Choose Me

Zoe stood in Douglas's bedroom, the one he shared with his wife. Outside the wood-framed window the afternoon was silver, the sky the shine of the inside of an oyster shell. Snow drifted through the air, and narrow icicles hung from the trees. The houses dwindling down the block were heritage properties, fronted in brick and stained glass; each resembled the house she was inside.

Douglas had invited her in so calmly. After she set down her bags in the hall with its high ceilings and polished floors, he pushed the keys to his home into her hand, two skeleton keys dangling from a loop of twisted wire. Then he motioned her back out onto porch, where he wrapped his fingers around hers, demonstrating how to work the locks. Their breath showed in front of them, but his hand pulsed with warmth. She learned to shove the keys in smoothly, to jiggle them, to listen for the muffled internal click that signified the lock had been turned.

"Will you remember this?"

He repeated the code to the burglar alarm by the door, half-concealed by the winter coats hanging on the wooden rack.

"Yes. I think I'll remember."

His wife appeared on the landing at the top of the stairs.

"Ellen, this is our visiting poet, Zoe. She's been on campus all week working with the students, and I thought it'd be nice for her to stay in a real home before she leaves, especially since we won't be here."

Ellen came down the first flight of stairs, bending to extend her hand; her arm was long, her palm warm.

"Welcome."

Zoe held his wife's hand in her own and swallowed past the catch in her throat. His wife continued to lean down from the landing, bending her body from the waist, one hand holding the railing, the other clasping Zoe's as though to help her up. Douglas kept his eyes fastened on Ellen's face. Their two children were clamouring around her, tugging and demanding; the girl jumped up and down, whining, while the boy pulled down his trousers to reveal buttocks as smooth as cream.

"Jason, I said no. Look, we have a guest. Say hello, Jason, say hello to Zoe."

The boy ignored her, burying his face in his mother's thigh, squirming his bare bum in the air while his sister hid behind them both.

"Zoe will be staying here while we're at the cabin. You've got to be good and say hello."

After a while, just when it seemed he could not be persuaded, Jason lifted his face and grinned winningly. His eyes were like his father's, only clearer, the colour of amber.

"Hello. Hello!" he shouted.

Douglas pressed the keys once more into her palm. She looked at him then in a moment of terror, the weight and light of the house around her suddenly there for her to both protect and invade. He sensed her fear, mistook it for concern about burglar alarms, difficult locks, the house burning down.

"Got it?"

He repeated the code again.

"Is everything all right? Are you happy?"

He had given her the keys, his hands were empty. At the top of the stairs his wife was saying, "No, no, no," to the children. "No, you can't bring that. Look, you already have so much."

"I'm happy."

She stood in the doorway and watched him leave with his family. Ellen was weighted with the children's clothes, warm and puffy jackets that were awkward in her arms. Jason and Julia ran ahead, the tops of their heads bright and new in the winter light. Douglas paused before following them; he placed both his hands on Zoe's upper arms and kissed her on the cheek.

"One more."

He kissed her on the other cheek just as she was pulling away.

She looked over his shoulder and caught the blur of Ellen's face. She felt the sudden tension, her body electric with watchfulness. But the moment passed quickly -- it was only a kiss, friendly, sociable. Ellen beamed and waved.

"Have a good time!"

"You too!"

She eased the door shut, the house was hers.