Chapter 24
DELPHINE
By the time I got home from work I was exhausted and hungry.
And sad. Annie was in the kitchen, unloading the dishwasher.
Her hair was pulled on top of her head in a bouncy pony tail and her cheeks were pink, as if she were excited about something.
We had our weekly dinner with our friends that evening.
Annie was looking forward to it, but I was dreading the whole thing.
I hadn’t yet had the heart to tell them the outcome of my talk with Dorian.
They’d all seemed so hopeful. But as usual, the pessimist had been right.
“Hey, Mom. How was your day?” She tugged a dish towel off the handle of the oven, drying her hands.
“Long,” I said. “You?”
“It was awesome.”
“That’s nice to hear. Any reason?” I asked.
“Not really. Just feeling grateful for my life. And you.”
“I’m grateful for you too.”
A sense of relief washed over me. She’d been pretty solemn since Dorian and I had broken up. Or whatever it was that we’d done. Regardless, since then, she’d seemed dull and listless. Polite, as always, but reserved.
I’d done that to her by allowing myself to believe that a second chance at love was possible.
The guilt of it sat on my chest like a swallowed stone.
However, given her attitude this evening, it seemed as if she’d moved on.
I was glad. Even if it meant I was out here—marooned—on Sad Island by myself.
“Where’s Poe?” I asked. “I haven’t seen him since yesterday morning.
A spark of something—maybe guilt?—flickered in her eyes. So small I'd have missed it if I weren't her mother. “You’ve been gone a lot. He’s here.” Annie tossed the towel over the oven handle, too casually. “Probably sulking because you were at work all day.”
As if summoned, Poe wandered into the kitchen.
“There you are.” I knelt to pet him and he immediately started purring and then flopped onto his back to show me his tummy.
“Are you mad I had to leave the house so early this morning?” I asked him.
He peered at me from his prone position with what seemed an almost accusatory glint in his eyes.
My gaze drifted to the pads of his paws.
Were they always that pink? I gently brushed my thumb over them.
They seemed rough. A waxy residue in the fur of one leg smelled faintly medicinal.
A burr scab, healing, maybe? “Did he get outside?”
She didn’t answer for a second or two.
“Annie?”
“Um, yeah. Earlier. He got out and was wandering around the garden.”
“Poe, you’re not allowed out there,” I said. “There are too many creatures who would love to have you for lunch.”
“That’s what I told him too,” Annie said. “While I was getting the burrs out of his paws.”
“You’re a naughty boy,” I said, stroking Poe’s stomach.
I got to my feet. We would need to leave for Seraphina’s in fifteen minutes, and I wanted to change into shorts and a tank before we left.
“I’ll be ready in a few minutes,” I said.
“Great. Can I drive?” Annie asked.
I swallowed a sigh. Teaching a teen to drive must be one of the circles of hell. “You bet.”
Poe followed me into my room and kept watch as I changed clothes and put my hair up, sitting on the end of my bed with his head in his paws.
“What’s up?” I asked him.
He blinked.
I sat next to him on the bed. “Do you miss the bookstore?”
Nothing.
“Do you want to go back there?”
He lifted his head, nudging me with his cheek. I’m not sure what that meant. For now, I would assume he wanted to stay with me. The two of us seemed to belong together. I’d been right all along. I was destined to be a bitter old lady with a cat for a partner.
“You and me, huh?”
In answer, he placed his chin on my hand. And that did it. I burst into tears, crying silently so that Annie didn’t hear me. This went on for a few minutes. By the time I was done, sadness had turned to anger.
“I believed, for a bit, that he was the one for me,” I whispered to Poe. “And I was wrong. It was only me who thought that, not him. But at least I got you out of it, right?”
He jumped from the bed and headed into my bathroom, leapt on to the closed toilet and directed his gaze at my vanity.
“Time to fix my face?”
A small nod. So I did what he asked and then joined my daughter for the drive to Seraphina’s.
Everyone was already at Seraphina’s by the time we arrived.
Down at the far end of the patio, the men had colonized the outdoor sofas with cigars and a bottle of something amber, their voices an easy low rumble punctuated by occasional laughter.
The kids had waited for Annie before heading down to the beach.
They now evaporated in a noisy clot down the trail to the beach.
My girlfriends were at the long table under the canopy. Wine had been poured. Cheese and crackers had been spread out on a board. Soleil slept in her carrier at Esme’s feet, fists up by her ears like tiny prizefighters. Leo presided from his bouncer beside Gillian, awake and babbling.
