appeared on the bed, his head on Michael’s pillow. I blinked him from my mind.
“Well, good for you. So. Is he as good-looking as I am?”
“Don’t even start, Michael.” I fluffed the pillow, smoothed the comforter.
Molly wandered in, dressed for gymnastics. “I’m ready, Mommy,” she announced.
“Michael, chatting with you is grand, but I really have to go.”
“Okay, then—oh, by the way, have you thought any more about the ring?” He strained to sound casual.
“Actually, no.”
“Because I’ll give you five thousand for it. You can buy yourself a great new ring for that.”
Was he serious? He sounded desperate, and I felt sorry for him. But I wasn’t going to let him pressure or manipulate me. Not again.
“Or—have it appraised. I’ll pay whatever they say. How about it?”
Women were disappearing, and all Michael could think about was getting a diamond ring. I looked at the clock; it was time to leave. “Let’s talk later, Michael.”
“It’s a fair deal, Zoe. I’m not cheating you.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Promise?”
“Yes. Michael, I’m late.” “Okay, okay. But—Zoe?”
“What?” If he mentioned the ring again, I was going to slam the phone down.
“Just... be careful, okay?”
I was touched. Michael was genuinely concerned about me. “Thanks. I will.”
“And think about the ring? Like I said, I’ll go as high as the appraiser says.”
Before he could say another word, I hung up, breaking the connection, wishing it could be that simple.