Tapestry of Fortunes A Novel

33


I’ve gotten too dressed up. It’s only a lunch. But there was something in his voice.

I see David come in the door, and wave at him. He comes over to the table, smiles. Sits. Smiles again.

The waiter comes over and I order herbal tea. “The same,” David says. “You like tea?” I ask. “You never used to.”

He shrugs. “It’s so cold out. Seems like a good idea.”

“It is cold.”

“Yes. Sam …” A long silence.

I wait. He has circles under his eyes. He’s lost a little weight. The waiter brings our tea, and we both order sandwiches. And then David says, “I don’t know exactly how to say this. But I’ve been thinking. Sam, I made a big mistake. I’m coming home.”

I sit, frozen.

“Do you think we should tell Travis together?”

“Well, David, I—”

“You don’t need to answer right away. We can think about the best way to do it. But I’m just so relieved.”

“What about your girlfriend?”

“Oh, that was … She was only—”

“Did she leave you?”

He looks into my eyes. “No. It was my decision.”

He’s telling the truth.

I try to imagine telling Travis, think of how happy he will be to learn that his dad is coming back. I can have my old life again.

“I’ve missed you, Sam. I’ve come to understand so much about myself lately, about the way we were together, about what we had that I just …” He stares into his teacup, shakes his head.

“What do you miss, David?”

He looks up, laughs. “Oh, come on, Sam, I think you must know that. Our routines, Travis, I just—”

I swallow, touch his arm. “About me, David. What do you miss about me?”

“Well.” He smiles, leans forward. “I miss … everything. The way you’re always there for me. The way you never question me or give me a hard time. Even the meals you make, you—”

“David?” How about this? The way your shoes are always untied. The way you cry over greeting cards. The way you try to hide your cowlick. The freckle at the side of your right breast.

“Yeah?”

“It’s too late.” I pick up my purse. “I’m sorry. But I think it will be better if I just go, now.”

“Sam, wait a minute!”

“We’ll talk later, David. But not about this. I’m sorry.”

I am, a little. I walk down the block, thinking of him sitting there. It’s odd; it pains me that his clothes are still so familiar to me. I took the shirt he was wearing to the cleaners many times; I saw the belt and trousers he had on hanging in our closet. I believe I could tell you everything that’s in his pockets. But it will happen soon that I won’t know anymore.