In a Book Club Far Away

by Tif Marcelo

  “Oh my goodness, it’s nothing,” Sophie interrupted. “It’s you who I have to thank. For inviting me.”

  “Well, of course, we’re neighbors.”

  “But… because I’m not officially”—with her fingers she made air quotes—“‘a spouse.’”

  Adelaide frowned and understanding flitted across her face.

  Sophie continued, compelled to explain. “You don’t have to defend the institution or tradition. I get why I’m left off a lot of the invites. And the ID card process. And medical and health care. We knew not tying the knot had its consequences. But the hardest by far is just not being included in things like this.”

  “I’m sorry. It’s a shame if you ask me.”

  “It’s fine,” she said, because that’s just the way it was. “That’s all to say, I appreciate this.”

  “This was something, wasn’t it? Just like you both were something to me earlier, helpful without being judgy. It’s admittedly always tough to find new… people to get to know. We should go for coffee. Something? Our husbands work together. We’re steps away from one another. What do you think?”

  “Sure,” Sophie answered right away. In ten years, she learned there were a few things she never turned down: the flu shot, meals from neighbors or friends, and the first friend dates at new duty stations.

  They both looked at Regina. Her eyes widened. “Me, too?”

  “Yes, you!” both Sophie and Adelaide said. At the surround-sound answer, they laughed.

  “Okay, then.” Regina raised her cup. “May the odds be ever in our favor.”

  Sophie cracked up again and lifted her glass. “Indeed.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Regina

  Regina was out of breath as she turned the corner to her apartment building. Her heels clacked against the sidewalk, and the sounds of the other book clubbers, all ducking into their own buildings, faded away. It was a little after midnight, and the moon was high, illuminating the empty street. Lush greenery swayed around the buildings, and she relished the feeling of the tepid wind against her skin. In her experience, this weather wouldn’t last long. Upstate New York had two months of mild weather to ten months of chill and snow, and her time outside would soon constitute wearing cold-weather gear and her nose hairs freezing.

  But right now, right now was perfect.

  She couldn’t stop smiling.

  She passed Baby, parked perpendicular to the front sidewalk of the building and patted the hood. The car was her lieutenant mobile and had been a mess when she’d picked her up years ago, and most of her butter bar—or second lieutenant—salary had been spent fixing and maintaining her. That, and her growing collection of cooking gear—all of which Logan had beef with, but she digressed. Regina loved Baby because she was a diamond in the rough. She was a symbol of what could come with a little bit of work. She was also 100 percent Regina’s, purchased by her outright, without a loan attached to her.

  Regina took the apartment stairs up two by two. The sounds of voices and television filtered into the corridor from the other families. There were the Castillos in A, Sergeant Major Davis in B—he was geobaching it while his family stayed in Chicago—the Smiths in C, the Katz family with their four cats in D, and she and Logan in E, while F was empty for the time being. But when she approached her door, there wasn’t a sound to be heard.

  She turned the doorknob—locked. And after unlocking it and entering, she encountered a dark apartment.

  Meow. Shadow greeted her at her door and immediately rolled to her back, an invitation to play. And, normally, Regina would have gone right down onto the ground to do so. Optimism ran through her veins, that their third year in Millersville would be better than the first. Perhaps this year, she would make real friends; she’d prove Logan wrong when he’d once told her that her grumpiness—that was the actual word he’d used, and she’d given him hell for it—was because she didn’t know how to have a good time.

  Instead she bypassed her cat and went straight to the bedroom, curious at the silence. No Logan. She searched the kitchen for a note—no dice. And then, she peeked out of the front windows, where sure enough, she discovered that his car was missing.

  Which meant he wasn’t in the neighborhood, wasn’t holed up with his buddy Aaron, a single lieutenant who lived four buildings over.

  She pulled out her BlackBerry, noticed no missed calls, and rang her husband, biting her cheek. Tingles ran up and down her arms—her nerves threatening to jump off along with her simmering temper. Two years they’d been married, and the man still ran his life as if he were single. Whatever happened to him leaving a note? Cell phones existed for a reason.

