Chapter 2
Chapter Two
January 2025 - Chicago, Illinois
I t was one of those miserable winter days that didn’t know whether to rain or snow. While waiting in the Jeep in the parking lot, Ryan toyed with the heating, blasting it until sweat beaded on the back of his neck, then turned it off until he froze. How long had he been here? Ten minutes? Twenty? He’d been able to duck out of the office early because there was nothing to do—reason number one he found himself here at the bank in the first place—but Trisha wasn’t here yet. Was she trying to make him crazy? Hadn’t they agreed to get here early to go over what they wanted to say?
Suddenly, Trisha’s secondhand Chevy appeared and parked in a space toward the back of the lot. Ryan muttered under his breath, “Why are you parking so far away from me?” But he steeled himself and pulled his scarf tight and got out, waving at her as she approached. Try as he might, he couldn't fix a smile on his face. But Trisha was good at that. Her smile was the color of summertime strawberries. She was slender and pretty and still dressed very well although they didn’t have any money, not enough for new clothes and hardly anything for makeup. How did she manage? Had she saved things from when they’d had more? Or was she using money without telling him about it? Should he be checking receipts?
These weren’t questions Ryan wanted to busy either of them with right now.
These weren’t questions he’d ever envisioned asking his wife.
His heart broke over and over again.
“Hi,” Ryan said as though this were a typical day in the history of their marriage.
“Hey, stranger.” Trisha breezed past him. “Let’s get out of the rain. It’s hideous.”
Feeling like a fool, Ryan hurried behind his wife and into the bank. Once there, they waited in the foyer without speaking. They were forty-one and thirty-seven years old and on the brink of disaster. Ryan eyed the bank tellers, wondering which of them would meet with the married couple today. Which of them would deliver the good news they so needed? Ryan tried to project an aura of goodwill; he tried to look like a solid and happy and good-spirited family man. Wasn’t he all of those things? Or hadn’t he very recently been all of those things?
Money was slippery. Especially when it came to family life. Especially when it came to the failing economy and surprise diagnoses and feeling so very alone.
Sometimes he considered what his life might have been like if he hadn’t married Trisha and had children. Sometimes he pictured himself alone on a golden beach, sipping mai tais and working a job that he could have anywhere, a job of emails and video calls, a job he could do with his toes in the sand and the sun on his face.
It wasn’t that he didn’t love them. Trisha, Gavin, Willa, and Rudy were his world. He’d do anything for them.
That was why he was here at the bank, preparing to embarrass himself.
If Grandpa Jeremy Sutton could see me now, he’d disown me , Ryan thought. His stomach lurched, and he thought he might throw up. Pull it together, Ryan .
“Ryan and Trisha Lewis?” A fifty-something banker in a suit called their names and led them into a corner office with blinds that ensured whoever walked by the window couldn’t see the most depressing day of Ryan’s life. It was a welcome, if momentary relief.
Trisha sat primly and spoke enthusiastically to the banker about what he’d done for Christmas. Ryan knew what she was doing—buttering him up and trying to make them all seem like friends.
“My parents and siblings came into town,” the banker said, his voice chipper. “It’s nice with so many children around. And you two? What did you do?”
Trisha smiled. “It was just the five of us! Us and our kids Gavin, Willa, and Rudy. It was quite cozy. We loved it, didn’t we, Ryan?”
Ryan found it difficult to watch Trisha play-act their happiness like this. Had she been truthful, she might have told the banker that they’d given their children approximately half the number of presents they usually did. There had been a general malaise around the house—that was, until Willa had erupted into one of her tantrums.
It was hard not to feel like the biggest failure in the world.
Trisha put her hand on Ryan’s knee, and Ryan winced. It had been a long time since they’d touched.
Over the next half hour, Trisha and Ryan outlined their predicament to the banker. Well, Trisha did most of the talking because she didn’t trust Ryan to sound upbeat. She was probably right. Ryan was a bad actor.
“We’ve had a rough go of it as of late,” Trisha explained. “Ryan’s office cut bonuses, fired a ton of people, and even cut Ryan’s wages by fifteen percent. He might have quit, but as you know, there just aren’t that many jobs around. We’re in a tight spot.”
The banker tutted and looked at Ryan like poor you . Ryan resented it.
“What was your degree in?” the banker asked.
“I majored in advertising. Marketing,” Ryan explained.
“I understand. People are cutting their advertisement budget left and right,” the banker said as though Ryan didn’t know that. That was something Ryan knew in his bones.
