by L. G. McCary
I look back to Renee and sit straighter. “I heard you,” I say, my voice crisp. “I like Tori’s clothes. Why don’t we go check on the girls?”
Renee’s cheeks turn pink. In the doorway, a smile flickers across Her face before She fades to nothing.
Twenty-Four
“So Rylie told me something at the beach,” I say. I slip the fuchsia thread into the bobbin of the sewing machine and start winding slowly.
“You mean over spring break?” David answers from the couch behind me. “That was months ago, Charlotte.”
“Sorry. We’ve been so busy.” I watch the thread wind evenly so I don’t have to look at David. “It was about Liana. And Renee and Casey.”
“Oh?” David turns off the news and puts his phone on the coffee table.
For the first time this evening, I look him in the eye. “She said that Liana was worried they’re going to get a divorce.” He doesn’t seem surprised.
“What did you say?”
“I told her I didn’t think they were.”
“I don’t think they are either,” he says, but he doesn’t sound convinced.
“But you don’t seem too surprised. Did Casey say something?”
“Just bits and pieces.” He looks me straight in the eye. “Renee is pretty difficult to live with.”
“Oh.” I frown and fiddle with the bobbin. “What do you think is the problem?”
“They’ve always fought a lot. At least that’s what Casey said.”
“Renee isn’t shy about that either,” I say with a hollow laugh. She has complained so much about Casey this spring that I’m actually glad Bible study is almost over.
“I don’t know what they’re working through, but they always have fireworks getting there,” David says.
“But they’re not splitting up, are they?”
“No way. They’re both too stubborn for that.” David snorts. “And they don’t believe in divorce.” He breathes in and waits until I look at him. “Like us. Not on the table.”
“Right.” I clear my throat. This is why I haven’t said anything for months. The other part of what Rylie said is much harder to even admit out loud, much less discuss with David.
I watch him for a moment, and take a deep breath. “Rylie said something else, David.”
“What?” I can see tension in every muscle of his body.
“She asked if we were going to...well, you know.”
David’s face falls. “No. She did?” He sits back against the couch and looks at the ceiling. There are tears in the corners of his eyes as he breathes slowly, his jaw working back and forth. “Okay, that’s it. That’s the end of this.”
“Excuse me?”
“We have to deal with this.” He rubs his eyes and sighs. “We have to talk about it.”
“Oh, come on.”
“We have to,” David says.
“It never does any good. Nothing changes.”
He looks away for a moment and rubs his hands together in front of his chin. “You mean I never change,” he says.
I shrug and go back to my sewing.
“No, you’re not going to do that,” he says. “Our daughter is worried her parents may split up, and that is our fault. Ours, Charlotte.”
“You think this isn’t killing me, too?” I say. “I’ve been miserable since spring break!”
“So we have to talk about it. For her sake, we have to.”
I swallow and stare at my sewing machine. I don’t see how it’s going to help, but maybe Rylie being upset matters enough that he might change. “Fine.” I turn the machine off, put away my pins and seam ripper, and cover the sewing table with the dust cloth. I spin in the chair and face him, arms folded. He sighs and folds his hands in front of him.
“I want to know what really scares you about having another child,” he says. It’s the same question as always. But I can’t answer it honestly without saying things that don’t make sense. Instead, I have to say the only other plausible answer.
“I do not want to leave Rylie without a mom. Period.”
“Of course not.” He says his line in our own personal tragedy play. How many times will we have this same conversation? Isn’t repeating something and expecting a different result the definition of insanity?
“But there’s more you’re not saying,” he says, frustration hardening his voice.
“That’s it. I’m not risking it again.”
“I understand that. I promise, I do.”
“Then why do you keep asking?” I say. I can’t keep the edge out of my voice.
“Because something about it is just off, Charlotte. I know you.”
“You think you do,” I say. This is more insanity. He knows what I’m going to say. “That’s the whole problem. You think you know me, but you just don’t.”
“Okay, fine. I’ll give you that.”
I stare. This is a new scene in our little play.
“I know you before it happened,” he says. “But I admit I’m missing something now.” He looks me in the eyes until I have to look away. “You know what it feels like to me, Charlotte? It feels like I lost you in that hospital room. You went in one person and came out another.”
My mouth is going dry. The old ugly panic clutches me. “I really don’t want to talk about that.”
“I think that’s the problem. We’ve never talked about it. Ever. Rylie is seven, and we’ve never talked about what happened.”
“Because it was horrible.”
“Do you know what I remember most? I remember the nurse. She heard what you said to me.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You said, ‘Take care of her for me. I love you.’ You went completely white.” Tears fall silently down his cheeks. He can’t look at me. “And then you passed out.”
“I don’t want to talk about this.” My memory of that moment is fuzzy and only comes back in my nightmares. Until David said it, I wasn’t sure if it really happened.
“She was scared. I knew I could lose you.”
The air turns hot and thick, like trying to breathe through peanut butter. He reaches for my hand, but I move away.
“I told you I don’t want to talk about it,” I manage to say.
