Two by Two

CHAPTER 16: The Sun Also Rises

I liked Liz as soon as I met her, but I’ll admit that I was amazed that my parents felt the same way. While they accepted the fact that Marge was gay, I often sensed that they weren’t exactly comfortable with the women Marge dated. There was a generational aspect to it-they’d both grown up in an era in which alternative lifestyles were typically kept in the closet-but it also had to do with the kind of women that Marge originally seemed to favor. They struck me as a bit on the rough side and were often prone to profanity in casual conversation, which had a tendency to make both my mom and dad go red in the face.

Marge told me that she’d met Liz at work. Accounting offices, I think most would agree, aren’t your usual pickup joints, but Liz had recently joined a new practice and was in need of an accountant. Marge happened to have an opening in her afternoon schedule, and by the time Liz left the office, they’d made arrangements to meet for a glass of wine before dropping by an art opening in Asheville.

“You’re going to an art gallery?” I remember asking Marge. We’d met at a bar after work, the kind of place with neon beer signs and the slightly rancid smell of too many spilled drinks. At the time, it was one of Marge’s favorite watering holes.

“Why wouldn’t I go to an art gallery?”

“Maybe because you don’t like art?”

“Who says I don’t like art?”

“You did. When I tried to show you some pictures of Emily’s art, you said-and I quote-‘I don’t like art.’”

“Maybe I’ve matured in the past few years.”

“Or maybe Liz just blew your socks off.”

“She’s interesting,” Marge admitted. “Very smart, too.”

“Is she pretty?”

“What does that matter?”

“I’m just curious.”

“Yes. She’s very pretty.”

“Let me guess. The art opening was her idea?”

“As a matter of fact, it was.”

“Does she drive a motorcycle? And favor leather jackets?”

“How would I know?”

“What does she do?”

“She’s a marriage and family therapist.”

“You don’t like therapists either.”

“I didn’t like my therapists. Well, the last one was okay, but I didn’t much like the others. Of course, there were a few years there where I was pretty angry, and I’m not sure I would have liked any therapist.”

“Have you told Liz about your anger issues?”

“That’s all in my past. I’m not like that anymore.”

“Good to know. When can I meet her?”

“It’s a little early, don’t you think? We haven’t even gone out yet.”

“All right. So after you do go out, when can I meet her?”

It ended up being a little less than two weeks. I invited the two of them over to my apartment, and grilled a few steaks on my pint-sized patio. Liz brought dessert, and the three of us split a bottle of wine. It took me all of thirty seconds to feel at ease with Liz, and it was clear that she already cared deeply for my sister. I could see it in the attentive way she listened whenever Marge spoke, her easy laughter, and how attuned she seemed to Marge’s hidden, emotional side. When it finally came time for them to leave, Marge pulled me aside.

“What do you think of her?”

“I think she’s fantastic.”

“Too fantastic for me?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I don’t totally get what she sees in me.”

“Are you kidding? You’re awesome. You had her laughing all night long.”

Marge didn’t seem convinced but she nodded anyway. “Thanks for having us over. Even if you did burn the steaks.”

“They were purposely charred,” I explained. “It’s supposed to add flavor.”

“Oh, it did. Burned is often the goal of world-class chefs.”

“Goodbye, Marge,” I said. “And you’re welcome.”

“Love you.”

“That’s only because I put up with you.”

Marge didn’t introduce Liz to my parents until another month had passed. It was a Saturday afternoon, and within minutes of her arrival, Liz disappeared into the kitchen to help my mom, the two of them chatting as if they were old friends. My dad sat with Marge, watching a ball game. I was sitting with them too, not that either of them seemed to notice.

“What do you think, Dad?” Marge asked during one of the commercials.

“About what?”

“Liz,” Marge said.

“She seems to be getting along with your mom pretty well.”

“Do you like her?”

My dad took a sip of his beer. “It doesn’t matter what I think.”

“You don’t like her?”

“I didn’t say that. What I said was that it doesn’t matter how I feel about her. The only thing that really matters is how you feel about her. If you know why you like her and she’s good enough for you, then she’ll be good enough for your mom and me.”

Then the game came back on, and my dad descended into silence. All I could think was that my dad was, and always will be, one of the smartest men I’ve ever known.

After my lunch with Vivian, I went back to work, but my thoughts were jumbled and I felt out of sorts. The feeling intensified as three o’clock came and went, and I began to feel the loss of London’s company. As important as it was for London to spend time with Vivian, I wasn’t convinced that I had to be invisible the entire weekend for their time together to be meaningful. I wondered why I hadn’t protested more strongly when Vivian had suggested it, but deep down, my problem was me. I knew I still wanted to please her and as much as that suggested a flaw in my character, that flaw was exacerbated by the obvious: If I hadn’t been able to please her before, why on earth would I think I was able to please her now?

It was, I think, the first time I realized the depth of that particular problem. Even I had trouble making sense of it. Logically, I knew it was both ridiculous and unlikely-why, time after time, did I continue to try?

I wished I could be another person. Or, better yet, I wished I could be a stronger version of me and I wondered whether I needed professional help. I wondered if professional help would change anything. Knowing me, I’d end up trying to please my therapist.