  When the call went to voice mail, she hung up and dialed him again. This time, on the fourth ring, he answered.

  “Hey.” Logan’s voice sounded like he was having a drink on the beach, all relaxed and unbothered. In the background, she heard the staccato of drumbeats and an electric guitar chord.

  She controlled her voice. “Hey. Where are you?”

  “Oh, I’m out.”

  “Where?”

  “Just down the street. Listen, I can’t hear you. Are you home?”

  “Yes!” she yelled. Then, she girded her abdomen to keep her body from lurching with anger. “Where you should be.”

  He laughed—he was drunk. She knew then where he was. At the local Irish pub, aptly named Eyes Crossed Pub, with his buddies.

  She dropped her head in resignation. This was another recurring fight they had. Their lives on the weekend rarely intersected except for the occasional movie together, a problem she attributed to their dating while Logan was at West Point. Because they hadn’t dated in the way most college kids did—they hadn’t had study nights and casual, last-minute adventures, but serious, planned occasions and intense school breaks—they didn’t go out now. Yes, their sexual relationship thrived, their physical attraction oftentimes made up for their fights, but they didn’t plan their lives like many couples mapped out their leave time together. Those things that she’d once bragged about—that she and her husband were individuals first, a team second; that they didn’t feel the need to give each other permission—didn’t feel so advantageous now.

  Was it possible to go backward in a relationship? Because as each day passed, it was getting harder and harder to remember what brought them together in the first place.

  “I’ll be home soon, babe,” he said now. A soft plea. “Another hour.”

  “Fine.” Because what else could she say? “Take a cab home. You sound wasted.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Do you see me s… saluting you? I am.” His voice muffled in her ear. “Don’t get mad, baby. It’s just me and the guys and beers. Thassit.”

  She rolled her eyes and took a deep breath. “Fine.”

  “Love ya!” he yelled, laughing. Logan knew that if he made it through this phone call and she went to bed, he wouldn’t have to deal with her till morning. And since he would be leaving for Afghanistan soon, was a fight really worth it?

  Logan was right. After he hung up, Regina moved on, changing into her pj’s, playing with Shadow, and opening The Hunger Games to read the ending, which had been spoiled at book club—no big deal. She fell asleep with her thoughts jumping from the potential of new friends, to the book’s ending (Oh. My. God), to Logan, who’d get an earful in the morning.

  But when she awoke the next day, her husband wasn’t by her side.

  PART TWO

  Everyone’s got a different story.

  —Room by Emma Donoghue

  CHAPTER NINE

  Adelaide

  Present Day, Thursday

  Despite the computer screen that separated them, Adelaide felt her husband’s quiet judgment all the way from Wiesbaden, Germany, and it rivaled her mother’s on a good day.

  “Yes, yes, I know it wasn’t okay,” she said stubbornly. “I just thought… I just thought that if they got to see each other, in person and with me in the room as a buffer, that they w
ould both be willing to work it out. They’re my best friends, Matt. And it’s time for this whole thing to be resolved. I had it all planned out.”

  “A plan?”

  “Yes.” Adelaide slumped in her seat and snatched her planner, turning it to a bookmarked page. A self-professed paper planner and journaler, she was met with an intricately doodled page after a night of insomnia. She heaved a breath, then lifted the page up to the monitor. “See.”

  He squinted as he read, tilting his head back—her poor husband needed reading glasses. “‘Write an SOS. Get them to stay.’ Well, looks like step two got you stumped.”

  She closed the book and dropped her gaze to the desk in front of her. Her mama used to say, “Plan it and they will come,” and that was what she’d done. Sheepishly, she said, “Well, I’ve got one here, at least.”

  “What’s the rest of the list say?”

  “‘Get them to bond.’ And then ‘get them to make up.’”

  “Easy peasy, right?”

