Free What the Light Hides by Mette Jakobsen Page B

security chains into place.
    ‘We had a break-in last week,’ says Neil and he leads the way to the living room. Maria disappears into the kitchen.
    The dining table is set. Tea lights flicker in glasses. The table was a wedding present from Vera and me, made of ebony to match Maria’s piano. It has a star-shaped inlay in its centre.
    I hand Neil the bottles.
    He inspects the labels. ‘Good choice, bro,’ he says.
    ‘A break-in?’ I ask, as I sit at the table.
    Neil unscrews all three bottles, then pulls out a chair and sits across from me. He lowers his voice, pouring us each a glass. ‘We had a man walk into the house. Maria surprised him and then he left. End of story. But she’s not taking it well. I’ve put an extra lock on the door, but she can’t seem to get past it. Please don’t bring it up. Let’s have a good time together,’ he says. ‘We all need it.’
    Maria appears with a tray of sliced lamb on a mountain of roasted vegetables. ‘What do we need?’ She puts the tray down.
    Neil puts an arm around her. ‘Time together,’ he says. ‘And that takes three bottles?’ she asks.
    ‘They need to breathe, baby. We can always put the caps back on,’ says Neil.
    I look at Maria and wonder if Neil has actually noticed how much her appearance has changed. She looks like she hasn’t slept in weeks.
    ‘Please start, David,’ she says. ‘I’ll be right back.’
    ‘Where’s Jared?’ I ask and help myself before passing the tray to my brother.
    ‘He fell asleep about an hour ago,’ says Neil.
    I catch a glimpse of the red slippery dip in the backyard as I help myself to the food.
    Maria returns with a bowl of string beans.
    ‘Jared had Little League this afternoon,’ she says and sits down.
    ‘He’s still playing baseball?’
    ‘Yes,’ says Maria. ‘He’s good too.’
    Neil sends her a warning look.
    She throws up her hands. ‘What? For goodness sake, Neil. Surely we’re allowed to talk about Jared.’
    Neil doesn’t look at her. Instead he lifts his glass and drinks.
    ‘The food is delicious,’ I say. And it’s true. Maria has always been a great cook.
    Then we make small talk. It’s mostly just Neil and me doing the talking. We discuss the advantages of living in the city versus the country. We talk about the introduction of creative courses into universities and whether or not it is appropriate. We talk about Shaggy, my mate from uni, who became a surfer instead of an academic. And we drink. We don’t mention Ben or why I am staying in the city. And all the while Maria is quiet. Something is not right, but I don’t know how to address it.
    Neil pours more wine.
    Maria shakes her head when he leans over to pour her another glass. ‘Any more and I won’t be able to get us dessert.’ She collects the plates, then leaves the living room.
    I stand up.
    ‘She doesn’t want help,’ says Neil.
    ‘I’m going to ask her anyway,’ I say and wonder when he became so old-fashioned.
    I carry the tray across the hall, but stop short in the kitchen doorway. Maria is leaning against the bench. Her eyes are closed. Something in her body has gone loose. The apron that made her look so capable just a moment ago suddenly looks like an abandoned prop. Her breathing is shallow, her face is flushed, and I wonder for a moment if this is what she looks like when she makes love. I am about to leave when she opens her eyes. They are full of fear. ‘David?’ she says.
    ‘Are you all right?’ I step closer.
    ‘Yes.’ She takes a deep breath, then turns and puts the stacked plates into the empty sink. She reaches for the kettle and fills it. ‘Did you want coffee or tea?’
    I search for another way of asking her what’s going on, but nothing comes to mind. ‘Coffee, please,’ I say.
    Something is obviously wrong. And Maria never wears black—she is fond of colour. I remember her wearing a bright blue dress at Ben’s funeral. Later she told me that Ben once said the colour reminded him