It’s been said that parents always screw up their kids and since I’d been a people pleaser for as long as I can remember, it logically flowed that it was all my parents’ fault. Why then, I wondered, did I feel the need to visit them so regularly? Why did I try to visit with my dad during ball games, or tell my mom that her meals were delicious?

Because, I thought to myself, I wanted to please them, too.

I finally left the office a little after five and drove to Marge’s. I told myself that I would keep talk about Vivian to an absolute minimum-even I was tired of her-a goal that lasted all of twelve seconds. I whined my way through dinner and Marge and Liz were supportive as always. If I was a broken record, they were too, and while they assured me repeatedly that I would be okay, I still wasn’t sure whether to believe them.

They dragged me to a movie and we had our pick of the late-summer blockbusters still lingering in theaters. We chose something fun-one of those stories with flawed heroes battling really evil bad guys intent on destroying the planet, and lots of action-but even so, it was hard for me to relax and enjoy it. I found my thoughts drifting to how Vivian and London had spent the afternoon and what they’d had for dinner; I wondered if my wife was sitting in the family room and flipping through a magazine after London had gone to bed. I wondered whether she’d called Spannerman, and if so, how long they’d talked.

After the movie, I tried to do some reading. My sister had a few books in the spare bedroom, but trying to lose myself in a novel was impossible. I gave up and turned out the light, and spent hours tossing and turning before finally falling asleep.

I woke two hours before dawn.

At a quarter to eleven on Saturday morning, my cell phone rang. I’d already jogged, showered, had coffee with Marge and Liz, and started to put together the questions for the patient testimonials. It is easy to accomplish a lot when one wakes up in what feels like the middle of the night.

When I pulled the phone from my pocket, I saw it was Vivian and I hit the magic button.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Russ. Are you busy?”

“Not really,” I said. “I’m at my sister’s. What’s up? Is London all right?”

“She’s fine. But I forgot to bring the vase to art class, and I was wondering if you might swing by the house and bring it here. I’m almost at the studio and if I turn around and go back, she’s going to be really late.”

“Yeah,” I said. “No problem. I’ll be there as quick as I can.”

I hung up the phone and grabbed my keys. I’d placed them in a basket on the table by the door.

Behind me, I heard Marge call out: “Where are you going?”

“Vivian called. I need to bring London the ceramic vase she made last week.”

“Then you better get to it, seal.”

“Seal?”

“She commands and you comply. If you’re lucky, maybe she’ll toss a fish at you.”

“It’s for London, not Vivian,” I snapped.

“Keep telling yourself that.”

Though I was annoyed by her comment, it passed in the rush to get to my house, and then to London’s class. Marge lived ten minutes away; if I hit more green lights than red, I’d be there shortly after class started.

I wondered, absently, whether London had told Vivian about the yellow flowers and pink mouses. I smiled. Mouses. It had sounded so cute coming from her, I just didn’t have the heart to correct her. I wanted to see my daughter, even if only for a few seconds. Though it had only been a day, I missed her.

I got home, grabbed the vase, and was fortunate to hit one green light after another, the Man Upstairs obviously understanding the urgency of my mission.

I pulled into the lot and spotted Vivian standing outside the studio. When I parked, she was already approaching my car, motioning me to roll down the window.

I did and passed the vase to her.

“Thanks,” she said. “Let me get back in there.”

I felt myself deflating like an old balloon. “Before you go-did you two have a good time yesterday?”

She was already backing away. “We had a terrific time. I’ll call you tomorrow to let you know what time you should come over to the house.”

“Can you send London outside so I can say hi?”

“She can’t,” she said. “They’ve already started painting,” she said. She turned and vanished into the studio without another word and I thought to myself that seals were actually lucky.

At least they got a treat.

I didn’t want to return to Marge’s right away. Vivian’s demeanor put me in a pissy mood, one intensified by the fact that I hadn’t slept much. Caffeine, I thought. I needed caffeine, and I pulled in a few doors down from the studio and parked in front of the coffee shop. No doubt Vivian would rather I had gone somewhere else for an iced tea on the off chance that London might see me! But in a rare turn, I told myself that I didn’t care whether she might get angry or not. I actually wanted her to be angry with me.

Maybe, I thought, that was the first step in correcting my need for Vivian’s approval. After all, Marge had been right about my reasons for racing to the studio earlier; even after yesterday’s lunch, I’d still wanted Vivian’s approval, not London’s. If there was anything positive to come out of it, it was that I realized that Vivian was making it easier for me to not want her approval; why try when it simply wasn’t possible? And if she happened to give it, I doubted whether that would change anything.

I pushed through the door, wondering if this was the first step in fixing this particular character flaw of mine when I heard my name being called out.

“Russ?”

I recognized the voice and spotted Emily waving from a table, a newspaper spread before her, a glass of tea on the table. With her luxurious hair curling in the heat and a casual, low-cut T-shirt tucked into faded jeans shorts and sandals, she was beautiful in an earthy, natural way. The sight of her made my irritation melt, and I realized that she was the very person I’d wanted to see, even if I hadn’t been consciously aware of it. “Oh, hey Emily,” I responded, unable to suppress a smile. Instead of getting in line, I found myself heading toward her table, almost on autopilot. “Long time, no see. How are you?”

“I’m good,” she said with a genuine smile. “My schedule’s been crazy for the past few weeks.”

