“What do you have against her?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Yes, you do. Look at me.” I crossed my arms and waited. When she finally met my eyes, I could see she knew perfectly well what I meant. “Even before you knew about us, even when Drew was alive, you had something against her. Why?”
“I told you. She just wasn’t who I’d have chosen. I never understood it. And he was different after he married her. He wasn’t my same Drew.”
“He wasn’t your Drew at all, you mean.”
“She turned up her nose every time I tried to tell her how Drew liked anything!”
“No woman wants unsolicited advice from her mother-in-law.”
“But I’d been taking care of him for thirty years! Who was she to come along and think she could do it better? But all of a sudden he preferred her chicken and her apple pie and the way she ironed his shirts.”
“Mom! Are you hearing yourself?”
“He took her side in everything!” Color was rising in her face, and she gestured wildly with the peeler. “Any time there was a disagreement, he always took her side. After Abby was born, I tried again to be helpful. After I had raised two perfect boys—she should have listened to my advice. But did she? No! She nursed Abby so constantly that she wouldn’t take a bottle. No one else could feed her! I told them not to let the baby sleep in their bed, but they ignored me and they had all kinds of problems getting her to sleep. When I saw how tired and miserable Drew was after the baby was born, I reminded Hannah that she couldn’t neglect her husband just because there was a baby in the house. I didn’t neglect your father, and I had two babies to take care of! Everything she had to do, I had to do double!”
“Which I’m sure you reminded her of plenty of times.” I shook my head. “You made her feel small and inadequate.”
“You’re missing the point.”
It was almost laughable. “No, you’re missing the point. You picked on her because Drew loved her so much. You were jealous.”
She lifted her chin and went back to peeling. “She didn’t know how to take care of him and look what happened.”
“Jesus Christ. Hannah is not responsible for Drew’s death! How could you even think such a thing?”
She started to cry, but she kept peeling the damn potatoes. “It’s just how I feel. I lost him to her. Then I lost him forever.”
“He loved her. And you resented her for it. You want to punish her for being loved by him. And now by me.”
“Maybe I was hard on her. But she took him away from me,” she wept, “and she’ll take you, too.”
“It’s not like that, Mom. She’s not your rival. Or she wasn’t until you made her one.” I didn’t like seeing my mother in tears, but I had to get this off my chest. “You hurt her with your petty, jealous behavior. You made her daughter cry. You deceived me and embarrassed me. And you ruined my chance to be happy. You’re the one who should be ashamed of yourself.”
“Wes, please.”
“But you got what you wanted.”
She looked at me. “What do you mean?”
“Hannah and I are done. She broke it off.”
“Are you going to blame me for that?”
“Partly. But it’s partly my fault, too. If I could go back, I’d do a lot of things differently.” With that, I left her standing there in the kitchen and went up to my room to pack my things. I couldn’t stay there in that house any longer.
An hour later, I came down with my bags and headed straight for the front door. She spotted me from the kitchen and came hurrying into the foyer. “Wes? Where are you going?”
“I don’t know. Tell Dad I’ll see him tomorrow at work.”
“Don’t leave,” she said, tearing up again. “Please. I’m sorry.”
“Too late, Mom. You had the chance to support me, but you chose to judge me instead.” Two seconds later I was out the front door, heading for my car. Once it was loaded, I drove away from the house and never looked back.
Only problem was I didn’t really have anywhere to go. I wouldn’t take possession of my house for another week. There were a lot of vacation rentals in the area, but at seven p.m., it was too late to contact anyone about those. As I was driving through town, I remembered the inn. Maybe Pete and Georgia would rent me a room for a week? But Georgia had been there tonight—I cringed with embarrassment. It would put her in a really awkward position to host me, wouldn’t it? I didn’t want to cause tension between her and Hannah, or between her and Pete.
There was another bed and breakfast in town called Inn the Garden, so I went there and booked a room for a week. The owners were gracious, the house was beautiful and quiet, and it was a short walk into town for dinner.
But I was miserable.
Somehow I’d lost the one thing I’d spent all those years dreaming about. I’d been offered a second chance to make her mine, and I’d fucked it up again. I didn’t blame Hannah for being mad or scared. I’d known all along how fragile she was, how disillusioned about love. I blamed myself, because I should have fought harder, like she said. I’d tried to placate my mother when I should have stood up to her. I’d done it from a place of love, and because I’d been so sure that things would turn out fine in the end. I’d thought love would prevail.
But maybe Hannah was right. Maybe love wasn’t enough.
Pete texted me the next day and I saw the message during lunch. I heard. You okay?
Not right now, I replied. Maybe someday.
Ouch. Want to grab a beer later? Lexington Brewery at 7?
What I wanted was another chance with Hannah, but it wasn’t going to happen. OK.
After work I took a run, even though I hadn’t slept well the night before and felt rundown and exhausted. I did it because I was hoping to maybe spot her around town, but it didn’t happen. I went back to my room and cleaned up, feeling frustrated and sad.
“You look like shit,” Pete said when I took the chair next to him at the bar later on. Jack was there too.
“I feel like it.”
