“Good. Thank you.” I could hear her relief and wondered why she’d anticipated any other reaction. “But here’s the thing. I don’t think it’s a good idea for me stay in a hotel. I think that would be very strange for her.”
I frowned. “Why would you stay at a hotel? You can stay at the house. We have a guest room.”
“I think she’d notice if I slept in the guest room. Even if she doesn’t notice, I don’t think we should put her in the position where she asks the three of us to do things together. I would really like it to be just the two of us, for her sake. So she doesn’t get confused.”
“What are you saying?”
“Would you mind staying with your parents? Or maybe with Marge and Liz? On Friday and Saturday night?”
I could feel my blood pressure spike.
“You’re kidding, right?”
“No, Russ. I’m not. Please. I know I’m asking a lot, but I don’t want to make things any harder on London than they already are.”
Or maybe, I thought, you’d rather it not be any harder on you.
I let the silence crackle between us.
“Yeah,” I finally said. “I guess I can ask Marge. My parents are going to be out of town.”
“I’d appreciate it.”
“Remember that London has dance on Friday night, and then art class on Saturday morning, so you probably won’t have time to do yoga.”
“I’ve always put my daughter first, Russ. You know that.”
“You’ve been a great mom,” I conceded. “Oh, for art class, you’ll need to bring the vase she made last week. This weekend, she’ll be painting it.”
“Where is it?”
“I put it in the pantry. Top shelf, on the right.”
“Got it,” she said. “Oh, one last thing.”
“Yes?”
“I was wondering if you had time for a late lunch tomorrow. Around one thirty? We need to talk before I have to pick up London from school.”
Despite everything, I felt my heart skip a beat at the thought of sitting across the table from her. Of seeing her.
“Of course,” I said. “Where?”
She named a place we both knew, a place we’d eaten many times before. Including, once, on our anniversary.
I hung up the phone, wondering if it was an omen.
“Of course you can stay with us,” Marge said into the receiver. I’d just returned from the grocery store and was putting the orange juice into the refrigerator before calling her. “You’ll have to promise not to walk around in your droopy underwear or drink your coffee at the table without a shirt on, though. In fact, don’t even pack any droopy underwear, okay?”
“Do you even know me?”
“Of course. Why do you think I’m pointing these things out?”
“I promise.”
“We won’t be around on Saturday, though. You’ll be on your own. A friend of ours is having a housewarming party.”
No wife, no London, no parents, and now, no sister to see on the weekend. I wondered when the last time was that I was utterly on my own, figuring it had been years since something like that had happened.
“No worries. I have work.”
“I’ll still call you, just to make sure you’re okay. But back to Vivian. Are you sure lunch is such a good idea?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Whenever someone says ‘we need to talk,’ it’s never a good thing.”
“Believe me when I say I’m not expecting much.”
“I’m glad,” she said. “You remember what Liz said, right? She’s not going to tell you that she wants to come back.”
“Liz told you what we talked about?”
“Of course not,” she said. “But I know you, and it’s not too hard to figure out what you might ask her. And because I know her, I also know what she told you. It’s not as though the two of us haven’t had a million discussions about what’s going on. It’s been a hot topic around the old homestead these days.”
“There are better things for the two of you to discuss than my marriage.”
“And you’d be right ninety-nine percent of the time,” she said. “But lately? We’re definitely in that pesky one percent.”
“What else are you saying to each other?”
“We talk about how much you’re hurting, and that we don’t know what to say or do to make it better. You’re such a good man, such a good father. It isn’t fair.”
I couldn’t help but choke up a bit. “You don’t have to worry about me.”
“Of course I do. Big sister, remember?”
I hesitated. “Do you think Vivian is struggling?”
“I’m sure she is. You can’t do what she did and not feel at least a little bit of guilt. But I’m not sure she dwells on her feelings the way you do. My sense is that you two are just wired differently.”
That made sense. But… “I still care about her,” I offered. “She’s been a wonderful wife.”
Marge breathed into the receiver. “Are you sure about that?”
Vivian had been right about London; when she woke Friday morning, her voice had a raspy edge to it and on our way out the door, she began wiping at her nose. I wondered how long it would take for the medicine to kick in.
After drop-off, I tossed some clothes in a duffel bag and drove to the office. Still no phone calls for the Phoenix Agency, but on the upside, the receptionist was getting used to my presence and had even started saying, “Good morning, Mr. Green.”