“And then the doctor came in and had me leave. This other nurse walked me down to the nursery, and I just kept thinking...” He coughs and rubs his eyes. “I didn’t know how I was supposed to take care of Rylie alone. She was crying, and the nurse wanted me to hold her. I just couldn’t.” He stares at his empty hands and takes a deep breath. “I just sat there looking at her. Because it wasn’t fair.”
“What are you talking about?”
“She was supposed to be with her mama,” he says, tracing the edge of the couch cushion with one finger. “It wasn’t fair for it to be me holding her first. I held her hand. I patted her. But I couldn’t hold her. Not until they told me you were going to be okay.” His chest shudders, and he shifts against the couch pillows. “Then we sat there and snuggled, with that oxygen mask and everything. And I told her that her mama was going to hold her as soon as she could.”
His voice breaks, and he wipes away the tears that are soaking his shirt. He stares at the floor.
“I’ve never been that scared before,” he says.
“And you want to risk that happening again?” I hiss. “Imagine how I felt!”
He says nothing for several moments, his eyes on his hands. I pick at the edge of my sewing table and wait. Let him stew in his selfishness. I’m tired of this conversation.
He looks up, and something has changed in his face.
“I think that’s the problem,” he says.
“What?”
“I just realized something,” he says. “You know me and statistics.” His voice sounds as if he is trying to make sense of a hard math problem like when we studied together in college. He looks me in the eye, carefully watching my response.
“When you were in the hospital, I sat down and researched plac
ental abruption. I read all kinds of stuff. I knew the stats backwards and forwards because I wanted to know if you’d be okay.” He folds his hands in front of his face and looks up at the ceiling fan. “The chances of abruption are pretty low to begin with, and they are still low after you’ve had one case.”
I sniff and turn away from him. “I don’t care about the numbers.”
“But that’s exactly what I’m saying,” he says quickly. “I know it doesn’t help you feel better! Those stats make me feel safe, but that’s not enough for you. I should know that. I’ve been married to you long enough that I should know that.” His shoulders drop. “I’m an idiot, Charlotte.”
“I didn’t say it,” I say.
“No, really,” he says, “I was being an engineer, calculating odds and risk. But you can’t see what’s going on in my head.” David covers his mouth with his hands. “And I’m sorry. I’m mad at myself right now, not you.” He reaches for my hand, and I reluctantly let him take it.
“I thought I could make you feel safe. We had this plan, you know? I thought if I helped you see it was safe, we could get back to the plan and keep going.” He gives me a sad smile.
My guts are twisting. I count to ten slowly and try to breathe.
“Do you know what I see when I look at you?” David says. “I see a woman who is absolutely terrified. You jump at shadows. You cry in the bathroom when you think I’m not listening. And your nightmares wake me up, too.”
I can’t look at him. My face will betray me. I don’t know what he’s trying to say, but I don’t think I’m going to like it.
“I’m just realizing that I’ve been trying to ‘logic’ you out of being scared, but all you’ve heard from me is that I care more about a plan than my wife,” he says slowly. He looks at the ceiling. “You must think I’m so selfish. And you’re right. I am.”
“So, what are you saying?” I say.
“I’m saying forget the plan for three kids!” he says. “Forget all of it. We’re one and done.”
If I wasn’t so shocked, I might laugh. I don’t know how to take this after so much time at odds. My heart pounds in my chest. He’s finally apologizing. He’s doing everything I’ve wanted him to do for the last three years. I want to put away all the anger and go back to how we were before, but I don’t think I can.
“I’m sorry,” he says, squeezing my hand. “I’m trying to pull my head out of…wherever it’s been.”
“I’m sorry, too,” I whisper. I don’t feel it, but something tells me I need to say it.
He gently squeezes my hand and offers a hug. I don’t know if I want to hug him, but I do anyway. He kisses the top of my head.
“No more kids.” He strokes my hair and takes a shaky breath. “We’re done. I just want you back.”
I don’t know how to tell him that the woman who went into that hospital is never coming back. He’s finally agreeing and coming to my side, but it’s hollow. I pull away, but he doesn’t let me go.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers into my ear.
Why does it feel like I’ve lost the battle?
“I love you, Charlie.”
My old nickname makes my heart ache. I lean my head on his shoulder.
“I love you, too.” It’s been so long since I actually wanted to be here. So long since I felt safe with him. I don’t fit the way I used to.
“Nice to hug you without you cringing,” he whispers. His words catch in his throat. I don’t have to look up to know he’s crying. He has no idea how messed up everything is, but maybe now things will get better if I give it time.
“Do you think you should talk to Darren again?” he asks after a few moments.
“No.” I haven’t been in his office in years. Going back feels like admitting defeat.
“I’ll go with you if you want. Maybe he could help us both.”
“I don’t want to see him.”
David nods and kisses the top of my head. “If you change your mind, I’ll go with you.”
“Ok.”
We part after an awkward pause, and he squeezes my hand. Over his shoulder, I see a blue shadow walking through the living room.
Twenty-Five
“Good morning, Charlotte!” Greg’s voice startles me in the school hallway. I didn’t expect to see him in the elementary school since he’s over the high school STEM program. It’s Rylie’s first day of second grade, and I was hoping to get to her room early to talk to her teacher one more time. He rushes up to me, his hands in constant motion. I’ve never seen him so energetic.