Mine, too, I thought. “What’s been going on?”

“I had to finish some pieces for the gallery, but David’s been in town, too. And that meant a whole lot of running around.”

“You mentioned that he’d be around. How much longer is he staying?”

“It’s his last weekend. He’ll be flying back to Sydney on Tuesday.”

As she spoke, I caught the glint of reflected light in her hazel eyes, triggering memories that seemed to make the years roll backward. I motioned toward the counter and the words were out before I could stop them. “Will you be here for a few minutes? I was thinking about getting some iced tea.”

“I’ll be here,” she said. “The raspberry tea is fantastic.”

I went to the counter and ordered; I took her advice and when it was ready, I brought my glass to the table. She’d just finished folding up the paper, making room, as I took a seat.

“Anything interesting in the paper?”

“A lot of bad stuff. It gets old. I wish there were more stories about good things.”

“That’s why they have the sports section.”

“I suppose. But only if your team wins, right?”

“If they lose, I skip the sports section.”

It wasn’t particularly funny, but she laughed anyway. I liked that. “What’s been going on with you?” she asked. “I haven’t seen you in forever.”

“I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“Did you film those commercials like you wanted? For the lawyer?”

“I did. They’re being finalized in the editing room now, and the first one will hopefully air in about two weeks. I’m filming another one for him next week. And I also signed a plastic surgeon as a client.”

“Is he any good? In case I need his services?”

“I hope so,” I said. “But you don’t need any work done.”

“Good answer,” she said, “even if it’s not true. And congratulations on the new account. I know you were worried and I’m glad it’s working out for you.”

“I’ll need another few clients before I breathe a sigh of relief, but I do feel like I’m finally on the right track.”

“And you’ve lost some weight, I notice.”

“Fifteen pounds.”

“Did you want to lose weight? Because I didn’t think you needed to lose any in the first place.”

I couldn’t help comparing her response to Vivian’s, when she’d mentioned my jowls.

“I’m still a few pounds from where I want to be. I’ve started running again, doing push-ups, all that good stuff.”

“Good for you. I can tell it’s working. You look great.”

“You, too,” I said. “So… what have you been up to? You said you had to finish some gallery pieces?”

“I’ve been working nonstop. For some reason, virtually all of my pieces at the gallery sold in just a few days last month. Different buyers, different states. I don’t know why. Maybe it has something to do with the cycle of the moon or whatever, but the gallery owner called me and asked if I had more work to display. Long story short, I had a bunch of partially completed paintings, and I decided to try to finish them. I completed eight, but the others… they are going to take more time. I’ve spent a lot of time staring or repainting or adding different media… it’s like they’re trying to tell me what they should end, but for some reason, I’m just not able to hear all of them.”

“They do wonderful things with hearing aids these days.”

“Really,” she said, feigning wonder. “I didn’t know that. Maybe that’s the answer.”

“It’s about as much help as I can offer. I’m not an artist.”

She laughed. “How was London this morning? Bodhi couldn’t wait to see her. I’d say he has a crush on her, but he’s too young for something like that.”

It would have been easy to lie and say something innocuous, but sitting across from Emily, I didn’t want to.

“I don’t actually know how she was. She was with Vivian this morning.”

“Then what are you doing here?”

“Vivian forgot to bring the vase she was supposed to paint. I had to bring it to her.”

“Yeah,” Emily nodded, “I heard about that project as soon as I got there. We weren’t here last week, so I guess Bodhi will be making his vase today. He’s in there with David right now and I guess they’re kind of on their own.”

“I suppose I should ask why you’re here, then.”

“I brought Bodhi. David met us here. He’s been staying at one of those extended-stay hotels since he’s been in town. Which is fine for him, but Bodhi doesn’t sleep well at that place, so Bodhi’s at my house every night. Which has meant a lot of back and forth since David’s been in town. On the plus side, I’ve had plenty of time to work, since David’s spending a lot of time with him. Trying to make as many memories as possible, I guess. Like today, they’re going go-karting after they finish up here.”

“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

“Of course,” she said, with less enthusiasm than I’d expected. “What David doesn’t understand is that it’s going to make it that much harder for Bodhi when he leaves again. Bodhi was finally getting used to him not being around and I’m going to have to help pick up the pieces.”

“Did you tell him that?”

“How can I? Even though he wasn’t a good match for me, he’s actually a pretty loving dad. And he’s also not a bad person. He made it possible for us to stay in the house and for Bodhi to be able to go to the right school. He was more than generous in our divorce settlement.”

As she said the word divorce, I thought about the conversation Vivian and I had at lunch and I must have flinched.

“I’m sorry,” Emily said quickly. “I really am doing my best not to talk about David. I don’t know why his name seems to enter every conversation.”

“It’s not that,” I said. I clutched my glass of iced tea with both hands. “Vivian left me.”

Emily mouth widened into an O. “Oh my God,” she finally breathed. “That’s awful. I’m not sure what else to say.”

“There’s not much you can say.”

“Are you sure you’re not just taking some time apart? Like separation?”

“I don’t think so. At lunch yesterday, she said we were getting divorced. And she wants us to sit down and talk to London tomorrow night.”

“What happened? I mean, does it bother you if I ask? You don’t have to answer, obviously.”

“She’s in love with her boss, Walter Spannerman. And she’s now living in Atlanta.”

