“But I’m hungry.”
“What do you want to eat?”
“Goldfish,” he demanded.
Vivian had never allowed that particular treat into our home, but it was a staple of my own childhood.
“What’s a Goldfish?” London asked.
“It’s a cheesy cracker shaped like a fish,” Emily said. “It’s really good.”
“Can I have one, Daddy?”
My eyes flicked to the rearview mirror and I wondered what London was thinking about the fact that I was up front with Emily and not her mom, or whether it mattered to her at all.
“Of course you can.”
The drive to the zoo passed quickly. In the backseat, the kids were happily engrossed in the movie, but since they were within earshot, we didn’t mention Vivian or David. Nor did Emily and I touch on our shared past. Instead, I told her what I’d been doing at work, and she talked about her paintings and the fact that she had a show coming up in mid-November, which meant she’d be busier than usual until then; we also caught up on our respective families, the conversation and laughter flowing easily, as though we’d never lost contact with each other.
Yet despite our familiarity, the outing still felt new and a little strange. It wasn’t a date, but it wasn’t something I could have envisioned even a month ago. I was on a road trip with Emily, kids in tow, and though I initially expected to feel a vague sense of guilt, I didn’t. Instead, I found myself glancing at her in quiet moments and wondering how David could have been so stupid.
And, of course, why I’d been so stupid, so long ago.
“They’re going to be exhausted,” Emily predicted, shortly after we arrived at the zoo. Since we parked, they’d raced each other from the parking lot to the ticket booth, and once inside, to the water fountain and back, then ricocheted back to the gift shop. London, I was proud to note, must have inherited some of those track-and-field genes because to my eyes they ran neck and neck. London and Bodhi were studying the gift shop racks as we ambled toward them.
“I’m already exhausted, just watching them.”
“Did you get your run in this morning?”
“Just a short one. Four miles or so.”
“Better than me. Hoofing it around here will be my exercise for the day.”
“How do you stay so fit?”
“Pole dancing,” she said. At my startled expression, she laughed.
“You’d probably like that, wouldn’t you?” She nudged my shoulder. “I’m kidding, you dork. But you should have seen your expression! It was priceless. I do try to make it to the gym a few times a week, but mainly, I was blessed with good genes and I watch what I eat. It’s easier than having to exercise all the time.”
“For you, maybe. I like eating.”
London skipped toward me as we entered the shop.
“Daddy, look! Butterfly wings!” she cried, holding up a pair of lacy, semi-translucent wings, large enough for her to wear.
“Very pretty,” I said.
“Can we get them? In case I get to be the butterfly at the dance?”
For Ms. Hamshaw, with the kids who didn’t make the cut for the competition. The performance in which London was supposed to be a tree.
“I don’t know, sweetie…,” I said.
“Please? They’re so pretty. And even if I’m not the butterfly, I can wear them today and make the animals happy. And I can show them to Mr. and Mrs. Sprinkles when I get home.”
I wasn’t so sure about that, but I checked the price, relieved that they weren’t exorbitant. “You really want to wear these today?”
“Yes!” she pleaded, bouncing up and down. “And Bodhi wants the dragonfly wings.”
I felt Emily’s gaze on me and I turned toward her. “It might make them easier to spot if they run off,” she pointed out.
“All right,” I said, “but just the wings, okay?”
“And only if you put on sunscreen,” Emily added.
Unlike me, she’d remembered to bring some. Oops.
After paying, I helped London slip the wings on. Emily did the same with Bodhi. Spreading enough lotion on their skin to enable them to slither through tiny pipes, we watched as they ran off again, with their arms outstretched.
The zoo was divided into two major areas: North America and Africa. We visited North America first, wandering through various exhibits and marveling at everything from harbor seals and peregrine falcons, to alligators, muskrats, beavers, a cougar and even a black bear. In each case, the kids reached the exhibit before we did and by the time Emily and I arrived, they were usually anxious to move on. Fortunately the crowds were light, despite the glorious weather. The temperature was mild, and for the first time in months, the humidity didn’t feel oppressive. Which didn’t, however, stop the kids from asking for Popsicles and sodas.
“Whatever happened to Liam?” I asked Emily. “I haven’t heard from him in ten years. Last I heard, he was practicing law in Asheville and he was already on his second marriage.”
“He’s still practicing law,” she said, “but his second marriage didn’t last either.”
“She was a cocktail waitress, too, right? When they met?”
“He has a type,” she said, with a smile. “No question about it.”
“When was the last time you heard from him?”
“Maybe seven or eight months ago? He heard I was getting divorced and he asked me out.”
“He wasn’t one of the nice guys you never called a second time?”