She laughed. "The best part was the dried eggnog on his crotch. He looked like he'd been partying at a strip club instead of a family holiday dinner."
I relaxed a little, laughing at the memory of old Jerry swaying, eyes glassy, with a microphone in his hand and a crusty white stain next to his zipper. She laughed too, leaning on the island on her forearms, which incidentally put a little slice of tasteful cleavage in my line of sight.
I kept my eyes on hers, hoping I didn't look encouraging.
"I wish you could have stayed longer," she continued. "My Granny Eugenia played the ukulele Christmas night, and we had a repeat Jerry performance, though less drunk and somehow more lewd."
I chuckled. "Had to get back."
"You don't get much time off, do you?"
I took another drink to give myself a second to cultivate my answer. I had plenty of time off, and I could have taken more, if I'd wanted. I just didn't. It was easier that way, to bury myself in work, in my other life, my easy life where I knew where to be, when to be there, and what to wear. I didn't have to decide. I could just be, and that life, that new life was what I'd devoted myself to for seven years. The old life seemed like a dream most days, a story about a man who didn't exist anymore.
I set the beer on the counter and twisted it in a circle. "Nah, you know how it is. Things are busy, and flying home, especially when I'm overseas, isn't always an option."
"That's too bad. We miss you when you're not here."
I took a drink, hoping she wouldn't wait for an answer. She didn't.
"So, how's Germany been?"
"Great. You know, lots of castles." I didn't want to talk to her, but she didn't seem to pick up on it, no matter how perfunctory I was. She just smiled and kept firing off questions like I was the most interesting man in the world. My stomach soured.
"Is it easy to get around Europe?" she asked.
"Most everything is just a train ride away."
"Where all have you been?"
I shrugged. "All over. Italy, Greece, Spain, Switzerland, Belgium, France."
She lit up. "Paris?"
I smiled at her reaction. "It was one of the first places I went." The smile quickly faded. The trip had only reminded me of Elliot. It was one of the first places we'd wanted to go, hoping we could get stationed in Europe. The list of sights in the city she'd wanted to see had been recited night after night, lying in my arms.
I'd only visited Paris once and had run from the city like she was chasing me.
Lou sighed dreamily. "I've always wanted to go to Europe. Maybe I'll come visit you." The statement was heavy with intention, and I picked up my beer again.
"It's definitely worth seeing." I took a sip, hoping she'd leave it alone. And she did, in part because we both turned to the sound of the door closing hard.
7
Acquiescence
To bend,
Breath still,
Heart stretched,
Is strength
In weakness.
* * *
- M. White
* * *
Elliot
I hurried down the front steps, pulling on my coat, breath puffing visibly in the cold and fading light.
I was not brave.
There were so many reasons why, I thought as I rushed away with tears stinging my eyes.
It wasn't only because I didn't know how to behave around Wade. It wasn't because I couldn't speak or think or feel anything but his presence when he was near. It wasn't because Lou had shown up, beautiful and confident with a casserole and an agenda.
I was not brave because I ran away, and today wasn't the first time.
I'd been walking down the stairs with a box when I glanced into the kitchen to see Wade with his arms around Lou and a stack of dishes between them. She looked up at him like she was waiting for a kiss, and when I saw them, my heart stopped. I'd nearly dropped the box — my arms, my knees lost all strength. But I hung on and walked as quickly as I could into the office, noting when I passed the kitchen again that she was smiling at him, and that she'd made him smile. And when I heard him laugh, it was all I could take.
A week ago, I didn't believe I'd ever hear that sound again.
I don't know quite what came over me, but I had to get out of the house. If I'd stayed, they all would have known how I felt. They all would have seen my pain, pain I guarded so desperately. So I hurried up the stairs and into Rick's room to lie, telling Sophie and Sadie I'd gotten a text from Charlie and needed to go home, promising I'd be there the next morning when Rick came home. I heard the deep rumble of Wade's voice on my way out, the word Paris hanging in the air, speeding my feet as I rushed through the foyer and out the door.
I was silly and stupid, I told myself as I flew down the sidewalk toward home with burning cheeks and stinging eyes. I was selfish, I realized with anguish, boots pounding as I picked up the pace, even though I didn't want to go home. At home, I was watched, opinions were made. The only place I was free to feel whatever I felt was in my room at night, with the door to the world closed tight.
I was overreacting, I knew this. He wasn't mine and I wasn't his, and it had been this way for what felt like an eternity. But it didn't change the fact that I didn't want to be privy to his relationships, however innocent they may be. I thought again about how Lou had looked at him. I knew that look — I'd given him a version of it nearly every day for two years.
The air was thin and chilly, but I took a cleansing breath anyway, forcing myself to slow down. It was better to get back to the kids tonight, because when Rick came home, I'd need to be there for him, Sophie, and Sadie, whether I was uncomfortable or not.
You're ridiculous, Elliot.
Shame crept over me for behaving the way I did, without even saying goodbye to Wade and Lou. It was terribly rude, and as my emotions ebbed and reason took its place, I made plans to apologize to them both when I saw them again.
I checked my watch —I had plenty of time to visit Rick, and then it would be about time for dinner. I felt relief at the thought of keeping busy with the kids. And once I was alone, I'd write, try to sleep, and steel myself for the day tomorrow.
Those were all the places where I was safe. Where I knew my place and my job and my self. Where I could do what needed to be done and know without a shadow of a doubt that it was right.
At the hospital, Rick seemed lonely, afraid, but he hid it as best he could, smiling the drooping half-smile, his silvery stubble shining under the hospital lights as I unpacked more books for him, including the Emerson I'd promised. And then I read to him for a while, and he'd closed his eyes, lips smiling peacefully on that one side alone.
And then I was walking home that evening, on to my next task, leaving the notes of my day singing sadly behind me.