Chapter 2 #3
She didn’t reply. She sat there, gazing down at Lyle.
The rest of the day passed far too quickly.
I spent much of it trying not to think about what had twice happened, trying not to wonder what it would mean if it happened again—or what it would mean for my marriage if it didn’t.
This time, when Amy invited me to the park, I went with them.
She even cracked a tentative joke about mountain lions and aggressive house cats.
I ran up and down the steps of the elaborate dragon-themed play castle with my son, happy he hadn’t decided he was too old for this sort of thing.
Not yet. I half carried him as he did his best on the monkey bars across the moat, his shoes dangling above the dragon’s gaping maw.
I felt his heart through his thin chest, felt the warmth of his body pressed against me.
We went on the swings, and I applauded that he was now able to get swinging all on his own.
My heart climbed up into my throat when he jumped off at the apex of a swing.
He tumbled but was back up on his feet in seconds, laughing and adjusting his glasses, and I jumped off and chased after him.
I really committed to the moment, reveling in the fact I could still make this ever-somber child smile and laugh like the seven-year-old he was.
The sun shone. It was warm. The spring air was cool, and it felt good to charge around after Lyle.
I hadn’t played with him enough in the past few months.
I’d been too wrapped up in the day-to-day demands of work and bills and life.
Melissa called a few more times that morning, then stopped.
Usually at this time of day I’d be deep into code, in my cubicle, drinking cup after cup of coffee and counting the minutes until lunch and then end of day.
Checking out repos, branching forks, hunting bugs.
Rationally, I knew I should call her back.
I should beg to keep my job. But I couldn’t bring myself to disconnect from my small family, even for a few minutes.
Instead, I ran around the playground with my son while Amy watched, her smile genuine but the corners of her eyes tight.
That evening Lyle and I read in the spare bedroom again.
And, like before, I had a hard time concentrating on my book.
Lyle finished Jurassic Park and moved on to Sphere, another of Michael Crichton’s classic epics.
I noticed him looking up at me more often, as if reassuring himself I was still there.
I felt his eyes each time he looked up, but I kept my head down, appearing to read, because I sensed he didn’t want me to notice.
He wanted to watch me. I wondered if he’d come into the den the last few nights, alone, when I wasn’t there.
Perhaps he’d sat in my chair, in my spot. Feeling me not being there.
Amy came at eight. She stood in the doorway. “Time for bed, Lyle.”
“Okay, Mom.”
She watched him leave and looked back at me. “Seven fifty-two.”
“Yes.”
“Okay. Okay. Come upstairs.”
An hour later we lay in bed together, both staring at the darkened ceiling. I listened to her breathe. I’d matched my own breathing to hers. Or she’d matched mine.
I heard rustling under the covers, and her hand, surprisingly cold, found mine.
She gave a tug. I rolled toward her even as she turned on her side to face away.
I put my arm over her shoulder and hugged her close, our bodies forming together beneath the flannel sheets.
I buried my face in her hair and smelled the pomegranate shampoo she used.
“Are you lying?” she whispered.
“No. No, I’m not.”
“This isn’t some attempt to drive us away?”
“No.”
“What’s going on, Scott?”
I let out a slow breath. I stroked her arm. “I don’t know.” I tried to keep the frustration out of my voice, but it came through anyway, bitter and hot.
“I, just—it’s hard. You know?”
“I know.”
“I was so … It wasn’t like you, Scott. It’s not you. I was so angry. So angry. I even … I even hoped, imagined, that you were hurt somewhere. Trapped somewhere. Being hurt somewhere gave you an excuse but it also—” She let out a hard breath. “It punished you.”
I shut my eyes. Pressed them together, hard. I kept my palm on her arm. Felt her skin.
“I had to keep it together for Lyle,” Amy whispered. “I have to be strong for Lyle, even though he’s just confused and … And the stuff I had, with my parents, my dad, you know…”
“I know.”
“I won’t put Lyle through that, Scott. Not what Kate and I went through. I can’t.”
“You won’t have to.” Kate was her older sister. She and her husband lived in Sun Prairie. I was not her biggest fan, nor she mine.
“It’s hard to take in.”
“I’m not having an easy time with it myself.”
There was a quiet moment. I tried to feel her body as much as I could, feel her warmth and presence next to me. There was a sudden urgency to it, a need to pay close attention to the sensations.
“What if it’s all in your head?” she asked.
“I guess we’ll find out tomorrow.”
“But what if it is?”
“Honestly, honey, I’m more worried it isn’t.”
She was silent again, long enough I thought she might have fallen asleep. Then she whispered, “Yeah.”
She fell asleep sometime later. I stayed awake late into the night, holding her close, not willing to turn over and let her go.