The Ever After

by Sarah Pekkanen

  “I’m going to take Iz to Home Depot with me in a little while,” Frank said. “She loves it there.”

  “Okay, then I’ll take Zoe to gymnastics at three,” Josie said.

  Frank turned toward the stairwell and Josie pivoted into the bathroom; they headed in opposite directions.

  * * *

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  * * *

  Present day

  JOSIE ALMOST MISSED THE incoming call.

  She’d spent most of the morning immersed in work, signing up to secure booths at two new spring festivals and creating a marketing email to send out to her existing clients. She’d taken a quick break for lunch, then she’d begun to vacuum up the Cheerios that Izzy had spilled that morning.

  One of the Bratz doll’s plastic purses got sucked up along with the Cheerios, causing the machine to emit a high-pitched squeal. She was thinking about how she regretted ever buying a value pack containing a hundred miniature accessories when the phone rang.

  So few people dialed their home number these days. Josie checked caller ID, but the number was unfamiliar. Even though she assumed it was a telemarketer, something compelled her to answer. Perhaps because she couldn’t bear to have even an extra ounce of uncertainty in her life these days.

  She didn’t recognize the tentative voice of the woman who asked, “Is this Josie?”

  Josie leaned against the handle of her vacuum. Her heartbeat quickened. “It is.”

  “Hi, it’s Gemma.”

  It took Josie a moment to place the name in context. Gemma was married to Evan, one of Frank’s poker buddies. Josie didn’t know her well, but she’d found Gemma engaging and friendly the few times they’d met.

  “I hope I’m not intruding,” Gemma began.

  “Not at all,” Josie said. “I just accidentally vacuumed up one of Zoe’s toys, so it’s a typical morning in paradise.”

  As soon as she said it, it hit her: She’d made a joke. She’d responded normally to an acquaintance. A few months ago, this would have been impossible.

  Gemma gave a little laugh. “Um, yeah, I do that all the time, too. Anyway, I was calling because Evan mentioned that Frank had been ill, and I just wondered if I could bring by dinner for your family.”

  “Ill?” Josie couldn’t quash the high note of surprise.

  “Oh, did he get that wrong? I’m so sorry. Evan said that Frank had dropped out of the weekly poker game, and none of the guys had seen him for a while . . . I didn’t mean to— If it’s private, don’t worry.”

  Frank had been at the house almost every single night, helping Zoe with her reading homework and giving Iz a bath, or offering to take the girls out for pizza to give Josie a break. He usually stayed until the girls were asleep. Sometimes Josie wondered why they were paying so much for a rental apartment when Frank spent all his spare time away from it.

  On Thursdays, though, Frank came by earlier, around five o’clock, but he only stayed for an hour. Josie had assumed he was seeing his friends on those nights.

  “It’s a little complicated,” Josie said. “Frank is okay, though, so please don’t worry. But that’s really nice of you.”

  “I understand,” Gemma said. Josie was grateful her voice contained no curiosity, and that she refrained from asking a single question. “I’ll let you go.”

  Josie hung up and stared into space. If Frank wasn’t seeing his friends on Thursday nights, what was he doing?

  • • •

  When trust was demolished, it needed to be rebuilt.

  Josie silently paraphrased Sonya’s words as she sat in her minivan, occasionally turning on the ignition to run the heater and keep warm.

  Frank thought she was out with her girlfriends on this Thursday night. When he’d asked whether he could come by from five to six to see the girls, as usual, she’d texted that it was fine—but that a sitter would be there, too. I won’t be home until 8 or 9, she’d typed.

  She could have asked Frank for his whereabouts. But he hadn’t volunteered the information, and she was curious about the reason behind this.

  She didn’t believe Frank was seeing Dana, or anyone else. Well, that wasn’t completely true. A tiny, panicky part of her wondered whether she’d gotten it all wrong, again. But it seemed more likely that Frank was exercising, or doing something with the church he’d joined.

  Josie hadn’t mentioned to Frank that she’d checked his email, and he hadn’t brought up the sunrise service. It seemed more meaningful that he was keeping it private. His effort would have been cheapened if he’d told her about it as evidence of his redemption.

  It was a quarter to six.

  Josie had already circled the block to see which way Frank’s car was pointing so she didn’t meet him head-on when he drove away from the house.

  Now she shifted into drive and eased around the corner, parking toward the end of their street. She could just barely see Frank’s Civic in the distance.

  Seven minutes later, she caught sight of Frank’s maroon coat as he moved down their front walk; then his taillights came on.

  She followed him to the end of their block, turning left about twenty seconds after he did. She tried to maintain enough distance between them so that he wouldn’t spot her if he looked in the rearview mirror. She felt a little silly, but her need to better understand Frank propelled her forward.

  She followed him for nearly four miles as he headed into the city. Most of the rush-hour traffic was going the other way, for which Josie was grateful. She would have lost him otherwise.

  When Frank finally pulled over and parked on a narrow street lined with buildings, it was dark enough that Josie felt confident he couldn’t see her by the top of the road. She found an illegal spot—the sign warned that she’d be ticketed and possibly towed—but she couldn’t drive around the block again or she’d miss seeing which structure Frank entered.

