Chapter 7
CARSON
I can tell she’s been crying.
Shit.
I hate it when she cries. It makes me feel helpless. It makes me want to fix it.
Ayla blinks wet eyelashes at me, then says, “Come in.”
I step inside. The house smells so familiar: clean and faintly scented with her favorite honey and vanilla candles. I used to tease her about all the candles she bought. Candles and cushions. And shoes.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” Her small chin juts out. “Just… one of those moments.”
Yeah. She’s had a lot of “those moments.” She told me it just comes out of nowhere; she’d be doing the dishes or driving to work and a wave of grief would wash over her, drowning her.
I nod, studying her.
“Would you like a coffee?” She starts toward the kitchen. “I’m going to have one.”
“Sure.” I take off my boots and jacket, toss the jacket over the back of a chair, and follow her. I pull out one of the stools at the big island and plant myself on it, hands clasped on the granite counter.
She gets mugs out of the cupboard and pops a K-cup into the machine. “Sorry I bothered you on your road trip the other day. I didn’t realize you were away.”
“That’s okay. We were just hanging out.”
“You won both games. That’s good.”
“Yeah. We’ve been playing pretty well.”
“That’s great.”
She seems… stiff. Cool. Not that we’ve been super friendly since we split up, but this is different. What’s going on? Is she pissed that I didn’t agree to immediately sell the house?
She slides a mug of coffee across the island to me, along with the milk she knows I use, then makes her own.
“Why do you want to sell the house?” I ask.
Her shoulders tighten. She doesn’t look at me. “I told you.”
“No. You didn’t.”
A small notch appears between her eyebrows. “I didn’t?”
“No. You just said you want to go to Paris.”
“Oh, right. It was Rachel I told.” She picks up her cup, wrapping both hands around it. “It’s too big for me. And too far away from work. And from Rachel.”
I nod slowly. “Okay, I get that.” I hesitate. “You love this house.”
Her lips twist. “I did. I think…” Her voice catches. “I think it’ll be better to move away from the memories. Start fresh.”
I guess I can’t argue with her. It’s her decision. I just want to make sure she’s not doing something rash. Although being rash is not like Ayla. She’s usually patient and practical.
“Are you sure?”
Her eyes flash. But she says quietly, “Yes. I’m sure.”
“Okay. I’ll talk to the bank tomorrow and call a realtor.”
Her jaw unhinges. “What? You don’t have to call the realtor. I can do that.”
“Just trying to help.”
Her eyes narrow. “I don’t need your help.”
I keep my face neutral. But those words kind of feel like a poke check in the gut. Also, she does need my help. When the back gate broke, she couldn’t fix it. I came and did it. When a bathroom faucet was dripping, I came to fix it. This is a nice house, but it’s old. There’s always something.
“Okay.”
We talk a bit about property values in the neighborhood and what she thinks she can get for the house.
“Any idea where you’ll move to?” I ask.
“I looked at a bunch of apartments in Jersey City online. Kind of halfway between work and Rachel’s place.”
“What about your parents?” They live in Newark and it’s not far from this place to theirs.
“Yeah, I’d be a little further from them, but not bad.”
And this reminds me of my quandary about her lying to her family.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said that night at that art gallery. About not telling your family we’re getting divorced.”
Her face freezes. “What about it?”
“Are you going to tell them?”
She sets down her coffee mug, her lips sinking into a sad curve. “Nonna called last night.”
“Did you tell her?”
“No. She asked if you’re coming. She wants to see you. She said it might be her last birthday.”
Fuck. “You have to tell her, Ayla.”
“I know!” She closes her eyes briefly. “My parents know. My sisters. And Rachel. It’s not like I’m hiding it from everyone.”
“Still…”
“I know I have to tell them at some point. I just don’t want to do it right now. Especially Nonna.”
“I understand that. But lying to your family is not right.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “It’s my family and I’ll lie to them if I want to.”
I bite back a smile. “Okay, yeah, it’s your family, but it’s not like they’re total strangers to me. I care about Gia, too.”
“I thought you did,” she says with a pointed edge.
Ouch.
“I do,” I insist.
“I couldn’t tell.”
Okay, yeah, she’s pissed.
I sigh and rub my forehead. “Look, I thought about your idea—”
She holds a hand up. “Never mind. Forget I even asked. It was stupid of me to think you would help.”
Another butt end in the solar plexus.
“I understand,” she goes on. “Now you have a new girlfriend, you don’t want to hang out with my family. I totally get it. That would be weird for her.”
New girlfriend? Oh right. Emma. Who I’m having dinner with tomorrow. Not exactly a girlfriend, and she definitely has nothing to do with decisions I make about anything.
But Ayla thinks that’s why I’m not going to pretend we’re still married.
“She has nothing to do with this,” I say. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to lie to your family.”
“That’s me,” she says lightly. “Full of bad ideas.”
My jaw clenches. “That’s not what I meant.”
“No, it’s fine! I know you think you know best about everything, including me.”
I stare at her for several long beats, then say, “What?”
She rolls her eyes. “You heard me. Think about it. You’ve always criticized me and judged me. You need to accept people as they are and respect their boundaries.”
