Chapter 25
AYLA
I love Carson so much.
And that makes me sad for him. He has so much emotion inside him that he doesn’t know what to do with. I ache with a need to help him. To take care of him. I’m stronger now than I was when we split up. I could do it.
If he’d let me.
In the days after Carson and I talk, I go to the gym and punch a bag with extra aggression.
I work at Uncle Ernie’s and put on a face of serene cheer.
I make a plan for going through the house to get it ready to sell.
There are a few places where a little drywall repair is needed.
A broken light switch needs to be fixed. The paint on a few doors is chipped.
I go sit in Kane’s room in the rocker. Yes, it’s sad. I’ll always love my baby. And I know that leaving this house and this space is going to be better for me.
I keep thinking about my family. Who all knew the truth about Carson and me? Yes, Nonna knew, and Rachel, and a few others, but did everyone?
Carson’s right. Everyone had to know. I couldn’t hide it forever.
Carson’s also right (damn him) about me having to get over thinking I’m a failure because my marriage ended. I did feel like that when it happened. I questioned my worth and who I am. But it’s been almost a year now and… I’m okay.
My heart is aching for Carson because I love him and I want him and I want us again. But this time, I’m mostly worried for him. Because I think all these months he’s been pretending to be okay, he wasn’t, really.
Rachel messages me Wednesday asking about what happened after we talked to Nonna.
Ayla
I’m mad at you
Rachel
Ohhhhh no I’m sorry whaaaat
Ayla
You know what you did
Rachel
I wanted to help pls talk to me
Ayla
I can’t right now.
Rachel
Come to the antique show with me on Saturday pleeeeaaase
I do love antiques. Damn. The last thing I need, though, is more stuff to move when I sell the house.
The only reason I agree is because she’s my best friend and I do need to talk, although probably a session with Tessa would be better.
Except I’d have to tell her I slept with Carson.
But she’s never judgmental and I’ve always felt safe with her.
I make an appointment with her as well but I can’t get in until next week.
Carson and I have been texting. He checked in on Monday, after our talk. He had home games Tuesday and Thursday, which I watched. I quit watching hockey when we split up, but after a couple of months, I couldn’t stop myself from turning on a game so I could see Carson.
Carson
I’ve been thinking about a lot of things. Had an interesting conversation with Benny.
The team captain? He’s talking about us to the team captain?
Ayla
What did you talk to him about?
Carson
Sex advice
Ayla
Carson
Kidding. I’ll tell you all about it when I see you. Long story.
Ayla
Okay. Are you doing okay?
Carson
I think so. We fly to Charleston for a game Saturday night. Could we get together Sunday?
Ayla
Yes.
I’ll make sure I’m not working at Uncle Ernie’s Sunday.
Then he texts me on Friday.
Carson
I’m thinking of you.
I smile and start to type a reply when another text from him arrives.
Carson
Naked.
I laugh out loud.
Ayla
Here’s a nude selfie.
I put my phone down on the table and take a picture then send it to him.
Carson
It’s all black I can’t see anything
Ayla
I’m in the dark
Carson
Haha I got all excited for nothing
I get another text on Saturday morning from Charleston.
Carson
Remember those times we spent all day in bed eating and watching movies and fucking? I wanna do that again.
I press my fingers to my mouth. I do remember those times. Not only watching movies and eating and fucking… We’d also be talking and laughing our asses off. I want that back, too.
Ayla
I remember
He says he’s been doing a lot of thinking. So have I.
Rachel and I meet Saturday afternoon at the venue where the huge antique and art show is being held in Lenox Hill. I wait on the sidewalk for her until she arrives, rushing up with her caramel-blonde hair blowing in the breeze and her signature bright-red lips shining in the sun.
I glare at her.
Her red mouth bunches into a sad pucker. “I fucked up, didn’t I?”
I sigh. “You shouldn’t have interfered with us.”
She grimaces. “I’m sorry.”
“What were you were thinking?”
She rolls her lips in and drops her eyes. “Okay. I was thinking that you’re still in love with Carson and this might be a last chance to make you two talk to each other before you can legally get divorced.”
“Why did you think I still love him?”
She sighs. “You talk about him all the time. When we ran into him that night, you were so dejected about seeing him with another woman. And when we were talking, you both kept sneaking longing looks at each other.”
“I was not. And I don’t think he was either.”
“Oh yeah, you both were.” She shrugs. “Am I right, though?”
“Dammit, Rachel.”
She preens.