  That gave her a chuckle. When she looked up, the screen was frozen, with Matt’s mouth rounded into an O. Darn these old houses. She had a Wi-Fi extender plugged in for the upper floors, but somehow the connection was still glitchy.

  The picture righted itself. Adelaide’s heart melted a little at the sight of her hubby, who had broken out into a grin. It was adorable and mischievous, with a slight curl that made his dark eyes light up. Matthew Chang was wearing his brown T-shirt; he’d just gotten into his quarters from work, and while the lighting on his end was dim, Adelaide noticed the slight bit of shadow on his chin. It was his cozy look. She could almost feel herself nuzzled up against him, her nose at the crook of his neck. Usually, by the end of the day, he no longer smelled of aftershave but of a little bit of sun and a hint of bar soap.

  God, did she miss him.

  “You broke up there. What did you say?” she asked.

  “I said, I’m thankful Sophie stayed, then.”

  “Honestly, the only reason Sophie’s staying is for Genevieve. But she hasn’t come out from the guest room.”

  “How is my little girl?”

  “Good, still asleep.” Adelaide eased at the change of subject, leaned to the left, and tilted the laptop screen so it centered the Pack ’n Play within its view. Genevieve had a glorious nursery that Adelaide had painstakingly decorated when they moved in, but her daughter preferred to nap near her.

  Which was perfectly fine by Adelaide. Genevieve wouldn’t be a baby much longer.

  Their baby. She and Matt had waited a long time for her, an exorbitant feat interrupted by the Army’s needs, but there they were. A pang shot up through her, at the bittersweetness of it all, that after the struggle to conceive, Matt had spent most of their daughter’s life watching her grow through a computer screen.

  “Man, I miss you guys,” he said, cutting through the beginning of her emotional avalanche.

  She smiled. “We miss you, too. One month, right?”

  “I’m counting the days. The seconds.” His gaze flickered downward. “I can’t believe she’s turning two next week.”

  I can’t believe you’re going to miss it was her first thought, though she bit back the words. She pried more gracious ones out of her mouth, peeled them from the enamel of her teeth. “I caught her the other day toddling right up to a Lab puppy being walked. Remember how she’s normally so scared of anything on four legs?”

  His face brightened. “Wow, that’s great!”

  “She kept patting it right on the top of its head.” She smiled at the memory. “Pretty sure she’s going to want her own puppy. I can tell.”

  He narrowed his eyes in jest. “Or maybe it’s her mama who wants a puppy?”

  “Maybe.” She shrugged flirtatiously. It had been a couple of years since their last dog had passed, a geriatric bull dog they had adopted, the third foster in about a decade. And while she was ready for another fur baby, Matt wasn’t keen on account of his allergies. But, like oil, the truth always rose to the surface. “A dog would keep me company.”

  “You know what would keep you company? Another baby.”

  “Um, no. Not when it’s me who’ll do all the work,” she quipped, then bit her lip.

  His grin fell into a frown.

  “I’m sorry for that,” she said. Matt had been feeling extra guilty and awful for not being able to come home for Genevieve’s birthday or Adelaide’s surgery, and she didn’t need to lay the guilt trip on thick. Currently, he was on an eight-month unaccompanied tour in Germany, which would take him out of the next cycle of deployment. It had been the better of two options, though he still lived away from home. She worded her next sentence carefully. “It’s because… I know we talked about two children, but with the pain I’m… I already feel awful having surgery when I know that Genevieve still wants to be carried and held—”

  “No, you’re right. You shouldn’t have to do this surgery on your own. I’m sorry. I’m just excited to keep growing our family.”

  She nodded, though inside, a white flag waved. She didn’t know when she would be ready. She had just started to feel more confident at being a mom when her gallbladder pain began, and the procedures, the journey of IVF… she couldn’t fathom it right now.

  She was raising Genevieve on her own. It was so easy for him to discuss children when it was she who had to live with the procedures, the prodding, and then the raising.

