Lance kept his distance from Debra, wondering how in the hell this was happening. The afternoon had been like so many before it that summer. He’d had a few beers and felt the pleasant buzz he usually got, drinking and chatting the hours away. The group of them had formed a sort of club that summer, united by the near drowning and strengthened by a string of sunny afternoons spent trying to make sense of it. They talked about a variety of things—the latest neighborhood gossip, the weather, the news, the kids’ antics.
Sometimes Zell had a “conversation starter,” as she called it, some silly question or quote that would lead to deeper conversations. Sometimes they even shared personal stories, but never the ones that mattered. He hadn’t, for instance, shared that, while he had no idea when she would come back, he’d felt Debra returning as one felt an oncoming storm, the increasing awareness that something in the air was changing, gathering strength as it barreled forward.
After she sheepishly left, he took his time gathering his things to leave, too, looking at Jencey over at the pool with Bryte, thinking of and dismissing a thousand things to say to her. He settled for a kiss on the forehead, a promise to call her later. She nodded and said very little in response. Eventually he walked away slowly, feeling as if he wasn’t coming back even though the pool would be open for several more weeks. Between Zell’s absence and Debra’s appearance, he felt as if, though the summer wasn’t over, something was ending.
He returned home to find Debra at the kitchen table, waiting for him, looking penitent. “Mom!” Alec yelled, shoving from behind him to reach her, hurtling himself into her arms as if he hadn’t quite believed she would be there as promised. Debra, to her credit, managed to look humbled by her son’s welcome instead of exultant, or worse, expectant.
Lilah, God love her, stayed beside Lance, her arms crossed like his as she took it all in. He gave his daughter a sidelong glance, anticipating her next move. Would she yell? Cry? Give in to her body’s longing to reach out? He hadn’t known Lilah well when Debra left. He knew her much better now. And yet, he couldn’t have said what his child was thinking as she registered her mother’s presence in their home after a ten-month absence. He couldn’t have told Lilah how to react any more than he could’ve told himself. His wife was home: this was good news. His wife was home: this was terrible news.
“We have plans tonight,” Lilah said suddenly, turning to him. She looked over at Debra. “We’re going to Taste of the Town,” she explained. “With Jencey and Pilar and Zara.”
He rested his hand on top of Lilah’s head. “We can go another time,” he said, surprised by his words, by how easily he could break plans with Jencey when faced with Debra’s very real presence. For so long, her return had been a fantasy played out in his mind in so many different ways. Lately, he’d tried not to think about it at all. Focusing instead on Jencey and the way her eyes crinkled at the corners when she smiled, the highlights in her hair that had grown brighter with each day in the sun, the way she tasted and smelled and felt. They had been careful to avoid the word love, and that had been wise. He was a man with obligations that ran beyond his feelings.
“You promised we could go!” Lilah yelled, interrupting his rapid-fire thoughts. Angry tears spilled from the corners of her eyes. “You’re going back on a promise!” She turned and bolted from the room, leaving him and Debra and Alec to blink at one another like strangers.
“She’s in shock.” He offered the excuse for Lilah’s behavior to Debra, though he owed her none.
“I know,” Debra said. “And I deserve it.” She set Alec down on the ground. “Why don’t you go get that wet suit off and Daddy and I will talk?” she said to him, falling back into the mother role so easily it was as if she’d never been gone. Lance watched as his son obediently trotted off to his room, thankful at least one of the kids wasn’t having a complete meltdown.
“So,” he said. “You’re back?” Stupid question.
Debra nodded. “I didn’t think calling ahead would make it any easier.” She gave a little laugh. “I half expected the locks to be changed.”
He shook his head. “I wouldn’t lock you out of your own house.”
“Is it? My house?” He heard the hopeful note in her voice and regretted his choice of words.
He shrugged his shoulders, made his voice sound businesslike. “Legally, at least. I mean, there are no papers drawn up between us. Your stuff is still here. Your mail comes here.” He gestured behind him, at a box on the floor he’d taken to throwing anything addressed to her into. It was nearly full of running magazines, catalogs, various solicitations, and a few personal letters. He started to get up and show it to her, but she reached out and stopped him.
“I don’t want to know about legally. I want to know about us.” She removed her hand from his arm, put it back in her own lap. “I’m sorry. I’m coming on too strong, and I have no right. I know that.”
“It’s just a shock, seeing you again.”
She nodded, thinking this over. “You should keep your plans tonight. They seem to mean a lot to Lilah.”
“They’re friends of hers,” he explained, though an explanation wasn’t warranted. “They moved into the neighborhood this summer and . . . we’ve hung out.”
“We?”
“Our families.”
She drew back, as if his calling what they were a family even when she wasn’t a part of it was somehow hurtful. “And you’re friends with the dad?” she asked, pressing. The look on her face told him she already knew there was no dad. Somehow Debra knew, when he still had no clue what had driven her to leave him the way she did. Maybe the difference was that Debra wanted to know and he didn’t. It crossed his mind that she wanted to be absolved, but he had no proof of that. All Debra had ever admitted was that she needed time away, to think about what she wanted out of life. He’d suspected there was someone else—that part of her decision making was whether she wanted another man—but she’d refused to give him any more information than that.
“No,” he said simply. “The mom.”
“I see,” Debra said. Which wasn’t true, of course. She didn’t see at all. She hadn’t been there to see.
His legs were growing stiff from standing, but he didn’t dare sit. To sit across from her at their kitchen table would be far too intimate. He could not be intimate with her. He did not know, standing there with his aching legs and fickle heart, if he could be intimate with her again. She didn’t fit in this room anymore; her presence poisoned the air. And yet, she belonged here. She was his wife, the mother of his children. If she was back and wanted a chance to make things work, he owed his family that chance, didn’t he? He’d known this moment would eventually come, and now it was time to do the right thing.
He turned from her and went to look out the window, his gaze falling on Zell’s house. He’d missed Zell today, missed her witticisms and cantankerous outlook on life, the way she was always smacking him on the shoulder when he teased her, how she tended to them all, ever the nurturer. She’d grown on him; they all had. Yet this thing with Ty had made things weird, and soon Cailey was going back to her mother. The summer was drawing to a close—hadn’t they just been teasing the kids about school starting this afternoon?—and it all felt suddenly very sad. In his heart he was already letting Jencey go, working out how to say goodbye to the best friend he’d had in a long, long time. He glanced over at Debra, looking mournful at the table.
“I’m going to go cancel my plans for tonight. Maybe you should go up and try to talk to your daughter.” He grabbed his phone from the counter and trudged outside, his heart aching as he found the last number called and hit “Redial.”
CAILEY