The Burning Side(40)

My mind goes to Billy. It’s as though the man who swore himself to secrecy all those years ago was a different man than the one in our kitchen this morning. That’s the slippery grief of this illness: he’s disappearing while he’s still here. Yes, it stings to be exposed against my will. But more than that, it stings to be alone against my will, drifting into a solo parenthood where I’m going to need my kids in a new way. They lost something today, however small: a lifelong belief about their own origin story. And I’m afraid they will lose more yet.





APRIL


July 14, 2022

“LET’S GO OUT.”

I’m helping with late-afternoon dishes when Josie makes this proposition, leaning on the counter and looking at me with pretty please eyes. And she’s not the only one looking at me. Cameron glances up from his laptop, and Mom looks up as she kneads some dough. It’s impossible to escape an audience in this house. Leo is the only one who doesn’t make eye contact, as he buckles Otto into the high chair.

“Out?”

“Dinner, me and you! Come on.”

Jo’s first Dallas show isn’t until tomorrow, and she’s not one to sit still.

I’ll admit that the reprieve is tempting. But Josie seems oblivious to the facts and responsibilities of my life. I can’t just drop everything and go out.

“I don’t know.”

Mom chimes in, flour on her fingers. “You girls go. I’ll make pizza for the kids.”

I look at Leo, but he’s pretending not to hear. So if he doesn’t care, then neither do I.

“Okay,” I say. “Sure.”

This elicits a squeal from my sister, who starts naming restaurant options. She hasn’t lived here in years, yet she knows more about the Dallas food scene than I ever have. When she suggests Nobu, I feel my cheeks warm. I look again at Leo, still pretending not to hear, and I mumble, “Nothing extravagant. Plus, we don’t have a reservation.”

Fully ignoring me, she says, “Or there’s a new steakhouse on—”

“Let’s just do pho or something.”

It’s embarrassing how my family spends money in contrast to Leo’s childhood. Leo from little, April from much. Money has been an underlying crack in our marriage. But Leo’s refusal to even look at me right now, his total lack of interest in what I do or where I go, follows me all the way into the car with Josie, where we still haven’t decided where to go eat. I’m worried about leaving the kids and whether Mom should be focused on Dad and—

“April.” Josie touches my arm. “Take a breath, it’s just dinner. I didn’t suggest it because I’m unaware of everything you’re dealing with—I suggested it because I am aware. You need a break, and everyone’s fine at the house. Just enjoy.”

Her unexpectedly insightful gesture brings the last few years to the boiling surface. She doesn’t even know the half of it. “Okay.” I squeeze her hand. “Thank you.” I’m embarrassed for having judged her frivolity.

Thirty minutes later, we’re being seated at a rooftop table, looking at the Dallas skyline backed by a blushing sunset. Around us, there are twinkling lights, a pool as smooth as glass, and people laughing. I order red wine and listen to my sister talk about Broadway.

She tells me about a recent date during which the guy talked the whole time about his research job and laboratory mice. We laugh, and then she asks, “You and Leo doing okay with your shitstorm summer?”

I take a sip of wine. I should just tell her. She’ll be mad I didn’t tell her sooner. After my first heartbreak in high school, she screamed, “You taught me how to use a tampon but couldn’t even tell me that jerk-face broke your heart?” My defense was, “It just happened yesterday.” To which she yelled, “You’ve had since yesterday to tell me?!”

But she’ll also be mad if I don’t give her details, and she’ll be furious if I do give her details, because her sister has cheated on one of her favorite people.

Like a savior, the server appears with my big, beautiful salad with gorgonzola and grilled salmon. I look at the drizzle of balsamic glaze, and Leo becomes the last thing I want to think about. Without lying, I offer simply: “We aren’t great, but at least it’s no dinner-long conversation about lab rats.” Josie laughs, and I order a second glass of red. Swiftly pivoting the conversation, I ask about her friends from the cast, and she tells story after story.

Somewhere beyond the cityscape, my family is falling apart. My house. But I’m on a rooftop with my sister and her wonderful laugh.

After a bit, she gets her gossip eyes. “How crazy is it about Mom and Dad?”

We haven’t yet talked about this, and she has no idea how much it’s affecting me, though not in the way she would imagine. The fact that our perfect mother might understand a regrettable sexual encounter, might understand how much a child can weigh a woman down. It’s surreal that I was said child, but it’s also comforting that Mom might understand me more than I realized. On the other hand, she and Dad made it through. So maybe her expectation will be that much higher for Leo and I to do the same.

“Pretty crazy” is all I say to Jo, who goes on to speculate about the dirty details of how it all went down, pointing out the hypocrisy with which Mom preached about abstinence when we were teens.