“Oh, boy.”

Now, there was an understatement. “Yeah.”

“How are you doing?”

“Okay sometimes, not so well at other times.”

She nodded, her expression soft. “I understand exactly what you mean. When did all this happen? And again, you don’t have to tell me if you’d rather not.”

I thought about it before taking a sip of my tea. Though I’d talked endlessly with Marge and Liz, I still felt the need to process it verbally. I’m not sure why, other than that people cope in different ways, and for me, I had to talk. Reprise. Question. Wonder. Whine. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. My sister had been more than patient with me since Vivian had left, but I felt bad that I’d needed her ear to the extent I had. Same with Liz. And yet, I still felt compelled to process; I felt an overwhelming desire to go through all of it once more.

“I’d like to tell you about it, but I’m not sure even where to start,” I said. I stared out the window. Emily leaned across the table.

“What are you doing this afternoon?” she asked.

“No plans,” I said.

“Do you want to go for a walk? Or at least get out of here?”

“A walk sounds great.”

I followed Emily, even though I wasn’t sure where she was going, other than it was in the general direction of her place. In time, she turned onto a private drive that led to a private country club, with a membership fee that was a bit out of my league. She pulled into a shady spot not far from the practice putting green, and I parked beside her.

“This okay?”

“A golf course?”

“It’s a gorgeous walk. I’m out here three or four times a week. Usually in the mornings.”

“I take it you’re a member.”

“David loved to golf,” she said.

We stepped onto the cart path and began making our way down one of the lush green fairways. As I took in the surroundings, I realized Emily had been right. The fairways and greens were immaculate and generously lined with dogwoods, magnolias, and live oaks. There were neatly trimmed azalea bushes and ponds that sparkled beneath blue skies; a steady breeze kept the temperature tolerable.

“What happened?” she asked, and over the course of the nine or ten holes we traversed, I told her everything. Maybe I shouldn’t have; maybe I should have been more reticent, but once the flow of words started, I seemed unable to stop. I talked and talked, answering Emily’s questions whenever they came up. I told her about our marriage and the early years with London, I told her how important it had been to me to make Vivian happy, my never-ending desire to please her. I spoke about the last year, and went into detail describing what an emotional basket case I’d been since Vivian had walked out the door. As I spoke, I was alternately confused and sad, enraged and frustrated, but mainly, I was still at a loss. I felt like someone who thought he’d known the rules of the game he’d been playing, only to learn that the wrong rules had been placed in the box.

“I appreciate you listening,” I said as I came to the end of my sorry tale.

“I was glad to,” she said. “I’ve been through it, too. And I get it. Believe me. The year that David moved out was the hardest year of my life,” she said. “And yes, the first couple of months were excruciating. All day, every day, I wondered whether I’d done the right thing by telling him to go. And after that, I’m not saying that I was Mary Poppins. It took probably another four or five months before I began to feel a little bit like my old self again some of the time. But by then, I also kind of knew that Bodhi and I were going to make it.”

“How are you now?”

“Better,” she said. She cracked a wry smile. “Well, most of the time. It’s strange, but the more time passes, the less I can remember the bad things while the good memories still linger. Before Bodhi, we used to lie in bed on Sunday mornings and have coffee and read the paper. We didn’t even talk that much, but I still recall how comfortable those mornings felt. And like I said, David was always a good father. It would be so much easier if I forgot the good stuff instead.”

“It sounds like it was really hard.”

“It can be awful. Arguing about money is often the worst part. When money’s involved, it can get vicious.”

“Was it like that for you?”

“No, thank God. David is more than fair with alimony and child support, and we couldn’t make it if he weren’t. It doesn’t hurt that his family is as rich as Midas and he earns a lot of money, but I also think he felt guilty. It’s not that he’s a bad guy, he’s just not a particularly good husband, unless you don’t mind constant philandering.”

“I can see how that might be a problem for some.”

I felt her eyes drift toward me. “She might come back, you know. Sometimes they do.”

I reflected on Friday’s lunch, and the way she’d acted when I handed off the vase. I remembered what Liz had told me.

“I don’t think so.”

“Even if she realizes she made a mistake?”

“I still don’t know that she’d want to come back. I get the sense that she’s been unhappy with me for a long time. I tried to be the best husband and father I could be and it never seemed to be enough.”

“You sound like you’re not sure whether I’ll believe you.”

“Do you?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because she left me.”

“That was her decision. And it says less about you than it does about her.”

“I still feel like a failure.”

“I can understand that. I felt the same way. I think most people do.”

“I’m not sure Vivian does. She doesn’t seem to care at all.”

“She cares,” Emily said. “And she’s hurting, too. Walking away from a marriage isn’t easy for anyone. But she’s also in love with someone new, and that’s a big distraction. She isn’t thinking about the two of you as much as you are. Which means she’s not hurting as frequently as you are.”

“I think I need a distraction.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s exactly what you need. Maybe some midtwenties, cheerleader type, right? Or an aerobics teacher? Or maybe a dancer.” When I raised an eyebrow, she shrugged and went on. “Those were David’s preferences. Of course, if push came to shove, he’d sleep with anyone.”

“Sorry.”

“I’m not. He’s not my problem anymore,” she said. “He’s dating someone back in Sydney. He told me he’s actually thinking about marriage.”

