David stayed in the kitchen. She hated being followed. They hadn’t had many fights, but when they did have one, he would want to fix it right away, to say anything to stop the kindling, the slow burn of disagreement that was sure to combust. Her way worked, he had learned. If he didn’t pursue her, she wouldn’t leave the house and he could find her later, and instead of him placating her, they would talk and something would be worked out. “I need to live in real life,” she would say. “It’s okay if we’re mad at each other. I’m not going anywhere.”
He loved Kate. He loved Jane. He wanted Jane so much it almost seemed he could make her materialize, like how in a dream when you feel pain or sex that’s as real as anything awake. And even when he tried to picture a different turn of events in which Kate got well and he hadn’t met Jane, he found that he couldn’t imagine not knowing her. He could imagine giving her up, but despite their short time together, he couldn’t imagine her out of existence.
He went upstairs to Kate. That she was in their bed registered again, as it did every night. There were only brief moments when he forgot the surprise of it. She was already asleep, and he lay close, but not touching, as he spun the possibilities around in his mind and watched her sleep until morning.
“Cherstyennikov,” the researcher said. “Vlad Cherstyennikov. But Vlad is fine. Or Chad. Or Brad. It’s a hard language.” They began the checklist of symptoms a spouse might observe.
“Has she taken wrong turns while driving?
“I don’t know. I guess I should let her drive more.”
“Has she asked questions that were just answered?”
“No, it’s me that does that.”
“Has she been able to follow instructions or a recipe?”
“Yes,” David said. “She’s bored, so she’s been trying new things.”
“Good. That takes a lot of concentration. Is she making excessively long lists of to-do items or reminders?”
This one scared David. “Well, she’s a list person. I don’t know what’s excessive. It just seems like her, though. Like regular her.”
He read People in the waiting room until Kate finished with Dr. Ratha and Dr. Tsang. He didn’t know who any of these people in the magazine were, even the writers and musicians. He must be older than he felt. Kate found him staring at the crossword puzzle, which could have been in another language.
She waited to speak until they were alone in the stairwell. “Based on their body language and cheerfulness, I’d guess the others are still doing fine too.” She shook her head once. “It’s more than cheerful. Those guys are excited. Excited and scared, I’d say.”
He gave a whoop and hugged her. “A future,” he murmured in her ear.
“Possibly,” she said. “But at the least, a present. Just having some now counts too.”
He tugged her hand and they sat down on a step. He wasn’t about to make her bring up the topic. “You don’t know that Jane would say yes,” he said.
“It’s maybe not even likely,” she agreed. They heard the landing door open and moved over to let two people in scrubs trot past them. “And I’d need to start kind of slow. I need to fill my time with something other than researching the lost years.”
“To use our word from the other day—why are you being so generous?”
“I don’t mean this to hurt you, but I can’t embrace everything the way I did. It’s not personal and don’t analyze it too much—just accept it. And then there’s what if I get sick again? You realize I could still get breast cancer or something else. I’m not immune just because I have this. You may think we can reconstruct our previous life, but I think it’s impossible, or wrong, and possibly bad luck.
“Had,” he muttered.
“What?”
“Had the illness. Not have.” She dismissed his distinction with a shake of her head. “I’m sure I’m going to like her. I expect her to be a nicer version of me.”
“I don’t know,” he said. He stood and offered his hand to help her up, though she didn’t need it. “It’s early days. She’s probably been on good behavior.”
They drove towards Jane’s house. “Should you have called first?” Kate asked.
“She would have told me not to come.”
“She is definitely nicer than me.”
They stood together on the porch until David inhaled deeply and rang the bell. He knew that the Jane who had been married to Charlie would never open that door, but apparently the Jane who loved David decided everything is possible. She let them in and guided them to the kitchen so she could turn off a burner. They all tried but failed to smile.
“At the risk of making this even more surreal,” Jane said, “I want to say that I have definitely heard a lot about you—and I’m very, very happy for you and your family.”
“Thank you,” Kate said.
Everyone looked at their feet. Jane’s were bare. “Kate refuses to let you go,” David said, “to let me…” He tried again. “She doesn’t think you and I have to be over.”
“What did you say?”
He repeated it.
“I don’t understand. I thought you came here to meet me—that you were curious.”
“I wouldn’t indulge myself like that,” Kate said, in a kind voice.
“But what are we talking about here? I know this isn’t a prank, but why do I feel like it is?”
“We want to find a way to make this work,” David said. “A way where no one is hurt. Jane, I understand completely if you’re insulted or you think it’s crazy. Say the word and I’ll leave. But if you love me as much as I think you do, maybe we could consider it. Consider the three of us, I mean. No, the two of us. And the two of us. I mean dividing time. Dividing whatever needs to be divided. Still being us, as much as possible.” He looked at Jane, who still seemed stunned but less confused. “Should I explain it more?”
Jane gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head and turned to Kate. “What is he talking about?”
“I don’t seem to be able to pretend that I wasn’t gone—or that everything’s fine now and you don’t exist. It doesn’t feel honest. It doesn’t feel safe. It may not be rational, but it feels unsafe to try to go back to what David and I had. And David,” she went on quietly, “now he’s hurting again. He’s lost someone again. And I just don’t see any reason for it.”
