Chapter Twenty #2
Chris collects her purse from the dining room chair.
“For years, I was angry about Tom’s distance from our family.
I need to let go of that.” He hands the purse to Diana and tucks her hair behind her ears.
“And that letter? He said hurtful things in it. I can’t fathom what it felt like to read it. I want to help.”
He kisses her, and his sawdust and cotton scent lingers. She’ll smell him on her skin all the way home.
“Thank you,” he says with a mischievous grin, “for a great night.”
Diana’s body pulls toward Chris. She wants to drag him down the hall and tumble back into his bed.
She should tell him last night can’t happen again, but she finds that those words aren’t what she wants to say.
“I’m happy about being with you”—Chris’s hands tighten on her waist—“though I’m not sure what comes next. ”
“We’ll see each other again.” Chris smiles. “And who knows?”
“And who knows,” she agrees, kissing him goodbye.
The sun rises in Diana’s rearview mirror as she crosses the border into Massachusetts. Swallowing bitter rest-stop coffee she picked up outside Hamilton, she increases her speed past the posted limit. She is nervous to see Duncan and uncertain what to say about her trip to Hamilton.
A list, naturally, would be helpful. This habit of hers is becoming increasingly useful in sifting through these questions about Tom.
Distracting, too. Not distracting, distancing.
It allows me to stay removed, maybe only a fraction of an inch, but that gap is there, she thinks.
That may not be good for me, but I can’t give it up—at least, not yet.
“What will the list be today, Diana?” In the quiet of the car, she carries on a conversation with herself, not caring what drivers passing her by might think. “All the mistakes I’ve made? What a mess of a parent I am? Chris?”
What Would I Say to Tom?
Ah, there it is. What would she say if he were sitting in the seat next to her?
It’s good to see you.
He’s there, in the corner of her eye. The Tom she remembers: vibrant with health, his skin golden, his hair curling around his ears. She wants to touch him, to smell him again.
I miss you so much.
Sleeping with Chris might not have been my smartest decision, but it wasn’t a betrayal.
I don’t understand why you didn’t tell me about this when you were alive.
She considers pulling over into the breakdown lane to let it all out. She can’t, though; Duncan and Phoebe are waiting.
I don’t understand why you left me this letter to find after you died.
I’m angry with you. So angry.
Duncan’s name? It’s manipulative. I will never say his name without remembering you lied to me.
How can I love you so much and be so mad at you at the same time? How can you be gone and still hurt me?
She exits the highway then, parking in an empty turnoff for trucks along a dented guardrail. She leans back against the headrest and lets herself cry.
When Diana arrives home, her father meets her at the front door. “Do you have any idea why Duncan’s upset? He won’t tell us.”
“I’ll sort it, Dad. Thanks for trying.”
Diana shifts past him into the kitchen. Duncan and Phoebe sit at the table, eating scrambled eggs and bacon, Bear Bear on the chair next to Phoebe. Diana notices Phoebe is dressed for school with her hair neatly braided—thirty minutes before she needs to leave. The General, she thinks.
Diana kisses Phoebe’s forehead, spending an extra few seconds with her lips pressed against her daughter’s smooth skin. “Look at you already set for school. I love your outfit.” She gestures to Phoebe’s yellow dress and green leggings. “You look like a flower.”
“Grandma helped me pick it out.” Phoebe turns to Vivian. “Can I have more bacon?”
“May I have more bacon, and yes, you may,” Vivian says from across the room. “Diana, would you like some breakfast?”
“No, thanks.” Diana tries to embrace Duncan, but he stands up and moves out of her grasp. “I missed you, Duncan.”
“I have to leave.” He carries his plate to the counter, handing it to Vivian. “Thanks, Grandma.”
“Let’s talk after school,” Diana says.
“When after school? There’s a teacher in-service, so I have a half day. Will you be here when I get home?”
“A half day?” Diana looks at the calendar on her phone. Both kids have half days. Phoebe’s aftercare will fill the hours; Duncan is without a plan for the afternoon.
“You forgot.”
Of course she forgot, but she’ll keep that to herself.
“Why don’t we hang out, Duncan?” Francis says as he pours himself a cup of coffee. “I’ll pick you up from school. I can help you with your homework, or we can shoot some hoops.”
“I have this, Dad,” Diana says. As Duncan passes by on his way to the front door, she places a hand on his back. “Let’s meet at Sully’s for lunch. It’s a short walk from school. Afterward, you can finish your homework at the library before we pick up Phoebe.”
He frowns, his forehead wrinkled in deliberation.
“We’ll catch up. We’re overdue, yes?” Diana stares intently at Duncan, hoping to convey her message telepathically: I’ll explain. Be patient. “Meet you there at noon?”
“Fine.” He waves to his grandparents and leaves, coat in hand, without kissing Diana goodbye.
It’s the first time he hasn’t reached out for her in months.
The absence of that gesture hurts more than expected.
She wraps her arms around Phoebe to steady herself, burying her face in her daughter’s hair.