She Makes It Look Easy

by Marybeth Whalen

  I sat in the car and collected myself before I backed out of the driveway. Duncan was crying, Dylan was sullen, and Donovan was avoiding looking me in the eye when I left them with Heather, who tried hard to look like she wasn’t bothered that the boys seemed to despise her. Just before Heather got there, Donovan said he hated me. He had never said that before, and I wasn’t ready for it. I had heard it would happen, but that didn’t make it any easier to hear. Was it wrong to leave them? I thought about Justine’s admonishment to me earlier that day: that David didn’t have to justify his frequent disappearing acts, so why should I? I put the van in reverse and pressed on the gas.

  I eased out of the neighborhood, and when I slowed down as I passed Justine’s house, I noticed her getting into her car. A thought nagged at me: What if they went out without me? What if she just didn’t want me there? I feared that she didn’t really like me and her invitation to me had only been out of pity. She recognized how much I wanted to be her friend; she felt sorry for me. I scolded myself for being insecure, for letting my emotions get the best of me. It seemed to be happening more and more.

  Leaving the neighborhood, I swung out between the large brick pillars with the imposing-looking lions keeping sentry, the waterfalls continually spouting water into the air. The entrance to the neighborhood used to inspire a kind of reverence within me; already I barely noticed it as I sped past to somewhere else. I had planned to take walks with the boys to see the lions and sit by the waterfalls. But we hadn’t done it once.

  I turned into the parking lot of a little restaurant just past our neighborhood entrance. For all my running away, I hadn’t gone far. I grabbed my notebook and Bible to take into the restaurant with me, a bastion against looking lonely and desperate. I ordered my food and found a table for one.

  The restaurant was crowded with diners, and I ended up sitting close to an attractive man about my age. When he looked up and smiled at me, I smiled quickly and looked away. He fiddled with his cell phone while I made a production of turning to the prayer-journal section of my notebook and beginning to write. I opened to a psalm and read while I waited for the servers to call my number saying my turkey sandwich with sprouts and hummus was ready. Justine had said to have a salad, but I refused. I contemplated ordering a pastry just to make my rebellion complete.

  The man’s phone rang, startling me. I looked up in response to the ringtone it played. “I’m all out of love, I’m so lost without you.” Air Supply. He smiled at me for the second time before answering. “Hey, you,” he said in a voice that was so obviously happy to hear from the woman on the other end that tears came to my eyes. He laughed the laugh of a lover, a laugh charged with secret jokes and familiarity. “Yeah, me, too. Yeah, I’ll be there. Of course. I’m glad you had a good day. That’s all I want for you, you know. Your happiness. I was happy to do it for you. I love you too. Okay, see you then. Yes, I promise. Yes.” He hung up still smiling, and I tried not to make it obvious that I could hear every word he had said. I noticed the ring on his left hand. How fortunate his wife was to have a husband who still talked to her like that. I looked down at my cell phone. David had not replied to my text.

  Twice I looked up and caught the man looking at me, but I looked away before he could say anything. I didn’t want to hear about his happy life with his happy wife. When Heather called, I grabbed the phone without checking the caller ID, hoping it was David since I hadn’t talked to him all day. Heather just wanted to know if the boys were allowed to jump on the trampoline. I told her I would tip her if they were in bed asleep by the time I got home.

  The man pulled a second cell phone from his pocket and dialed a number. “Hey,” he said when the person answered, this time sounding totally different. “Listen, I am about to go into a meeting,” he said. I looked around at the faces of the other patrons to see if they noticed what I was witnessing, wondered if the person on the other end could tell he was lying. “No, I told you I wouldn’t be home for dinner. Yes, I said I would. Didn’t I? Look, don’t start in on me. I told you I didn’t have time to talk.” He didn’t sound like the kind, gentle lover this time. He sounded like an angry, bitter man. “Yep,” he finished. “Me, too.”