“Already?”

“It’s his life,” she shrugged. “If he asked me, I’d tell him that he should probably give it more time, but he didn’t ask so I didn’t offer. And besides, we’re divorced. He can do what he wants.”

I put a hand in my pocket as I walked beside her. “How can you do that? Not let it bother you, I mean. When I think about Vivian and Walter, I get so angry and it hurts. I can’t disengage.”

“It’s still too new,” she said. “But as tough as I sound and as much as I meant what I said about David, it still hurt when he told me. No one likes to feel they’re easily replaced. For a long time, even though I told people that I wanted David to be happy after we’d separated, what I really wanted was for him to sit at home like a hermit, feeling awful about himself and grieving for everything he lost.”

I imagined Vivian like that. “That sounds good. How can we convince them to do that?”

She laughed. “If only it were that easy, right? Exes are never easy. Last weekend, he actually hit on me.”

“Seriously? What about his girlfriend?”

“She didn’t come up. And I’ll admit that there was a minute or so where I considered going through with it. He is handsome, and we used to have a good time together.”

“How did it happen?”

“Alcohol,” she said and I laughed.

“Anyway, he’d been out all day with Bodhi and when he brought Bodhi home, Bodhi went right to bed. I was having a glass of wine and I offered him one. One glass led to the next and he was being his regular charming self, and the next thing I knew, his hand was on my knee. I knew what he wanted and…”

I waited as she collected her thoughts. She looked over at me.

“I knew it was a terrible idea, but I still liked the way he made me feel. It’s crazy, but that’s how it was. It’s been a long time since I felt desired and attractive. Part of it’s my own fault, of course. It’s not like I’ve really put myself out there in the last year and a half. I’ve gone on a few dates and the guys were nice, but I figured out pretty quickly that I wasn’t ready to start another relationship. Which meant that when they called a second time, I always put them off. Sometimes, I wish I were the type of person who could sleep around without feeling guilty or like I’m a tramp, but I’m not wired that way. I’ve never had a one-night stand.”

“Wait, I thought there was this guy in college once…”

“That doesn’t count,” she said with an airy wave. “I have erased that evening from my memory, so it never happened.”

“Ah,” I said.

“Anyway, David started to kiss my neck, and part of me was thinking Oh, why the hell not? Fortunately, I came to my senses. On the plus side, he handled the rejection gracefully. No temper tantrums, no argument. Just a shrug and sigh, like I was the one who was really going to be missing out.” She shook her head. “And I can’t believe I just told you all that.”

“It’s no big deal. If it makes you feel better, I probably won’t remember it. The tornado of emotions I’m living in is wreaking havoc with my memory.”

“May I ask a question?”

“Go ahead.”

“What about London?”

“That’s more complicated,” I admitted. “For now, Vivian thinks it’s best that London stay with me since she’s traveling so much and hasn’t had time to get her place set up. But she was pretty clear that after that, she wants London to move to Atlanta.”

“How do you feel about that?”

“I don’t want her to go… but I also know that she needs her mom.”

“What does that mean?”

“I don’t know. I guess it’s something we’ll be discussing. To be honest, I don’t know anything about this entire process.”

“Have you spoken to an attorney yet?”

“No,” I said. “She didn’t mention divorce until yesterday. And before that, I was in no condition to do much of anything.”

By then, I could see the clubhouse in the distance. I wasn’t sure how far we’d walked, but we’d been out there for over an hour. My stomach gurgled.

Emily must have heard it. “Are you hungry? Why don’t we grab a bite to eat?”

“I don’t think we’re dressed for the country club.”

“We’ll sit in the bar area. It’s casual. It’s where golfers end up after they finish their rounds.”

As much as the walk with Emily had felt necessary, having lunch-just the two of us, at the club-made me feel as though I was crossing a boundary of sorts. I was still married. Vivian and I weren’t even legally separated. Hence, this was wrong.

And yet…

The other side of the equation was obvious, even to me. What would Vivian say to me if she found out? That I was crossing a line? That rumors would start?

I cleared my throat. “Lunch sounds great.”

The clubhouse was imposing and somewhat stuffy on the outside, but the interior had been recently renovated and was lighter and airier than I’d expected. Windows lined two of the walls, offering a spectacular view of the eighteenth hole. I spotted a foursome making their way to the putting green as Emily pointed to a table in the corner, one of the few that wasn’t already occupied.

“How about over there?” she said.

“Fine.”

I followed her to the table, my eyes drifting lower to the once-familiar contours of her legs, glad she was in shorts. They were tan and lean, the kind of legs that had always caught my eye.

After we sat, she leaned across the table. “I told you we wouldn’t be underdressed. That group just came in from the tennis courts.”

“I didn’t notice,” I said. “But good to know.”

“Have you ever eaten here?”

“Once, in the dining room. Jesse Peters has a membership here and we met with a client.”

“I see him every now and then. Or used to anyway. I would catch him staring at me.”

“That sounds like him.”

“Oh, if you’re interested, the burger here is out of this world,” she said. “The chef actually won a burger competition on one of those shows on the Food Network. It comes with some amazing sweet potato fries.”

“I haven’t had a burger in a long time,” I said. “Is that what you’re getting?”

“Of course.”

