Jeff Lindsay - Dexter's Final Cut

I wondered if anyone ever really got used to living like this. It didn’t seem possible; weren’t we all made to sweat and suffer and endure painful hardship as we toiled endlessly in the vile cesspit of life on earth? How did sharp cheese, fresh strawberries, and utter luxury fit in with that?

I looked at Jackie. She didn’t look like she had ever set foot in the vile cesspit. She still looked fresh, composed, and perfectly at home in this opulent setting, like a demigoddess lounging around Olympus. It was a very sharp contrast to the scene that had greeted me at my house a little earlier.

I had left Jackie at headquarters with Deborah and gone home to get a toothbrush and a change of clothes. After all, even bodyguards should practice good hygiene. I went to my bedroom and pulled out a blue nylon gym bag. I put some socks and underwear in; funny-the last time I had used the bag, I had filled it with duct tape and a few casual blades and gone for an evening of light merriment with a brand-new friend, a charming man who lured young women out on his boat and somehow always came back alone. I had helped him learn that it wasn’t nice to treat others as disposable toys-learn it by helping him become disposable himself. It had been a real pleasure to work with him, a thoroughly enjoyable evening. Had that really been three whole months ago?

My fond reverie was shattered by a great crashing sound from the front door, followed immediately by a shrill nasal howling, an inhuman sound that could only be Astor in full preteen snit. Rita’s voice rose up to meet it, the door slammed even louder, and then there was a flurry of foot stomping, shouting, and another, closer door slam.

Rita came into the bedroom with Lily Anne under her arm, the baby’s day-care bag over one shoulder and her own purse on the other. Her face was red, shiny with sweat, and the frown lines around her mouth looked like they had suddenly become permanent. And it hit me that she no longer looked like the picture of her I had been carrying around in my head. She had aged, and for some reason I was seeing it for the first time.

“Oh, Dexter, you’re home early,” she said, thrusting Lily Anne at me. “Can you change her, please? Astor is absolutely- I don’t know what to do.”

Lily Anne burbled at me happily and called out, “Dadoo!” and I carried her over to the changing table as Rita threw the bags on the bed.

“Oh,” Rita said. I glanced over at her; she was holding up my gym bag. “But this is- I mean, you can’t-”

“Wonderful news,” I said, taking a very wet diaper off Lily Anne. “I have a chance to make a lot of money-enough to pay for a new pool cage at the new house.”

“But that’s- Do you know how much they cost?” She shook her head, and a drop of sweat flew off her face and hit my gym bag.

“Doesn’t matter,” I said. I threw the wet diaper away and reached for the baby wipes. “I will make that much and more.”

“Doing what?”

I hesitated-not just because Jackie’s need for a bodyguard was confidential, but also because it suddenly seemed like a good idea not to tell Rita I would be cooped up with a beautiful movie star for several nights. “It’s confidential,” I said. I wiped Lily Anne thoroughly and reached for a fresh diaper.

Rita was silent. I looked up at her. She was frowning, and the lines in her forehead looked very deep. A limp, damp strand of hair fell down across the lines. She pushed it back. “Well, but …” she said. “I mean, is it legal? Because …” She shook her head again.

“Perfectly legal,” I said. “And very well paid.” I fastened the new diaper and picked up the baby. “Deborah said she would call and talk to you about it.”

“Oh, well,” she said. “If Deborah is- But can’t you tell me what it is?”

“Sorry,” I said.

“It’s just, there’s so much right now,” Rita said. “Moving day is coming-and Astor is being completely …” She dropped my gym bag and crossed her arms over her chest. “I mean, Dexter …” she said.

“I know,” I said, which was a lie, since I didn’t know, because she hadn’t finished a sentence yet. “But it’s just for a few days, and we can really use the extra money.”

For a long moment Rita just looked at me. Her face was like a mask of uncertain misery, and she seemed to sag all over. I wondered what she was thinking that could make her look so much like a damp and tattered dish rag. She gave me no clues, but she finally said, “Well … We really could use some extra money.…”

“Exactly,” I said. I handed Lily Anne back to her and picked up my gym bag. “So I will see you in just a few days?”

“You’ll call me?” she said.

“Of course,” I told her, and she leaned forward and gave me a sweaty kiss on the cheek.

“All right,” she said.

And now here I was in the lap of luxury, far from the hooting and screeching and dirty socks of my normal domestic life. It probably wasn’t fair to compare, of course, which was a good thing. This hotel made even my new, swimming-pooled house seem squalid-made my whole little life seem just a bit less bright and shiny.

I watched Jackie. She was lifting a large red strawberry off the platter and she looked as fresh and perfect as a human being can look. It definitely wasn’t fair to compare her to Rita.

“The seafood is very good here,” Jackie said, biting the end off the strawberry. She swallowed and licked her lips. “I guess it should be.” She smiled and sipped from her own mojito. “You probably get great seafood all the time,” she said.

“Actually, I don’t,” I said. “The kids won’t eat it.”

“Kids,” she said, and she gave me a strange and quizzical look.

“What?” I said.

Jackie shook her head. “Nothing. It’s just … you seem so, um.” She fluttered one hand while she took another sip of the drink. “I don’t know,” she said, putting the glass on the table. “So … independent? Self-contained? I mean, I don’t really know you that well, and maybe I’m being, um …” She touched my arm, very lightly, and then took her hand away again. “Tell me if I’m being too personal,” she said. “I just got this feeling like I know you? And it seems like, you know.” She reached for a slice of kiwi fruit. “Like you are complete all by yourself. It’s hard for me to picture you with kids.”

“It’s even harder for me,” I said, and Jackie laughed. It was a nice sound.

“What’s your wife like?” she asked.

“What, Rita?” I said. The question took me just a little bit by surprise. “Why, she’s, um.” Jackie watched me, unblinking, and from the hours of daytime drama I have watched in order to understand human behavior, I knew that I was supposed to say something flattering about Rita, since she was, after all, my wife. And I thought about it, thought about how worn she had looked earlier, and I tried to think of a nice phrase for her, but all that came to mind was that I was used to her, that she was blind to my harmless little foibles with knives and felons, and that didn’t seem to be what the situation demanded. I thought some more. Jackie kept looking at me. The expectant silence grew, and in desperation I finally said, “She’s a terrific cook.”

Jackie tilted her head to one side and kept looking at me until I began to wonder whether I had said something wrong. “That’s kind of funny,” she said at last.

“What?”

A small smile flickered on and then off her face. “If you ask most guys about their wife, the first thing they say is, ‘Oh, she’s really beautiful, wonderful.’ Something like that. And you think about it forever and all you come up with is, ‘She’s a good cook’?”