“I’ll bring the baby,” Julia said. “They must have good daycares in New York. And it’s only six months.”
A plan formed in Julia’s mind. This could solve, or at least delay, several of her problems. She could store all of her furniture and belongings and put off finding a new apartment until she’d returned from New York. She would be far away from William while the divorce and his revocation of parental rights took place, which she thought might help keep the process businesslike. If William changed his mind and Julia lived in Chicago, he could argue with her in person. But if she was in New York, he would have to resort to a phone call or write a letter. The dust and drama would have settled in half a year’s time. Perhaps when Julia returned, she would be able to live in Pilsen, near her sisters. Rose’s friends would be less likely to chase her down the street asking why her marriage had ended and what she’d done wrong. Six months would offer a very different terrain from the hot coals her family was currently standing on.
“That’s an interesting proposal,” Professor Cooper said. “Hypothetically, I would pay for your plane ticket, of course, but everything else…I was planning to hire someone local.”
“I’ll cover the move,” she said. “I can afford to do that.” She almost said, I’ve never been to New York, so seeing it would be exciting, but she feared that would make her sound unserious about the work and also less helpful than a local hire, who would almost certainly know where to eat and how the subway system worked.
“I have a rule about not making decisions on the phone,” Professor Cooper said.
“Of course,” Julia said. Professor Cooper had many rules, most of them having to do with sound decision-making and efficiency. He bought one suit a year and no more, so that he stayed with the styles but also got good use out of his clothes. He kept trim by eating six large salads a week. It didn’t matter when he ate them or what else he ate besides the salads; eating six large salads was the rule.
“But if you think you can handle the move, Julia, I accept your offer. You’re the best assistant I’ve ever had. I’ll get back to you with the details shortly.”
When Julia hung up, she was flooded with a ticklish energy that made her do a frenzied dance in the middle of the boxes. She knew she should be scared, having made this wild decision, but she wasn’t. She was excited. She thought about telling Rose and grinned; it would be fun to shock her mother with this news. Rose had run away, and there were consequences to that. One was that Julia had every right to run away too, if only for a little while. In fact, it occurred to Julia—in the middle of her dance—that her mother might be able to help her find an apartment in New York. Rose had said that her Miami friends had real estate connections everywhere; surely one of them would know of an available apartment in New York City. Perhaps one of the old ladies had a place sitting empty right there that Julia and Alice could simply occupy.
Julia pulled a bound atlas out of one of William’s boxes; it was one of his few non-clothing belongings. She found New York State and then a close-up page of New York City. She traced the island of Manhattan with her finger. She had grown up in a city; how different could big cities be from one another? She looked around at the stacks of boxes, at the sleeping baby. She had figured out her next step, and neither her mother nor her sisters could stop her.
* * *
—
Julia put off telling her sisters the news until the details had been confirmed with Professor Cooper and until Julia and Alice had plane tickets to leave for New York in two weeks’ time. One or more of her sisters came over most nights for dinner, but Julia didn’t want to tell them in person. She was scared that if her sisters became upset in front of her, she might lose her bravery and change her mind about the move. After all, the sisters had never been apart like this, never lived more than twenty minutes from one another, never not seen one another at least once a week and often every day. Julia decided the best plan was to tell one of them over the phone and then let that sister tell everyone else. She hoped she would be on the plane before they were able to hurl their collective emotions at her.
When she contemplated which sister to tell, she thought of Sylvie first, but Sylvie felt like a complicated choice. Sylvie visited Julia as often as the twins did, but she was quieter when she was in the apartment. She and Julia hugged more than they used to, and after dinner they sat side by side on the couch watching television with one sister resting her head on the other sister’s shoulder. They held hands occasionally, reaching out to squeeze each other’s fingers. Their bodies pulled together as if magnetized, as if their bodies were communicating during a period when the two oldest Padavano sisters both seemed hesitant to speak. Julia had never asked why, in the twenty-four hours after William walked out, Sylvie had been more concerned about William than her own sister. She’d never asked to hear the story of the search. She assumed Sylvie had stopped going to the hospital after William told her he wanted nothing to do with Julia and Alice, but something William’s doctor said made Julia wonder if that was true.
Dr. Dembia had left a message on the answering machine, asking for ten minutes of Julia’s time. The doctor was hoping Julia might provide some insight into what she referred to as William’s “crash.” But Julia hadn’t known he was depressed; she hadn’t seen this coming; she had been shocked by everything. When the doctor asked her for information, she realized she didn’t even know much about his childhood. William had never talked about it.
Julia said, “I think our marriage would have ended no matter what.”
There was a pause and then the doctor said, “I know this must have been very upsetting for you, even if your marriage was already in trouble.”
For a moment, Julia couldn’t speak. There was a lump in her throat, and she thought she might cry. She’d expected the doctor to chastise her for not knowing her husband. She’d expected the doctor to judge her for never coming to the hospital, even though she’d been told to stay away. She hadn’t expected kindness. And the doctor had diagnosed her correctly: What had happened had upset Julia. She’d been knocked over like a tower of children’s blocks, and even when she’d had a chance to gather herself back up, she felt like she’d lost part of her heart for good.
“I’m sorry I can’t be more helpful,” Julia said, when she could trust her voice.
“Thank you for your time, Sylvie.”
Julia blinked. “Sylvie?”