“Yes, dear.”
The thing is, I was a prick again after that. And after that. And after that. I lost touch with our rich history. I forgot what made Maddy special. I assumed she’d be there to renew for another five years.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Madeline
My vantage point continues to diminish. There is a cosmic hourglass counting down my time to have impact, and I intend to get the better of it.
The dinner served its purpose: Rory has my family on the brain. She thinks mostly about me, questioning what she’s missing. The house, the good-looking husband, the smart kid, it all seems so perfect looking in. She can’t figure out what I had to escape.
Rory gracefully transitions from downward dog to pigeon. Her mind is clear of activity, so I softly recite Brady’s name. In the steady hum I’ve now mastered I say, Brady … Brady … Brady. I do it slowly, salaciously, trying to evoke the specific frame of mind I’m after. The image that pops into her consciousness is of Brady sipping his wine while maintaining deep, direct eye contact. There was something intimate about the exchange that she ignored at the time. Her cheeks blush with the recollection.
In her stretch pants and fitted tank, Rory’s sex appeal multiplies. Gone is the childlike spunk she brings to the classroom. Her firm shape will be an upgrade for Brady; I was thin but soft. Rory is solid and sweats the perfect amount. After a hot yoga class I looked like I’d been put through the heavy towel cycle in the dryer. Rory looks like she’s been sitting out by the pool on a hot day.
When class ends, Rory’s effeminate yoga instructor asks if she wants to grab coffee sometime. “Thanks for the invitation,” she demurs. “But I think we should stick to yoga.”
His shoulders drop a bit. “Boyfriend?”
Rory bites her lip. Lying is the easiest way to end the conversation without offense and this is the only hot hatha flow class that works with her schedule. “Um hmm.”
“Is it Frank? I notice you two always put your mats next to each other.”
Rory wasn’t expecting him to dig deeper. “Ah, nope. Not Frank. Definitely not Frank.” Frank has nipple rings. “His name is Brady. You wouldn’t know him.”
Rory tells herself to shut the hell up and offers a silent prayer that Brady doesn’t have time for yoga. It’s not exactly a common name and Wellesley is a small town. Once in the privacy of her car Rory sighs, wondering where that tall tale came from. I’ll never tell.
Just as my capacity starts to dwindle, I’m getting good at being a ghost. I enlisted Meg to reach out to Brady about dating again, which wasn’t easy since each message now takes a herculean effort to convey and she’s against the idea of it. To Meg, Brady remaining abstinent for the rest of his life seems a reasonable consequence for missing my depression. I used Eve as bait, forcing my sister to admit she won’t be Eve’s go-to person in life. Meg manages a global department of a thousand people. She’s on a plane more than she’s in a car. Over time, Eve will be pushed down her to-do list along with dusting the fans. My message to Meg was that Brady needs someone so Eve has someone.
My sister couldn’t bring herself to have the conversation outright, but she sent an email: It’s none of my business, she began, so there’s no need to reply. In fact she prayed he wouldn’t. But when Eve leaves for school this fall, no one would judge you for seeking companionship. They both knew that’s untrue; you can’t change babysitters in Wellesley without being judged. There will be times in life when Eve needs a woman she trusts. Maybe it will be Paige or me, we both hope so, but maybe we’re too intertwined with Maddy. Maybe deep down Eve can’t look at any of us without thinking we failed in some way. I appreciate you don’t need permission but, for what it’s worth, you have it.
Brady read it once and deleted it, but the message served its purpose: the idea that my replacement will inherently be linked to Eve is floating around. Have you ever noticed what happens to your house the moment you consider moving? Suddenly the rooms turn claustrophobic, the kitchen cabinets look outdated, and sharing a bathroom sink with your spouse becomes intolerable. The power of suggestion is real, and I’m becoming a master at leveraging it.
I even got through to Brady’s friend Bobby, who was so loaded when Brady called about tracking down Marie that he completely forgot to follow up with his brother. Eve keeps asking about it and I want Brady to get closure. It was wrong not to show him the letters when I found them. I thought I was saving him distress, but now I see it wasn’t my call to make. I had a bad habit of protecting Brady and Eve from life, which has left them with unreasonable expectations and poor coping skills.
Although Bobby’s brain isn’t in overdrive like Brady’s, his limited attention span made him a challenge. My first attempt was as a reminder: Brady asked a favor. He’d catch two words before being distracted by a billboard or good-looking passerby or the directions on a shampoo bottle. It doesn’t take much to grab Bobby’s eye.
My next tact was simpler: Call your brother. The hope was that Bobby would remember Brady’s request when they connected. I got him to make the call, but Bobby started describing a NASCAR crash and then said, “Christ, I can’t remember why I’m calling.” His brother laughed and asked Bobby to hold on for a sec. I took the break to remind him: Help Brady, I said, again and again. Help Brady.
When his brother returned, Bobby enlisted his assistance and I did the equivalent of a ghost jig. Watch out, Casper, here I come.
Eve
I assess how the journal was left in the drawer so I know how to leave it when I’m done. I do this all the time; I don’t know why it’s making me nervous today. I check the clock again. My father won’t be home for two hours. I need to chill the hell out.
I’ve started drinking tea, like my mother. I like to sit at the kitchen table with a glass of sweetened rooibos and read her heavy script. I pretend she’s in the chair next to mine and we’re in a real conversation where she’s choosing to share her deepest thoughts. Sometimes I swear I hear a voice-over like they do on soap operas when someone leaves a note before ditching town.
June 29, 2013