TJ: Have you spoken to Cecily recently?
FM: She’s called a bunch of times, but I was keeping clear of her for a bit, you know? Trying to give her a chance to calm down. Because I get it that it’s a bit surprising what’s going on. But Joshua was so kind to me through all this. We kind of healed each other. And now we’re going to be a real family, just like I always wanted.
Chapter 37
Maybe, Maybe Someday
Cecily
I went to see the divorce lawyer in the weeks when Tom was living in the businessman’s hotel downtown. I wanted to know how it could go, what my rights were, how the money would be worked out. Sara suggested I go to a shark, a barracuda, one of the lawyers who sees your ex as so much chum in the water. She regretted she hadn’t done that, wishing she’d made Bill twist and turn legally, given how he’s treated her. But I knew myself. I didn’t have predator instincts. I didn’t want to see Tom twist and turn and have to twist and turn along with him. I didn’t want to go to court—the thought of it terrified me—and so I knew that if we did this, if I did this, and we were going to be over, officially, then it would have to be some kind of mediated solution.
Just sitting there in a lawyer’s office felt so alien to me, even though she handled the meeting with a practiced hand. She had a box of Kleenex ready and a yellow legal pad to fill up with my familiar story. How many variations of the same thing had she heard? Hundreds? A thousand? It was dizzying to think about. Tom and I weren’t just some statistic. We were each other’s history, a family, parents. Whatever she wrote down about us would never be the whole story, even if she could predict every detail. Was this how we were supposed to end? In court documents that would bear only our initials so they remained private? Our children referred to as C. and H.? Our furniture appraised and divided equally?
But what alternative did I have? Let Tom off the hook? Let him move back in and sleep next to him for the rest of my life knowing what I knew? Could I forgive him, did I even want to make the effort? What chance did we have when I couldn’t trust anything he said?
The questions in my head were louder than the answers the lawyer was providing to the ones I asked out loud.
I met Tom for lunch after the meeting. It was the first time I’d seen him since he’d left, the first time we’d spoken in person. When we’d made the appointment, I wasn’t even sure I could go through with it. Walking into the restaurant, I felt dizzy. Then I spotted Tom, and I relaxed. He was sitting near the window, a drink on the table, and he looked like shit. His face was puffy, and he needed a haircut. He’d put on weight, and the buttons on his shirt were straining a bit. It made him more approachable to see him so obviously miserable. I’d been imagining him reveling in his newfound freedom. Instead, it looked as if he’d spent the last two weeks drinking and stress eating.
He rose as I came to the table, then kissed me quickly on the cheek.
“Hi. You look great.”
“Thanks.”
“Thank you for meeting me.”
We sat down. A waiter came over with a glass of white wine. Even though it was barely past noon, I was grateful for the drink.
“What do you want, Tom?” I blurted.
He looked startled but determined; his eyes fixed on mine. “I want to come home.”
“Just like that?”
“I miss you. I miss the kids. I know I fucked up, but I’ll do whatever it takes to make things better. Counseling. Sleeping in the basement. Whatever you need me to do.”
“Is there a time machine in the basement I don’t know about?”
“I wish there were, Lily. I wish I could go back and change everything about this.”
“You just wish you hadn’t gotten caught.”
“That’s not true. I swear.”
“How can I trust you?”
“I want to regain your trust. So whatever conditions you want to impose. Whatever you want to know, just ask and I’ll tell you.” He pulled out his phone and handed it to me. “I’ll give you the passcode, and you can check it whenever you want.”
I dropped it on the table. I felt dirty just holding it. “Are . . . are your texts with her still on this?”
“I deleted them. I deleted everything.”
“So I can’t know everything, then.”
He went pale. “I’ll tell you whatever you want if you want me to, though there isn’t that much to tell. But maybe . . . I know you, Lily. You don’t want to know the details. You’ll just turn them over and over in your mind and wonder if I’ve told you everything. I betrayed you and our family. I’m so ashamed of having done that—you have no idea. But let me bear the burden of it, okay? The details aren’t what’s going to heal us.”
Tom started to cry.
“Please stop,” I said.
“I’m sorry.” He wiped at his eyes with his napkin.
“Don’t make me feel sorry for you.”
“I don’t want that. I don’t want that at all. Please, Cecily, can we please just try? I’m on my knees here.”
“Maybe you should be.”
He pushed his chair back.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting down on my knees.”
“What?” I looked around. Half the restaurant was watching us. “People are looking.”
“I don’t care.”
“I care, you idiot.”
He stopped, got back in his chair. “I wanted to show you how serious I am.”
“Okay, I get it. You’re serious.”
“Will you give me a chance? Please?”
I thought back to what the lawyer told me. That coming to see her didn’t have to mean my marriage was over. That there was nothing final about talking to her, that information never hurt anyone. I should be absolutely sure about what I wanted before I made the decision to file papers. And that was the problem; I wasn’t absolutely sure about anything. All this was so new and shocking and unexpected. I hadn’t even thought my marriage was in trouble before I read that text. Maybe that made me an idiot, but it also meant that if I wanted, maybe there was something left for me to save.
“I can give you a chance.”
I work my shift in a daze, checking my phone constantly to make sure Kaitlyn stays put and to see if there’s any news from Teo. It rings only once, but it’s my mom.
“Hi, Mom.”
I signal to a waiter to take my place at the podium, walking down the hall to the bathroom, where it’s quieter.
“Honey, I’m so glad you answered. I haven’t heard from you for days.”
“I texted you this morning.”
“A text. That’s not communication. And I thought you were coming over on Halloween?”
Halloween. That feels like weeks ago.
“I’m sorry. We got distracted. Was it hard?”
“It was fun, actually. Your dad would’ve been proud of me.”
“I’m sure he would. I know I am.”
“So, where have you been?”
“Cecily?”
I turn around. The waiter who replaced me is standing there, looking anxious.
“Mom, can I call you back later? It’s busy here.”
“Of course. But, Cecily?”
“Yes?”
“Take care of yourself, okay?”
I hang up, staring at the phone. Does my mother know what’s going on? How could she? No, it’s just momtuition; I have it myself sometimes with the kids. I put the phone away and go back to work.
Finally, around five, Teo texts me that they’re ready, and I suggest they meet me at six thirty. I call Cassie and ask her to take Henry out to dinner and a movie so we can have the house to ourselves. Cassie asks if Kevin can go with them, and I agree. If I could send Henry as a chaperone on all her dates, I would.
Teo’s car pulls up at the same time as mine. I don’t know what I was expecting his investigator to look like—some variant of Humphrey Bogart, perhaps—but Joe Connor is a short, small man with round glasses and a bald head, no fedora in sight. Being unassuming is probably a good thing in his line of work.
I direct them where to put their hats and coats and go to the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee. I feel chilled to the bone, though the house is warm. Teo and Joe sit at the kitchen island while I hover.