Chapter lix
lix
THE NEXT WEEK, I TOLD MY KIDS I WAS DATING someone. I wouldn’t lie to them, not even a lie of omission. After Darren’s response to my text, I honestly didn’t care that I hadn’t told him first. Courtney kept doing the handoff. He clearly wasn’t speaking to me, and I wouldn’t want him to meet Dax like this anyway.
“I promised no more secrets,” I said to the kids over dinner, “so I’m telling you about a man I’ve been dating, who is starting to mean a lot to me. His name is Dax Armstrong.”
I told them how we met, that he was a doctor, that we liked spending time together a lot, and I told them about Zac, too. And that Dax wanted to meet them—and I wanted them to meet him. I told them that he wanted to show them some spots he loved in Central Park that Saturday, right near where he lived, and that the meeting would mean a lot to me.
Violet, who had wanted me to find love for so long, just shrugged.
Liam said, “With the way Courtney and Dad have been snapping at each other, you might want to reconsider dating someone.”
Sammy asked if Dax looked more like him or more like Liam.
“Like neither one of you,” I said. “He’s got brown, wavy hair and hazel eyes.”
Sam nodded seriously, as if that were a very important bit of information.
But from those reactions, I thought our meeting had a chance of going well.
I was wrong.
Things started out that Saturday with a subway that got stuck in between stations because of one of those vague messages like “train traffic ahead,” so all four of us were a little off balance—and hungry—by the time we met Dax for lunch. He had ordered us a picnic from Zabar’s with bagels, fruit, and lemonade. I introduced him to each of the kids. Liam shook his hand, Sam waved shyly, and Violet just raised her eyebrows and said, “Hi.”
Then we sat down on the blanket Dax had set up for us.
“I asked your mom which bagels you all liked … so … Samuel, I think this plain bagel with butter is for you; Liam, yours is the sesame with cream cheese; and Violet, here’s your whole wheat with egg salad.”
He passed them out, handing me a scooped-out bagel with veggie cream cheese and a sliced tomato on it.
“I actually don’t like egg salad anymore,” Violet said, handing him back the bagel.
He took it back, clearly unsure of what to say.
I handed Violet my bagel. “Here, we can trade,” I said. “Veggie cream cheese and a tomato.”
Violet shrugged. “I’m not really into that either.”
I wanted to strangle her. She knew what she was doing, and it was completely purposeful.
“You can share mine, Vi,” Sammy said, splitting his bagel apart.
“Thanks,” Violet said, sitting down next to him, as far from me as she could. I started to worry that all the progress we’d made over their spring break was backsliding.
We ate our bagels while Dax and Liam talked about the Yankees’ game against the Tampa Bay Rays the night before. I was amazed that my least talkative child was the only one talking here.
After we finished, Dax said, “I know your mom told you about my son, Zac. He really loved going on the rowboats near the Boathouse here. I thought maybe we could do that together.”
None of the kids said anything, so I responded with “Sounds good, let’s go.”
Dax and I cleaned up the post-lunch mess, putting all the trash into a plastic bag to throw away, and folded up the picnic blanket while Violet texted and Liam and Samuel watched.
We started walking, and I started talking to fill the space, telling Dax how Liam took his first steps at Central Park and Violet had done a park cleanup project there in middle school. I was babbling, really, the bagel a rock in my stomach.
We got to the street in the park with bicycles and horses and runners on it. I reached out for Sam’s hand and he took mine. It was instinct, which is why I wasn’t surprised that Dax reached out for Liam’s hand.
Liam looked down at it. “I don’t mean to be rude,” he said, “but I’m not your son, and I don’t need to hold anyone’s hand when I cross the street. I’m thirteen.”
I saw Dax’s face blanch, but all he said was “Noted.”
We went on an awkward boat ride, where Dax rowed us around the lake, pointing out the different landmarks we could see.
When we got out, I whispered to him. “I’m sorry, maybe this wasn’t the right time to meet them. Or the right way … maybe we should just go home.”
“Let’s get some ice cream first,” he said.
I nodded. “Okay,” I said, but even as I said it, I knew it was a mistake. We should have just left.