Jane seemed to be trying to catch her breath.
“Now, we don’t have any details worked out. I realize you have every right to be with someone who’s only with you, and that’s not what’s being offered. And maybe you don’t want to negotiate holidays or weekends. I don’t know. Maybe David and I will end up getting divorced.”
David felt a sudden pain in his chest.
“But I don’t think we will,” Kate added.
“I can’t decide if this offer is flattering or crazy, or both,” Jane said. “And I can’t picture very clearly what either of you envisions. I do think it may be the kindest thing anyone has ever offered me—well, it’s certainly the oddest. I have no idea what to say.”
Kate suddenly looked exhausted. “You know, I think I need to go home.” She swallowed once, hard. “David, maybe you should stay here. If Jane wants you to. If you want to. Obviously, you both need to talk, and you can’t do that with me here.”
Kate left the kitchen, and David mouthed wait to Jane, before following Kate through the front door to the car. She leaned against it, then pulled him close and kissed him.
“You don’t have to do this,” he said.
“I know that,” she said. “And I know the idea came from me and no one else. All I’m saying is that it’s possible. But you don’t have to go back inside. And this is Jane’s choice, too. She may have already locked every door. But no matter what you and Jane decide, my life isn’t going back to the way it was.” She kissed him again.
He heard himself say, “If I’m not home in an hour, pick me up at work tomorrow and we’ll have lunch.”
“I will,” she sa
id.
He watched her drive off. If the door was locked, he’d walk home. He went inside without knocking and found Jane still in the kitchen, leaning against the sink, a glass of whiskey in her hand. He sat on one of the tall stools by a counter half-covered with her neat piles of mail, newspapers, invitations, and receipts. For the first time that evening—the first time in weeks—he took her in: the glossy dark hair looking almost black, compared to Kate’s blondness, Jane’s unlined skin with a hint of olive, and the dark, dark eyes. Still barefoot, she wore a denim skirt, almost to her knees, and a fitted V-neck tee shirt with, unusually for her, a half-inch of cleavage. Of course, he realized, she probably thought she was going to have an ordinary evening at home.
“Somehow,” she said, “I needed a drink.” She gestured at the bottle but he shook his head.
“Did I dream that?” she asked.
“I don’t think so.”
“She’s very lovely. And funny. And unusual.”
“She is.”
“I’m thinking of running away with her,” Jane said.
“I’ve never doubted that I’ll end up alone and miserable.”
“Maybe,” Jane said. “But not tonight.” She walked to where he was sitting and stood between his thighs. One tear made its way down her cheek.
“Why are you crying?”
“Because I can only agree to right now. Tonight. And that’s probably a mistake too.”
He inched forward on the stool and they began to kiss, slowly at first, then ferociously.
She broke away to say, “Just this once.” Then she said it again.
He pulled on three tiny snaps that started at the v of her shirt, exposing an almost transparent lace bra. He had a quick fear that she was dressed for someone else but lost the thought as she undid his belt. He imagined they would make their way to the bedroom, but she turned off the kitchen light and pulled him towards the floor.
Later, they moved to the bed and talked in whispers throughout the night. The next day, he’d be unable to reconstruct the conversation. They each slept a little, but not at the same time, so one of them was always awake, as if on watch.
Kate stuck her head in his office door just after noon. He motioned her in and she shut the door and leaned against it.
“So, how are you?” she said.
“Then, it’s okay to talk about this?” He quickly added, “Of course, it is. It has to be.” He moved from his desk to the couch and motioned her over. How to begin.
“It was good to see Jane. Usually people know when something is ending, but she and I didn’t know. It was more like a car accident or something.” It had been. Fast and terrible. “You made a big impression.”
“I imagine.”
“She thinks you’re sincere, but she doesn’t think you know what you’re offering or how it would feel. For you. You understand—she’s not in the business of hurting people.” They both turned sideways so they could look at each other straight on. “She hasn’t said yes.” He was sure Jane wouldn’t say yes. Last night had just been a long-delayed goodbye. A formal goodbye. Or official. There must be a vulgarity to describe what happened. He couldn’t think about losing her again right now. He needed to think about what he had—the woman who was here.
“You need to tell me what last night was like for you.”
She closed her eyes briefly. “I won’t pretend it was anything but strange. I wondered, have we fixed things or ruined things? I started in on writing descriptions for our photos. For the first time, I looked at the pictures you took of me when I was gone. Before you stopped. I still can’t believe I’m back. But I think I’m starting to believe it a little bit.”
“And me being with Jane?”
“I made myself think of you and her making love. The picture was kind of fuzzy. I don’t think I’m much of a voyeur. I ended up picturing us. I wonder if we’ll ever be like we were.” She looked away. “I was kind of something, wasn’t I?”
He wanted to touch her, but it didn’t seem as if that was what she wanted. “You were, Katie. You were something.”
Now she moved towards him and lifted his arm around her. “Thank you for not saying something consoling.”
