Vacation

by Jane Green

  “Don’t call me lazy!” Eddie yells. “How dare you call . . .” And they stop as they hear a cry from the corridor.

  “Oh, shit,” mutters Sarah. “Great. Now you’ve woken Walker.” And then as she walks past him, under her breath, “Asshole.”

  * * *

  “What’s the matter sweetheart?” She sits on the bed and cradles Walker. “Did you have a bad dream?” she asks hopefully.

  “No. You and Daddy were shouting,” Walker says, tears streaming down his face. “Why were you shouting?”

  “Sometimes grown-ups shout at one another,” Sarah says. “Sometimes we get angry at each other just like you and Maggie get angry. But it doesn’t mean anything. Sometimes you have to shout to make everything better. Remember when you and Tyler had that fight and you didn’t speak for a while and now you’re best friends again?” Walker nods. “Daddy and I had a little fight; that’s all.”

  “So are you friends again?” Walker says, eyes huge and scared.

  “Of course we are.” Sarah hugs him.

  “No.” Walker pulls away. “That’s too quick. You have to not be friends for a while and then you can be friends again.”

  Sounds like a plan to me, thinks Sarah, but she just squeezes Walker tight. “We are friends.”

  Sarah tucks him in, tells him she loves him, and gives him a kiss good night. As she softly closes the bedroom door, Walker calls out, “Mommy? Do you still love Daddy?”

  “Of course I do,” she says, and the words sound hollow, even to her.

  “I don’t,” Walker says suddenly, and Sarah comes back into his bedroom.

  “Yes, you do,” she says. “Sometimes you might not feel that you love him, or you might be angry with him, but you do love him, and he loves you.”

  “No, he doesn’t,” Walker says calmly. “But that’s okay, Mommy, because we love each other, don’t we? You’re my best friend in the whole world.”

  “And you’re my best friend in the whole world.” She blinks the tears away from her eyes as Walker snuggles up with his Power Ranger. “Now go to sleep.”

  * * *

  When Sarah gets back to her room Eddie is asleep, but she can’t fall asleep for ages. Should she tell him what Walker just said? Surely that would hurt him too much, and he probably wouldn’t believe it anyway, would think Sarah was just using it as ammunition to hurt him, but didn’t he have a right to know the effects of his not spending any time with his children? Shouldn’t he know the damage he’s causing?

  But Sarah hasn’t got the energy for another fight. She’s only just got the energy to get through each day intact. She now knows what single parents must go through, how hard it must be, and yet in some ways she thinks she has it harder because she has this added extra burden.

  Wouldn’t they all be so much better without him?

  Sarah imagines herself telling him to leave. Telling Eddie they’re leaving him. Imagines him drowning his sorrows in a sea of Sam Adams and Taco Bell burritos.

  Something in her won’t let her have that conversation—not yet. But something in her knows it’s just a matter of time, that when she reaches rock bottom she will have no other choice.

  It’s just a matter of time.

  CHAPTER 4

  “There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

  Sarah pauses, shrimp halfway to her mouth, as she looks at Eddie in alarm. Is this it? Is this how it’s going to happen? She finds herself waiting for him to tell her he’s having an affair, he’s leaving, half aware that it’s only wishful thinking, that it’s not actually going to happen like this, only in fact happens like this in the movies.

  The waiter comes over and asks if everything is okay, and Sarah forces an impatient smile as she nods. It’s not often they go out these days, and she was surprised when Eddie had suggested they go to their favorite fish restaurant this Friday, surprised because it was so rare these days that the two of them go to dinner for no reason at all.

  She had arranged a baby-sitter, had met Eddie at the train station, and now here they were, halfway through their shrimp cocktails, and Eddie looking like he’s about to drop a bombshell.

  Sarah puts the shrimp back on the plate and raises an eyebrow in anticipation, waiting for him to go on.

  Eddie takes a deep breath. Good Lord, Sarah thinks. Maybe I am right. Maybe he is leaving. And relief washes over her.