I couldn’t help noting that Vivian would never have ordered a burger, nor would she have approved if I’d ordered one.

The waitress came by with menus, but Emily shook her head. “We’re both getting the burgers,” she said. “And I’d like a glass of Chardonnay.”

“Make it two,” I said, surprising myself. Of course, the whole afternoon had been bewildering to that point, but in a good way. Emily, I noticed, was gazing out the window, toward the putting green before she turned back to me.

“I guess our children are done with art class by now. What do you think London is doing?”

“Vivian probably took her out to lunch. As for what’s next, I have no idea.”

“Didn’t she tell you?”

“No,” I said. “Our lunch on Friday was a little tense, so we didn’t get around to discussing their plans.”

“They were tense with David, too, for a long time. It’s just a hard and awful thing for anyone to live through, even if it has to be done. And only people who’ve gone through it can understand how terrible it really is.”

“That’s not very encouraging,” I said.

“It’s true, though. There’s no way I could have made it without the support of some really good friends. I probably talked to both Marguerite and Grace on the phone two or three hours a week-maybe more, in the beginning. And what was strange was that prior to my divorce, I wasn’t particularly close to either of them. But I ended up leaning on them, and they were always there to prop me up when I needed it.”

“They sounds like lifesavers.”

“They are. To this day, I’m not sure why they were there for me the way they were. And I’m guessing that you’ll probably need the same thing-two or three people that you can really talk to. It was strange-I thought that my sister Jess or Dianne, who was probably my best friend at the time, would be my stalwarts. But it didn’t work out that way.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s hard to describe, but Marguerite and Grace always knew how to say the right thing at the right time, in just the right way. Jess and Dianne didn’t. Sometimes, they offered advice I didn’t want to hear, or they questioned whether I was doing the right thing when what I really needed was reassurance.”

Considering this, I wondered who I would lean on. Marge and Liz, obviously, but they sort of counted as one person. I already knew my mom would get too emotional, and my dad wouldn’t know what to say. As for friends, it dawned on me that I didn’t really have any. Between work and my family, I’d let most of my friendships wilt on the vine in the years since London was born.

“Marge and Liz have been great,” I said.

“I figured they would be. I always liked Marge.”

The feeling is mutual, I thought.

The waiter delivered two glasses of wine. Emily reached for her glass. “We should make a toast,” she said. “To Marge, Liz, Marguerite, Grace, Bodhi, and London.”

“The kids, too?”

“Bodhi was the real reason I didn’t fall apart. Because of him, I couldn’t. It’ll be the same with London.”

I knew she was right as soon as she said it. “All right. But then, I feel like I have to put you in there, too. You’ve been pretty supportive so far.”

“And you can always call me any time.”

We fell into small talk then. I told her about London, while she spoke about Bodhi; she told me about some of the places she’d traveled in the years since we’d last seen each other. Perhaps because we’d already spoken exhaustively about Vivian and David, their names didn’t come up, and for the first time since Vivian had walked out the door, the anxiety I’d been feeling seemed to dissipate entirely.

The burgers eventually arrived and we each ordered a second glass of wine. The burger, as she’d predicted, was among the best I’d ever had. It was stuffed with cheese and topped with a fried egg, but because my recent lack of appetite had made my stomach shrink, I couldn’t eat more than half.

Our plates were cleared, but we lingered at the table, finishing our wine. She told me a story about Bodhi giving himself a haircut, laughing aloud when she showed me the picture on her cell phone. He’d lopped off, nearly down to the roots, an inch-wide chunk of hair in what used to be his bangs. His forehead shown through like a gap between teeth, but what made the photo priceless was his grin.

“That’s great,” I laughed. “How were you?”

“Initially I was upset, not only about his hair but that he’d gotten hold of the scissors in the first place. When I saw how proud of himself he was, though, I started to laugh. The next thing I knew, we were laughing together. Then I grabbed my phone. Now, this photo is framed and sits on my bedside table.”

“I’m not sure how I would have reacted if London had done that. And one thing I can say for sure: Vivian would not have laughed.”

“No?”

“She wasn’t a big laugher.” In fact, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d heard her laugh.

“Even with Marge? Marge used to crack me up all the time.”

“Especially with Marge. They don’t really get along that well.”

“How is that possible? Does she still tease you?”

“Mercilessly.”

Emily laughed again and I was reminded of how much I had always liked the sound of her laugh, melodic and genuine at the same time.

“You know what?” she said. “This day turned out a lot better than I thought it would. If you hadn’t come along, I don’t know what I’d be doing. Probably staring at my paintings in frustration. Or cleaning the house.”

“I’d probably be working.”

“This is way better.”

“Agreed. Would you like another glass?”

“Of course,” she said. “But I won’t. I have to drive. But go ahead if you want one.”

“I’m fine, too. What are you doing tonight?”

“Like you, I’ll be hanging out with my sister. You remember Jess? She and Brian invited me to dinner.”

“That sounds fun.”

“Mmm… not so sure. I sometimes wonder if Brian thinks I’m putting ideas in Jess’s head. Like about getting divorced.”

“Are they having troubles?”

“All married couples have troubles now and then. It kind of goes with the institution itself.”

“Why is marriage so hard?”

“Who knows? I think it’s probably because people get married without knowing who they really are in the first place. Or how they’re crazy.”

