"You're going to have to tell me."
Alicia says it quietly, into the bare flesh of Kalinda's shoulder, but Kalinda's ribs freeze up against her chest.
"Is it your husband?"
She hasn't said the word since the night Kalinda said it at the office.
Kalinda nods.
They tumbled back to Kalinda's apartment from the parking garage, and it seems to Alicia that they've been here ever since, even though she must have returned to the office at least once along the way. (Kalinda insisted on her place rather than Alicia's; it was the best way, she said, to keep Alicia's children out of danger, and her tone brokered no argument.) Alicia's memories of these last few days are already foggy—a kiss against her throat here, there a silent orgasm playing out on the canvas of Kalinda's face, Kalinda's hair fanning out loose against Alicia's thigh. Kalinda has a tiny square skin graft at the small of her back, scar tissue striating out from it like an estuary.
Alicia's breathless. Even Will hadn't quite prepared her for this, the feeling that understanding will always be a few paces ahead of her, that she will only be able to catch it by means of another kiss, another night. She knows, just as she knew before she began, how bad an idea the whole affair is, and has guiltily called her children at Peter's early every evening, a move that's puzzled Grace and seemed to irritate Zach.
"We're all right, Mom," he said two nights ago. "We're with Dad. You'll see us Tuesday." And then Alicia hung up and Kalinda greeted her with a kiss that rendered her gelatinous, and until the next morning she forgot what Tuesday was, forgot that a week was broken down into days, forgot that she had a job or a name.
But every night, somewhere between embraces, the phone call has come—the one that leaves Kalinda wordless, biting her lips to whiteness, at least half an hour until Alicia can cajole her back. And tonight Alicia has realized she doesn't want to wait, doesn't want to defer. She doesn't want to let it, or anything else, slide by.
Kalinda's husband. It's still a struggle to picture—Kalinda has been the antithesis of marriage since the moment Alicia met her.
Really, she thinks, gazing down the length of Kalinda's naked and graceful spine, more so right now than ever.
"Does anyone … know?" Alicia says.
"A lot of people know."
"At the firm."
"Diane. No one else."
Alicia rubs a hand along Kalinda's shoulder. "Does he … what does he say to you?"
Kalinda doesn't say anything. She leans back against Alicia, her hair blurring messily at the crook of Alicia's neck.
Alicia strokes her forearm. She makes herself stay patient; she's learned a few things, she thinks, about how to handle Kalinda. "I need to know, Kalinda. If anything happened to you—" For a second the words stick to her throat. She clears them and continues. "I would need to know. What to tell—the police, people. If you were—"
"It won't happen, Alicia. It's not like that." Kalinda's eyes are closed, and her right hand lies on Alicia's left calf. Alicia's chest rises and falls against her back.
"How do you know?"
Kalinda sighs. "He likes to know I'm suffering. That's what the calls are for. If he kills me, I'm out of his hands. It's not what he wants."
The flesh on Kalinda's back is, but for the graft, milky-smooth. Alicia circles her fingers, following the spiderweb lines of tension. "He won't let you go to prison then. Will he?"
Kalinda considers this. "Probably not. But maybe."
Alicia frowns. "It sounds … complicated."
"Yeah."
Alicia has to restrain herself from punching her.
"Do tell," she says.
"It's just what I said." Kalinda pushes against Alicia, her spine hitting Alicia's chest a bit forcefully. Alicia takes the hint and lies back against the pillow, Kalinda coming with her, Alicia's arm still around Kalinda's shoulders. They stare at the shadows on the white, white ceiling. "He likes it when I'm afraid. He always has."
"How old were you?"
"Sixteen."
Alicia thinks of Zach and Nisa, of Grace following that ridiculous kid from the internet down to Englewood and the fear of that day. Kalinda knew how to look for Grace, how to find her, how to bring her home. "How old was he?" she asks.
"Older."
Now Alicia thinks of Zach and that manipulative older girl while Peter was in prison. The condoms, that abortion sign, how easily her son seemed to be played.