  “You know that building we’re buying in Chicago?”

  Sarah nods, although she doesn’t. They don’t tend to talk about work anymore. About anything anymore.

  “Well, it’s become complicated. The lawyer in the Chicago office just left and they need someone who’s there to take things over, and they want me to go.” Eddie looks at Sarah expectantly.

  “Right.” She nods, waiting for him to continue.

  “So, I haven’t really got a choice,” he says. “They want me to take his position in Chicago, and obviously it’s not really commutable, so . . .” he trails off.

  “So you’re moving to Chicago?”

  “Well, that’s what we have to talk about,” Eddie says, unable to read what Sarah’s thinking. “I know you love this town,” he says, “but Chicago’s a great city, and one of my colleagues offered to send me information about the schools there, and the thing is it may even be temporary. They want to see how things work out with this deal, but I think you would really like Chicago—”

  “Whoa”—Sarah raises a hand—“let me just take this in. They want you to go to Chicago and you want us to come with you?”

  Eddie looks wounded. “Of course I want you to come with me. You’re my family.”

  Sarah looks at him in amazement. Is he really that obtuse? Is he not, surely, as unhappy as she? Why would he want them to come with him? This is it, she realizes. It’s now or never. God has presented this opportunity to her on a platter and how can she not take it and run with it.

  She takes a deep breath, wondering how to say it, how it could be so hard to say when she has rehearsed this moment for weeks, months, when she thought she knew exactly which words to say, and how to say them.

  She would be kind, but firm, she had decided, all those long, lonely nights lying in bed and planning for her single future. She would tell him it was best for the children, and even though he might not be able to see it now, he would eventually realize that it was best for all of them. He deserved more happiness, she would say. They both deserved more happiness.

  “Eddie,” she starts, all her preparation having flown out the window, “do you really think it would be a good idea if we come?”

  Eddie looks confused for a moment. What is she trying to say? “Well, I guess I could work something out, maybe three days a week in Chicago and home for weekends—”

  “Eddie—” Sarah stops him by placing a hand on his. Now this feels familiar. Now this scenario is turning into the one she had thought about, the one she had planned for. “Eddie,” she says again, “stop. Do you have any idea how unhappy I am?”

  The blood drains from Eddie’s face. Now he knows where this is going.

  “Eddie,” she says softly, “do you remember what it was like when we were first married? Do you remember how happy we were? How we used to make each other laugh, and how we always used to say how lucky we were that we were each married to our best friend?

  “When was the last time we laughed, Eddie? When was the last time we had any fun together? Or even talked, for Christ’s sake, without it ending in a huge row, in us screaming at one another?”

  “Yeah,” Eddie says finally. “But all couples go through bad times, Sarah. This is just a patch. It will get better.”

  “This is a patch that’s lasted for three years,” Sarah says, not unkindly. “Eddie, it’s not going to get better; it’s only going to get worse. Listen, you are a great guy, but I think we’re just not the right match anymore. We’ve grown apart and, frankly, I want what’s best for the children, and they hardly see you anymore; they hardly know you.�
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  Eddie is silent. He can see Sarah has made up her mind. What is there left to say?

  “I think this is God’s way of telling us we should have a trial separation,” Sarah says quietly. “This has happened for a reason. I’m not saying it’s necessarily over, but face it, neither of us can carry on the way it’s been going. Your going to Chicago will give us both time to think about what we really want.”

  Eddie sits in shock. Of course he knew things were bad, but how did they ever get this bad? His parents had fought about the same amount as he and Sarah, and he didn’t remember ever seeing any open affection between them, but they never thought about a trial separation. They stayed married until his mother died of ovarian cancer at seventy-nine, after which time his father started referring to her in Godlike tones: the most wonderful woman in the world; the love of his life.