Rylie grabs my knee and buries her head in my jacket as if she’s much younger than eight.
“Hi!” I smile. “Congratulations! Is this your first day?”
“No, I came in last week. Meetings with the faculty and such.” He kneels down next to me and grins at Rylie. “Hey there. You ready for school today?”
Rylie buries her face again, and I pat her back. “I think she’s a little nervous.”
“Nothing to be nervous about, missy. You’re a smart girl, and you listen to your teachers, right?” he says.
She nods.
“Of course that’s right,” Greg says, standing tall again and putting his fists on his hips like a superhero. “You’ll be a model student.”
I snort at that phrase. I’m not under any illusions about my daughter. Greg pats her on the shoulder and turns to face me.
“I can walk with you to her class,” he says. “It’s on the way to my office.”
“Thanks. She’s in Miss Preston’s class.” I appreciate the gesture, but I wish he wouldn’t. Rylie is nervous enough already.
“I know you will learn a lot from Miss Preston, Rylie.” He strides ahead of us and opens the door to the classroom.
The room is covered in a jungle theme. There’s even a bookshelf in the corner transformed into a tree. Only two other kids are here so far and both are sitting in bean bag chairs with books. Rylie’s teacher has added some extra touches since “Meet the Teacher” Day.
“Hi!” Greg says to the short, slim blonde arranging chairs. “This is Rylie Madsen and her mother, Mrs. Madsen.”
“We’ve met, but it’s Charlotte, please,” I say. I’m sure she remembers me after Rylie pirouetting around the room last week. Miss Preston shakes my hand again and leans down to see my daughter where she’s hiding behind my leg.
“Hi, Rylie! I have a brand new book about ballerinas to show you. Do you want to hang up your backpack and help me find it?”
Rylie nods but doesn’t answer.
“Say ‘Yes, ma’am,’ Rylie,” Greg prompts. I kneel down next to her and tip her chin up to look me in the eyes. She doesn’t resist, but she looks angry. She frowns at Greg and looks back to me. I wink. It’s all I can do without making Greg look bad.
“You’re going to have a great day, honey.” I put all the cheer I can muster into that sentence, and she tries to smile back at me.
“Here, let’s find your name.” Miss Preston offers her hand with a smile that is pure sunshine. “I like your backpack. Purple is my favorite color. Is it yours, too?”
Rylie takes her hand and follows her to the row of cubbies. Greg nods his approval.
“I have to get back to the office,” he says. “Let me know if you ever need anything. Oh, and have a lovely lunch with my wife this afternoon! Are you going to Padre’s? You should go there. Great lunch deals.”
Greg lingers in the doorway and salutes Rylie before he leaves. I wish he’d gotten the job at the other school, even though I know the commute will be easier on him this way.
I turn back to see Rylie in a perfect arabesque next to the bookshelf and explaining the proper terminology to her teacher. Miss Preston mimics her with a smile and asks if her form is correct. My daughter tells her to fix her floppy left arm, and I try not to laugh too loudly.
“Mama, Mama!” Rylie runs to me with a grin and points at her teacher. “She took ballet when she was little!”
“I told Ry
lie she’ll have to show me one of her routines at recess today,” the teacher says.
I lean down and pull Rylie into a big hug. “Love you, big girl. You have a wonderful day, and I’ll meet you on the front steps at three.”
“Love you, Mama,” she says. She wriggles out of my arms and skips back to the book corner.
I head from the school to the grocery store and fumble through my list with a few tears in my eyes. I still dread homework time this evening. Second grade is going to be a lot of work. I’ve heard about the workload from the other ladies in Sunday school. Rylie can handle it, but she prefers dancing to studying. Maybe I can figure out a way to work dancing into her homework.
I drive home and put the food away. The doorbell rings as I’m putting pasta in the cupboard.
“I hope you don’t mind that I’m early,” Tori says, standing at my front door with a big smile. “I had a client cancel their appointment, so I thought we’d take the extra time.” She looks elegant in her crisp navy blazer and flowy tangerine dress with an empire waist. Her hair is pulled up into a French twist. The to-do list of chores I’d planned to finish before she got here nags me, but I grab my purse anyway. I’ll finish it all somehow.
We decide on a European-style cafe, and Tori lets me drive. She seems a little quieter than normal, like she’s thinking. Whatever has her so preoccupied must be good because she’s grinning even more than usual.
“I’m so glad you didn’t want to go to Padre’s,” Tori says as she holds the door to the cafe for me. “We’ve been eating Mexican food all week. I want pasta salad!” The restaurant is busy, but they take our orders in a flash. I must look grungy in my jeans and T-shirt sitting next to Tori in her business clothes. Next time I’ll change into a nicer blouse. The room smells like a mix of pepperoni, pickles, and chocolate, but it’s delicious instead of disgusting. I think I’ll bring Rylie here sometime.
“I saw your hubby when I dropped Rylie off this morning,” I say.
“Oh, good! He’s so happy! He’s building the STEM department from the ground up, so he’s getting to be creative. And they asked him to start a robotics club.”