“Are you crazy?”

“Of course. And I don’t mean crazy-crazy. I mean, in the way that everyone is. One person might be too sensitive to perceived slights, or another might get really angry when they don’t get their way. Another shuts down or holds grudges for weeks. That’s what I’m talking about. We all do things that are unhealthy in relationships, but I’m not sure people recognize that unless they’re really self-aware. And when you consider that each partner brings his or her own set of issues, it’s a miracle that any marriages last the duration.”

“That’s a little pessimistic, don’t you think? Your parents have been married forever. Mine have, too.”

“But are they happy with each other? Or are they together out of habit? Or because they’re afraid to be alone? In the coffee shop earlier, I was watching this older couple a few tables over. They may have been together for fifty years, but I don’t think they said a single word to each other.”

I thought about my parents, remembering that Marge and I had wondered the same thing.

“Do you think you’ll ever get married again?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “Sometimes I think I want to, but other times, I think I’m happy being alone, too. And with Bodhi, it’s not as though I have a lot of energy to devote to finding a new life partner. What I can say is that I’m a lot clearer on the kind of person that I want if it ever comes to that. I’ve decided to be very picky.”

I was quiet, suddenly returning to Vivian, bringing with her an almost physical weight. “I don’t know what’s going to happen with Vivian. And I still don’t know why she was so unhappy with me.”

“Maybe she was just unhappy. And maybe she just thinks she’s happier with someone new, but sustained happiness isn’t something someone else can deliver. It comes from within. That’s why there are antidepressants; that’s what people hopefully learn in therapy.”

“That’s very Zen.”

“It took me a while to finally accept that David’s philandering wasn’t about me, or whether I was pretty enough, or affectionate enough. It was about David’s need to prove to himself that he was desirable and powerful-and the way he did that was by sleeping with other women. In the end, I know I did my best to make our marriage work, and I know that’s all I can ask of myself.” She reached across the table and put her hand on my arm. “The same goes for you, too, Russ.”

When she removed her hand, the warmth and comfort of her touch lingered, a physical affirmation of her words.

“Thank you,” I managed to say.

“You’re welcome. And I mean it. You’re a good guy.”

“You don’t know me that well anymore.”

“Actually, I think I do. You’re pretty much the same guy you always were.”

“And I blew it with you.”

“You made a mistake. I know you didn’t do it to hurt me. And again, I’ve forgiven you. You still need to forgive yourself.”

“I’m working on it. But you’re kind of making it hard, since you’re being so nice about it.”

“Would you rather I be cruel and vindictive?”

“If you were, I’d probably crumble.”

“No you wouldn’t. You’re stronger than you think.”

We’d finished our wine and by unspoken agreement, we rose from the table. A glance at my watch showed that we’d spent nearly three hours together, which didn’t seem possible.

We started toward the exit and made our way to our cars. “Remember what I said about finding a couple of good friends to lean on. You’re probably going to need them.”

“Are you volunteering?’

“I already did, remember? And I hate to tell you this, but if my experience is any guide, it’s probably going to get worse before it gets better.”

“I can’t imagine how it can get worse.”

“I hope for your sake that it doesn’t.”

I reached for her door, opening it for her. “Me, too.”

“Rewind and start from the beginning,” Marge said. “You went for a long walk and then had lunch with Emily? And you drank wine?”

She and Liz had gotten home a few minutes earlier. On the way, they’d called, asking what I wanted for dinner. They were planning to pick up Mexican takeout and when I told her that I wasn’t hungry, Marge said she’d pick something for me anyway. In the to-go box was a burrito the size of a softball, along with rice and refried beans. Margeand Liz had both ordered taco salads. and we took our seats at the table.

“Yeah,” I said. “What’s the big deal?”

Marge paused and took a puff from her inhaler before smirking. “Let’s just call it an act two twist I never saw coming.”

“Really?” Liz asked between bites. “They did have that date at Chick-fil-A, remember?”

“Would you stop with the date talk? We walked. We talked. We had lunch.”

“That’s what a date is. But fine. My question is whether you think you’ll call her again.”

“Her son Bodhi is London’s best friend. If we have to set up a playdate, I might have to.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know what you meant.” I said. “I have no interest in dating anyone. Right now, I can’t imagine wanting to date ever again.”

What I didn’t say was that even though I didn’t want to date, I didn’t much like the concept of being alone, either. What I wanted was for Vivian and me to go back to what we had before. I wanted to rewind and start over.

Marge seemed to read my mind. “Have you heard from Vivian? About what time you can go home tomorrow?”

“Not yet. I’m going to call London later. I figure she’ll tell me then.”

Marge pointed to the burrito. “You’re not eating.”

“I wouldn’t be able to finish this if I were stranded on a desert island for a month.”

“Why don’t you at least try a bite?”

I did as she asked; while it was tasty, I was still full from the hamburger, and I turned toward Liz. “Did you learn any Mexican recipes in your class?”

Liz nodded as she poked at her salad. “A few. I could have made you something, but I was feeling kind of lazy. And I would have had to run to the store.”

“Do you have some easy and healthy recipes? Meals that London would enjoy?”

“Plenty. Do you want me to pick a few favorites?”

