I became intimate with the mother of my best friend. My intention was to rescue her from a life of solitude. But in the end, it was I who found myself captivated by her charm. Her name was Elena. I truly saw her for the first time on a tranquil afternoon in early autumn. It wasn’t our first meeting, but it was the first time I perceived her profound beauty. She was my best friend, Michael’s mother, a woman who moved with a quiet grace through the halls, a cup of tea in her hand, her gaze often distant, as if the world held no new wonders for her.
Michael was away on a ski trip with college friends. I was housesitting, a frequent escape from my cramped apartment one town over. I was warming a slice of pizza when the phone buzzed with an unfamiliar number. I nearly ignored it, but some impulse made me answer. Luke, it’s Elena, Michael’s mom. Her voice was hesitant, but carried a note of urgency. I’m sorry to call you like this, but there’s something making a racket in the basement. I think it’s some kind of animal.