My eyebrows pull down as I continue to gaze at her, baffled. Boundaries? Respect? What? “What are you talking about?”
“You think you know best for everyone,” she says. “You impose your own agenda on people. You want them to do what you think they should do.”
Okay, she’s getting worked up. I shift uncomfortably on my stool. Yes, I like to solve problems and fix things. But it’s not about imposing an “agenda”.
“Calm down, Ayla.”
Oh shit. I know as soon as the words leave my mouth the mistake I’ve made.
She gasps. Her eyes fly open wide. “Oh my God. Seriously? Calm down? I’m expressing myself! Telling you how I feel! You’re brushing me off like I’m hysterical or something!”
I close my eyes. “No. That’s not what I meant. I’m sorry.”
Fuck. This is what was happening all the time. This is why we separated. I wanted to fix things. She wanted to… not fix things. We didn’t understand each other. “You weren’t telling me how you feel,” I attempt to clarify. “You were telling me what an asshole I am.”
Her eyes widen again. “That is how I feel! I feel like you’re an asshole!”
I almost laugh out loud. I mean, I don’t like being called an asshole, but the way she says it is funny, and for a moment, I think she’s going to laugh, too.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “I shouldn’t have called you that.”
I sigh. “Where is this shindig happening?”
Looking wary, she says, “Hawkwood Lodge. In the Catskills.”
“Okay. That’s about a hundred miles from here?”
“Yeah.”
I played a few seasons in Binghamton, New York for the Storm’s farm team, and that’s not far from the Catskills.
“It’s a beautiful place,” she adds with growing enthusiasm. “There’s a lot to do. The kids will love it, and adults, too. There’s skiing and skating, snowshoeing, tobogganing. Apparently, there’s an outdoor heated pool and a hot tub. And a spa.”
“Are you gonna get Nonna on the toboggan run?”
She rolls her lips in and a sense of relief settles inside me. I’d 100 percent rather see her smiling than crying.
“She probably wants to.”
I laugh. “Yeah, knowing her.”
“I’ve got all kinds of things planned,” she continues. “Trivia night. Card games. Afternoon tea. Crafts for the kids. Family Olympics out on the skating rink and maybe tobogganing races. Nonna’s favorite birthday cake, tons of decorations.”
“Jesus. Who’s paying for all this?”
“All the aunts and uncles are chipping in.”
“But you’re doing all the work.”
“Well… yeah. But I don’t mind. It’s fun.”
“You’re letting your family walk all over you again.”
Her eyes shoot open. “I am not!”
She so is. She loves her family and would do anything for them. And does do anything for them. All the time. And I’ll bet at the party, she’ll be the one running around doing everything then. Shit.
“Okay,” I say with a sigh. “If you’re determined to do this, I’ll come to the party.”
She stares at me. “Really?”
“Yeah.” I sigh and rub my forehead. “I’d like to see Gia and wish her a happy birthday.”
We eye each other.
“Thank you,” she says quietly. “Really. I appreciate it.”
I nod. It’s crazy and in one way, I hate being part of it, but in another way, I feel good about helping Ayla. And I’m kind of looking forward to seeing Gia.
“I’ll be driving up there on the twenty-ninth,” she says. “Wednesday. Does that work for you?”
“Yeah. Coming back when… Sunday?”
“Right.”
I nod. “Okay. We can take my car.”
“If you don’t mind. I’ll have a bunch of stuff: gifts, decorations. I need to pick up balloons in Heppawa on Saturday morning. And Rachel is bringing the birthday cake on Friday.” She pauses. “Um. The dress for the party is formal.”
“What does that mean? A suit?”
“Yes. Or a tuxedo, if you want.”
“Okay.” Jesus. “Should I get Nonna a gift?”
“No, you don’t have to! I’ll have one from both of us.”
“Got it. Anything else I can bring? Or do?”
“No, I don’t think so. I’m working with the resort on the food and beverage situation. Just pack for what activities you might want to do: ski, skate, snowshoe, hot tub.”
I purse my lips and nod. “Okay. I’ll go start packing now.”
Her expression is like sunlight. “Why not? I already have.”
“Of course you have.” I finish my coffee and head out.
As I drive back to Hoboken, I keep replaying the things she said when she got emotional. I’ve always criticized her? That’s ridiculous.
Her comment about always knowing best does kind of bite.
Because I do. But I only try to help. And what was that bullshit about “accepting people as they are” and “respecting their boundaries”?
Did I overstep some kind of boundary she has?
She’s the one who asked me to do this! And I still have misgivings about it; I was just making that clear to her.
As I drive, I get a text message from Emma.
Emma
Still good for tomorrow?
Carson
Yeah I made a reservation at Bambino for 7
Emma
Perfect! I’ll meet you there
Carson
Sounds good
A second date. It feels weird. I had a good time that night Emma and I went to the art gallery show.
After, we went out for drinks and snacks.
She’s easy to talk to, smart, very curious about hockey and life as a hockey player.
We got to know each other a bit better. Tonight will be the same.
Should I tell her about this crazy plan I’ve been sucked into?
Probably not. Who knows. I’ll deal with it next weekend when I have to go away.