“Would you? I want to keep things normal, but I’m not very experienced in the kitchen. I do want to keep London on a good schedule, though. Which includes dinner.”

“I’ll have some recipes for you by tomorrow.”

“I appreciate it,” I said. “How was the housewarming party?”

“It was a lot of fun,” Liz said. “The house is very stylish. Even though our friends just moved in, they had all their paintings hung. It was actually pretty impressive.”

Automatically, I wondered whether they owned any of Emily’s. I wondered, too, how Emily’s night with her sister Jess was going. Under Marge’s scrutiny, I forked another piece of the burrito.

“Today was the first time I didn’t think about Vivian every waking minute.”

Marge offered a thoughtful expression. “What was that like?”

“Strange,” I said. “But I think it was good for me. I don’t feel quite as anxious now.”

“You’re already beginning to heal, Russ,” Marge said to me. “You’re stronger than you think.”

I smiled, remembering that Emily had said exactly the same thing.

After dinner, I dialed Vivian using FaceTime, and she answered on the second ring.

“Hey there,” she said, “London and I are cuddled up watching a movie. Can she call you back a little later?”

“Hi, Daddy!” I heard London call out. “Nemo and Dory are with the sharks!”

“Yeah, sure,” I said. “Did you two have a good time today?”

“We had a lot of fun,” Vivian said. “She’ll call you back, okay?”

“I love you, Daddy!” London shouted. “Miss you!”

The sound of her voice made my heart ache.

“That’s fine,” I said. “I’ll be around.”

I carried my phone with me while I helped Marge and Liz in the kitchen; I kept it on the table beside me when Marge brought out the Scrabble board. Liz, I learned, took the game seriously, and she was good. By the end, she’d outscored both my sister and me combined, but the game was a lot more fun than I remembered.

It was almost enjoyable enough, in fact, to make me forget the fact that London didn’t call back.

Almost, but not quite.

In the morning, I received a text from Vivian. Can you come by at six thirty? Let me know if that works for you.

It struck me as kind of late, especially since she had to drive back, but I wasn’t going to point that out. She was trying to spend as much time with London as she could, but because I was still annoyed that I hadn’t had a chance to talk to London, I put my phone aside without responding. I didn’t text her back until almost two in the afternoon.

My run that morning was nearly eight miles and when I got home, I did a hundred push-ups. Only when I’d showered did my irritation begin to wane.

Liz put together a small recipe book of about fifteen recipes, most with no more than six different ingredients. Afterward, she showed me how to meal plan, and we went to the grocery store to stock up on everything I would need.

Though Marge and Liz would disagree, I nonetheless felt a bit like a third wheel, and after lunch, I hopped in the car and drove to the bookstore. I had never been a big reader, but I found myself wandering to the relationship section of the bookstore. There were a few shelves of books about coping with divorce and I thumbed through all of them before finally selecting a few. When I was checking out, I was sure that the clerk would read the titles before glancing at me with pity, but the teenage girl with pink hair behind the register simply scanned the books before shoving them into a bag and asking me whether I’d like to pay in cash or with credit.

Afterward, I decided to swing by the park, on the off chance that London would be there. If she was, I wasn’t sure whether I would intrude, but I wanted to see her. It occurred to me that I was behaving like an addict who was suffering from withdrawal, but I didn’t care.

When I got to the park, there was no sign of Vivian and London. I pulled in anyway. With the temperatures cooling off a bit this weekend, there were more kids there than usual. I took a seat on the bench and opened one of the books. I began to read, at first because I thought I should, but after half an hour, because I wanted to.

What I learned was that Marge, Liz and Emily had been right. Though it may have felt otherwise, what I was going through wasn’t unique. The emotional swings, the self-blame, the circular questions and sense of failure were par for the course when it came to most divorces. But reading about it, as opposed to simply hearing it, made it seem more real somehow, and by the time I finally closed the book, I felt a little better. I thought about returning to Marge’s, but instead I spotted a boy who resembled Bodhi and I reached for my phone.

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 body 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.

Trying to keep her slightly improved mood from going downhill, I brightened. “Did you get to see Bodhi this weekend?’

“He was in art class. I painted my vase.”

“With yellow flowers? And pink mouses? Can I see it?”

“Mommy took it with her. She said it was really pretty.”

“I’m sure it was,” I said, trying to hide my disappointment. “I wish I could have seen it.”

“Do you want me to make you one? I can. And I think I can paint my mouses even better.”

“I’d love that, sweetie.”

I cleaned the hamster cage and the kitchen; though I hadn’t noticed earlier, I also had to straighten up the family room. Barbies and their accessories had been strewn about, blankets needed to be folded and returned to the appropriate chest, and a half-eaten bowl of popcorn had to be emptied into the trash before being washed and dried. Remembering I still had dinners my mom had prepared, I moved a few Tupperware containers from the freezer to the refrigerator. I also unloaded the groceries I’d picked up with Liz and Marge earlier.

Later, I crawled into bed and caught the scent of perfume, one that I knew Vivian had been wearing. It was light and flowery but otherwise unknown to me, and I knew I’d never sleep. I stripped the bedding and put clean sheets on the bed. I wondered if she’d intended any message by leaving behind dirty sheets or a messy house. It might have been anger, but I didn’t think so. My gut was telling me that she no longer cared how I might feel because she no longer cared about me at all.