Chapter 18
Julian
I finally step out of my car. The sidewalk leading to my wife’s building has a small crack with a grass strand pushing through. Curling my lip, I avoid the strand while trying not to think about what this means about the property maintenance.
“Julian,” she says, her voice neutral. “You’re early.”
“Only twenty minutes.” My reply is automatic, but then I remember my resolution to do better. “I hope that’s okay.”
She steps back, opening the door wider. “It’s okay. The kids have been waiting all morning.”
Right. Keep it about the kids. Don’t mention the gala or our marriage.
I step inside. The apartment is small. The living room flows directly into the kitchen.
To the left is a very short hallway, which presumably leads to bedrooms, though I can’t imagine they’re much larger than closets.
I mean, sure, to Seattle’s standards, the place is huge.
However, to mine, it’s laughable. It’s not just the size that shocks me; it’s everything else.
The coffee table looks like something rescued from the side of the road.
Did she get this from—gulp—Pottery Barn?
And the walls…dear God, the walls. Every vertical surface is covered with the children’s artwork.
Dinosaurs march across one section in Leo’s style while Meredith’s enthusiastic paint splatters occupy another.
Nothing is framed. It’s just there, taped up with colorful washi that makes my eye twitch.
“DADDY!”
The voice breaks through my assessment as Meredith barrels into the room, launching herself at me with her characteristic disregard for self-preservation.
I’m used to Meredith’s excitement, but not managing it.
I catch her automatically, lifting her into the air as she throws her arms around my neck. It feels foreign, but oh so right.
“You came! You came! Mommy said you would, but I didn’t know when, and I’ve been waiting FOREVER and EVER!”
Her enthusiasm punches through my chest.
Leo appears more cautiously from what I presume is his bedroom, watching me. When he decides it’s safe, he approaches with silent steps and wraps his arms around my middle. I shift Meredith to one arm and place my free hand on his head.
“Hi, Dad,” he says quietly, and my chest tightens again. I’ve never been an affectionate parent, and now I’m feeling the effects of it.
“I missed you,” I tell them both, and I mean it more than I’ve meant anything in my entire life. “I missed you so much.”
Elowen stands apart from this reunion, arms crossed over her chest like she’s holding something in…or keeping something out.
“Look at my room, Daddy!” Meredith wriggles from my grasp and tugs at my hand. “I have stars on my ceiling that glow ALL NIGHT LONG! And Leo has a dinosaur night-light in his!”
Leo nods solemnly.
“That sounds fascinating,” I say, letting Meredith pull me toward the hallway while looking back at Elowen for permission.
She nods once, her expression still carefully neutral.
The children are showing me their new home with genuine excitement. Leo’s voice has grown more animated than I’ve heard in months. Meredith is bouncing on her toes, eager to show me every corner of their downsized life. They seem happy despite their father’s absence.
“And this,” Meredith says with theatrical importance, “is Mommy’s special project wall.”
She points proudly to a large corkboard covered with papers. Looking closer, I realize they’re shelter adoption forms and grant applications.
“Mom volunteers at a place that takes in animals,” Leo explains. “Even the mean ones.”
I turn to find Elowen in the doorway, watching us. Pride flickers across her face. I’d never challenge her on it.
“You volunteer at an animal shelter?” I already know the answer, but I’m desperate to create conversation.
“Yes.” She doesn’t elaborate. It’s another change. The old Elowen would have explained herself to seek my approval.
“King Seattle Shelter for Animals,” Meredith asks, though one eye closes as if she’s not entirely sure she got the name right.
“Seattle King County Animal Shelter,” Leo corrects helpfully.
“Some animals are scared, so they act mean, but they’re not really,” Meredith explains.
The insight in my young daughter’s words catches me off guard.
“I help with the kittens,” Leo continues, his words tumbling out faster now. “I read to them so they get used to human voices. Ms. Beatrix says I have a ‘calming presence’ that helps the shy ones.” He says this with the same kind of pride I noticed from Elowen a few minutes ago.
“You read to cats?” I can’t quite keep the incredulity from my voice.
Elowen explains, “Leo is gifted with the more traumatized animals.”
Leo nods earnestly. “Like Buttons. He was super scared when he first came. He hissed all the time. But I just sat quietly and read books from the library, and after three days, he let me touch his ear.” He demonstrates with a gentle finger-touch to his own ear.
“Ms. Beatrix said that was huge progress.”
“The shelter sounds interesting,” I manage, which is not a lie.
It is interesting, if not what I would have chosen as an appropriate activity for my children.
Animals carry diseases; shelter dogs can be unpredictable.
The facilities are likely understaffed and chaotic at times.
Yet my children speak of this place like it’s Disney World.
The thought of them having an entire life without me is excruciating. It lodges in my throat as Meredith drags me back to the living room to show me their collection of library books “that we can keep for a few weeks, Daddy, not forever, but that’s okay because then other kids get a turn next.”
While Meredith chatters about her library books, my eyes track the apartment’s vulnerabilities. The front door only has a deadbolt and chain lock. My family sleeps here every night, unprotected.
“Is something wrong?” Elowen asks, catching my frown as I examine the front door while Meredith continues to chatter.
“Those locks are inadequate,” I say.
Elowen crosses her arms. “This is a safe neighborhood, Julian.”
“Daddy, look at my dinosaur!” Leo interrupts, holding up a plastic T-Rex with a missing arm. “His name is Chomper.”
“That’s great, buddy,” I say, distracted by the sight of exposed wiring near the baseboard heater. “Elowen, that’s a fire hazard.”
“Where?” She leans down to study where I’m pointing. She must need glasses, though, because she squints and says, “I don’t see anything.”
As I doubt the baseboards have been sanitized since Elowen moved in, I crouch down and point closer.
