Chapter 2 New Frames
New Frames
He had been seeing Corinne for just a few months when he realized he needed new glasses. In fact, she was the one who told him. “You’re squinting all the time.”
“You think I’m old and blind.”
“Yeah. Definitely.”
Gradually, Richard’s eyesight had been getting worse, but now he found himself misreading faces at short distances. Colleague or commuter? Summer intern or some random kid? Two blocks off, he couldn’t tell. Even one block away, he wasn’t sure.
The world had softened, just a little. Distinctions he had once assumed began to blur so that, as he walked downtown in twilight, the buildings wavered, floating gently in the dusk. He watched the evening stars appear and then realized he was looking at white lights threading through the trees.
He needed an eye exam, but he had deadlines—and then, when he was with Corinne, she filled his field of vision. On weekends with his kids, he had no time.
He was forty-five and scrambling to buy kitchen utensils.
After demanding a divorce, his wife held on to the children and the house, the toaster, and all the spatulas and spoons, along with the new car and the dog.
When Richard had asked for joint custody of his own pet, Debra explained that Max was the girls’ dog, not his.
She always said the girls with emphasis, a reminder that she thought only of Sophie and Lily; she kept nothing for herself.
This was Debra’s stance in every argument.
She didn’t take; she gave—as in, I gave up my career.
(She had hated law, but never mind.) Richard was mercenary, feckless, terminally selfish, while Debra was pro bono, nonprofit, real.
Her clothes were comfortable. Her hair was proudly gray.
An angry ex, two daughters, a giant mortgage, not to mention rent for his place—these were the facts, but the details no longer seemed so hard and fast. In the early days dating Corinne, Richard lost track of his keys and calendar.
One Friday—an occasion Debra added to his list of misdemeanors—he forgot to take Sophie to her piano lesson.
Carefree, he didn’t see the mess in his apartment.
Saturday morning, Lily found a purple jogging bra on the floor in Richard’s bedroom. “What’s that?” She sounded like her mother, although she was just eleven.
“Hmm,” said Richard as though he wasn’t sure.
“Come on, Dad,” said Sophie, who was fourteen. Disdainful. Embarrassed by his equivocation.
Two weeks later they glimpsed Corinne herself. It was Veterans Day, and the schedule had changed. Richard had forgotten to warn her, and she dashed in after a morning run. Opening the door with her own key, Corinne saw Richard and his daughters on the couch and realized it was his weekend.
“Oh hey!” Corinne stood there for a split second while the girls stared at her long legs and glowing body, the red mark on her arm where she had strapped her phone. Then she ran away again.
“Time for breakfast!” Richard headed to the kitchen and started buttering the skillet.
He kept Sophie busy cracking eggs for French toast while Lily sliced the bread.
He even got the kids to call his mother, but as they took turns on the phone—Hi, Grandma…
Good…Dad told me to—he sensed his daughters’ disapproval.
Silently they processed his stealth girlfriend.
“What did Grandma say?” Richard asked when Sophie hung up.
“Last week was her birthday.”
“Oh shit.” He had forgotten.
“Don’t swear,” Lily said.
—
At the office, Richard kept precise accounts, billing to the minute, but when he was with Corinne, his job seemed fuzzy, his professional objectives strange.
He described his work as defending patents.
He told Corinne, “We chase patent trolls,” and suddenly he envisioned a troll figurine with pink hair.
“Like those ceramic things in people’s yards. ”
Corinne said, “No, those are garden gnomes.”
She was clear-eyed, precise, and twenty-five, as Debra pointed out.
Debra had never set eyes on Richard’s girlfriend, but she had looked her up.
She knew where Corinne had gone to school and, of course, Corinne’s birthday was online, along with pictures.
“She’s eleven years older than Sophie,” Debra said.
—
For years Richard had done nothing right.
He knew this because Debra had told him.
Apart from working constantly and making French toast, he had done nothing for his family.
He had not picked up the girls from school.
He had not picked up a goddamn sock. At one point, when Debra had been overwhelmed, Richard had suggested hiring some help, thus failing a major test of character.
It had never occurred to Richard that he was the one who needed to pitch in, regardless of filing deadlines.
Apparently, he had become so self-absorbed that the only one he saw when he came home was Max.
In the months before their separation, Debra had used the dog as evidence against him.
She had smelled cigarettes in Max’s thick fur—proof that despite his promises, Richard had begun smoking again.