“Okay, it might have been a dumb idea, but yes, I do still love Carson. And we… well, we’re still attracted to each other, obviously.”
“Did something more happen than just sharing a bed?”
“Yes.”
Her eyes nearly pop out of their sockets and she squeals. “Tell me!”
“Let’s go in.”
We’ve purchased tickets so we just show our phones and head inside.
“Where to first?” Rachel asks.
I look around. “Let’s check out those sculptures.”
Of course they’re all outrageously expensive, although beautiful. We admire them as we wander and talk.
“Okay, tell me what happened.”
I relate the weekend’s activities to Rachel and how Carson and I agreed to talk and see if we could work things out.
“Really?” She gazes at me hopefully.
“Are you really rooting for us?”
“I am. I love you.”
The organ in my chest gets soft. “We talked on Sunday afternoon when we got home.” I blow out a breath. “It was hard and it was exhausting. I was drained after. I think it was even harder for Carson.” I tell her my thoughts about how he seems to be in denial about his grief over losing Kane.
“I think men grieve differently than women.”
“That’s kind of sexist.”
“It’s a generalization. But I think it’s accurate. Men—most men—don’t like to look weak or vulnerable. They refuse to feel their feelings and express them and that’s not good.”
“Yeah.” I make a face. “I think you’re right. Carson basically said that.”
“Look at this.” Rachel stops in front of a small silver sculpture. It’s a sterling silver pomegranate paperweight.
“I love pomegranates.” She strokes her fingertips over the polished silver. “This is beautiful.”
“It is beautiful.”
“It’s five hundred dollars.” She makes a face. “I can’t spend that much on a pomegranate.”
“Yeah, that’s a lot.” A holder full of business cards for the artist sits nearby, and I pluck one out and tuck it into my purse while Rachel’s not looking. Her birthday is coming up in March.
We wander on.
“I was frustrated with Carson’s denial and his refusal to talk about his feelings after Kane died.
But I’m afraid I didn’t try hard enough to understand what was going on with him.
I knew his dad died when he was young, but he never told me that he felt he had to step up and look after his mom and his sisters. He was only sixteen.”
“Okay…”
“He said he had to be strong for them. He didn’t have time to cry or feel sorry for himself.
And that’s how he felt when Kane died. He had to be strong for me.
But that wasn’t good for him. I wish I’d known that back then.
I just got mad at him because I thought he didn’t care that our son had died. ”
“Understandable. So… do you want to get back together with Carson?”
I don’t answer for so long that she stops walking and turns to face me.
“Ayla?”
“I love him. I do. I miss him so much. We have fun together. He was my best friend and my husband and my soulmate.”
“Wait, wait. I thought I was your best friend.”
“You are. You know what I mean.”
“Yeah, I do.”
We stop in front of a bronze sculpture of a man reclining on… I don’t know. A tree stump? He’s nude, with defined abs, muscular thighs, and—
“Holy shit, look at his peen!” Rachel stares at the piece.
“It’s very…”
“Huge.”
“Realistic.”
She grins. “I like it.”
I tilt my head. “He kind of looks like Carson.”
“Oh you bitch, rub it in that your husband is a hot hockey player.”
I laugh.
“This probably costs more than the pomegranate.”
“Eight hundred fifty.”
“Damn. Okay, just let me look a little longer.” She sighs. “Okay. Back to my question.”
“What question?”
“Do you want to get back with Carson?”
“Oh. Right. The thing is… I’ve been feeling kind of lost for a while now.”
She tears her gaze away from the bronze peen and faces me. “Lost?”
“Like… I don’t have any direction for my life. Am I going to work at Uncle Ernie’s forever while I look after aging relatives?”
“You like looking after aging relatives.” She pauses. “Don’t you?”
“You know I love family. But… is that all I’m good for? I feel like I’m stuck and it’s going to be like this for the rest of my life. And if Carson and I get back together… that won’t really solve that problem.”
“You could have another baby.” Her tone is gentle.
“We could. But… maybe I need to figure out who I am and what I want before we do that. We could get back together and I could be his good little housewife who takes care of everything while he’s on the road and help look after the family. But… what if that’s not what I want?”
It’s scary saying that out loud. I’ve been thinking about it since Carson and I talked.
“I have no purpose,” I add. “Like I said, I love family. But… it’s a let-down when I do so much and nobody ever says anything.”
“Like the party.”
“Yeah.” One corner of my mouth hooks up. “Nonna was the only one who thanked me or even acknowledged all the work I did. And you. And Carson. It feels like nothing I do matters.”