“Georgia and Margot told us what happened.” He shook his head. “Man. What a fucked-up situation.”
“Yeah.” I stared at the menu without reading it. “Do they hate me?”
“Not at all,” Pete said.
“Margot feels sorry for you,” Jack said.
“So does Georgia,” added Pete. “Trust me. She’s been talking about it all. Day. Long.”
I grimaced. “Sorry.”
We ordered some food and a couple beers. “What are you gonna do?” he asked.
“What can I do? She doesn’t want me.”
His expression was puzzled, and he paused with his beer bottle halfway to his mouth. “That’s not how I heard it.”
“How did you hear it?”
“I heard she wants you, but she’s scared of your mom and a bunch of other shit in her head.”
“My mom.” I had to take a few long swallows from my beer before I could even think about her. “I’m so mad at her. I moved out.”
“You did? Where?” Pete asked.
I hesitated, feeling guilty. “To that inn on Huron. The bed and breakfast.”
“What? Why didn’t you just come to my house?”
“Or mine?” said Jack.
“Because I didn’t want to get in your way and I wasn’t sure how your wives felt. The scene was pretty ugly.”
Pete punched my arm. “Fuck you. We’ve been friends for thirty years. You should have come to us.”
I held up my hands. “Sorry, sorry. I’m fucking things up left and right.”
“Did you really not know about the girl?” Jack asked.
I shook my head. “I had no idea. That was all my mother. But was stupid of me to even sit there with her. Hannah was right, I should have just walked out.”
“Georgia thinks the thing with the birthday dinner was the bigger deal,” said Pete. “Like it confirmed in her mind that you wouldn’t choose her if it came
to that.”
“But I would. That’s the thing, I would. I don’t know how she doesn’t see that.”
“Because she’s blinded by fear.” Jack spoke firmly. “She associates love with loss, and she thinks she’s protecting herself. The human mind can be a scary place.”
“I know,” I said miserably. “And I promised her everything would be okay. I promised her I’d find a way for us. And I failed.”
“No, you didn’t.” Jack sat up taller. “I mean, you might have made some mistakes, but you’re human. Don’t give up on her. If she’s anything like me, she needs time.”
“But I gave her time. I said she could have as long as she wanted.”
He shook his head. “No. She needs to think you really walked away. She needs to own the fact that she chose that, and then realize she was wrong. But it takes time.”
“Really?”
He picked up his beer. “Trust me on this.”
Pete exhaled. “I feel for you, man. I don’t have any advice, but I feel for you. And you’re always welcome at our place.”
“Thanks. I appreciate that.” It didn’t make up for losing Hannah, but it was good to know. “I should be able to move into my own house end of next week, although I need to buy some furniture. I don’t even have a bed.”
“At least you’ll be busy.”
“Right.”
But I didn’t want to be busy.
I wanted to be with Hannah. I wanted her to be there when I chose my new bed. I wanted her naked in it. I wanted it to be our bed, not mine, where I’d lose myself in her body and know she was mine.
I wanted to love her, and dammit, she’d said she would let me.
How had it all gone so wrong?
Twenty-Four
HANNAH
Ten days went by. Ten joyless, colorless days during which I only dragged myself out of bed for Abby’s sake. She was all I had, and even though every morning was worse than the one before, I forced myself to get up, get dressed, and put on a smile.
But she was no fool. The first Sunday night after we broke up, she asked why we hadn’t seen him all weekend. I said it was because he was busy.
“Are you still good friends?” She looked at me expectantly across the dinner table.
“We are, in a way. We’re just not able to spend as much time together as before.” I pushed some food around on my plate, but had no desire to eat it. In fact, I was vaguely nauseated by the sight of it.
“Can he still be my special person at school?”
“I don’t know, Abby.”
“But my day is coming up.”
“I’m aware of that.” I’d seen the note from Mrs. Lowry in her backpack on Friday when she got home, and instead of dealing with it then, I’d stuck it on the fridge with a magnet right next to the picture Hannah had colored of her family. Then I’d ignored it for two days. “I’m just not sure he can be there.”
“But he said.”
“I know. But he’s—he’s busy.”
“He promised!”
“Sometimes promises get broken!” I got up from the table and angrily scraped my dinner into the garbage as she wept, feeling sick and tired and guilty and overwhelmed with everything. Closing my eyes, I exhaled. “I’m sorry, Abby. I’ll ask him about it, okay?”
She didn’t answer, just continued to blubber into her spaghetti, making me feel more than ever like I wasn’t enough. I cried myself to sleep that night, making sure to do it silently so Abby wouldn’t hear me.
I cried for the girl he’d fallen in love with back then, when I’d worn a shirt with a pineapple on it and smiled with my whole heart and wanted to fall in love. For Abby, who deserved a better mom than me, who deserved two parents and a happy home, who deserved a life of promises kept. And for myself, for the pain of missing Wes, for the life the two of us could have shared, and for the crushing doubt that continued to smother me. I was choking on it.
But why? Why couldn’t I be sure I’d done the right thing? Where was the relief I thought I’d find in certainty, in knowing I’d protected myself and my child from heartbreak? How was I going to get through the pain of losing him if I didn’t have that conviction?