But thanks for the info, Ryan didn’t say.
Trisha nodded eagerly. “Exactly. But the thing is, Ryan is a fantastic marketer. You remember that commercial with the turtle and the can of soda?”
The banker shook his head and tugged his tie nervously.
“Come on. The turtle opens the can of soda with his fin?” Trisha pushed it. “It was a Super Bowl commercial four years ago. Huge. Went viral.”
“It’s ringing a bell,” the banker said, although Ryan was sure he was lying.
“Right? Ryan wrote that. And he wrote several others that went semi-viral. The thing is, over the past few years, the people who own and operate his advertising agency made a series of horrible decisions. Now, Ryan’s career is murky at best. He needs to step out on his own. He needs money—for our lives and for his new venture.” Trisha smiled broader.
The banker’s face turned a shade of green. Was he getting sick? Or did he just feel what Ryan was feeling? Was he that empathetic?
“And on top of that, our daughter was recently diagnosed with autism,” Trisha said, her smile fading. Not even she could fake this part. “We struggled for years to know what was going on. It’s much harder to diagnose girls with autism, as you probably know.”
“I have heard that.” The banker nodded.
“Of course, we’re thrilled to have a path forward,” Trisha said. “We love our girl to bits, and we want to do everything in our power to help her. But with the diagnosis come treatment plans and medications and on and on. All of that costs money.”
The banker winced. Already, Ryan had a sense of what was coming. He’s going to send us packing, he thought. And it’s because he doesn’t see us as people .
Trisha told the banker a few more things she thought would really sell their mission. She talked about Ryan’s work at their children’s elementary school. She spoke about how she worked two jobs to make ends meet—one managing the produce section at a grocery store and another selling expensive makeup and Tupperware to women who already have everything they could ever need. But at the end of their allotted half hour, the banker flashed his palms and said, “I’m sorry, folks. There’s really nothing I can do. The bank needs to know you’ll have more upcoming cash flow before it can offer a loan. And what we’ve seen over the past few years is on the lower end of things.”
“But that’s why we need a loan,” Trisha reminded him with a sweet smile.
“Do you have any family you could ask to cosign?” the banker asked. “Perhaps a parent? A sibling?”
Trisha shook her head. “We don’t have anyone. I told you. For Christmas, it was just us. It’s always just us.”
The banker looked uncomfortable. Ryan thought, Good. Feel how uncomfortable this is for us. Feel it!
But the banker couldn’t do anything. Finally, Trisha pressed out her hand for the banker to shake. He did, looking smiley and grateful and probably ready to meet with the next couple of suckers he could say no to.
All in a day's work , Ryan thought darkly.
Outside, Chicago had decided it was time to snow. Fat snowflakes landed on their heads and melted, but neither Trisha nor Ryan did anything about it, choosing instead to keep their necks bent and their eyes on the slush on the pavement. Ryan felt heartbroken. But he also wasn’t surprised. Trisha had been so sure that a bank would sweep them off their feet and change their lives. But who were they kidding?
They hadn’t yet said anything to each other. The silence between them was deafening. Ryan realized that Trisha was headed toward her red Chevy; she was going to leave him in the parking lot without saying goodbye. Somehow, this broke his heart most of all—the idea that they couldn’t pretend whatsoever with each other anymore. He reached out to touch her elbow. Trisha nearly jumped out of her skin. But she looked at him.
“Hey. We’re going to figure something out,” he said. He sounded pathetic. But he wanted to believe it.
Trisha’s stoic expression melted for a split second.
And then their phones vibrated in their pockets at the same time.
It was a text from the school.
Can one of you come by to pick up Willa? She’s having a hard time.
Ryan and Trisha braced for the worst.
“Should we drive together?” Ryan asked.
But Trisha was already running across the parking lot, flinging up brown snow with each step.
Ryan drove behind Trisha to Willa’s school. Trisha nearly ran three red lights on the way. Ryan muttered to himself, “Come on, Trisha. Keep your head in the game.” But he couldn’t blame her. When Willa got in one of her moods, all bets were off. The next few hours would probably be brutal. Gavin and Rudy would probably hide upstairs and play video games and try to block out the sounds of their sister downstairs and their mother and father trying to wade through the depths of despair with her.
