Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
JOSH
“Home is the place for me.”
This line from the cat book is on repeat in my head as Mabel retells her story for the third or fourth time. A very different tale than the one I’ve been living for the past couple of hours. To Mabel, she’s the hero who figured out that Jenny Linsky would end up in the woods, because that’s what city cats who’ve been sent away to live in the country do. Mabel is the one who knew to be quiet and listen for her cat rather than yelling the cat’s name. She knew that Jenny Linsky would feel frightened and alone. Only she could save her.
I couldn’t save her mother, but she could save her cat.
“Plus, Jenny Linsky found me when I got lost, so I owed her,” Mabel says proudly from her spot on the couch, her ankle swaddled in ice packs the EMTs gave us.
Shit. Of course Mabel would bring this up and give my in-laws yet another reason to find me an unfit father.
“Do you mean when you got lost today?” my mother asks.
“No, Nana. In New York.”
“You got lost in New York City?” Jack Kingston asks, justifiably horrified.
“It was in the apartment building,” I clarify.
“I was outside, Daddy.”
“You were in the back courtyard, not wandering around the city.”
She turns to her grandparents, animated again. “I didn’t like the nanny who came after Percy was born. She didn’t want to play at all. She just wanted to hold Percy. So I decided to go to the playground by myself.”
“This nanny was fired the next day,” I add. “Lisa had just returned to work, so I took parental leave and stayed home with the kids instead.”
Jack frowns, obviously judging my choices, because when my leave was up, I quit the job he likely pulled strings to get me. I couldn’t leave the kids in the hands of a stranger again.
“How did the cat find you?” Tilly Kingston asks.
“I knew how to get to the playground. Take the elevator, go out the door, and walk two blocks. But when I got off the elevator and went out the door, everything looked different. Plus, the door locked behind me. I was sitting there very mad, and Jenny Linsky walked up and comforted me.”
As Mabel goes on to reconnect this story back to today’s debacle, my brain replays the panic I felt when I got the call from Lisa that day telling me that I had to go home to find Mabel.
I can’t do it, Josh, she said. I just returned to work, and they’ll think I’m not serious if I go running home every time there’s a little problem.
Like losing our child in fucking Manhattan was a little problem.
“And then Miss Avery climbed the tree,” Mabel’s voice in the here and now pierces the memory. “She knew where Jenny Linksy would be too, and she knew to be quiet, but she also had a cell phone.”
My head jerks up, and I scan the faces of the people gathered in the cozy living room listening to my daughter’s story. Both sets of grandparents are here, along with a few neighbors who helped search for my daughter. But Avery isn’t among them.
Mabel may have saved her cat, but Avery is the one who found Mabel. The person who paid attention to my daughter and guessed what she might be thinking. Who was able to reassure her when my little girl was convinced that the fireman would frighten the cat.
Avery is the one missing now.
And who can blame her? I freaked out when I saw my in-laws. I don’t even know what I said. All I could think was that I was being punished for every moment I’d enjoyed with her.
I failed. Again.
And Lisa’s parents were there to judge me. Again.
It’s late by the time we get the kids settled for the night. The Kingstons haven’t jumped down my throat yet; they even insisted on getting dinner delivered. But by bedtime, Percy is wound up from being stuck inside most of the day, while Mabel has a major tantrum when I try to get her to take a bath.
By the time the kids fall asleep, I want to crawl into bed too. Preferably with the woman who keeps sending me direct to voicemail. I have to force myself to go back downstairs where I’m sure to get a dressing down from Lisa’s parents.
But the only person waiting up for me is my mom.
“Where is everybody?”
My mom looks up from the Sunday crossword. “The Kingstons went to their hotel and your dad went to bed.”
“I was sure they’d have a lawyer here, ready to make me sign over custody.”
My mom frowns. “What are you talking about?”
I shrug. “They’ve been waiting for me to screw up ever since Lisa died. Ready to swoop in and take my”—a wave of emotion hits me out of nowhere and I have to swallow it back—“our kids.”
“Oh, honey.” My mom gets up and comes around the island to wrap her arms around me. She’s tall for a woman, but she feels smaller than she used to somehow. “They wouldn’t do that. Even if they could. They want what’s best for Mabel and Percy.”
“Problem is, their idea of best is a little different from mine.”
My mom gives me a final squeeze. “How about some herbal tea?”
I sink onto a barstool. “Sure. That’d be great.”
As she bustles about, my mom hums. It takes me a few moments to realize that it’s a song Avery leads at Playgroup. When she sets a steaming mug in front of me, I just stare at it.
“That was some impressive detective work on Avery’s part today,” she says after a beat. “But then she disappeared so fast.”
I just nod.
Her head tips to the side. “Did something happen with you two? Over the weekend?”
Only that I fell in love with her and then fucked everything up.
Not that I’m going to say that to my mom.
“We, uh, had a good weekend. Productive. And we talked about going public as a couple going forward but I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”
“Why not?”
“She’s just, you know, got a lot going on. And I have the kids…”
My mom places a hand on my arm. “Sweetheart. Lisa would want you to be happy.”
I snort. “I doubt that. She was never happy with me. No matter what I did, I couldn’t make her happy.” Emotion clogs my throat again and I scrub a hand over my face. “I can’t—I can’t fail like that again.”
My hands grip the mug in front of me. I have a sudden urge to throw it across the room, scalding liquid and all. But acting on impulse hasn’t exactly served me lately, so I force myself to be still.
“Josh, honey, look at me.”
Swallowing past the boulder in my throat, I do as she asks.
“Josh, do you think Lisa’s death was your fault?”
Eyes back on the tea, I shrug. “Maybe not that actual incident, and I don’t think she meant to end her life, but she was depressed. Severely depressed. Nothing I did made a difference, so I threw myself into work and then into taking care of the kids. I couldn’t take care of her too.”
My mom takes in a breath like she’s going to say something, but I just keep going, needing to get this out. “I feel like I can’t do all the things. It’s either be a good employee or a good partner or a good father. If I take my eye off the ball, everything falls apart, so I have to choose. And being a good partner seems like the one that has to go. So, yeah. Things aren’t going to work with me and Avery.”
She waits a beat or two and then asks, “If things were different, would you want to be with her? With Avery?”
“Of course I would. Avery is amazing. She’s smart and funny and gorgeous and… people love her.”
One corner of her mouth lifts in a half smile she passed down to me. “ People love her?”
“That’s what I said,” I growl.
She takes a long sip of her tea, and I do the same, hoping it’ll calm me down. And it does, a little. Or maybe it’s just comforting to sit here in the quiet with my mom, knowing that my kids are safe upstairs. “I guess I’ll never know if Lisa and I would’ve lasted.”
“You have a chance for a fresh start, Josh.”
Gripping the mug again, I make myself ask, “What if the same thing happens all over again?”
My mom reaches across the counter, pries the empty mug away from me, and pushes it to the side before gripping both my hands. “Josh, I want you to hear this. You are the only person whose happiness you can control. If you can accept that, model that, it’s the greatest gift you can give your children. Self-love and acceptance.”
Oh yeah, I’ll get right on that, is what I want to say, but I just nod.
“Have you ever noticed where a juggler looks?”
I just shake my head, too tired to follow this logic.
My mom straightens and points at me. “You said you can’t take your eye off the ball. But a juggler doesn’t keep his eye on one ball. His eyes remain straight ahead while the balls circle around him. His peripheral vision keeps track of their movement. He trusts that all the practice he’s done will pay off, that his hands know what to do.”
When I just stare at her, not sure what exactly she means, she points at me again. “You know what to do. You just have to trust yourself.”