by Lisa Tucker
The next day Ben loaded up his few possessions in his backpack and left to stay at the campus hotel, “for a while.” Of course he agreed to pay for the rental on the house and whatever she needed. Amelia didn’t plan to stay in Philadelphia, but she felt like she had to be in this house, surrounded by her things, until she decided what to do next. She’d lost everything but her possessions: Ben, of course, though more truthfully, she’d never had him; her career and even her assistant Ethan, who’d quit a few days after Matthew’s speech. She wasn’t even sure how she would support herself and the baby. The trust fund wouldn’t come close to paying the bills if her child really had a major health problem. Even her mother didn’t have that kind of money, now that she was living on Amelia’s father’s life insurance.
Before Ben left, he sat down next to Amelia and cried. He said he felt terrible that he couldn’t be what she needed or wanted.
She refused to cry again. “You couldn’t help it. I wanted a child, you didn’t.”
“I tried to, for you.”
“But you don’t really want a family.”
“I don’t look at family in the usual way.” He dropped his head in his hands. “I honestly thought you didn’t, either.”
She knew what he was referring to. Last spring, before he started calling her his soul mate, they’d had a long conversation about poverty and the developing world. Both of them had agreed that it was terrible that Americans lived in luxury while millions of people died of starvation and disease, that most Americans seemed to care only about their own families. “I think all the world’s children deserve to be taken care of,” Amelia had said. “They’re all part of my family.”
Now she said, “I guess I’m not as good as I thought.”
She meant it. From an ethical perspective, how could one child matter more than thousands? And yet it was undeniable: her own baby now mattered to her more than every starving child in Africa. Having Ben commit to taking care of that baby—in sickness and in health and all the normal things in between, from the baby’s first step to playing catch and going to the beach—obviously mattered more than how quickly he found a cure for trypanosomiasis, a disease that, every day, including this one, would kill at least two hundred real live human beings and sicken thousands.
Two hundred human beings with families who would mourn them.
Two hundred human beings, every day, that Ben might save—as long as he didn’t get distracted. As long as he didn’t give his heart away to Amelia and her one child.
Some magazine had just named Ben number one on a list of “The World’s Most Ethical People,” and maybe he deserved it. Maybe this was what a truly ethical person looked like.
All her life she’d been trying to figure out what good was. She still didn’t know, but she was surprised to realize that she didn’t care if she was doing the morally right thing this time. She felt oddly relieved.
The rest of the day she spent in a strange daydream, thinking about her past. She even went into the attic, where she had a box of things from her childhood, including pictures and letters from her sponsored children. She sat cross-legged on the dusty attic floor, looking at Esteysi and Pablo and Astrid and all the others. She’d been a child herself, the same age as each of these kids. Why had she felt like she could save them? Why was she always trying so hard?
And the questions before her now: Who would she be if she stopped? Would she ever believe she was good enough—just as she was? Could she even believe she deserved to have all the ordinary things other people had: a family, laughter, happiness?
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The Answer Is Four
It was December 31 and Matthew had already accepted the sad fact that, for the first time in his adult life, he wouldn’t be out partying on New Year’s Eve. He could have hired a babysitter for the kids, but he’d kept putting it off, hoping Danny would snap out of the depression he’d been in since they left Miami. If anything, the kid’s mother being so much nicer now that she was off drugs had broken Danny’s heart all over again. Maybe it had been a mistake to let the kids spend Christmas there. It had certainly sucked from Matthew’s point of view, but apparently something sucking for him didn’t prove it was good for the kiddies. Meaning martyrdom was not necessary to be an effective guardian. Thank god, as being a martyr was not one of his strengths.
