Page 36 of The House Across the Lake
It makes me worry it’ll happen again.
The only thing I’m certain of is that I regret ever picking up these binoculars and watching the Royces. I knew it was wrong. Just like I knew that if I kept watching, I was eventually going to see something I didn’t want to see.
Because I wasn’t spying on just one person.
I was watching a married couple, which is far more complex and unwieldy.
What is marriage but a series of mutual deceptions?
That’s a line fromShred of Doubt. Before I was fired, I spoke it eight times a week, always getting an uneasy laugh from audience members who recognized the truth behind it. No marriage is completely honest. Each one is built on some type of deception, even if it’s something small and harmless. The husband pretending to like the sofa his wife picked out. The wife who watches her husband’s favorite show even though she quietly despises it.
And sometimes it’s bigger.
Cheating. Addiction. Secrets.
Those can’t stay hidden forever. At some point, the truth comes out and all those carefully arranged deceptions topple like dominoes. Is that what I just saw in the Royce house? A marriage under pressure finally imploding?
In the living room, Tom stands and crosses to the sideboard bar. He grabs a bottle of honey-colored liquid and splashes some into a glass.
Above him, a light goes on in the master bedroom, revealing Katherine moving behind the gauzy curtains. I grab my phone when I see her, not thinking about what I’ll say. I simply call.
Katherine answers with a hushed, husky “Hello?”
“It’s Casey,” I say. “Is everything okay over there?”
There’s nothing on Katherine’s end. Not a breath. Not a rustle. Just a blip of silence before she says, “Why wouldn’t things be okay?”
“I thought I—”
I barely manage to stop the word about to careen off my tongue.
Saw.
“I thought I heard something at your house,” I say. “And I just wanted to know if you’re okay.”
“I’m fine. See.”
My body goes numb.
Katherine knows I’ve been watching.
I guess I shouldn’t be this surprised. She’s been in this very same rocking chair, looking at her house through the same pair of binoculars now sitting next to me.
I’d totally watch my house, she said, subtly indicating she knew I was watching, too.
But there’s nothing subtle about this. Now she’s outright telling me to look.
The sheer curtains in the master bedroom part, and I scramble for the binoculars. At the window, Katherine waves. Because she’s mostly cloaked in shadow, I can’t see her face.
Or if she’s smiling.
Or if the fear I noticed earlier is still in her eyes.
All I can see is her still-waving silhouette until that, too, stops. Katherine’s hand drops to her side, and after standing at the window for another second, she backs away and leaves the room, hitting the light switch on her way out.
Directly below that, Tom has finished his drink. He stands there a moment, staring into the empty glass, looking like he’s considering having another.
Then his arm rears back and he flings the glass.