She drummed her fingers on his thigh and said, “Your turn.”
“It was good,” he said. “I know you can understand that well enough. I tried to just let myself be there, but of course, the question was hanging: Am I cheating? I’m breaking rules but not your rules. Am I sleazy? Is the whole idea lurid? I didn’t answer any of these questions. But maybe they’re not for just one of us to answer.”
They were quiet. His office phone, and then cell, rang several times, alternating.
“You probably need to get ready for class, and you didn’t get any lunch.”
“I don’t mind.”
“What I would want,” Kate said, as if she had just come to a decision, “is for you to only be gone two or three nights a week at first, maybe just two in the beginning. Until I make something of my time—make some new friends maybe. Later on, we could add more days and divide the weekends. Holidays will take some work. Jane can have Valentine’s Day, though.” She smiled.
That didn’t surprise him. She didn’t like either sentiment or spending on demand. “I don’t think this is going to happen.”
“Then I’ve made things worse.”
“No! You let us say goodbye. Things will be easier now.” He wanted to say I promise, but he didn’t.
Errand by errand, Kate began to tolerate being out of the house, though she avoided places and times when she thought she’d see people she used to know. “You’re not on parole,” David teased her, but not very forcefully. He understood self-consciousness. It was more or less a new state for Kate—she’d always had an ease he lacked—and he wasn’t the one to talk her out of it. He was happy when she said she was ready for the freedom of a second car. The boys came home for the event.
“Man, I hope I never have to sell cars,” Jack said. “The stakes are too high on every sale. I couldn’t master the art of not scaring people off.”
“Well, you could sell to young women, at least,” Kate said.
“Actually, I think I would sell to their boyfriends and ignore them, and of course they would hate being ignored and would try hard to please me.”
“That’s a good strategy, but finish college anyway,” David said.
They drove in silence for a few minutes until Kate said, softly, “How did I come to stop driving? Was it a big fight like you hear about?”
David gulped audibly. “It was one of my first lies. Every time I tried to discuss your driving, you argued with me even though you had gotten seriously lost a few times. So finally, I told you that a few neighbors had mentioned they saw you driving and you seemed confused. I didn’t like lying. No one had actually said anything, but I knew they would. I also told you that I saw you almost hit a dog.”
He looked over at her but she didn’t react.
“I moved the car over to Martha’s, and you didn’t ask any more. Later, when I said you didn’t drive, the doctors didn’t think to do anything about your license. I realized they might have misunderstood and thought that you had never driven, but I didn’t clarify things. I didn’t see any reason for the state to be involved.”
Kate nodded twice. “None of us has anything to feel bad about,” she said. “Only that it happened.”
At the third dealership, they checked out a four-year-old BMW.
Dylan said, “I don’t know why, Mom, but I see you in this one. And Consumer Reports doesn’t hate this year. She should drive it, don’t you think? And if it turns out to be needy, you can drive Dad’s boring car while he gets this one fixed.”
“That seems fair,” David said. “Somebody in this family should have a sexy car. And just think, I’ll get to drive it when it’s broken.” Both Kate and Jack voted for paying the asking price—out of simple human compassion, as Jack put it.
Five days later, after the car
was paid for and prepped, David tried to feel celebratory about the milestone. If he had ever hoped that seeing Jane one more time would make it easier to lose her, he would have felt let down. Instead, he wasn’t at all surprised when the weight of her absence settled in on him again. He was surprised that he and Kate were able to talk about it. “How are you doing?” she asked one evening. “With not seeing Jane. It’s almost three weeks. I can’t speak for you, but I feel kind of rejected.”
“I actually get that.” They were both able to give a small laugh.
“I mean, I’m not romantically rejected like you are, but still, it’s almost a little embarrassing. The unwanted grand gesture. Or offer—whatever it was.”
“I know. Maybe it’s kind of funny. Or will be.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “Someday it will make a great story to tell nobody.”
Now he felt even more determined to hide his sadness from Kate. It would be the worst of outcomes for her to both offer her husband and then witness the refusal. Hiding was difficult. There seemed to be new layers of loss this time. His cell phone was now an object of misery. He had promised Jane he wouldn’t contact her, and she never showed up on the small screen, though without his reading glasses, he sometimes hallucinated her name or number. No friendly texts. No interesting articles forwarded. No animals adopting other species. No news at all about or from Jane. He understood cyber-stalking for the first time—if it were an option, no doubt he’d be doing it, but her online presence was almost nothing. It took everything he had not to drive by her house.
There was one thing now that was different, and in a good way—he could write. He was tackling a weightier topic with this book: a history of anti-war movements in the U.S. He might call it The Wars Against War, and he found himself able to write with a concentration from earlier years, before Kate got sick, when he could lose himself in the effort and four hours would pass like two. He had made good progress today until he came back to consciousness with a start and called Kate to say he’d be twenty minutes late. He was never late, but she didn’t ask, and they made good time down to the dealership, where they tried to follow a tutorial of the car’s highly engineered tricks. Neither of them could have even started the vehicle without instructions.
The Half-Life of Everything Page 16