Now Richard could smoke in peace (although officially he’d quit).
He could drink. He could stay out all night or go home with Corinne.
Apart from the girls’ visits, he could be himself.
Other people found this hard to take. Richard had lost friends, particularly those in bad relationships.
They had sympathized when Debra left. They had been right there with Richard in his misery, but now he was enjoying himself.
This, his friends could not forgive, because he had abandoned them.
The family dentist, long married, melancholy, suffering from back pain, looked askance when Richard bounded in for cleaning.
“Sorry I’m late,” Richard said.
Dr. Davis did not say no worries. He spoke in a monotone as he lowered Richard’s chair. “How are you?”
“Wonderful.”
“No medical changes?”
“I’m happy.”
“Flossing?”
Richard sank deeper. Lying on his back, he gazed into his dentist’s aggrieved gray eyes. “You have pockets,” Dr. Davis observed. Then he added for the hygienist’s benefit, “Over here, number fourteen could be a candidate for a crown.”
Just a candidate, Richard thought. That’s not so bad.
“There are several places we’ll be watching,” Dr. Davis said.
Everyone was watching, waiting to attack. Richard thought of his Grandma Lillian’s saying, smile and the whole world smiles with you. Wrong! If you were too lucky, or too distracted, or too much in love, the world was out to get you.
One day he couldn’t start his car. Every time he tried, the engine sputtered and cut out. He called AAA to his driveway, but when the truck arrived, he didn’t need towing or a new battery. It turned out he had forgotten to buy gas.
“You’re sure it’s not mechanical?” asked Richard.
“Trust me, I’ve seen this before.” The AAA guy smirked, and Richard thought, Really? What else have you seen? Then, suddenly self-conscious—What do you see in me?
His barber actually attacked. Maybe he had been having a bad day.
Maybe his own marriage was ending. Or quite possibly, Antonio, who was bald himself, had tired of Richard’s full head of hair and idiot grin.
Antonio clipped so much that when Richard put on his glasses, he hardly recognized the guy with the buzz cut in the mirror.
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
“You don’t like it?” Antonio asked coolly.
When Corinne saw Richard that night, she said, “Oh no!” and then she laughed.
They were waiting for a table at a crowded Japanese place, and Richard frowned.
“What? Are you mad?” Corinne asked.
He was studying a wide-hipped woman leaving the bar. “For a second I thought that was Debra.”
“Really?” Corinne was all curiosity.
“She could be Debra’s twin.”
“You’re so paranoid!”
“If you had this haircut, you’d be paranoid too.”
“Aw, it will grow back. Eventually.”
“Let’s get out of here,” Richard said.
“Appearances don’t matter,” Corinne declared, as they walked to the parking lot.
“Do you believe that?”
“Did the barber charge you?”
They walked to a pizza place and Richard said, “Can I ask you something?”
“What?”
“Would you love me if I was bald?”
“How bald?”
He couldn’t help laughing. “That was a serious question!”
“That was a serious answer!”
You’re funny, he thought, and then with some surprise—I’m old. Corinne teased him all the time, but now he felt it. He was ancient—not only old, but undeserving.
He was quiet as they drove home and serious as they began to kiss in bed.
“What’s wrong?” Corinne asked.
“Nothing.”
She was so young that she believed him. Or maybe she was just sleepy. She curled up next to him and closed her eyes, leaving Richard to wonder. Did she love him? Really? He stroked her back and thought, This is not serious for you.
She was lighthearted, happy with him now—but she could be happy later on with someone else. She took joy for granted.
Richard was the opposite. Bruised by marriage, he had given up on happiness, and now every moment seemed a revelation and reprieve. She’ll hurt you, his heart whispered. She’ll leave you, and it serves you right—but he decided not to listen. Not when his heart spoke like his ex-wife.
—
He avoided Debra when he came for the girls on Saturday. He would have waited in the car, except that this was his only chance to see Max. He knelt in the doorway and opened his arms as his fluffy dog came running.
Walking down the stairs, Debra took a good look at Richard’s haircut, but offered no condolences. “You’re half an hour late.”
“Hey Maxy,” Richard said. “What’s new? How have you been?” He could hear the girls thumping around upstairs.
Debra said, “You could have called.”
“Why? They aren’t even ready.”
Debra didn’t answer. This was one of her new things. She did not engage—except sometimes she did.