Cooking was, though, so tonight, Chef Matthew was coming out of retirement, in the hope of distracting Danny, but also because it seemed like he should do something to celebrate his successful coup against Knolton this morning, though in truth it didn’t feel like much of a victory. He and the kids went shopping and picked up all the ingredients for Matthew’s mother’s delicious spaghetti: sausage, zucchini, mushrooms, tomatoes, fresh garlic and basil, and baby mozzarella cheese. They also got two loaves of bread from Metropolitan, and a variety of teeth-rotting cookies and doughnuts that Isabelle wanted and Danny said would be “okay.” He said “okay” about everything, including the movie Matthew rented for them to watch after dinner, Star Wars, and even the music Matthew had been downloading for him all week. It was a tad irritating, but understandable. The poor kid hadn’t smiled once since Kim had kissed him good-bye.
Matthew had promised to work out a way that Danny could see his mother again, soon, somehow. He wasn’t trying to be vague; he just didn’t know if a hospice in Philly would take Kim or if she even wanted to leave her life in Miami with Susannah. Of course the other alternative was for Danny to fly back to Florida, but the timing would depend on Kim’s condition. If she made progress with the meds and radiation, they’d have options, but if not…Matthew couldn’t think about it yet, but he would deal with it when the time came. Somehow.
While Matthew was frying the sausage, he told Danny some interesting facts about Philadelphia, including that the city had the largest urban park in the country. He suggested going to Fairmount Park the next morning, if it was warm enough and not raining. Or they could watch the parade. Or rent more movies. They had to think of something cool for the first day of the new year, right?
Danny was sitting on the opposite counter, morosely looking at nothing. Isabelle was lying down in the middle of the kitchen floor, pretending to read one of her Dr. Seuss books. In the last few days, Matthew had read so many of the good doctor’s books that the rhymes were all blurring together. He’d be glad when Isabelle really could read. Hopefully they taught that in preschool, along with tying shoes and starting up the iPod.
Finding a preschool for Isabelle was one of numerous things on his kiddie to-do list. He was waiting for Cassie to come back from her holiday—and hoping by then he’d have a better sense of how to handle all this. So far, he knew that Danny and Isabelle liked their iPods; they liked his television; and they had low expectations of him. Isabelle even seemed to prefer being at his apartment instead of the house in the suburbs, which was a good sign, given how god-awful that rental furniture was. A promising beginning.
He’d brought them back to the apartment because he was determined to solve the Humpty problem before the end of the year and he knew he could work better there than in the Malvern house. Each night when the kiddies went to bed, he took out the box he’d stolen from his office and pored over the files Walter had left behind, still searching for something he could use against Humpty. Finally, last night around twoA.M ., he’d found it. The details were very complicated and specific to pharma (thus, outside of the Dumpty’s expertise), but the upshot was that Harold had made an under-the-table deal with a generic manufacturer that, in the wrong hands—say, at the Department of Justice— couldbe interpreted as a violation of antitrust laws.
Now that Matthew was in possession of this interesting fact, he had to decide what to do with it. There were several ways to play this, but in the morning he went with his hunch and called Stephen Mezalski at home. When Mezalski said that Matthew’s information was “extremely disturbing,” it was obvious his hunch had been right. Mezalski had been hoping Matthew would find some dirt on Knolto
n. Of course. This was why he’d told Matthew to cooperate fully with Knolton in the investigation: to make it obvious that Knolton had set him up—and give Matthew the incentive to bring that bastard down.
Though Matthew was (always) glad to win, he was very disappointed in Mezalski. The man had refused to lift a finger to stop that psycho from screwing with him and the company. Still, ding-dong, the wicked egg would soon be dead, and Mezalski had already agreed that of course Phyllis Francis would be reinstated immediately. He also hinted that Matthew could have whatever else he wanted, but Matthew didn’t know what he wanted anymore, nor was he in any mood to think about it. He had other, more pressing concerns.
When Danny didn’t respond to Matthew’s Philadelphia talk, Matthew went on to other topics as he added the rest of the ingredients to the spaghetti sauce. He was in the middle of an amusing rant about Humpty’s personal-hygiene habits (that bald head couldn’t shine like that without some kind of polish) when Danny said, “Why do you hate Amelia?”
“I don’t hate her.” Where did that come from? He looked at Danny. “If I hated her, why would I have invited her to come to dinner tonight?”