Wednesday night I went to Wine with Widows and couldn’t even talk when it was my turn. Tess asked how I was, and all I could do was shake my head, squeezing my eyes shut. They didn’t push me, but each of them let me know she was there for me if I needed someone to talk to.
The next night, Margot called. She and Georgia had taken to checking in with me every couple days. “How are you doing?”
“Okay. Or trying to be.”
“I’m sorry.” She paused. “Has he reached out to you or anything?”
“No. I’m sure he’s trying to get over me, just like I’m trying to get over him. It’s the only thing we can do.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
But it was a lie. I wasn’t sure of anything but how miserable I was without him. A thousand times I’d picked up my phone to call him, like I’d promised Abby I would, but every time, I remembered how much it hurt seeing him sitting next to that woman at the bar, and I’d set it down again.
Maybe it had all been a ploy orchestrated by Lenore, but Wes had played a role, hadn’t he? He’d stayed when he should have gone. That proved something.
What, that he’s a nice guy?
No! My stubborn side refused to give in. He should have said no to Lenore about the birthday dinner and no to a drink with that bitch who couldn’t even look me in the eye.
I wouldn’t call him. If I heard his voice, I might crumble.
Saturday at work, Georgia asked the same thing. “Have you heard from Wes?”
Just the sound of his name being spoken made my chest hurt. I wanted to say it out loud, wanted to whisper it in the dark. “No.”
“Pete says he’s miserable. Did you know he moved out of his mom’s house the night you broke up?”
I stopped what I was doing and stared at her. “No. Where did he go?”
“He stayed at a bed and breakfast for a few days, but now he’s in his new house.”
“He is?” I remembered walking through those empty rooms with him, how hopeful we’d been then. He’d asked for my help with the kitchen and I wouldn’t be around to give it.
Let Lenore help him. He deserves her hovering.
Even so, it didn’t make me feel any better.
I hadn’t heard from Lenore, either. No invitations to dinner, no requests for Abby to spend the night, and certainly no apology. I wasn’t planning on forbidding her to spend time with Abby, but hell if I’d go out of my way to arrange it. If she wanted to see her granddaughter, she could damn well put aside her pride and call me.
After work that day, I got in the car and drove past his new house very slowly, so slowly the car behind me honked, and I sped up.
Stop it. You’re being ridiculous, acting like a teenager spying on her ex-boyfriend. This is beneath you.
Abby asked again that night at bedtime if I’d heard back from him.
“Not yet,” I said, feeling guilty that I hadn’t even asked him yet.
“But this is my week. He has to come on Friday.” She looked up at me despairingly. “Can I try to call him?”
“No. I’ll—I’ll do it.”
But I put it off another day.
On Sunday night, after I put Abby to bed, I sat down on my bed and worked up the courage to text him.
Are you available Friday morning? That’s Abby’s day to have her special person at school. I understand if you don’t want to or if you’re unavailable.
Then I sat there holding my breath while those three little dots tortured me. He’s reading it. He’s writing back.
Was he at his house? Was he working on it? Was he looking at the lake? Was he standing in the kitchen? Did he miss me like I missed him? Like a piece of his heart was gone? Was he lonely at night? Did he wish he could hold me?
Those three fucking dots went
blurry, and I sniffed. God, I was sick of crying. I’d always been emotional, but the last couple weeks had been insane. I felt like I was fighting off tears at every little thing, whether it merited them or not. A baby picture of Abby on the mantle. My wedding ring tucked in its velvet box. A dead bird on the sidewalk out front. A silly Sandra Bullock movie on cable one night. (Although, in my defense, it was the one where she fell in love with the guy’s brother while he was in a coma.)
His reply appeared. I still couldn’t breathe.
Of course I am. I promised her I’d be there.
That’s it? That’s all he had to say to me?
What did you expect him to say? He pretty much laid everything out for you ten days ago on the street, didn’t he?
I exhaled in a huff. And since when did he decide he kept his promises?
Another message appeared.
Just let me know the time and location. Tell Abby I can’t wait to see her. I miss her.
What about me? I was dying to ask him. Don’t you miss me? It was petty and unfair to be jealous of his words about my daughter, but I was.
As if he could hear me, a third message popped up.
I miss you too. I think of you every day. And I still love you.
My stomach fluttered. My breath caught. A chill swept up my spine. I touched the reply box as a war raged between my head and my heart. I wanted to say it back. I wanted him to know he wasn’t alone. I wanted him to drop everything and rush over here and make everything better.
But I wanted to punish him, too. For loving me. For making me love him. For showing me that I could be happy again, if only I wasn’t so terrified.
11 AM on Friday morning. She is in Mrs. Lowry’s room. You have to sign in at the office.
He wrote back, asking, Will you be there?
Of course, I started to cry. With tears rolling down my cheeks, I replied, I think it’s better if I’m not.
Then, before I completely broke down and begged him to take me back, I went over to my dresser, shoved my phone into a drawer, and slammed it shut.
I stood there sobbing for a moment before I crawled into bed without even bothering to undress.
From This Moment Page 26
