Maybe, I thought to myself, spending the day at the pet store hadn’t been such a good idea.
After London had gone to bed, I gave Emily a call.
I caught her while she was lying in bed, and as always, we drifted into an easy conversation that was a mixture of reminiscing about our earlier years, and discussing details of our current lives. The call lasted for nearly forty minutes, and when I hung up the phone, I realized that talking to Emily was not only becoming part of my routine, but one of the brightest spots of my days.
On Friday afternoon, Vivian texted that she would be arriving between nine and ten, which was well past London’s normal bedtime.
After receiving the text at work, I took a moment to wonder what, if anything, would be expected of me when she arrived, since London might not be awake. Would Vivian finally want to talk? Watch TV in the family room with or without me? Or would she head straight to the guest room? And what was I going to do all weekend?
I tried to repeat Emily’s Zen mantra, but it didn’t help. Part of me, I knew, was still trying to figure out how to please Vivian.
Old habits die hard.
With dance class off the schedule, I opted for another date night with London, with the idea of keeping her awake until Vivian arrived. I thought bringing her to dinner and a movie would be fun, and I was able to find a kids’ movie that would end in time to have us home by nine. After that, London could hop in the bath and put on her pajamas, and with any sort of luck, Vivian would arrive right around then.
I revealed my plans to London when I picked her up from school, and as soon as we got home, she raced up the steps to start getting ready.
“You have plenty of time,” I called after her. “We don’t have to leave until five thirty.”
“I want to start now!” she called back.
She was fully dressed by four and found me in the den, working on the computer, finalizing the still shots I planned to intercut in the dog commercial.
She’d chosen a white blouse, white skirt, and white shoes and stockings, her hair held back with a white headband.
“You look very beautiful,” I said, mentally crossing off all Italian restaurants from the list of possible dinner destinations. A single slip and her outfit would be massacred.
“Thank you,” she said. “But I don’t like the Band-Aid on my forehead. Or my splint.”
“I didn’t even notice them,” I said. “I’m sure you’ll be the prettiest girl in the whole restaurant.”
She beamed. “When are we going to leave?”
“We still have an hour and a half.”
“Okay,” she said. “I can go sit in the family room until we’re ready.”
“You could play with your Barbies,” I suggested.
“I don’t want to get my dress wrinkled.”
Of course.
“What would you like to do?”
“I don’t know. But I don’t want to get dirty.”
I thought about it. “Would you like to play Hoot Owl Hoot! again?”
She clapped her hands. “Yes!”
We played for an hour before I went to change. Like the last time, I donned slacks and a blazer, along with a stylish new pair of loafers. London was waiting for me in the foyer, and, trying to add a bit of ceremony to the occasion, I bowed before opening the door for her.
We had dinner at an upscale steakhouse and after a couple of minutes of adult-like conversation, London slipped back into little girl mode. We talked about Bodhi and her teacher and school and about the kind of fish she wanted in the aquarium.
Afterward, we went to the movie, which left London energized – perhaps it was the Raisinets – and eager to see her mom. Hurrying upstairs when we got back home, she quickly bathed and slipped into her pajamas.
Vivian arrived at the house not long after I’d begun to read. London jumped from the bed and ran down the stairs. I followed, watching as London threw herself into her mother’s arms, Vivian’s eyes closing in contented delight.
“I’m so glad I got to see you before you went to sleep,” Vivian said.
“Me, too. Daddy and me went on a date. We had dinner and we saw a movie and we talked about my aquarium!”
“Aquarium?”
“For her birthday,” I said. “How are you?”
“Good. That’s a long drive, especially when it starts at rush hour.”
I nodded, feeling strangely out of place. I motioned upstairs. “I’ve already read to her if you want to go up.”
She faced London again. “Do you want Mommy to read you a few stories?”
“Yes!” London cried. I watched as the two of them climbed the stairs. And though I was in my house with my wife and daughter, I suddenly felt very much alone.
I retreated to the master bedroom. I didn’t want to talk to Vivian, nor did I think she wanted that either. Instead, I read in bed and tried not to think about the fact that Vivian would be spending the night under the same roof.
I fantasized briefly about her sneaking into my bedroom and wondered what I would do. Would I acquiesce with the excuse that we were still married? Or even as a last hurrah? Or would I have the resolve that Emily showed when David had made a pass at her?
I wanted to think I’d be more like Emily, but I wasn’t sure I was as strong as she’d been. Nonetheless, I had a feeling that neither of us would be happy afterward. I was no longer a part of her future, and it would only reinforce the hold that Vivian still had over me, despite all she’d done. Moreover, I suspected that I’d feel guilty. Because as I imagined making love to Vivian again, I realized with sudden clarity that what I wanted even more than that was for it to be Emily instead.