Rachel regards me with a troubled expression.
“I’m practically running Uncle Ernie’s now. That wasn’t my life goal. And Grandpa doesn’t even acknowledge that.”
“He’s paying you, right?” Her tone rises with outrage.
“Yes. That doesn’t matter. I’m okay for money.”
“Thanks to Carson’s generosity.”
“True. Which is also kind of… depressing.”
Rachel takes my arm. “Let’s go look at the antique furniture. I want new end tables for the living room.”
“Sure.”
She leads the way. “What do you want to do with your life?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about that, too.”
“You always wanted to be a teacher. And you love kids.”
“Yeah. I was bummed when I had to quit school, but it was for Nonna.”
“So go back to school.”
I nod. I was going to college in Lawrenceville. Which is pretty far away. “Maybe a different school.”
“What about Montclair State?”
“Yeah.” I bob my head. “Yeah.”
Rachel finds two beautiful mid-century tables and arranges for delivery to her apartment.
“I’m so happy with them!” She tucks her wallet back into her purse. “Okay. I’m hungry. Let’s get dinner.”
We walk a few blocks to Choury, a Middle Eastern restaurant on Park Avenue.
It’s a long, narrow place with bar seating at the open kitchen on one side and booths on the other.
A cheerful server arrives at our table and we order a bottle of wine, an “amber” wine from Kartli, Georgia.
It sounds intriguing: six-month skin contact in qvevri, traditional clay vessels buried underground, with notes of dried apricot, orange peel and honey.
We also order hummus with their special hot sauce to start.
“What’s happening with Xander?” I ask her when we have our wine and hummus. “I’ve been so preoccupied with my own shit, I forgot about him. You guys went out. How was it?”
“Eh. Not great. I got the ick.”
“Oh dear. That’s not good. What was it?”
“He told me I’m not like other girls.”
I gasp. “No!”
“Yep. I think he thought it was a compliment.”
“What a dumb fuckface. Did you call him out?”
“I did. I told him he was implying that ‘other girls’ are superficial and stupid, and that kind of internalized misogyny can lead to women hating other women and a glorification of men’s attention as a means to self-worth.”
I grin. “I’m so proud of you.”
“He wasn’t so impressed.” She shrugs. “Whatever.”
The server comes back and we order a few small plates to share: Joojeh chicken kebabs, basmati rice pilaf, charred broccoli, and glazed sweet potatoes.
“So, back to your future.” Rachel picks up her wine glass.
“This is a nice glass.” I lift mine, too, and admire the delicate stem and the shape of the bowl.
“Don’t change the subject.”
I laugh. “I wasn’t! I like this glass!”
“Why not go back to school?”
The idea has been growing on me. “I’d like to.” I make a face. “Studying and having homework scares me but also… excites me. Hopefully, I can get back into it after years away.”
“It might be hard, but I know you can do it.”
“And I’m going to Paris.”
“Right. Have you booked anything?”
“Not yet.”
She arches an eyebrow.
“I will, though. Things with Carson are distracting me right now. But I do need to get my shit together and make some decisions.”
She nods. “Is it possible…” Her hesitancy leads me to believe she’s going to say something terrible. “…that you’ve been depending too much on others to make you feel happy or validated?”
Yeah, that’s not good.
“With all the things you do for everyone… I know it makes you happy to do that…”
“Yes…”
“But then you don’t feel appreciated.”
I nod.
“Giving up school for Nonna had to be hard. Did you ever resent that?”
I examine that. “Yeah,” I finally say. “I did.”
She nods. “Don’t feel bad about that! I think that’s totally normal. Most people wouldn’t have even done that.”
“I love her.”
“I know. Sometimes, you take on a lot. You also could have asked others for help. But you didn’t.”
My vision blurs and the world goes slow around me as I take that in. Is it true? Have I been depending on others to make me feel like my life has some worth?
That feels… huge. And unwelcome. Also, I want to cry.
I blink down as the server brings our food.
I never had big goals or any particular talent. It wasn’t that hard to give up college. When Carson and I met and fell in love, I was happy to be a wife and mother. And I do believe that being a mother is the hardest and most important thing a woman will ever do.
When I wasn’t a mother anymore… and then not a wife anymore… I felt adrift. And now seeing that it’s been only myself holding me back is really fucking bleak.
“Are you okay?” Rachel asks once the server has left.
I look up and swallow. “I will be.”