The Burning Side(50)
Josie, however, says, “Aww, this song,” and she turns it up. “Y’all dance!”
God, no. Please no. But Sadie joins her encouragements, and we have no good reason to protest. Josie playfully pushes April toward me, laughing. “What’s wrong with you? Dance with your husband!”
And then she’s in my arms.
We are in the kitchen on Lexington Avenue, with grocery lists and waiting contractors.
We are in the ballroom at our reception, with trust and vows and dreams.
The song is as beautiful as it’s ever been.
I’m highly aware of our daughter’s starry gaze. So I spin April, putting on the obligatory show. It’s only during the last few seconds of the song that I let myself feel it, that I shut my eyes and hold my wife just a little closer, dropping my face toward her hair.
Then it’s over, and the family is cheering, and my arms are empty.
April suddenly has to go to the bathroom, and Josie frowns.
I avoid eye contact with my sister-in-law. I pour some coffee. Sadie returns to her book while Deb returns to her grocery list, and the playlist moves on. When April comes back in the room, we sit at opposite ends of the table.
This is when Billy pipes up somewhat gruffly. “Where in the world is Leo?”
We all shift our attention, and I give him a small, uncertain wave. “Here I am.”
“Well, of course you are.” Billy’s breakfast, a mug of coffee, and an old family photo album are spread on the table in front of him. Deb pulled the album out yesterday, figuring it might be nice for him. But he taps his finger on a photo and says, “Where is Leo here?”
Deb goes around behind him with a mixing bowl in the crook of her arm. She bends to get a better look at the photo. “Sweetheart,” she says. “This is a family Christmas photo from when the kids were little.”
He slaps his hand down on the album. “I know damn well what it is. What I don’t know is why Leo isn’t in it.”
Josie’s hand goes to her mouth. Cameron carries Sadie to the other room. April frowns at the floor. And Deb steps back. Deb, who is supposed to somehow know how to help her husband through the great forgetting. Her husband, who doesn’t speak to her like that. And yet he just did, as though he was someone else entirely.
She clears her throat. “Well, uh, Leo would have been with his own family.”
The single-wide. The ants. My brown-striped towel blanket.
Billy stands and begins to pace. He thinks I’m his son. His prismatic memory is beginning to orient things less by order and more by importance. Chronology is falling away.
April looks at me, and I look down. It’s her fault that I’m going to lose the only real father I’ve ever had, and I hate her for it.
Josie de-escalates her dad with a rollicking story about a friend who chipped her tooth during a live show, but the show went on. Jo is the type of person who can tell a story about anything and command the room. Billy chuckles and asks who the friend’s dentist was. Josie says it was in New York, so Billy remarks, “Don’t think I know many dentists there, but I can’t remember.”
Deb discreetly slips the photo album from the table and leaves the room.
I follow her. “What can I do?” I’m desperate to help.
She sighs. “Nothing.” But she doesn’t understand how I need to be able to earn my keep. Already, it’s my presence that caused Billy’s agitation. Deb slides the photo album into a cabinet. “You guys lost things like photo albums, and we have to squirrel ours away.” She shakes her head. “Might be the most insensitive thing I’ve ever said, but I’d rather all this burn to the ground if I could just keep him.” Her voice cracks, and I try to think whether I’ve ever seen her cry. I pull her into a hug, and then her strong, small frame is trembling in my arms.
* * *
An hour later, I’m sitting alone on the floor of our dark living room in Argyle, beyond the blue-tinted light of the re-tarped kitchen, sweating. As I wait for the contractor to arrive, my thumbs twitch across my phone like a junkie. I need to figure out how to actually do this on my own. Divorce is hard enough as a concept, but the nitty-gritty practicalities are even worse. I can see why some people just give up and stay married.
I tap and tap my phone, scanning the screen in search of some vision for my future.
Homes for rent Argyle
Apartments Argyle
Daycare Argyle
Affordable daycare Argyle
How to be a good single father
A text intrudes. FOUND ANYTHING? HOPE YOU’RE HANGING IN.
My thumbs still. It’s Kim. She means, have I found anywhere to live. Weird timing. I confided in her soon after the fire about my marriage. I told her I’d be looking for my own place soon, though I haven’t actually done that until right now. She sends a link for a listing, fully furnished. But the price tag is way too high, and I get a better idea. In a spurt of motivation, I click on April’s number and lift the phone to my cheek. A call will be easiest.
She picks up quickly. “What’s wrong?”
It’s the only reason for phone calls between us these days.
I inhale. “Nothing, I’ve just been thinking that I should probably stay here.”
By stay here I mean leave her.
“What are you talking about?”