Wednesday, May 1, 2013: I walk in the front door after school and I drop my book bag on the floor and grab an apple out of the fridge and I walk down to the studio and Dad is at his computer. I grab the Gibson off the rack and I start playing and Dad is working and I’m working too and we’re not even talking to each other but it’s perfect.
That school day is pretty much like every other school day, except the songs are different and our clothes are different and sometimes it’s a nectarine in my hand and not an apple and sometimes I’m not even playing music because I’m doing my homework instead, but I’m still down in the studio with Dad.
And now Mom comes through the front door wearing her sunglasses. I look at her hands, thinking she might have gone food shopping or maybe she got her nails painted at the salon. But her hands are empty and her nails look dull and clear. She’s not even carrying her purse, which is weird, and her hair is up in a ponytail, which is even weirder. Mom hates her ears, so she puts her hair up only if she’s really hot, like when she’s exercising. But right now she’s in her normal clothes, not her workout clothes.
“Where were you?” I ask.
“I went for a walk,” Mom says, which for her is even weirder than not having her purse or wearing her hair in a ponytail. “Is Gavin still sleeping?”
“I think so,” Dad says.
Mom opens the studio door and heads downstairs.
Dad and I watch her go and then Dad turns to me in his chair and reaches out his arms. “Come here.” He pulls me in and the hug makes me feel even worse because it only reminds me how happy I am when he’s around. Sometimes I forget things too.
“I’m sorry about the whole Mindy Love thing,” Dad says into my ear. “I’m just trying to do what’s right for you.”
I’m trying to do what’s right for me too. And while I’m doing that, I’m also trying to do what’s right for him.
26
In the dark, a familiar voice calls to me, whispers my name. I lift my head, open my eyes, squint against the light. A figure stands in the doorway. I wonder, for just a moment, if it might be him. Have I finally woken up from this long nightmare?
“You awake?” the figure says.
It’s not Sydney. Of course, it’s not Sydney. It’s Paige.
I drop my heavy head back to the pillow. “Yeah,” I answer.
“Get up. Get dressed.”
“That may take a while.”
“Please,” Paige says. “We need to talk.”
She leaves and shuts my door.
“This was his favorite spot,” Paige says.
We’re in Riverview Park, just a few blocks from the Sully house. We’re seated on a concrete foundation that used to be the floor of a gazebo. According to Paige, the gazebo’s top blew off during last year’s superstorm.
“I don’t think he thought much of the neighborhood,” Paige says, “but he loved the view from up here.”
Our legs dangle off the side of the foundation, our eyes forward. The concrete is warm under our thighs. Out ahead, a blinding sun rises up over Manhattan.
“There’s something I haven’t told you,” she says.
My heart revs up, adrenaline focusing my mind. I had wondered, after some of the things Ollie said to me last night about Paige’s uncanny recall, if it was possible she knew more than she was letting on.
“I didn’t think it would do you any good. But I see now you’re never going to let it go and I don’t blame you. If what you were saying yesterday is true, then Sydney was keeping things from me too.”
I didn’t want to be right about this. I desperately wanted to be wrong.
“Did you know Sydney asked me for my eggs?” Paige says.
“No.”
“A few weeks before he visited in January, he called me up and sprang it on me. I didn’t know what to say. I told him I’d think about it and get back to him.” She pauses. “I’m pretty sure that wasn’t the response he was hoping for.”
“I don’t understand,” I say. “Why would he ask you? We were going to use my sister. That was the plan.”
“I know,” Paige says, staring ahead. “But that plan didn’t work out.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Syd reached out to Veronica on his own.”
“What? When did this happen?”
“Around New Year’s.”
I think back to that night in December, how frustrated Syd was with me for wanting to put the brakes on parenthood.
“Veronica said she’d be happy to do it,” Paige says. “But there was a problem. She had just started dating this guy and she thought it might go somewhere. The timing wasn’t right. Syd didn’t want to count on that relationship going sour, so he began working on a backup plan. I guess that started with me.”
I still can’t get past the first part. “I was the one who was supposed to ask my sister. I was going to.”
“He knew that,” Paige says, adopting a motherly tone. “He knew you’d come around eventually. But he also knew how involved the whole process would be. He wanted to get started while you were figuring out whatever you had to figure out.”
“It’s so patronizing.”
“No, it wasn’t like that. He didn’t want to rush you, that’s all. He wanted to give you the time you needed, but he also knew he couldn’t wait forever.”
Syd’s sense of urgency about the future had often felt obsessive and irrational. And yet the way Paige describes him makes him sound clairvoyant. It’s like he carried an hourglass in his pocket and knew exactly when his time would be up. In truth, it’s simply a matter of Syd’s fears being as influential for him as mine are for me. The difference being his fears propelled him forward while mine continue to hold me back.
“What does this have to do with all those trips he took to New York?” I ask.
“I’m not sure.” She stands up. I watch her pace around the concrete foundation. “What I’m about to say is just a theory, okay? It’s just a hunch. I didn’t want to tell you this from the start, because I’m not even sure it means anything.”
I stand up with her and cross my arms, bracing myself. “Go ahead.”
“When he visited in January, he never brought up what we spoke about, the possibility of using my eggs. I had been giving it a lot of thought. I was seriously considering it. But he was already on to the next thing.”
“Which was what?”
“Another woman. I didn’t know who she was, but he swore he felt a connection with her. I told him I didn’t think it was a good idea. You can’t go up to a woman, basically a stranger, and just ask her for her eggs. I told him he should go home and talk it over with you. I thought you guys would be better off going back to the agency and finding a donor that way. But I don’t think he was hearing me. We were right here, looking out at the city, just like we are now, and I swear I had this feeling like whatever I was saying just wasn’t sinking in.”
“What did he do?”