Kalinda continues, her voice quiet and expressionless, "I didn't have much choice. Your kids will, Alicia, they do already. You shouldn't worry."
Alicia pulls Kalinda a little closer.
"He was a cop, actually," Kalinda says. "When I first."
Kalinda stops speaking, doesn't finish the sentence. Her mouth trembles, as if she can't quite close it, can't quite get it to move. "He got you out of trouble?" Alicia guesses softly.
"Yeah."
Alicia feels sick. She doesn't know what questions to ask, how to understand this, what there is to understand, and Kalinda's flesh feels colder to the touch. "When did … when did it start?" Alicia says.
"It was always like that," Kalinda says. "It just took me a while to—understand. When he was a cop there was a little, um, you know. Cop friends. Kept him in check. But then after he got shot …" She exhales through her nose.
The curtains are parted—Alicia's not sure when it happened, though she recalls catching her own smug reflection in the window earlier tonight while Kalinda, lips parted and eyes squeezed shut, came beneath her—and the beams from the streetlights downstairs cast long lines along the ceiling. The glare washes out Alicia's skin, yellows Kalinda's.
"He got shot?" Alicia says. She finds it difficult to keep track of what Kalinda is saying.
"Yeah. So he had to retire, and he was … then there usually wasn't anyone else around, and it got … harder. All of it. I … I had to leave."
"Did something happen?"
"No," Kalinda says quickly. "Blake was right. I just got bored."
"Blake?" How did he get into this story?
"He said I got bored." Kalinda shifts, turns slightly away from Alicia. "With my old life."
"When did he say that?"
"Um. When I talked to him, that time." Kalinda kicks the summer-weight quilt off their feet. Alicia feels cool air on her toes. "I thought—thought I told you."
"No." Alicia says it carefully. Blake belongs to a distant past, one of many, that there is no room for in this bed.
"Sorry."
"You just got bored," Alicia repeats incredulously.
Kalinda turns, burrows her head into the flesh of Alicia's chest. "If I'd stayed … I couldn't have. It—it would have been bad." Alicia can barely make out her words, but she feels them bounce against her skin. "Please, Alicia. Really."
Alicia has about a thousand questions, none of which she can ask the woman in her arms. She needs to go back in time, to become the pro bono attorney for this desperate girl—this child, no older than Zach, and Alicia can picture her face, all huge, furious, lost eyes—and show her somehow that there could be other paths, other choices, open to her right there. That she doesn't have to take painful years to unearth them entirely on her own, years that will leave her too brave and too afraid. Instead Alicia lifts the adult Kalinda's chin and kisses her, the musky taste of her lips now familiar, and Kalinda responds with the fierce tenderness that seems to be her trademark. She rolls over onto Alicia, tracing the outlines of her face with one finger, their pointed nipples meeting and rubbing. Alicia still has not gotten over the shock of how light Kalinda is, how tiny.
"Just keep a low profile," Kalinda murmurs, kissing behind Alicia's ear. "Please. Okay?"
"A low profile?" Alicia's confused, laughs a little. Kalinda kisses her lightly mid-laugh, caresses her shoulder. "It's a bit late in my life for that, Kalinda. I'm a scandal wife. And the future First Lady of Illinois. And hasn't Eli Gold ever told you I'm a gay icon?"
"Are you really," Kalinda breathes against her throat.
"It's true!" Alicia says, stroking the back of Kalinda's neck and sighing as Kalinda licks her way along. She'd like to hold Kalinda to her a little longer, but Kalinda seems impatient, hungry, everywhere on Alicia at once, and Alicia's already finding it hard to keep track of the pleasure. Kalinda looks up, smiles for what might be the first time in hours, and pulls Alicia up towards her, taking her lips in a full, delicious kiss.
The sweetness is so pervasive, it takes Alicia a moment to notice that the air in the room has changed. She pulls back from Kalinda and is startled to see, over her lover's shoulder, a man in the bedroom doorway, nodding as he watches them, a light, twisty smile dancing on his lips.