I hadn’t meant to say that part out loud, but Laine didn’t so much as raise an eyebrow as she kept writing. Maybe that’s why I kept going.
“‘I’m Reggie. Reggie Walker,’ he said, sticking out his hand. I stared at it for longer than I should have, then blushed because it had occurred to me that he probably thought I wasn’t shaking it because he was Black. Carroll Gardens was still largely an Italian neighborhood then, and even Hank and I sometimes felt we didn’t belong; I could only imagine that Reggie hadn’t had a warm welcome from all.”
“You know, I used to worry about that, Mom,” she said, meeting my eye. “I thought you didn’t want me to date Ben because he was Black.”
“Oh, Laine, I’m sorry you thought that, and sorrier still that my actions led you there. That wasn’t at all the case, but I can see why you thought that, and that must have been awful for you.”
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
“Don’t thank me, love. At any rate, I quickly took Reggie’s hand and clasped it with both of mine and said what I was thinking, which was that it was just so wonderful to meet him. Oh, and I was Sally.”
Laine leaned back in the chair and looked around the patio. I saw her eyes land on the place where Hank’s workshop had once been; he’d torn it down the year before he died, intending to have a new one put up, but, of course, that never happened. I thought maybe Laine would ask me about him. Instead, she said, “What was Reggie like back then, Mom? I don’t remember him that well—not from that time period.”
“Oh. Well . . . he was not tall, and he was dressed—well, I can’t describe it now, but it wasn’t the way Hank or any of our friends would have. Casually. And as of that moment on the porch, we’d exchanged but a few sentences. I was married fifteen years already with three children to show for it. And yet, in spite of all that, I could see it plain as day: here was my future, standing before me.”
“Mom,” said Laine in a choked voice. “That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“I know. It was. But also it wasn’t. Later Reggie would tell me that he’d had the same thunderstruck sensation I’d had and was trying to make sense of it, to undo what was already undoable.”
I stopped talking for a moment as I recalled the conversation Reggie and I had.
“Where do you live, exactly?” I finally asked Reggie as we stood on the stoop together all those years ago.
“Number 51,” he said. “First floor.”
I nodded. “My family and I are on the garden and first floors here.”
“I know. My youngest—he talks about your daughter. Laine, right?”
“Yes. Then Ben must be your boy.” I’d seen them playing on the sidewalk and the small fenced-off area beside our stoop. I wasn’t going to say this to Laine, but I’d noticed she was relaxed around him, and even at six, that was unusual for her.
Reggie nodded. Then he smiled sheepishly and glanced away, and I understood that the next move was mine to make.
“Reggie Walker,” I said. What a thrill just to say it out loud! He had that same intensity in his eyes again, and though I wasn’t sure I was going to make it off my stoop in one piece if I kept staring back at him, I dared myself not to look away. “It’s awfully hot out here. Can I bring you a glass of iced tea?”
“I’d like that,” he said.
“Mom?” said Laine, and that’s when I realized I’d drifted off.
“Oh, I’m sorry, dear. I was just thinking about how I invited Reggie in for tea that day.”
“Was that when—” She cleared her throat. “Your affair began?”
“Oh, no,” I said, shaking my head. “He came in that day, but it would be several years before we acted on what was so clearly a mutual attraction. And, oh, how I congratulated myself for my virtue during that time. In retrospect, I wish I’d dived right in—had more time with him, rather than less. But your face when you confronted me the other day, Laine! I can’t tell you how terrible I felt, knowing you thought the worst of me. I wanted to tell you how hard things had been with your father, but . . .”
But I hadn’t wanted to turn her against him. I still didn’t. And that’s why I didn’t tell her what I was thinking. There was honesty, and then there were the things that forever changed a person’s perception.
The truth is, I’m not sure Hank ever loved me. He certainly didn’t pay attention to me the way I needed him to. That blasted newspaper he was always hiding behind, those stupid model cars and boats. What about real life? What about the wife who just wanted to have a conversation from time to time, who didn’t want to have to drag him off to a cabin in the woods to get him to pay attention to her? And how was I supposed to know that the man who was so smitten with me that he proposed three weeks after we met would soon lose interest in me, like a child with a toy?
What was I supposed to do, year after year of being ignored? It was like slowly being starved to death.
“Well, Laine,” I finally said. “What matters now is that Reggie gave me the best decade of my life, even if it was also the most painful. I’m not ashamed to say that. I chose not to tear our family apart by divorcing your father and making Ben your stepbrother. I’d be lying if I said that wasn’t the hardest decision of my life, but I don’t regret it. I never should have told you not to get involved with Ben, though. As though my words would be enough to keep the two of you apart.”
Laine had stopped writing and appeared to be on her way to falling right off her chair.
“He’s his father’s son, Ben is. He never once needed to be reminded to pay attention to you, Laine. He hung on your every word—so happy just to be in your presence. After you fought—and then you took up with Josh—I was relieved to not have to interact with Reggie any more than I had to. Yet I always thought the two of you would find your way back to each other. And you have.”
“What do you mean?” she said, but something in her eyes told me she knew exactly what I meant.
“Well, Laine,” I said, “now it’s up to you to do the thing that I didn’t have the courage to.”
“And what’s that?”
I smiled at her. “Say yes to your heart.”
THIRTY-SEVEN
LAINE
My mother’s words—“say yes to your heart”—were still echoing in my head the following evening. She’d been referring to Ben, of course, but I couldn’t help but think her words applied to my decision to return to Michigan, and to try to have a baby on my own, too. These were hard decisions, as every yes required saying no to something or someone else—in this case, Josh and my family. Yet as I opened the door for Hadley and Topper, I felt at peace in a way that I hadn’t in a very long time.
“Hi,” said Hadley, hugging me. “Do you know what Mom has planned?”
“Not exactly,” I said. As she’d requested, I’d asked my sisters and Josh to come over so she could talk to us all together. “But she’s been pretty normal all day. Good, even.”
“Glad to hear that,” said Hadley. She still looked tired, but there was color in her cheeks and her worry lines had disappeared.
“Where are the twins?” I asked.
“With a sitter,” said Topper, who’d just shook Josh’s hand.
I smiled at Hadley, who smiled back. A sitter wasn’t full-time care, but it was progress. No wonder she looked better.
“Hellooo!” said Piper, who’d just let herself in. She was wearing a red jumpsuit and had done her makeup. I wasn’t used to seeing her made up, but she looked amazing, as I told her.
“You do, too,” she said as she air-kissed me. “Any idea what Mom has planned?”
“She’s just finishing getting ready, but we’ll find out soon enough,” I said.
Josh ambled over, and Piper kissed him hello, too. “I hear you’re moving back,” she said conspiratorially.
He smiled at her. “Good news travels fast.”
“I hope you don’t mind that I told Hadley and Piper,” I said to him.