Indeed, I’m double sure that there is a peek of wire underneath the baseboard.
It’s obvious because the wall is white and the wiring is black.
At least exposed half an inch, I clocked it within minutes of being here.
“Oh, that?” She sighs. “The building manager is coming to fix it next week. I barely see it, but they’re already on it.”
“Next week? That’s unacceptable.” I straighten up, already pulling out my phone. “I know an electrician who can be here within the hour.”
“Julian,” she says, her voice taking a sharp edge. “Stop.”
I don’t stop. I can’t. “None of this is okay. This building should be condemned.”
“That’s dramatic, even for you.”
The children have retreated to their bedroom, perhaps sensing the tension rising between us. I lower my voice. “Elowen, you can’t possibly want to raise our children here. The security is nonexistent, the appliances are ancient.”
“The rent is affordable,” she counters. “The neighbors are kind. And, for your information, the appliances are brand-new. They’re not worth twenty grand each, but they’re more than adequate. The school is three blocks away and right next to the library. There’s an enclosed park down the street.”
“But—”
“No ‘buts,’ Julian. This is how it is.”
I take a deep breath, trying a different approach. “I understand you need space. I respect that. But you don’t have to live like this. There are better options. Do you need more child support? Alimony?”
While we’re still married, I’ve been sending her payments.
Just because she’s left me and moved out doesn’t mean I’m going to be an ass and refuse to help her.
I don’t want a divorce, so if I can give her the benefits of one without the actual paperwork, then I know I’ll stand a chance to win her back.
Her eyes narrow slightly. “This was my choice, and it’s fine. We’re lucky to live here. Most people can’t afford apartments like this. It’s beyond good enough.”
“‘Beyond good enough’ isn’t ‘exceptional’.” I reach into my jacket pocket and pull out my checkbook. “I can help. You’re still my wife. Perhaps a two-story on the beach?”
I fill out a check for an amount that would cover the entire cost of a million-dollar home near my work, tear it from the book, and hold it out to her. “Find somewhere safer and better for the children.”
Elowen glares at the check she refuses to touch. “I know you’ve been out of touch with reality lately, but this is a high-end, luxury apartment, Julian. The children are happy here, and that’s what matters.”
“They don’t know any better.” The moment the words leave my mouth, I regret them.
“Actually, they do. Trust me when I say, they are having the time of their lives getting to be just children.”
“In a building with faulty wiring and unsecured doors?”
“In a home where they can tape their artwork directly to the walls and build blanket forts in the living room. They get to stare at the ocean and watch for cats along the coast. We’re within walking distance of some amazing local shops.
The closest they ever got to any of that before was through YouTube. ”
I stare at her, the check still extended between us. “I’m only trying to provide for my family.”
“No,” she says, stepping back. “You’re trying to control. There’s a difference.”
“That’s not fair.” But isn’t it? Haven’t I always solved problems by throwing money at them? Haven’t I always believed that my way was automatically better?
“The children need stability,” I try again. “And proper security.”
“What they need is love. You not liking our apartment doesn’t make it unsafe.”
I finally lower the check. In our marriage, I held the power. I directed our lives, and Elowen accommodated. Yet here, in this small apartment, with mismatched dishes and children’s art on the walls, she stands her ground with certainty.
“I just want what’s best for them,” I say, and I mean it. Even if I’m no longer sure what that is.
“So do I,” she replies. “That’s the one thing we’ve always agreed on, though it’s obvious we have different ideas as to what that looks like.”
I tuck the check back into my pocket, acceptance settling uncomfortably in my chest.
“At least let me pay for a security system,” I offer, a final attempt at compromise. “For my peace of mind, if nothing else.”
Elowen considers this, then nods once. “That’s reasonable. The old tenants had Washington Alarm, but I haven’t reengaged it yet.”
I nod, accepting the terms like we’re concluding a business deal rather than discussing our children’s safety.
“And the wiring,” I add. “Please don’t wait for the building manager. That’s genuinely dangerous.”
Her expression softens enough to remind me of the woman who used to gaze at me with warmth instead of wariness. “I’ll call someone tomorrow.”
It’s a small victory, but I’ll take it. I glance toward the children’s bedrooms, where Leo and Meredith had retreated to during our standoff. Their voices drift down the hallway. They must have sensed the settlement, because they barrel out their doors and down the hallway.
“Dad! Dad, look!” Leo says once stopped in front of me.
He points excitedly toward the living room window.
“There’s a cat down there!” I turn to see an orange tabby perched on a metal bench overlooking the ocean, its tail twitching as it stares up with disdain.
The cat looks skinny, one ear notched, likely a stray.
“Mom, can we bring it to the shelter?” Leo asks, moving to the window and pressing his nose against the glass pane. Meanwhile, the cat stares back, unimpressed by our son’s attention.
The stray cat stretches on the bench, apparently deciding we’re not worth its attention. It hops off the bench and disappears out of view.
“Aww, it left,” Leo says, disappointed.
“We’ll bring some food next time,” Elowen assures him. “If they’re hungry, they’ll come back.”
I watch my son nod. Though, I think management won’t want a thousand strays.
“I should go,” I announce, hating how I sound like a visitor to my own family.
“But we didn’t show you our library books yet!” Meredith protests, clutching at my hand with sticky fingers I don’t remember her acquiring. I resist letting go to wipe the stickiness away.
“Next time,” I promise. “Maybe you can read one to me. Like how Leo reads to the kittens.”
Her face brightens at the suggestion. “Ahahahaha, Daddy! We can read to you so you can get socialized, too!”
Elowen snorts. Leo’s eyes go wide.
“I’d like that.” And I mean it more than she could possibly understand.
“Will you come back soon?” Leo asks.
“Yes,” I say firmly. “Very soon.”