  Josie shut off the minivan and stepped out. She could see Frank in the distance, striding briskly, and she quickened her step. A homeless man walking in front of her momentarily blocked her view, and she almost missed catching Frank turn into an entrance.

  When Josie reached it, she stared at the two-story, nondescript building. Another homeless man passed her and walked through the door.

  Josie walked closer to the entrance. There was a metal engraved sign attached to the brick facade. SALVATION ARMY, it read.

  “Excuse me.”

  Josie turned and saw a man and woman standing behind her. She was blocking the doorway.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, stepping aside. “Is there anything else in this building, or . . . ?”

  “You lost?” the man asked.

  “No, no,” she said. The man shrugged and he and the woman went inside.

  Josie followed them. At the end of the hallway was a second door, a heavy-looking swinging one. Josie approached it and peered through the pane at the top. By then she’d heard the murmur of voices and clatter of silverware against plates. She’d smelled the aromas of meat and hot bread.

  Dozens of people—mostly men, but a few women, too—sat at cafeteria-style tables lining the room. Toward the back of the room, serving the buffet-style meal from enormous containers, was a line of four volunteers. Frank was second from the left.

  • • •

  Josie was still awake around eleven when she heard footsteps, too soft and light to belong to anyone but one of the girls.

  “Izzy?” she called.

  But it was Zoe who appeared in her bedroom doorway. At first Josie thought she was sleepwalking.

  Then Zoe said, “I want Daddy.”

  “Oh, sweetheart.” Josie lifted up the side of the covers. “Come here.”

  Zoe climbed into bed and Josie wrapped her arms around her daughter. “Daddy loves you so much.”

  “Why isn’t he here?” Zoe asked. Her voice sounded so small.

  Heartbreak felt like no other kind of sadness. It was walking through a barren, winter-gray landscape. Her daughter
s were too young to experience such bleakness, Josie thought, wishing she could absorb it on their behalf.

  “He’ll be here tomorrow,” Josie whispered. “We can call him as soon as we get up in the morning and check what time he’ll be here.”

  “I shouldn’t have told him to stop giving me platypus kisses.”

  “Zoe, this isn’t your fault!” Josie hugged her daughter tighter. “Daddy and I were fighting and we needed a break. It has nothing to do with you or Izzy. You two are the best”—Josie’s voice broke, but she fought her way back—“You are the best things in the world. You have to believe that. Daddy and I love you so much.”

  “I just miss him,” Zoe whispered.

  Josie thought about Frank scooping food out of a huge silver tin at the Salvation Army and smiling at the man standing before him as he carefully put it on the plate.

  I miss him, too, Josie thought.

  * * *

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  * * *

  EVER SINCE FRANK HAD moved out, he’d taken to ringing the doorbell when he came to the house. Josie appreciated that he was respecting their new boundaries, even though it still felt strange.

  Usually the girls raced to meet him, but today they were down the street at their favorite teenaged babysitter’s house because her cat had had kittens. So Josie greeted Frank.

  “Hey,” she said. “I just walked the girls over to Alice’s. Can you pick them up there and bring them back?”

  “Would you mind if I went upstairs first?” Frank asked. “I need to get a few more things from the bedroom. Maybe it would be good if I did it when they weren’t here.”

  “Sure,” Josie said. She moved aside to let him pass over the threshold, then followed him upstairs.

  “Do you need a bag to put stuff in?” she asked when he disappeared into their closet.

  “Nah, I’m just getting my old basketball shoes and a pair of cuff links,” he said when he emerged.

  He looked around the room, his eyes landing on the dresser. “Our wedding picture,” he said.

  Josie shrugged. “I put it away.”

  Frank looked as if she’d stabbed him. “Why?”

  “Why, Frank?”

  A rushing wave of anger and pain nearly knocked her physically off-balance. “Do you think I can ever look at pictures of our wedding again?”

  His eyes widened.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he repeated, but it was too late.

  She fell back onto the bed and curled up in a ball and began to cry as she hadn’t since she was a child. She thought about how Frank had kissed her twice right after the minister pronounced them man and wife, drawing laughter from the onlookers, and how he’d stepped on her foot during their first dance. They’d spent lazy Saturdays leading up to the wedding wandering around Crate and Barrel to create a registry, choosing silverware and plates and a panini maker that they’d never actually used. They’d sampled cakes at two bakeries, swooning over layers of zesty lemon and Bavarian chocolate and coconut cream, while Frank had joked that they should pose as an engaged couple every weekend and go to tastings.

  In the kitchen, high on a shelf so that it wouldn’t get broken, they had a china platter decorated with Izzy’s and Zoe’s handprints. They had a yard with a bare patch in the middle of the grass because they’d left a plastic Little Tikes slide in that spot for too long. They had a growth chart along the doorjamb in the kitchen with Sharpies marking all of their heights, even Huck’s.

  Frank had dismantled it all.

  “Josie—please—” Frank approached her with an outstretched hand, then withdrew, as if he were afraid to touch her. He sank onto the floor next to her and held his head between his palms.

  “I want to hit you!” she cried.