Danny rolled his eyes like he knew that Matthew had only asked the happy couple over in the hope that he could talk to Ben while Amelia provided a much-needed break from child care. He’d left Ben several messages and even emailed Amelia about it yesterday—after deciding that Ben’s cell must be dead since he hadn’t answered for a week—but no response. Maybe they were out of town? Oh well. He could handle the kiddies alone. He’d been doing it for a week now and, yes, it was boring at times, but it wasn’t that bad. If only Danny’s mood would improve, they could even have a decent night.
At least the kid was interested in something, so Matthew continued. “The problem with Amelia is actually quite complicated.” Time to ratchet it up with an allusion to tonight’s featured film. “You see, long ago in a galaxy far, far away, she was my girlfriend.” He stirred the sauce and tasted it. Perfect. “Back when I was young and stupid. Much stupider than you are now, I should add.” Oops, that didn’t come out right. “What I’m saying is that you are already more mature than I was at the time when I fell for Amelia.”
Danny thought for a minute. “Is that why you kept all the pictures of her?”
Matthew said yes before he realized what this meant. How could Danny have seen those? The pictures were in his personal vault closet. Most of the closet was full of useless personal memorabilia, but there was another box that contained very important documents about Ben and Galvenar.
Before he could interrogate Danny, someone was at the door. The happy couple? This would be great; he had more than enough food. His New Year’s Eve was looking up.
But wait; it wasn’t Ben, only Amelia. Where was his buddy?
No choice but to show her highness into his apartment. She looked much better than she had the last time he saw her, at the Christmas party. Her face was filling out, and her corduroy pants actually looked tight. She’d need maternity things soon. How weird to think about what was going to happen to her over the next six months. She would get huge, but also wobbly and awkward and strangely fragile. He’d seen it happen to women at work. He’d often wondered if it was hard to concentrate on email and memos and presentations with your body morphing itself to accommodate another being.
“Danny!” Amelia said, kneeling down to hug him. When Isabelle came in, Amelia put her arms around her, too.
Matthew’s email to Amelia had included a quick version of the Florida disaster and their mom’s health. Perhaps this was why she’d come over—to see them. Who knows, maybe she could cheer Danny up.
“I’m really amazed.” She looked up at Matthew. Amazed by him? He’d done something she approved of, finally? “Let me know if you need a babysitter. I’m happy to help.”
“I will, thanks.” She sounded positively congenial, so he threw in, “I can use all the help I can get.”
“What else can I do?”
“I’m not sure yet.” He laughed. “Unless of course you’d like to help me raise them, in which case, feel free.”
She hugged the kids harder and Matthew realized she was crying. Why the hell would that upset her? “I was only joking,” he tried. More crying. “Or not?” Same.
She let the kids go when Isabelle started squirming to be free. But she was still crying, so he said, “Jesus, what is it?”
He stuck out his hand and she let him help her up. She sat down in the white chair and he sat on the couch, with Isabelle standing next to him, trying to comb his hair. What Amelia told him was unexpected and yet sadly predictable. Apparently, the week before, Ben had bolted from the whole father thing. No wonder he wasn’t taking Matthew’s calls. Dammit, another problem.
“Where is he staying?” Matthew said.
“At the campus hotel,” she said, sniffing. “He’s been there for almost a week.”
She turned her attention to Danny and Isabelle; he went back to setting the table. The meal with the kids was fine, if stressful. Isabelle wanted apple juice, which he’d forgotten to buy at the store. Danny kept looking at Amelia as though he was trying to telegraph some message to her, or maybe he was just glad to see her; Matthew couldn’t tell. Isabelle finally got over the juice crisis and went back to being her happy self, though her reaction to the spaghetti was to eat all the zucchini and play with the rest, wrapping the noodles around her fingers before letting them slide onto the floor. Each time, Matthew wiped off the rubber sheet he’d put under her chair and asked her not to do that. Her response, predictably, was to laugh. Amelia thought it was funny, too, and Danny was paying attention, at least, though he still didn’t smile.
