Chapter 29
Gen’s apartment was in a building by the East River.
Emily walked along the water, the wind scouring her face as she delayed.
She wanted a few more moments before Gen put an end to things.
She watched joggers go by. Fawn-colored grasses waved between bushes studded with red berries.
Beyond them, across the river, stood Manhattan’s skyscrapers.
Emily wondered if a pane of glass reflected her image and if someone behind that window could see her, hands stuffed in her coat pockets, passing a golden retriever.
She would be tiny, the dog a blond dot. She envied the dog. It looked sure of itself.
Are you nearby? Gen texted.
Emily didn’t answer.
just want to make sure you’re not lost
Too sick with anxiety to put it off any longer, Emily keyed in the code that Gen had given her and went upstairs.
Gen opened the door and pulled Emily into her arms.
“I’m sorry,” Emily said into the crook of Gen’s neck.
“It’s not your fault.”
“I pretended like you weren’t important.”
“What were you supposed to do? It was a bad situation. It was bullshit.” Gen leaned back and reached to touch Emily’s cheek.
“Super manipulative. And pathetic! Who uses their kids to get what they want? He manipulated them into manipulating you. He manipulated me, because I sure wasn’t going to be the bad guy who kept two kids from their mom.
If that was a taste of what your life with him was like, then I’m sorry, I’m furious, I don’t even know where to start with how mad this makes me—for you. ”
“That’s not what I thought you’d say.”
“Will you come in? You’re freezing. I’m making you tea. I don’t like that you thought I’d say anything different. Don’t you know me?”
“I don’t know who you are now.”
“I’m me. The person who always wanted the best for you. He is not it.”
Gen’s apartment was a loft with enormous ceilings and Doric columns.
It had been a factory. It was probably rented—it had an impersonal quality, with inoffensive abstract art on the walls and neutral tones, as though staged by a real estate broker.
There was, as Becca’s comment about Gen’s taste had predicted, an awful lot of cool grays and midcentury modern furniture.
Emily took the corner of a sofa that looked like it might have some give, but didn’t.
Gen busied herself in the open kitchen. The windows let in the sunset.
While Emily knew what had made Gen choose this place—the view, the space, the nearby footpath for running along the river—it felt like a chic hotel where Gen had checked in and would check out.
The only evidence that she lived there was the collection of running shoes arranged on open shelving by the door.
Several of the sneakers had spikes on the soles.
Gen placed a mug of tea in Emily’s hands.
“I need to say something. I’ve been going over it in my head so that I don’t lose my nerve and do something stupid out of fear of getting hurt, like when I told you I had rules.
I did have rules, but not for you. I don’t have any rules for what you are to me.
When you asked if I didn’t marry Maiko because of you, I said that it was because I saw your wedding and knew that marriage wasn’t what I wanted, but the truth is that I knew I couldn’t love her as much as I had loved you.
So I need to know what’s going on between us, because if it really doesn’t mean anything, I don’t think I can bear it. ”
Sometimes happiness feels like an animal relief, like you’ve been let off your leash, told that you are good when you worried you’d been bad, allowed to run.
To dig—for what? For nothing. Who knew. For the feel of the upturned earth, the rich coolness of it, the smell of rain stored beneath sunny grass.
Happiness streaked across Emily’s chest. She said, “Being with you means everything to me.” She kissed Gen’s familiar mouth.
She confessed that she had been afraid, too.
Later, in bed, Gen said, “I wish I’d been honest earlier. I want us to try being more honest. I want to say things that I mean.”
What was there to do but be brave? Emily had waited long enough. “I never stopped loving you.”