  He snapped the second cell phone shut and threw it into a briefcase on the floor, kicking the briefcase with his foot. I refused to lift my eyes and look at him. I didn’t want him to see the betrayal I felt. He was not my husband. This was not my problem. Yet every bone in my body wanted to speak on behalf of his wife, to tell him what a putz he was, to tell him that his wife deserved love and understanding. His wife deserved the same tone that other woman got. She deserved happiness too. I looked back down at my cell phone, but there was no text. I finished my sandwich and got out of there as fast as I could. My big night alone had left me feeling worse than staying home with the boys would have. I wondered why I had listened to Justine.

  I drove around aimlessly, past the library and the outdoor mall. I thought about going to see a movie, but there was nothing I wanted to see. I wandered around the bookstore and found nothing worth reading. I ambled up and down the aisles of a container store Justine recommended in an attempt to get our house organized but didn’t have the energy or passion needed to buy containers for all our junk. It would have to stay unorganized at least for a while longer. I thought of how I would explain my lack of enthusiasm to Justine, who was always perky about organization. Finally, having exhausted all my efforts to fill my time, I aimed my car in the direction of the neighborhood.

  As I pulled past the lions and waterfalls, I pressed the brake enough to slow the van down to a crawl. Hadn’t I promised myself to stop there often? I pulled to the side and parked on the curb, out of the way of other cars. Grabbing my Bible and notebook, I walked toward the benches that the developer had added in hopes that the residents would enjoy the parklike entrance, I supposed. I had never seen anyone sitting there, however. Everyone was so busy working to afford their houses they didn’t have time to enjoy the accoutrements of living there.

  I sat down and closed my eyes before I began to write. I opened my Bible to the psalm I had read before, letting God’s Word wash over my sorrows and renew my spirit. I wondered why Justine hadn’t suggested this as an activity. Reading the Bible while I listened to the rush of water, the call of birds, felt the fading sun warm my shoulders. It was just what I needed.

  I heard my name being called and looked up. Erica waved happily at me. “I thought you were out with Justine,” she said as she got closer.

  “She couldn’t go. So I kept my sitter”—I smiled in reference to her daughter—“and went out anyway.”

  She gestured at my Bible. “Having fun?”

  I looked around at the setting. “Yeah, actually I am. It’s really pretty here.”

  She nodded. “I try to come here as much as I can. Since Heather was busy tonight, I decided to go for a walk, enjoy the evening.” She looked at me pointedly. “Loneliness has its benefits, you know.”

  She had zeroed in on the theme of my night. I smiled. “I guess I’m still learning.”

  “Time, young grasshopper,” she said in a deep voice. “In time you will learn much.”

  “Have a seat.” I gestured at the space on the bench beside me.

  “Don’t mind if I do,” she said. We sat and watched the waterfalls for a moment, the silence between us growing more awkward the longer it stretched. I barely knew this woman, but I wanted to know her better. I wondered what to say first, but she beat me to it.

  “I’ve heard you are a good photographer,” she said. “Justine is talking you up; word’s spreading. Everyone’s saying they’re going to get pictures from you as soon as this heat dies down.”

  I couldn’t hold my smile back. I would have to thank Justine the next time I saw her. “I love to take pictures,” I said.

  “Do you think you could take some for me?” she asked, her voice quie
t, shy even.

  “Sure. I’d love to. What’s the occasion?”

  She looked at the waterfalls as she spoke. “Heather and her friends. They’re growing up, going to high school this fall. I just want to capture this time before it slips away—heat or not. I feel like this is the last summer she’ll have any trace of that little girl I remember. By next summer she’ll morph into a young woman. At least then I’ll have the pictures.” She turned to me. “I’ll feel like I captured it somehow. You know?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. That’s one of the reasons I take pictures. It’s my way of freezing time, of capturing what’s precious before it can slip away.”

  “Can we do it soon? Do you have time this week?”

  I grinned broadly. “For you? I’ve got all the time in the world.”

  She nudged me playfully and I nudged her back, falling into an easy conversation as we watched the sun set on Essex Falls.

