'Some weekend reading for you.' Holly awkwardly clattered into my office on Friday afternoon with a heavy bundle of folders. She slammed them onto the desk, knocking the photo of Esti, Daniel and me onto its front. 'Flare Fest forms, hotel details, information pack. Plus, our past entries for you to research in case we get any questions – you've never been to Flare before have you? Anyway, there's also this year's focus and a detailed explanation of why we're singlehandedly leading the way in international social justice with photography – for your speech. It's all about those controversial photos of the kids in those Guatemalan slums, story broke last year – do you remember that?'
'There's a speech?''
'Dear,' Holly giggled and turned to leave. 'It's all in the pack.'
She left the smell of her perfume wafting in my office, it was grotesquely overpowering and caught the back of my throat; I had to open the window. I started to put the folders into my bag when I received a text from Esti.
Dovid's picking Daniel up this evening at 7. Is that okay? I've told him our address.
I replied instantly.
That's perfect. I might miss him, as I'll be in prison for murdering Holly.
I finished putting the folders away; they made my bag feel like I was carrying a fucking tonne of bricks. My phone vibrated.
That's fine. As long as they allow conjugal visits. X
I laughed and put my phone back down; I thought about her for a while afterwards. I thought about her a lot now. I thought about the shape of her face, her eyes, her lips. I thought about each freckle or mole on her body, the way her forehead crinkled when she was nervous or sad, the way her teeth shone when she smiled and the dimples in her cheeks when she laughed. I thought about her feet, her hands, her neck and shoulders, how her spine curved... I thought about all of her. I sighed and turned back to my computer; though Esti stayed in my mind all afternoon.
Oh god, what have I done?
I panicked as I sat on the busy tube, hurtling through the tunnels on my way home, clutching a black, paper giftbag to my chest. I checked my watch, it was only 6:15pm. That was good; Dovid would be a while yet. I lumbered home from the station, the weighty folders in the bag presenting me with a stabbing pain in my neck, all the while holding the black bag to me. Christ, what was Esti going to say?
I opened the doors and it smelt like home, my heart thudded a little harder.
'You're back early.' Esti peered over from the kitchen as I took my shoes and coat off. 'What's wrong? You're as pale as-'
'Where's Daniel?'
'He's... playing in his room.' She was drying her hands with a tea towel. 'What's wrong Ronit?'
'Nothing. But can we... talk... in the bedroom?'
'You're scaring me.'
'Don't be scared, don't be. It's not scary.'
'What's in that bag?' She pointed to the bag I was still grasping, as though my life depended on keeping it pressed to my chest.
'That's – that's what I need to talk to you about.'
Her forehead wrinkled. 'Okay.'
We got into the bedroom, she had lit a candle that smelt like vanilla pods and my stomach flipped.
'Can you close the door?'
'Not fully, in case Daniel...' She replied, still frowning. 'Ronit, what's wrong?'