Amelia ate two enormous helpings and thanked him for the delicious meal. Danny asked if he could take Isabelle into the loft, where Matthew had moved the TV. Matthew said fine and Amelia helped him put the dishes in the dishwasher. When they were finished, as he was wrapping up the bread, she started crying again and sobbed out another twist to the story. Her baby might have Down syndrome, or at least Ben thought so. The OB said it was very unlikely. They’d done an ultrasound a few days ago and none of the markers were there, but just the idea that the kid could be screwed up was unacceptable to Ben.
Matthew said, “He doesn’t like uncertainty outside of the lab. He’ll come around, but in the meantime, you have to remember that he’s not just a man, he’s superman. He can’t be held to the ordinary standards of mere mortals like—”
“But I want an ordinary life,” she said, sniffing. “I want someone who is happy that I’m pregnant. I want someone who doesn’t constantly tell me I’m too old to have a healthy baby.”
Matthew could imagine Ben telling Amelia that; the guy had never pulled punches with his girlfriends. He once told Karen that her sagging breasts were normal for her age. After she threw a jar of pickles at him (and missed), he called Matthew, mystified as to what he’d done to upset her. “It was the truth,” Ben said, as though that meant it couldn’t be upsetting. Matthew had explained for the millionth time that truth was not the standard by which to judge what to say to a woman, or almost anyone for that matter.
But Amelia was different since she was such a stickler for the truth. Unless she’d changed. An ordinary life? That didn’t sound like her.
“It will work out,” he said. “Ben does love you, I know that. He—”
“No,” she stammered. “It’s over between us.” And then, horrifyingly, she reached out and put her arms around him. He waited a minute and finally put his arms around her, too, but stiffly. At which point she dropped her head against his chest. Snuggling there? What?
“I think I should talk to Ben,” he said, pushing her back as gently as his panic would allow. “Find out when he’s coming home. Can you watch the kiddlings until I return?” he said, nodding in the direction of the loft. She said yes, and walked in that direction. He tried not to run to the door, but he did hurry once he got to the parking garage. He g
ot in the Porsche and drove as fast as was safe, straight to Ben’s hotel.
He had to fix this, and pronto: for Ben’s sake and for Amelia’s, too. Admittedly, he was also concerned about protecting himself from getting royally screwed over. The last time she’d put her arms around him was in Aspen, and the end result there had not been pretty. At least she was full of surprises, if most of them were of the cut-your-heart-out-and-eat-it variety.
Ben was in his room, already drinking, celebrating New Year’s Eve alone, and obviously, annoyingly, feeling sorry for himself. They walked to a campus bar to have this talk. Matthew drank three Diet Cokes before Ben said he was “calm” enough to talk about Amelia. He’d already had several double shots of tequila, but he seemed to be serious when he claimed he’d realized something “important.” He even lifted his finger and pointed it at Matthew, for emphasis. “Amelia belongs with you, not me.”
“And just when did you arrive at this fascinating realization?” Matthew leaned back and stared at Ben. “Ah, let me guess. Right after you walked out on your pregnant girlfriend?”
“Yes,” Ben admitted, looking wounded. “That doesn’t mean it’s not true.”
“Oh please. It’s a justification, and an exceedingly lame one at that.”
“I can’t do it. I’m sorry, Matt. I did try, but I don’t—”
“You’ll just have to try harder, then,” he said, and launched into yet another rant about Ben’s responsibilities in this situation. Ben seemed to be listening, but he was also continuing to drink nonstop and, unfortunately, by the time the little speech was finished, he was so plastered he actually thought something in all this was funny.
Matthew frowned. “I fail to see the humor here.”
“I was just thinking that I would choose you to be my kid’s father over any man alive. That’s how much faith I have in you, buddy.”
“How flattering.” Matthew’s voice was clearly sarcastic, but Ben was smiling like he’d just offered Matthew a little present. “Do you hear how ridiculous you sound? The father has already been chosen. Tag, you’re it.”