“Come sit with us,” Lila said, already pouring me a glass of wine.
I took the empty chair next to Esme. She patted my hand. “You look tired.”
“Long day,” I said.
“You’ve gone silent on us the last few days,” Seraphina said. “What’s going on?”
“Your talk with Dorian must not have gone well, or he’d be here,” Gillian said softly. “Tell us all about it.”
“He said he wasn’t sure how he felt and that he was worried about Annie getting too attached. He didn’t want to be responsible for her feelings, so suggested we slow down. Whatever that means. So I ended it. Better this way. I don’t want to be strung along, only to have it end anyway.”
“Oh, honey,” Esme said. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine. I’m fine,” I said. “And Annie’s good too, so we just move along without looking back.”
“I really thought you two had something special,” Seraphina said. “I’m surprised by all this. Dorian always seems so steady.”
“I know you did.” And that was the part that scraped an open sore. They’d had such hope for me. “You were kind to believe in us. That said, I think on some level I always knew how it would end. It’s why I didn’t want to start.”
“The kid thing isn’t for everyone,” Lila said. “Maybe he doesn’t want to be a stepfather.”
“I’m sorry, but it doesn’t track,” Seraphina said, a stubborn glint in her eyes.
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“Dorian’s not that guy,” Seraphina said.
“He didn’t like me enough to commit. So it really doesn’t matter.” It came out harder than I meant. Soleil stirred in her carrier, and I lowered my voice. “Let’s talk about something else.”
“What can we do to help?” Lila asked.
Gillian reached over and put her hand on my arm, her fingers warm and dry on my skin. “I have a minivan. And access to tire slashing tools. Three teenagers and a baby. No one would suspect me.”
I laughed, and it felt good, like I’d forgotten how to for a while but was now back, just hanging out with my friends. Light and airy, that’s me, I thought. “We don’t need to live out a Carrie Underwood song.”
“The last thing we need is for you to get arrested, Gillian,” Esme said.
“But the thing is—he didn’t do anything wrong,” Seraphina said. “He merely raised a concern that maybe you were going too fast. Which I think is responsible of him. He was thinking of Annie. Am I the only one who sees this?”
“I mean, you do have a valid point,” Lila said. “He didn’t want to let her down.”
“Do you think it’s possible you ended things too quickly?” Esme asked.
“Wait, what did he tell you about the wedding?” Gillian asked. “Did you ask him? Because I still think something happened there that made him feel uncertain.”
“I asked him. He didn’t answer. Regardless, that was when he said he wasn’t sure how he felt about me. I don’t think any of you can blame me for taking that as a bad sign. I don’t have time for that kind of thing.”
“He is in his early forties and never married,” Esme said. “Maybe he does have commitment issues. I think you’re right to be cautious.”
“Thank you, Esme,” I said. At least one of them understood.
“Still doesn’t track.” Seraphina’s face had gone slightly red.
“He committed to protecting our country with his own sacrifices—for two decades. Which is why he never married. He came home to take care of his mom when she was sick and then took on the family business because he promised her he would. That is not a person with commitment issues. What none of you seem to remember is that he lost his best friend, who was like a brother to him, just as we are like sisters. He’s cautious because he’s had his heart broken.
Delphine, of anyone, you should understand that.
He’s scared because of how he feels about you.
I’m just going to say it for the record—I think you’ve made a mistake. ”
In all the years of our friendship, we’d had almost no conflict. First, she takes Annie to the group without asking me. And now this. Which felt personal. Why would she take his side over mine? I looked down at my wine glass, fighting the urge to flee.
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” I said. “But really, it’s none of your business.”
“That’s not true, and you know it,” Seraphina said. “We’re all in one another’s business twenty-four seven.”
“Well, maybe we shouldn’t be,” I said, sullenly. “I mean, Seraphina, why are you so obsessed with Dorian and me anyway? We went out for a bit, and it didn’t go anywhere. For heaven’s sake, just let it go.”
“Trust me, I will,” Seraphina said, her voice brittle. “Won’t hear another word from me about him or anything else that might penetrate your fortress. God forbid that I want you to be happy.”
Down the patio, one of the men laughed, oblivious to the drama unfolding at our table.
Leo had gone quiet, gnawing the giraffe’s ear with total absorption.
I watched him for a moment. This beautiful baby boy at the start of his life, all his leavings and losses still ahead of him, none of them survived yet.
What was the point of anything really? It all ended badly, in one way or the other.