The First Husband

Still, I tried to think of something supportive to say—something to get both of us out of our heads. But, the truth was, I was feeling judgmental of Jesse. And that wasn’t the only problem. This was the first time since I’d met Griffin that I was aware there was something I didn’t know how to say to him.

Griffin turned onto his side to face me, resting his hand on his elbow.

“They just don’t have anywhere else to go right now,” he said. “I mean, I guess they could go stay at my mother’s in New York City, but Jesse hasn’t really told her what’s going on yet. He doesn’t want to deal with her reaction and I can’t say I exactly blame him for that.”

“I get it,” I said.

And I did. From what Griffin had told me about his mother. She was a geology professor at New York University. A fitting profession being that she was so steady for the family, filling the house with so much love. But while she was apparently incredibly loving, she was also incredibly emotional. Especially when it came to her sons. And high emotions right now wouldn’t help anything.

“He just needs some time to sort this all out. And with the twins going to a kindergarten near here for now and Jesse feeling good about that . . .” Griffin said. “I don’t know if I feel right asking them to leave right now.”

“No.” I shook my head, gaining some resolve. “No, of course not. I’d never ask you to do that. I’d never ask you to ask him to leave. He’s your brother. And he needs you.”

“But you’re my wife,” he said. “And so do you.”

He wrapped his arm tightly around me, so I could hear that that mattered to him too.

“I’ll be fine,” I said. “I promise you.”

“This is just such a bad time for all of this, you know? We just got here. We’re trying to settle in. You’re trying to get used to everything. It’s just such a bad time. . . .”

I moved closer to him. “Griffin,” I said, “I’m not sure there is ever a good time to move in with your brother because you got a woman pregnant. Really not sure that’s ever making it on to a greeting card.”

Griffin laughed, kissing me sweetly on the forehead. “You’ve got a point there,” he said.

“We’ll be fine,” I said. “We’ll just, you know, have to lock the door when we have sex.”

“And make sure the sheet is secure,” he said.

I smiled.

Then that was what he did.

11

I woke up the next morning disoriented and more than a little confused. It wasn’t unlike when you take a nap in the afternoon and wake up in the evening, no daylight left to help you out, the scrambling starting in your mind: Why am I asleep right now? What day is it? Am I home?

Part of the reason for my confusion was that Griffin’s bedroom was still so dark—middle-of- the-night dark—due to the brown, floor-length curtains that apparently could keep out all forms of light. It was probably not a bad system for a chef who often needed to sleep during weird hours. But as I started coming to, I didn’t like not knowing what time it was, whether I had even made it through the night yet. Why Griffin was gone.

I flipped over onto my stomach, pushed a thick curtain out of the way, and peeked beyond it, out into the world. The winter sun was streaming in hard and fast. It was so strong, in fact, that it reminded me of a California morning. I put my hand on the windowpane, waiting for warmth to hit my palm, but it was ice-cold. Burning me. The little thermometer on the pane’s edge weighing in a minute too late at a whopping six degrees.

I got out of bed, threw on sweatpants and an extra pair of socks, and headed downstairs to the kitchen, where I found Jesse and the twins at the kitchen table, having breakfast. Jesse was dressed in a wrinkled suit, working hard on tying a tie around his neck while the twins focused on eating their Eggo waffles. Or, rather, Dexter was focused on sticking his tongue through the circle he’d made in the middle of his waffle, and on spinning the waffle around his face. Sammy, meanwhile, was stuffing his waffle into the watering can. The maple syrup—or what was left of it—was in two puddles beneath their feet.

“Good morning,” I said.

Jesse looked up and smiled at me in the doorway. “Hey there, sis-in-law,” he said.

“Hey there,” I said, still standing

in place, somewhat awkwardly. My feet, even through the socks, were getting pretty cold on the wooden floor. So, while I was trying to stay still, I was also moving from one foot to another.

“You like coffee?” Jesse asked.

“Only the first four cups I have each day,” I said. “The fifth starts to lose me.”

“Then you’re at the right place, come sit for a minute,” he said. “We’ve got some great freaking coffee.”

He pointed with his tie in the direction of the thin, silver thermos in the middle of the table. His proof.