  “It’s for the best,” Sarah says gently, thrown slightly by the shock on Eddie’s face—didn’t he know? Didn’t he guess it was all going to end this way? And a trial separation is really a way for Sarah to soften the blow—everyone knows a trial separation means it’s over, but Sarah can’t quite kill all his hope in one blow—what would be the point?

  “We’ll tell the children in the morning,” she says, as the waiter comes over to collect their half-eaten plates. “We’ll have to make sure they know we still love them and it’s nothing to do with them.”

  Eddie watches her mouth move in a daze.

  How does a marriage end so quickly? So quietly? So conveniently? How did they ever get here?

  * * *

  The first time Eddie saw Sarah was at a Halloween party in their neighborhood bar. Ninety percent of the women had gone as sexy nurses, sexy witches, sexy devils. If Eddie had a dollar for every pair of fishnet stockings he saw that night, he had joked to his friend Todd, he would be a rich man.

  And then Sarah had turned around, and Eddie and Todd had cracked up laughing.

  “She must be new here,” Todd had said, slapping his friend on the back with mirth.

  “Or maybe no one explained to her how the women here dress on Halloween.”

  It wasn’t true that Sarah had misunderstood the unspoken rules of Halloween; it was that she was fed up with following them. She knew that all of her friends tried to look as sexy as possible, and up until this year she had done the same thing, but some Machiavellian impulse had stopped her from donning her red patent platform boots and satin devil’s tail tonight.

  Tonight Sarah had come as a corpse or, to be more specific, as she had explained to her horrified doorman who had turned from waving good-bye to a group of gorgeous witches and Queen Malificents, she was one of the evil dead.

  “Uh huh,” had said the doorman, who wasn’t even sure who this horror was until she spoke. God, he had thought when he realized it was the girl from apartment 26. Such a pretty girl, why did she choose to look like this on Halloween?

  Sarah had blacked out half her teeth, had turned her skin to a deathly shade of gray, complete with sunken eye sockets and hollow cheeks. She was wearing filthy, ragged clothes, and to cap it off her hair was hanging in greasy tendrils.

  The truth was that Sarah had decided she was sick of New York’s dating scene. She was sick of the men, sick of the scene, and was absolutely determined to stay single for a while. This was her statement, she had decided. This was her way of absolutely, positively ensuring she didn’t get drunk and do anything stupid on Halloween, for who in his right mind would look at her like this? She was going to meet her girlfriends, have a few drinks, and have a great time.

  * * *

  “A hundred bucks if you get her phone number,” Todd had nudged Eddie, indulging in their ongoing game that had started when they were frat boys in school together.

  “Oh, no way,” Eddie had groaned, his eye already on a luscious redhead on the other side of the room. But once the gauntlet had been thrown down the rule was it had to be picked up. Goddamnit.

  Eddie had walked up to Sarah and said, “Nice costume.”

  “Go screw yourself.” She had smiled pleasantly at him and turned away as her girlfriends giggled.

  “What?” Eddie, resplendent in his Superman costume, was not used to being turned down, and particularly not when he could have done so much better. Hell, he was only doing this for a dare.

  “Go screw yourself.” Sarah had turned and smiled a toothless smile, and Eddie had jumped in front of her, his cape billowing, and had raised a hand in Superman’s salute.

  “Young lady,” he had said in a deep, powerful voice, “if this was Clark Kent talking to you, you would have every right to tell him to go screw himself, but it is Superman, the most powerful superhero in America, and”—he had pulled a green plastic crystal out of his belt, brandishing it high—“by the laws of kryptonite I command you to have a drink with me.”

  The room had erupted in applause, including Sarah’s friends, and although she rolled her eyes, she had to admit she was impressed.

  Half an hour later Sarah and her girlfriends left to go to another party, and Eddie had walked back to Todd, triumphant, phone number in hand.

  * * *

  He hadn’t meant to phone her. Hadn’t thought he would ever think of her again, but she had been funny during the half hour they had chatted together over their dirty martinis garnished with a plastic spider. She had been sarcastic, clever, and opinionated.