  “I wish you would,” he said.

  “I don’t know how I can ever live with you again,” she sobbed. “You hurt me, Frank. You hurt me so much.”

  “I know I did,” he whispered.

  He sat there until her sobs grew hoarse and quiet. “I did this to you,” he finally said.

  She was too drained to speak.

  After a while, he stood up and reached for the comforter at the bottom of the bed. He unfolded it and placed it over Josie. “Your poor feet.” His voice was uneven. “I have to cover them because they always get cold.”

  Josie could hear the front door opening, then Alice’s high voice calling out, “Hello? Mrs. Moore?” She started to sit up, but Frank was already moving toward the hallway.

  “Be right down,” he called.

  She turned over onto her other side as he left the room.

  • • •

  She must have slept for a bit, because when she rolled back over, she caught sight of a plate on her nightstand. There were three Mint Milano cookies—her favorite—and a glass of water. She suddenly felt desperately thirsty. She gulped down the water without pause.

  She got to her feet and nibbled on a cookie before she went into the bathroom. She’d thought her eyes would be red and puffy from crying, but they weren’t. She splashed water on her face anyway, then changed out of her clothes and put on her softest old pajamas and went downstairs, bringing her plate with her.

  Frank was seated at the dining room table with the girls, playing a game called “Pretty Pretty Princess.” He was wearing a big blue plastic ring and a tiara, which had slid down the side of his unruly hair.

  He and the girls all looked up at the sound of her footsteps. Frank’s expression was worried, but her daughters were smiling.

  “Mommy!” Izzy said. “Do you want to play?”

  She could make an excuse and go back upstairs, to the comfort of her bed. Or she could do something that felt a little frightening. She could test out what it would feel like to sit across from Frank, to join the game.

  She looked at the empty chair between her girls, the one she always sat in during family dinners. They’d saved it for her.

  She took a deep breath, and on the exhale, she said, “Okay.”

  * * *

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  * * *

  JOSIE HADN’T INTENDED TO walk this far when she’d set out on a stroll with Huck. But Frank and the girls were spending the morning at a children’s museum in the city, and the empty Saturday hours seemed to stretch out endlessly in front of her. Frank had invited Josie to join them, but she’d wanted some space from him after the intense emotions of the other night.

  She found herself passing by a playground she occasionally drove to with Zoe and Izzy. Though the early spring days were warming up, the air still held a chill. But a few parents were there, pushing children on swings and squatting at the bottoms of slides, clapping in encouragement.

  Josie remembered days when she’d been so desperate to get two high-energy girls out of the house that she’d hit playgrounds before nine in the morning. She’d also known the schedule of every indoor recreation room’s open house by heart.

  But life had shifted. Yesterday Izzy had lifted the plastic jug of apple juice out of the refrigerator and poured herself a glass without spilling a drop. And Zoe already had secrets; she’d told Josie that one of the cafeteria ladies was mean, but she’d refused to elaborate.

  Josie folded her arms across the top pole of the chain-link fence, watching the children play. One little boy had on an alligator hat. He was about a year older than Izzy. Josie found her eyes trailing him as he tore around the playground, the mouth of his hat flapping open and shut as he ran.

  He caught sight of Huck and raced over to the fence.

  “Is he a German shepherd?” the boy asked.

  “No, he’s a golden retriever.”

  “I always confuse those ones.” The boy gave himself a theatrical punch on the head. “Can I pet him?”

  “Sure,” Josie said.

  The boy stuck his hand through one of the diamond-shaped openings in the fence and Huck sniffed it, then gave him a lick.

  “Dogs love me!” the boy shouted happi
ly, then he ran off.

  The baby Josie had lost would be about his age now.

  Early on, the miscarriage had consumed her. She couldn’t stop hearing the terrible silence of her twelve-weeks doctor’s appointment, the one in which she was expecting to listen to the baby’s heartbeat.

  Josie had blamed herself for the wine she’d drank before knowing she was pregnant, and for failing to take her vitamins every night, even though her doctor had assured her it was almost certainly due to a chromosomal defect. “You’re over thirty-five, after all, and sometimes this is what naturally happens,” the doctor had said, her hand patting Josie’s shoulder. “I promise you, there is nothing you could have done to prevent this.”

  Josie still had the miniature pair of sneakers she’d purchased for that baby the day after her EPT test had shown a positive sign. They’d been an impulse purchase. She’d taken Zoe to buy a birthday present for one of her little friends and had seen a display of brightly colored shoes. Even though the new baby could wear all of Zoe’s neutral-colored hand-me-downs, Josie had reached for a yellow pair. Every child should have something new, she’d thought.

  The sneakers were up on a shelf in her closet, still nestled in their small white box. Josie didn’t think she’d ever be able to give them up. On some days, though, her eyes were able to skim past the box without it causing a reaction in her.

  Perhaps the same would be true of Frank’s affair. Maybe, in time, they would be able to tuck it away on a shelf.

  She couldn’t compare her two private sorrows, though. She’d had Izzy after the miscarriage, her sweet reward following so much pain.

  A father followed his daughter over to the swings by Josie and began to push her.