  But she said none of this. Her complaint would surely just distract him, when he needed to show up to work with a clear head.

  Their marriage—for that matter, her whole life—had been built around something bigger than the both of them. A false sense of security crept in when wars lasted too long, when the cause and the meaning sometimes faded with time and distance from threat. The current operational tempo was fast and quick. Military members were still dying, and while Matt wasn’t in combat now, the risk existed. She, in the United States, despite being in pain and without the comfort of him around, had a nice mattress to sleep on, had meals with her family. She wasn’t food insecure. She was privileged.

  Adelaide offered him a smile. “No worries. Sophie’s got you covered—she’s taking care of me. Not that you won’t have to make it up to me later on, because you will. Maybe with a trip to a local shelter when you’re back.”

  He seemed to relax at her change in subject, slouching a smidgen into his chair. “Honestly, after all this, you can have an entire menagerie of pets. Except birds.” He shivered. “But, babe. What are you going to do about Regina?”

  She shrugged, her shoulders heavy from helplessness. “I’ve texted her, and called, but no response. She’s been gone over an hour. She could be in Richmond by now. Yes, I know it was naive, but I had all these grandiose plans. That Regina’d start to cook, and Sophie’d take care of things around here, and soon we’d be one big happy family like we used to be. I figured I would explain my part of what happened back in Millersville, and we would move on. Then we could do all the local things around Old Town. The Hop-On, Hop-Off bus in DC. A walk through Georgetown, maybe a visit to the Naval Academy. And then, of course, Genevieve’s birthday—maybe a belated party.”

  “Besides the fact that Regina isn’t there, that would have been a tall order. You have to recover from your procedure.”

  “Dr. Hakashi said that since it’s going to be an outpatient procedure, I’ll be on my feet soon.” Something sour had developed in the back of her throat. Did she have to remind him of the many times she’d handled more in her schedule? The complicated moves, the last of which when Gen was two months old and Adelaide was still recovering from her C-section. Once, she moved on her own with a large truck through two states.

  Hush. She knew better than to put it all on him. They both loved this life, down to its core.

  She took a deep breath, noted that the pain in her side had returned. “I’ve got to go.”

  “What is it, did I say something wrong?”

  “No,” she sighed. From outsi
de her door, she heard the doorbell ring. Her next instinct was to wince in expectation of a dog barking, then of the baby waking, but no—no dog. And Genevieve didn’t make a peep. “Someone’s at the door. Probably another solicitor. We really need to put up a sign.”

  His frown remained imprinted on his face, but after a beat, he said, “Okay, babe. I’ll call you later. Love you lots.”

  “Love you.”

  Adelaide pressed the hang-up button before she could think twice and exhaled the tension in her chest. She pushed their conversation down and away from her head. This irritation, too, wasn’t new. Their split household sometimes resulted in their thoughts and wires being crossed. They couldn’t snuggle and make up. So much was lost in translation when a wife couldn’t touch her husband. Matt wasn’t really trying to tell her what to do—he was just giving her his thoughts on the matter.

  She passed the guest room door, which remained closed, though she heard Sophie’s voice. She must be on the phone with Jasper. Then Adelaide padded down the stairs, slowing down just before she got to the bottom step, when through the front window sheers she saw the shadow of a coupe parked in front of the house.

  A smile burst from her lips. She threw the door open to Regina, green suitcase by her side.

  Regina’s expression was nonplussed. “Look, I guess I’m staying but—”

  Adelaide launched herself at her friend. “Thank you, thank you. You are the best in the whole wide world.”

  Regina mumbled an answer, but between the words was a laugh, and Adelaide would take it. She’d take all of Regina’s attitude knowing she’d decided to return. But when she stepped back, she noticed a stranger hovering outside her door.

  A man… carrying two bags of groceries.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Sophie

  Sophie heard the familiar rise and fall of two women’s voices downstairs. Regina was back. Damn.

  “Mother, are you listening?” a voice yelled through the phone in her ear.