5
It is relatively easy to pack up your life when you’re twenty-three, and Sadie was significantly finished by the time Dov returned from the break.
“What the fuck is this?” he said.
“I’m…Well, I’m going to California,” she said.
Unfair had acted quickly, she explained. Sam had already gotten a referral for a new team of doctors. He had left before Christmas so that he could get the surgery scheduled. Once he’d committed to this course of action, he said he wanted it done as soon as possible. New Year’s Day, Marx and Zoe flew out to L.A. to find office space for the company, and an apartment for the two of them. They found both in Venice, where Marx determined the cool kids in tech were. Sam and Sadie didn’t need apartments yet—Sam would stay with his grandparents until after he’d recovered from the surgery, and Sadie would stay with her parents and could house hunt from there.
Dov listened quietly until she was done. He was silent a moment before he said, “Like thieves in the bloody night. When were you planning to tell me?”
“It happened fast,” she said. “It wasn’t personal.”
“We’ve spoken dozens of times since you must have decided all of this.”
“Yes, but it’s hard to talk to you when you’re in Israel. You’re always so distracted when you’re with Telly.”
Dov sat on the bed and watched Sadie empty the bureau. He squinted, as if it were a problem with his eyes. He put his head in his hands.
“Do you want me to ask you to marry me? Is that what you want?”
“No,” Sadie said. “You can’t anyway.”
“Do you want me to get a divorce right now? Because I will.” He reached for the phone. “I will call Batia right now.”
“No,” Sadie said. “And I don’t believe you. If you were going to do that you would have done it.”
“Are we breaking up?” Dov asked.
“I don’t know,” Sadie said. “Yes, I think we are.”
He pushed her down on the bed, and he pushed his tongue into her mouth, and she lay there limply. “You think you’re a cool bitch now, don’t you?” he said.
She looked Dov in the eye. “No. I just want to go to L.A., and help my friend, and make my game.”
“Sam is not your friend, Sadie. Don’t fool yourself.”
“That’s what my partners wanted to do, and that’s what I’m doing.”
“Partners. You wouldn’t even have a company if it weren’t for me,” Dov said. “I gave you Ulysses. I set you up with publishers and industry people. I gave you fucking everything.”
“Thank you,” she said. “For fucking everything.”
“Take off your clothes,” he said.
“No.”
“You think you’re tough now, don’t you?” She knew what was coming. He pushed her into the headboard, and he reached into his nightstand drawer and he snapped the handcuff around her wrist and to the bedpost, as he’d done so many times before. Sometimes, it had aroused her, and sometimes, it had annoyed her, and sometimes, it had frightened her. This time, Sadie felt nothing. She didn’t fight him. She let it happen. He reached under her skirt, between her legs, and he yanked her underwear off, and then he threw it across the room. He wouldn’t have sex without her consent, but he felt free to make her uncomfortable and embarrassed. He slammed the door to the bedroom, and she could hear him smacking something—the wall? the sofa?—in the other room. She picked up the phone with her free hand, and she called Sam. His grandmother answered the phone.
“Sadie Green! When do you arrive?” Bong Cha said.
“The day after tomorrow,” Sadie said.
“It is so nice that you kids are still friends, and that you both are coming home. Your parents must be so excited,” Bong Cha said. She was clearly delighted to have Sam home.
“They are,” Sadie said.
“Ichigo is everywhere. Did you know there was a billboard on Sunset? Did Sam show you the pictures we took?”
“He did,” Sadie said. “Thanks so much.”
“Oh, it’s no bother. Dong Hyun is so proud of you two. He tells everyone how Sam and his childhood friend made this big game all by themselves. He says that he always knew you two would do great things. He has a huge Ichigo poster at the pizza place, but of course, you’ll see it soon.”
“Definitely. Is Sam there?” Sadie tried to stretch out her shoulder, but it was hard with her arm over her head.
“Oh, I will give you Samson! One moment.”
“How’s California?” Sadie said once Sam was on the line.
“Dry. Hot. Traffic,” Sam said. “I keep seeing coyotes everywhere. But the offices Marx rented are sweet.”
“At least there’s that,” Sadie said.
“How’d Dov take the news?” Sam asked.
Sadie could hear Dov loudly playing Grand Theft Auto in the other room. “What I expected.” She felt as if she were already in California.
“Do you want to talk about the game?” Sadie asked.
“I do,” Sam said.
About a half hour later—Sadie was still on the phone with Sam, discussing Both Sides—Dov came into the bedroom, and he unlocked the handcuff. “Who are you talking to?” he whispered.
“Sam,” she said.
“Tell him I say hello,” Dov said, in a normal, professional voice. “And good luck.”
She spent the next day packing up her life and intermittently arguing with Dov, going over the same ground. He told her she was nothing; she, in turn, said nothing. He apologized; she packed. He insulted her; she packed. He apologized again; she packed. The last thing she packed were the handcuffs. She slipped them into the zippered pocket of the large duffel she was planning to check. She didn’t want Dov to use them on some other girl. She wasn’t sure if this impulse came from a sense of sorority or sentimentality.
Dov drove Sadie to the airport even though she said she could call a car. In the best of moods, Dov was an unpleasant, belligerent driver—he gestured, cursed, honked excessively, cut people off, passed on the right, rarely signaled—and Sadie avoided car rides with him as much as she could. On this morning, Dov’s driving was subdued, but he decided to pass the time lecturing Sadie about the folly of her exodus from Boston. He expressed his concerns through a series of histrionic rhetorical questions concerning L.A.’s shortcomings, all of which Sadie, a native Angeleno, already knew: Did she know about the earthquakes? The fires? The floods? The drought? The smog? The homeless? The coyotes? The general sense of looming apocalypse? Did she know that drugstores closed at ten? What would happen if she needed cough syrup or batteries or legal pads after ten? Did she know there weren’t any all-night diners or bodegas or takeout? Where would she eat? Where would she get decent bagels or pizza? Did she know that the only things people in L.A. ate were avocados and sprouts? Was she ready to be into juicing? Was she aware that the tap water caused cancer? Sadie! Whatever you do, do NOT drink the tap water! Did she know how dry the air was, and was she prepared for the constant allergies? Did she know that cell phone coverage was terrible? Did she know that no one in L.A. read books or went to the theater or followed current events? That their brains were pulp because they all worked in entertainment and spent their spare time getting plastic surgery and going to the gym? Did she know that no one walked, not even one block? That they drove from their front doors to their mailboxes? Did she still know how to drive? And the traffic, Hashem, had she heard about the traffic? Was she prepared to spend the majority of her waking hours en route? Wouldn’t she miss the seasons? Did she know that it never rained there, and when it did rain, there were mudslides? Wouldn’t she miss the rain?