  Oh, what the hell, he thought, one night when his date canceled on him at the last minute, leaving him with a reservation at Bouley. I’m sure she won’t be able to come.

  But she had been able to come, and when she walked in, this time in tight black pants, high-heeled boots, and a plunging white shirt, her hair a deep chestnut brown, swinging at her shoulders, her skin as clear as the day, Eddie had almost fallen off his chair in shock. And delight.

  * * *

  And that was how it had started. So how in the hell did it ever come to this? How did that clever, funny, sophisticated woman turn into this nagging, miserable, constantly tired wife?

  How did the two of them, who had once been such a sought-after couple, sociable and fun, become two ships that pass in the night, only coming together for collisions and fights?

  Is there any way for him to make it better? Is there any way for Eddie to stop his marriage from disintegrating before his eyes? He looks at Sarah, sitting there so firm, so resolute in her decision-making, and he vows to make this work. He knew, almost from the start, that Sarah was the one for him, and even though they’ve both been blown off course, he will put it right. He may not be able to do it immediately, but he won’t let go this easily, despite what she thinks.

  “You’re right,” he finds himself saying, knowing that doing anything other than agreeing with her will result in more confrontation, and that isn’t what he wants. “I think a trial separation is the right thing to do.”

  Sarah now looks shocked that Eddie has conceded so easily. Her words of sympathy and comfort no longer needed. “I’ll start looking for a place in Chicago immediately.”

  Sarah nods, and Eddie plans. He needs time to think. Time to get a plan of action into place.

  CHAPTER 5

  “I’m coming over.” Caroline puts down the phone, leaving Sarah sitting quite still, listening to the dial tone.

  Caroline calls back ten seconds later. “Can I call an emergency book club meeting or do you not want me to tell anyone?”

  “You can call the meeting,” Sarah sighs. “Right now I could do with the support, never mind the company.”

  “Gotcha. See you within the hour.”

  * * *

  From time to time the girls will call an emergency book club meeting, or an EBC, which occurs when, naturally, an emergency comes up. The last time an EBC was called was when Lisa’s son was beaten up on the school bus by a kid known as a bully and all-around general bad kid. They all agreed long ago to drop everything and come over should an EBC be needed. Within the hour, all of them, except Nicole,
who is on vacation, are once again sitting around Sarah’s kitchen table, looking at her with soulful, sympathetic eyes as she explains how unhappy she and Eddie have been, how it is better that he has finally gone.

  “How terrible for you,” they murmur.

  “We never realized.”

  “You’re so strong.”

  “But I’m not strong,” Sarah sighs. “I’m scared. I know I’ve fantasized about this for months, but I didn’t really think it would happen, and certainly not this quickly. I mean, one minute he was here, albeit barely”—she rolls her eyes—“and the next minute he’s gone.”

  “Does it feel lonely?” Caroline ventures.

  “Well, that’s the odd thing. I would have thought no, because I’m so used to being on my own, yet it kind of does. It just feels surreal. Every now and then it kind of hits me, but only for a short while, and then it carries on feeling like it didn’t really happen, that he’s going to walk in this evening and sit in front of the set drinking beer.”

  Lisa leans forward and looks into Sarah’s eyes earnestly. “Have you ever thought he may have a problem with alcohol?” she says slowly.

  Sarah shakes her head. “I think he may have a bigger problem with pizza.” She manages a grin. “Do you think there’s a support group called Pizzaholics Anonymous?”

  “You may laugh,” Lisa says sternly, “but you do always say he drinks a lot, and I’m just wondering whether he may need some help.”

  “I know you’re trying to help”—Sarah puts her hand on Lisa’s—“and I know how much you know about it given Max’s situation, but I would tell you if I thought there was a problem. Seriously, I would.”

  Lisa sits back and shrugs. “Okay. I was just trying to help.”

  “So how do you feel?” Cindy, in true Californian style, asks.