  Chapter 12

  Justine

  I watched Ariel drive past my house as I was getting into my car, part of me wishing I was going with her for a girls’ night out. I hadn’t had one of those since Laura and I went out the night before she moved. That hadn’t been a happy occasion, though we’d faked our way through it, going to our favorite restaurant and even ordering dessert, a treat we rarely afforded ourselves. That night when I hugged Laura good-bye, I didn’t let her see me cry, and now, as I drove toward Tom, I wondered why I hadn’t.

  The good news was, I was forgiving Ariel for being the one who moved into Laura’s house. She was becoming a good friend.

  I felt bad for deceiving her so I could be with Tom. I thought about the hurt in her voice when she called to say she could go out. Her finding a sitter was not something I had planned for. I was glad she’d gone out anyway like I’d suggested. It would be good for her, I told myself. And she wouldn’t be around where Mark could possibly spot her.

  I turned down the empty street and parked in front of a skeleton of a house abandoned to the economic downturn. Some builder had begun this neighborhood near Essex Falls, then bailed, leaving the street developed but not settled. Tom’s car was parked exactly where I’d told him to meet me. I got out of the car and slid into the front seat beside Tom like I’d done it a million times. I wondered how many other illicit meetings had taken place in this exact spot.

  The heat of the night settled on our skin and in our throats as we sat in silence, enjoying just being together. He took my hand, and I knew he could feel the sweat on my palms. His palms were dry. Every so often a faint breeze would float through, teasing us with its fickleness. Tom almost turned the engine on so we could run the air-conditioning, but I stopped him. “I like the heat,” I said. “It reminds me of those summers in the mountains.”

  He laughed, an exhalation of breath that came out like a sputter. “Who said the mountains are cooler in the summer? I remember it being sweltering.”

  I smiled, thinking of a photo of him from one of our summers that I had tacked up on the bulletin board in my dorm. He was shirtless, tan, and the expression he wore on his face was nothing short of alluring. I could still see that picture when I closed my eyes. Truth was, I had it tucked away in easy reach even now.

  “I remember you being sweltering.” He turned to face me. The air in the car suddenly felt closer.

  I leaned my head against the window, away from him. The glass felt cool against my cheek, like a caress. “Have you ever done this before?” I asked. Why it mattered, I couldn’t say.

  “Done what?” He looked out the windshield as though he needed to see the road. But all that lay ahead of us was woods. Along with obscure coffee shops, it seemed my brain had also cataloged out-of-the-way parking spots where people could hide. Our two cars sat parked together in the dead end conspicuously. Before I had gotten in his car and closed the door, I had told myself that I was only there to catch up with an old friend. Lying to myself, it turned out, was just as easy as lying to Ariel, to Mark, to Betsy, to my girls.

  “Lied to your wife. Snuck around with someone else.” I wanted to be the only one.

  “I’ve never done this before,” he said. “I need you to believe that.” He turned toward me.

  “So, why are we here?” I asked. I wasn’t going to go easily.

  He reached across the space between us to run the tip of his finger along the line of my jaw. A shiver traveled the length of my spine as he did. I turned to look at him. By now I knew the look he was giving me. After more than ten years of silence he was becoming familiar again. “I needed to see you, to be near you.”

  “You left me,” I said, even though we had already been over this. “You chose her.”

  “I was a scared kid,” he answered me. “I did what was expected of me because it was what I had done all my life. I married Betsy. I made a lot of people happy.” He paused, sighed. “And I made myself miserable.” We both sat in silence for a few minutes. I could hear the sound of his breathing, smell the cologne he wore. Something I didn’t recognize, but liked. “You were the only one who touched my soul.”

  Dusk had collected in pockets in the edges of the cul-de-sac. I was surprised by how easily the lies had rolled off my tongue about where I was going and who I was with, how much I was willing to forfeit if it meant seeing—or talking to—Tom. All my little deceits were starting to collect, a compost pile of discarded truths, fertilizing the tender growth of our relationship.