“Time for ice cream,” I said out loud to the kids, “and then we’ll head home.”
“I see the ice cream cart!” Sammy said, and started running toward it pell-mell, with Liam jogging behind him.
Sam was running so fast that he tripped over something—a rock, his own feet, I have no idea what— and went flying. Before I could even react, Dax was racing toward him and had scooped him up in his arms. Sam was wailing and there was blood dripping from a cut in his forehead. But then his wailing changed to shrieking.
“PUT ME DOWN!” he was shouting. “YOU’RE NOT MY DAD! I WANT MY DAD! LET GO OF ME!”
People in the park turned to look, and a few started heading toward them. I ran faster to where they were.
“Let me have him,” I said. Dax handed Sammy over to me, all sixty-eight pounds and nine years of him. “I got you, Sam. You’re going to be fine.” I turned to Liam. “Take my wallet,” I said. “It’s in my bag. Get a bottle of water and some napkins.”
Liam went off running.
I sat down on the side of the road with Sammy in my lap.
“You’re fine,” I said to him. “You’re fine. You’re going to be fine.”
When Liam came back, I wiped away the blood that was already there and held a napkin to the cut to stop the bleeding. Sam’s wails turned to whimpers and then to nothing.
Dax was standing a few feet away, blood on his shirt. I could tell he wanted to help but was afraid to make things worse.
Violet had picked up my bag and hers. “Can we go now?” she asked.
I closed my eyes. “Yes,” I said. “We can go now.”
“I’m sorry,” I said to Dax.
He nodded. “I’m sorry too,” he said, his eyes forlorn.
I felt so bad. So bad that the day was such a flop, that my kids were miserable, that Dax was miserable, that I was miserable. As I sat on the subway on the way back to Brooklyn, the anxiety that had been growing all day thrummed through my body. I realized I’d been right from the beginning. Nothing good would come of me dating. I’d just end up hurting everyone I cared about, including myself.
THE NEXT MORNING, BEFORE I WAS SUPPOSED TO meet up with Eva for coffee, while I was still in bed, I called Dax, unsuccessfully trying to hold back tears.
“I think we have to put the brakes on this,” I said, steeling myself against the effect his voice, his presence— even on the telephone—had on me. “What’s happening between you and me, we have to stop.” It was killing me to say it, but I knew it was true.
“Lucy,” he started.
I cut him off, my voice cracking. “I love spending time with you. I love being with you. I actually …” I love you , I thought. But I couldn’t say it, not now when there was nothing we could do about it. “I don’t want to hurt you or my kids. If something is going to happen between us, now is not the time. My kids aren’t ready. And they come first.” I wiped my nose with a tissue from the pile that had steadily built next to me. How could the universe have done this to me? Brought me to Dax, shown me how to love again, at the exact same time it compelled me to tell Sammy the truth, to throw my family into chaos. It didn’t seem fair. But fate wasn’t always fair. It just … was.
Dax was quiet on the other side of the line.
I waited, sniffling again, swallowing a sob.
“I understand,” he said; his voice sounded thick. “But please don’t make this the end. Promise me you’ll call when you’re ready—when they’re ready. Please promise we can try again.” I heard the gravel in his voice that told me he was holding back tears, too.
“I promise,” I said, but even as I said it, I wasn’t sure I was telling the truth.
“Maybe we can be friends in the meantime,” he said. “Just be there for each other?”
I loved the idea of not losing him completely, but I knew that being in touch with him at all would make things too hard. “Let’s not torture each other,” I said. “It’s too much.”
I heard a shuddering sigh on the other side of the phone. “Okay,” he said. “It sounds like no matter what I say, you’re set on this.”
I thought of my children’s faces when they looked at Dax. I thought about the progress we’d made and how yesterday had destroyed that, too. “I just I can’t now, Dax. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”
“Me too,” he said.
We sat there in silence, neither one of us wanting to hang up. Until finally I got the courage to say, “Bye, Dax.”
“Bye, Lucy,” he answered.
And I hung up the phone.
Then I sat in my bed and sobbed. I knew I was doing the right thing, but it still hurt so damn much.