The Burning Side(5)
Leo’s cell rings.
It’s the fire department, so he puts the phone on speaker.
Our house is now safe for reentry. They tell us not to turn on utilities. The only structural concern is the pantry, which they’ve roped off. Otherwise, since it’s a one-story and they took the ceiling over the kitchen, we’re all clear. Though we should dress appropriately, they say. Watch for glass, and no children on the premises.
The premises. The home where Sadie took her first steps.
After getting a few more details, Leo hangs up and stands. “I should head over.” His tight gaze flicks toward me. “Take photos and contact the insurance company.”
I look down at my thumb and peel a cuticle. “I’ll come with you.”
Everyone watches us. As soothing as Mom’s nice breakfast is, we’re going on only a few hours of sleep and haven’t showered. We have no identification or credit cards.
Sadie pipes up. “Is our house going to be okay?”
I turn. How terrible yet necessary it is to give children hard answers. “We don’t know. But we’re okay, which is most important.” I swallow, because I’m not actually sure we’re okay. Alive, yes. But I’ve ruined my daughter’s life twofold, and she doesn’t know the half of it yet.
Mom jumps in. “And you can stay with us as long as you need. We’ll find some fun things to do with you kids, I promise.” She winks at Sadie, who nods solemnly.
Dad asks if we need him to join us.
Leo says, “I’m sure there will be days when we need more manpower, but today will probably just be a bunch of phone calls.”
I blink. I was going to say yes, that I need my dad.
Mom says, “You can take my car.”
“Do you have a commission today?” I ask.
We grew up helping with her custom desserts whenever she let us, during holiday seasons or when business doubled after Cameron made her a website.
“Not today.” She looks down. “Haven’t been taking many commissions lately.”
This reminds me that Leo is off for the summer. I don’t know how we would manage the days ahead without him having this time. But the thought of the days ahead forms a pit in my stomach, because regardless of the state of our house, our marriage is crumbling.
Josie snickers, and everyone looks at her with varying levels of impatience.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t laugh.” But she laughs harder.
Cameron shoots her a glare as she gives Leo an amused once-over. “I know this is a crisis, but you might want to rethink your OOTD.”
Dad glances blankly over a forkful of quiche at Mom, who shrugs.
Leo looks down at his patriotic swim trunks and threadbare Radiohead shirt as I register my own sweats and our children’s pajamas, all blanketed with smoke as though we had a wild night out at the club together. Then Leo smiles. And with this permission, chuckles domino through us. Leave it to Jo to find the pressure release valve.
I want to burrow into the moment. But at the same time, laughing with Leo in my childhood home stings. So I suck in a breath, entrust Sadie and Otto to Gramma Deb for baths and a Target run, and ask my sister if I can borrow some clothes.
I take a quick shower and come back downstairs in baggy black pants and a T-shirt that says Stage Crew Does It in the Dark, which Josie claims is the tamest option she packed for her brief visit.
Dad insists that I wear his steel-toed boots, so I slide them on and lace up, having to shuffle forward so my feet won’t lift out.
“Ready?” Leo is waiting by the door in one of Cameron’s name-brand tracksuits. It infuriates me that Leo looks as good in that fancy activewear as he does in his usual unassuming wardrobe of secondhand corduroys and button-ups.
I wonder if it’s too late to say no.
No, Leo, I’m not ready to see our charbroiled home.
No, Leo, I don’t want a divorce.
No, Cody, you can’t do that; I’m a married woman.
No, Leo, I won’t marry you. Run.
But I nod and follow him to the car.
After the roar of the fire and the hubbub of my parents’ house, the silence is earsplitting as we wind our way down Farm to Market Road 407, the city fading behind us.
LEO
2013
I VISIT APRIL’S PARENTS IN secret. The wisteria is in bloom on Lexington Avenue, and I wipe sweaty palms on my corduroys. Billy and Deb are wonderful, but I’m not just stopping by for burgers and bocce ball. I’m here to ask for April’s hand in marriage.
We don’t need permission, I know that. But I want to acknowledge the value of a good parent. Nobody appreciates good parents quite like someone who didn’t have them.
Of course, I’ll still have to ask her. My stomach flutters as I’m taken back to the steps of Argyle High, that braided blur of April running toward the building. At first, it was simple intrigue. Then, I saw her with Jonathan. She talked with him like no one else existed. She had raced up the school steps for an overlooked kid, and she had gotten that kid to read. Willingly. It was no small thing. Ideals can be the sparks of love, and for us they were. By that week’s end, I was pulling out her chair at Mesero as her honey-brown hair brushed my arm, sending a shiver of want through me. We talked until the restaurant closed.
I sit now in my idling car as a neighbor pulls away from their house in a Range Rover. Admittedly, I was shocked to discover that April is rich. She doesn’t talk like a rich girl. But her family has dismantled my prejudices. I genuinely love them, and from them comes April. April, her name a note of springtime curling on the tongue. She is hewn of her father’s loyalty and her mother’s strength.