  There was no clock around, but I could tell it was time to go. Mark would be expecting me, the girls would most likely be waiting up even though he’d told them to go to bed. I wondered how I would explain all this to them someday. Would they applaud my courage to go after what I wanted or condemn my selfishness? Would they want to be like me or anything but? I nodded my head, and the girls disappeared.

  When we both agreed it was time to go, Tom leaned over, kissed me, and repeated the promise he’d made all those years ago. This time I didn’t intend to let him break it. If someone was going to get hurt this time around, it wasn’t going to be me.

  Chapter 13

  Ariel

  We shot Heather’s pictures at the neighborhood park. I bailed on Justine and my morning walk so I could get to the park before the sun climbed too high in the sky and baked us all. The teens groaned good-naturedly about being up so early but got into the spirit of the shoot pretty easily with a few sips of the sodas Erica brought for us all. I brought the boys, and they played on the fringes of the action. Occasionally I had to get a shot of them, too. I couldn’t resist.

  Through my lens I watched the dynamic of friendship play out among Heather and her friends: the familiarity laced with timidity, the chance to open up paired with the fear of being exposed, the awkward dance of really knowing another person. Heather and her friends, Sophie, Grace, and Nicole, had been close since elementary school, Erica told me. They had weathered two parents’ divorces, the critical illness of one mom, and numerous squabbles and friendship breakups. But somehow the girls always found a way to come back together, to find what made them stick and hold on to that. I envied their natural rapport, the ease that can only come with time together. How ironic, I thought as I focused and clicked, that these girls already had what I couldn’t seem to find. I couldn’t record the whispers and giggles and “had to be there” references with my camera, but I could catch the smiles, the wide eyes, the dimples, the comfort. I could, as Erica requested, capture what was there.

  “I think I’ll have these for you this afternoon,” I told Erica as I wrapped up the shoot. “I’m anxious to get home and edit them.” I was always this way with new shots—couldn’t wait to get home and see how I could make the shots better with a little editing. If only life came with editing software, I often thought. Take out the ugly parts with a click of a button.

  “Wow! This afternoon? That’s amazing.”

  “Yeah,
I’ll just give you a disk with the pictures on it. Then you can make prints of the ones you like.”

  “I’m sure I’ll like them all!” She put her arm around Heather’s neck and yanked playfully. “I’m a sucker for pictures.”

  Heather rolled her eyes and nodded. “You should see my baby books!”

  “Well, just let me know if you need good references for places that can enlarge them. I’m happy to help,” I said.

  “Okay, well, I’ll stop by for the disk later this afternoon then?”

  “Sounds good!” I said. I could tell I’d made her day, and that felt even better than I’d expected.

  “Thanks, Miss Ariel,” Heather said shyly after I saw Erica whisper in her ear to do so.

  I packed my camera into my case. It had been my first splurge when I started making real money from photography. Every art form has its tool: a musician has an instrument, a painter has paints, a writer has a pen. I had my Nikon D3S. I shut the case and looked up at Heather, into the sun. It surrounded her head like a halo. “No problem,” I said to her. “I was glad to do it.”

  “Well, it was very nice of you. It meant a lot to my mom. Not many people go out of their way to be nice to her. So, thanks for that.”

  I did my best to not let my smile falter at her brave admission. “Good friends are hard to find. You’re a lucky girl. I think your mom knows that.” I did not add that I envied her.

  She turned to look at Sophie and Grace on the swings, being pushed simultaneously by Nicole. They were all laughing at Nicole running back and forth from swing to swing. “My mom’s always telling me I’m lucky to have them in my life. I’m starting to believe her.”

  “You’re a smart girl,” I said to her, and winked. “And your mom’s a smart lady.” I hoisted the camera bag on my shoulder and motioned for the boys to follow me as I headed to the parking lot. I waved at Erica as I loaded our things in the minivan and drove away, finding myself excited that I would see her later.