Ryan couldn’t get a parking spot next to his wife. He struggled, weaving through the lot until he found a place in the back. By the time he got to the office, Trisha already had her arms around Willa. Willa was shaking and crying—but she was quiet. Ryan breathed a sigh of relief and put an arm around Willa. Willa raised her head and put it on Ryan’s shoulder. Out of nowhere came the thought, I would move mountains for you. For both of you.
The counselor explained that Willa had had a minor incident in the lunch room that had resulted in “some bullying.” Ryan wanted to storm the halls of the school and yell at every student in it. But the kids who’d done the bullying were just that—kids. Would he have been better at ten years old? He didn’t know.
Ryan carried Willa’s backpack to Trisha’s car and helped her in. Trisha was trying not to cry. She was buttering Willa up, telling her they could get her favorite food for dinner. Ryan fought the urge to ask with what money were we going to get that, Trisha? He kissed his daughter on the crown of her head and thought two things at once. Don’t ever grow up, and please, grow up into a normal woman . He felt like the most confused man in the world.
Back at home, Willa conked out on the sofa and left Ryan and Trisha to tiptoe around her. Because of Ryan’s lackluster career prospects the previous few years, they’d downgraded to a smaller house in a run-down neighborhood last year, telling themselves it was only temporary. Trisha had done her best to make it seem homey. She’d hung photographs of days gone by. She’d baked plenty of cookies. She’d tried. Had Ryan tried to help?
With Willa asleep and Trisha doing a workout video upstairs, Ryan slung on a sweatshirt and sweatpants and cracked a beer and sat at the kitchen table. It was only two forty-five in the afternoon, but he needed this sweet release. The snow got thicker outside, piling on the back porch. It made him miss the way snow used to come down in Nantucket, how the beaches were blanketed in it, and the ocean would froth against it. He filled his mouth with beer and closed his eyes, remembering the Sutton Estate and the wide stretch of beach wrapped around a craggy peninsula, where he and his sister, Robin, used to perform cannonballs for his mother and grandmother. Dana. Grandma Dana. Not for the first time, he thought it was better that Grandma Dana had never met Willa. That woman had never been easy.
But now he recalled what Grandma Dana had told him on his wedding day. It had been just ten minutes before the ceremony was set to begin. Ryan was all jitters, checking his reflection in the Sutton Estate foyer mirror, fearful that he’d marry the love of his life with spinach in his teeth. Suddenly, there was a bony hand at his elbow. He turned to find the beautiful and glossy face of his grandma Dana. Her teeth were always pristine. She always smelled so specifically of floral perfume—lilies, maybe.
“Ryan? Honey?” Grandma Dana said it so sweetly.
Ryan never could have imagined what she’d say next.
“I’m excited,” Ryan said. “I’m afraid I’m going to faint.”
“You look handsome,” Grandma Dana said.
Ryan smiled with his lips far apart to show off his teeth. “Anything there?”
Grandma Dana laughed. “Clean and white.”
Ryan spread his hand over his forehead and laughed at himself. “Thank goodness.”
But Grandma Dana still wore a peculiar smile. “Ryan, I just hope you won’t do anything you’ll regret.”
Ryan’s smile faltered. For a split second, he thought maybe he’d misheard her. But as he considered how to respond to such a ludicrous sentiment (because he loved Trisha with his whole heart and mind and soul), the wedding planner bustled up and grabbed his shoulder and said, “It’s go time, groom!” He was whisked away, off to the aisle, to walk his mother to her seat and immediately marry the love of his life.
Throughout the rest of the wedding and reception, Ryan avoided his grandmother’s gaze. But she’d been watching him.
Now, fifteen years after that fateful day—a day that had changed everything in numerous ways—Ryan considered what Grandma Dana had said. Somehow, had she foreseen Ryan and Trisha’s future? Did she know that they would be unhappy?
There’s no way , Ryan told himself. She was just a bitter woman. She loved me, but she never understood my love for Trisha.
But when he got up to recycle his can of beer and consider the five remaining in the fridge, he thought back to the first few years of his and Trisha’s marriage and how difficult they’d been. They hadn’t fought, not at first. But getting pregnant hadn’t been in the cards at first. And his family’s disdain for Trisha’s family had felt like a permanent perfume, tainting everything in the air around them.
It was necessary that they move to Chicago. It was necessary that they cut ties—especially after everything else that happened.
But now, so far away from his Nantucket home, Ryan felt like they’d been living on a deserted island for many years. They were running low on supplies. And when it came to him and Trisha, he wasn’t even sure if much love was left.