“Josh, I do. I remember all of that. But . . .” I wasn’t going to guide him across the divide, but I’d at least shine a light in the right direction. “Where do you see us in ten years? Five, even?”
“I see us healthy and wealthy, living in a much bigger home that we actually own,” he said immediately. Then he winced as he glanced around, like the very sight of our place—which was small, sure, but tidy and filled with the items we’d chosen for it—brought him shame. “I’ll have started a new company, obviously. Maybe we’ll get another dog.”
I turned to the wall because if I kept looking at him, I’d either start sobbing or throw my suitcase at him. Another dog? Was he kidding right now?
A terrible thought occurred to me just then.
Josh was a wonderful person . . . who also happened to be deeply detached from the reality of here and now. And I could not deny that I’d enabled him to be that way, and I didn’t know how not to do that anymore. Which meant he was never going to change—at least not while I was in the picture. And as such, we would not be having a child together, because he would never, ever be ready.
Through the window, I saw that a black sedan had pulled up in front of our town house. “That’s me,” I said.
“Let’s keep talking about this—we’ll figure it out,” he said with so much confidence that I almost believed him. “Send my best to Mom.” He was an only child who’d always called his own mother, Irene, by her first name, but mine had been Mom to him since the first time I brought him to New York. There was just something about my family, Josh remarked early on, that made him feel like he belonged.
“I will,” I said.
“Hey, Laine?”
“Yeah?”
“I love you.” His face got all screwed up then, and I almost told him I hadn’t meant any of it. We were compassionate, intelligent human beings who’d vowed to stay together till death did us part! Surely, we could work through this whole baby situation.
But then I remembered that he hadn’t mentioned kids once during the course of our conversation.
“I love you, too,” I said quietly. “I’ll see you in a week.”
“This isn’t weird at all. Right, girl?” I whispered.
The small ceramic urn I’d just taken out of my carry-on did not respond.
I was aware that it wasn’t a great look, but I couldn’t stand to leave Michigan without Belle—what was left of her, at least. Of course, even when Belle was alive, she wouldn’t make a joke and lighten the mood when Hadley said something that ticked off Piper. Nor had she been the one to help me sort through the junk mail my mother had accumulated and empty her fridge of food that had expired six months earlier. That had always been Josh’s job. And although it had been my choice to go without him, that decision had triggered a deep sort of loneliness that I hadn’t felt since Belle died.
And so, in an arguably misguided attempt to feel just a little less alone, I was about to put my dog’s ashy remains through the airport security scanner. Sometimes you had to do what you had to do.
“Excuse me!” I said to the woman who was looking at a computer screen filled with X-ray images of luggage. “I just want to give you a heads-up that there are . . . um, remains in this bin,” I said, pointing to the gray container on the conveyer belt. “The one with the tiny vaselike-looking thing. I’ve sealed it with tape and placed it in a plastic bag.” Sorry, Belle, I added silently as I glanced at the urn.
“We may have to open and examine it,” said the agent, barely glancing in my general direction.
“If you do, you’re going to get the ashes of a dead person all over everyone else’s suitcases,” I said sharply. I felt as shocked as the agent now looked, and not just because I’d just admitted aloud that I thought of my dog as a person. At any other time, I would’ve nicely asked her to be extra careful, but apparently initiating a divorce had strengthened my spine. As someone who had a long history of going above and beyond for others at her own expense, this was probably not the worst development. “You can call your supervisor if there are any issues,” I added in a slightly less righteous tone.
Two minutes later, Belle was back in my bag. I glanced inside the carry-on one more time to make sure she was secure, but it only served to remind me how different this trip was going to be.
My eyes began to blur with tears, so I ducked into the bathroom. Once I was in a stall, I let myself sit there and cry for a little while—my flight was still an hour out—and when that was over, washed my hands and splashed water on my face and hoped no one would notice my swollen eyes.
Piper called just as I was approaching the gate. It took me a while to find my phone in my bag. When I picked up, I instantly regretted it.
“Gah, Lainey, why didn’t you tell me you were coming in this weekend?” she said by way of a greeting.
I threw myself down in one of the seats near the podium. There’s still time to change your plans, I reminded myself. “I knew Hadley would tell you,” I told her. “And I’m going to be in town for a full week. We’ll have plenty of time to talk about this.”
“Well, good, but Rocco is going to be at Levi’s when you get in, and he’ll be disappointed,” she said, and I could just see her pouting on the other line. Piper had divorced Levi, Rocco’s dad, soon after giving birth to Rocco; she hadn’t married Jae and Kaia’s father, Silas, and unlike her and Levi, they were on good terms. Before I could ask about her younger two, she added, “Don’t worry, Jae and Kaia are both with me for the weekend.”
“Great. I can’t wait to see everyone,” I said with as much enthusiasm as I could muster. I was excited to hang out with my nephews and niece, but I still felt depleted from the emotional roller coaster of the past week—and preemptively exhausted from dealing with Piper. She was charming and gorgeous and had this way of making everything and everyone around her sparkle a little brighter. And sometimes it took an incredible amount of energy to orbit her sun.
“Well . . .” she said, and I waited for her to say something about Josh. “I’m ruining the surprise, but we got a puppy!” she exclaimed. “She’s this adorable little Morkipoo. Her name is Alexis von Wigglebottom, but we call her Lexi.”
“A Morkipoo? As in half poodle?” I said. Belle had been viciously attacked by a toy poodle dog at a dog park a few years earlier. I knew there were no bad dogs, only bad owners—but the damage to our psyches had already been done. Since then, we had crossed the street whenever we saw a small dog with tight curls.
“Only a third, actually. I know you like bigger dogs . . .”
No, I liked one particular medium-size dog who was now dead. Piper, oblivious to my pain, plowed ahead. “But HRH is so adorable that I just know you’ll want the number for my breeder after you meet her.”
I somehow doubted that. “What does ‘HRH’ mean?”
“Her Royal Highness!”
I was officially uninterested in meeting this purebred rat.
“Anyways!” said Piper. “Now that I know you’re going to be in town, I want to have everyone over for dinner tonight. What time will you and Josh be in?”
So that’s why she didn’t ask. “Hadley didn’t tell you?” I asked.
“Tell me what?”
I took a deep breath and assured myself that it didn’t matter if I informed her now or tomorrow or next year. “Josh and I are getting divorced.”
“Stop.”
“No, I’m serious.”
“That’s nuts, Laine,” she said with obvious irritation. “Also, hello? I’m your sister. When were you planning on telling me this?”
“It’s only been a week, Piper. I’m kind of processing.” I cringed because this sounded like something Hadley would say.
“A week! Are you kidding me?”
I kind of wished I was. “I’m not.”
“Oh my gosh. You left him, didn’t you? Why? Josh is the best.”
You take him, then, I thought.
“Oh, poor Joshy,” she said dolefully. “He’s probably so heartbroken. What’s this about? Did you meet someone?”
“Yeah, right,” I scoffed.