When Emily picked up, I rose from my seat, inexplicably nervous. I walked toward the fence that lined the perimeter.
"Hello?"
"Hey there," I said. "It's me, Russ."
"What's going on? You doing okay?"
"I'm fine," I said. "Just missing London and had to get out of the house. How are you doing?"
"About the same. David and Bodhi are at the movies right now. I think they're going out for pizza later. Which means that I've been staring at my paintings again."
"Have you deciphered the whispers yet?"
"Working on it. What have you been up to today?"
"I ran eight miles. Felt pretty good, too. I hung out with Marge and Liz, went to the bookstore. Now, I'm just killing time and thought I'd call to say thanks for yesterday."
"My pleasure. I had a great time," she said.
I felt a strange sense of relief at that. "How was dinner with your sister last night?"
"She and her hubby had been arguing before I got there. Though they kept it mostly in check, I still noticed a lot of glaring and heard more than half a dozen deep sighs. It was kind of like a stroll down memory lane, what with David and all."
I laughed. "That sounds awful."
"It wasn't pretty. But Jess called this morning to apologize. And then, right after, she launched into yet another story about how Brian seemed intent on antagonizing her."
We continued to chat while I circled the park, and more than once, I caught myself smiling. I had forgotten how easy Emily was to talk to, how intently she listened, and how freely she volunteered information about herself. She never seemed to take too much too seriously, a trait she had always possessed but now felt seasoned by maturity. It made me wish I could be more like her.
After forty minutes, we finally ended the call. Like yesterday, the time seemed to pass effortlessly. As I walked back to my car, I wondered why Vivian and I hadn't been able to talk with the same ease, and by allowing her name to slip into my consciousness I felt another burst of frustration that I hadn't been able to speak to London. Preventing my daughter from talking to her mother was something I'd never done, not since Vivian had walked out the door. Emily, I thought to myself, would never do something like that, and as I slid into the car, I found myself thinking about how naturally beautiful Emily was--no makeup masking skin with a slightly olive undertone, no expensive highlights or collagen fillers.
She was more beautiful now, I thought to myself, than she'd been when we'd dated.
Emily, I realized, had sounded happy to hear from me, and I couldn't deny that it made me feel better. People pleasing is best when it happens easily, after all, and where I constantly felt like I was struggling to please Vivian, it seemed that with Emily, all I had to do was be me, and that was more than enough.
And yet, as much of a distraction as Emily had been, I hadn't been lying to Marge or Liz. As an old friend--and an attractive one at that--it was understandable that I'd enjoyed spending time with Emily and it probably made sense that I'd called her. I felt comfortable with her, just as I always had. What it didn't mean was that I was ready--or even interested--in a relationship. After all, healthy relationships required two well-adjusted people, and at the present time, I wasn't enough for her.
I said as much to Marge before I left for home, but she just shook her head.
"That's Vivian's voice you're hearing in your head," she said to me. "If you saw yourself the way everyone else does, you'd know what a catch you really are."
I arrived at the house at half past six and hesitated at the door, wondering if I should knock. It was ridiculous, of course, and the fact I felt that way led to a growing sense of frustration, one that was directed more at myself than at Vivian. Why did I still care so much about what she thought?
Habit, I silently heard myself answer, and I knew that habits could take a long time to break.
I opened the door and stepped inside, but there was no sign of London or Vivian. I heard sounds coming from upstairs and I moved toward the steps when Vivian rounded into view, holding a glass of wine. She beckoned to me, and I followed her into the kitchen. Glancing around, I noticed pans and plates piled in the sink, and neither the stove nor the counters had been wiped. There was half a glass of milk and a placemat that still sat on the table, and I knew in that moment that she had no intention of cleaning the kitchen before she left.
I felt as though I no longer knew her, if I ever did.
"London's upstairs in the bath," she said without preamble. "I told her that I'd come and get her in a few minutes because we needed to talk to her. But I thought we should get on the same page first."
"Didn't we already cover this on Friday?"
"Yes, but I wanted to make sure you remembered."
Her comment felt like an insult. "I remember."
"Good," she said. "I also think it'll be easier for London if I take the lead."
Because you don't want her to know about Walter, right?
"This is your show," I said.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Just what I said," I said. "You're making all the decisions. You've yet to ask what I might want."
"Why are you in such a cranky mood?"
Was she serious? "Why didn't you have London call me back last night?"
"Because she fell asleep. Not ten minutes after you called, she was sound asleep on the couch. What was I supposed to do? Wake her up? You see her every day. I don't."
"That was your choice. You're the one who walked out."
Her eyes narrowed and I thought I saw in them not simply anger but hatred. She kept her voice steady. "I was hoping we'd be able to behave like adults tonight, but it seems pretty clear that you have different plans."
"You're trying to blame all this on me?"
"I just want you to hold yourself together while we talk to our daughter. The other option is to make it as painful as possible for her. Which would you prefer?"
"I would prefer not to be doing this at all. I would prefer you and I had an honest discussion about salvaging our marriage."
She turned away. "There's nothing to talk about. It's over. You should be receiving the settlement agreement this week."
"Settlement agreement?"
"I had my attorney put it together. It's pretty standard."
By standard, I'm sure it stipulated that London was living with her in Atlanta, and I felt my insides twist. All at once, I didn't want to do this; I didn't want to be here. I didn't want to lose my wife and daughter, I didn't want to lose everything, but I was nothing but a bystander, watching my life unravel in ways that seemed entirely beyond my control. I was exhausted and when the nausea finally passed, my bod
y felt as it might dissolve.
"Let's just get this over with."
London handled it better than I thought she would, but then again, it was clear to me London was so exhausted that her attention seemed to wander. Add in her runny nose, and I had the sense that what she really wanted was to go to sleep.
As I'd expected, Vivian omitted much of the truth and kept the conversation so short that I found myself wondering why she'd deemed it so critical in the first place. By the end, I suspected London had no idea that anything was actually changing between Vivian and me; she was as used to Vivian traveling as I was. The only time she became upset was when it came time for Vivian to leave. Both she and Vivian were in tears as they hugged goodbye in the driveway, and London's sobs grew worse as Vivian finally pulled away.
I carried her inside, my shirt growing damp in spots from her tears. Her bedroom smelled like a farm; in addition to cleaning the kitchen, I would have to clean the hamster cage. I gave London some additional cold medicine, put her in bed. She scooted closer to me and I slipped my arm around her.
"I wish Mommy didn't have to leave," she said.
"I know it's hard," I said. "Did you have a good time this weekend?"
When she nodded, I went on. "What did you do?"
"We went shopping and watched movies. We also went to the petting zoo. They had these cute goats that fall over onto their sides when they get scared, but I didn't scare them."
"Did you go to the park? Or ride your bike?"
"No. I rode the carousel at the mall, though. I rode a unicorn."
"That sounds fun."
She nodded again. "Mommy said you have to remember to clean the hamster cage."
"I know," I said. "The cage is kind of smelly tonight."
"Yeah," she said. "Mommy didn't want to hold Mr. or Mrs. Sprinkles because they were smelly, too. I think they need a bath."
"I don't know if hamsters can take baths. I'll find out."
"On the computer?"
"Yes."
"The computer knows a lot of stuff," she said.
"It sure does."
"Hey, Daddy?"
"Yes?"
"Can we go bike riding?"
"How about we give it a couple of days, until you feel better. You also have dance class, remember?"
"I remember," she said without enthusiasm.