Chapter 3

Tyler

I dropped Rachel off on the morning of my first trip to San Francisco, feeling my heart dip into the acid of my stomach with regret. Marnie was standing on the front porch, her rotund belly flipping out over her belt and her dyed red hair flapping in the wind. I carried Rachel’s bag for her, leading her toward the door and giving Marnie a firm nod.

“Hey there,” I said.

Rachel ducked into a hug, and then raced into the house, finding solace in her upstairs bedroom. Through the crack in the door, I could see Marnie’s new husband, Greg, slopped in his armchair, eating breakfast tarts. Crumbs covered his shirt.

“I’ll be back in about five days,” I told Marnie, my eyes flashing. “And I’ll pick her up that day from school. Can you make sure you’re always home at around three-thirty when she gets back from school?”

“You think I’m some monster? That I can’t be home for my daughter?” Marnie asked. Inside, the television continued to blare a court room reality show, causing my head to begin to ache.

“Just don’t make any plans without thinking of her first, will you?”

Darting back into my truck, I gave Marnie a final, firm look, watching as Rachel’s tiny face poked out of her upstairs window, like a mouse looking from a hole. I waved to her, feeling my heart hammer. Just a few extra days at her mothers wouldn’t destroy her, would it? Would she begin acting like her, taking on her selfish qualities, speaking to me abruptly, with the air of an overweight heiress?

I couldn’t think of it.

“You’ve given her so much. It’s time to take some space for yourself,” my sister had told me, via video chat the previous evening. She lived with her husband and kids in Orlando and didn’t visit often, but she had spent the weeks after the divorce with Rachel and I, shielding the drama from Marnie, and coaching me as best as she could. “She cheated on you. She broke up your family. You can’t blame yourself for this.”

The plane out to San Francisco had a single layover in Denver. I ate half of a burrito at a strange airport shack, guzzling a Mexican light beer and then allowing myself a brief nap on the last stretch. My notes for the first days of meetings were highlighted, underlined, and near-memorized. But in these hours, my brain found no other topic than that of my daughter.

Samantha greeted me at the airport, picking me up in a silver Prius and driving me into the heart of the Mission—where the offices were. I’d never been to San Francisco, had hardly been west of the Mississippi, and found a brief moment of reprieve in the beauty of the city. The streetcars darted up and down the hills, jangling their bells, and the Golden Gate Bridge stretched into a foggy future. Samantha gabbed happily, flirtatiously, telling me she couldn’t wait to show me the sights, the bars and anything else that might come along.

“You have an entire day of meetings lined up,” she said. “I hope you’re ready. You thought you had it rough back in Raleigh, but this is where the fun begins.”

The day stretched before me, without a moment of rest. I darted from meeting to meeting, with Hank, Carlos, Roger, and Monica by my side. Samantha brought up the rear, with her notebook in-hand, her eyebrows low over her eyes with intense concentration. We met with potential investors, with start-up makers and with bright-eyed and bespectacled individuals, just hoping to make it in the tech scene. Some had flown in from out east, hoping to find an investment with our company, and would be working with me closely if chosen. Eager to do my best, I found myself asking question after question, demanding that they take stock of their creation, of their resources, of their skills before even asking for our money. I felt Hank and Carlos’ eyes on me—assessing the strength within me, the leadership qualities, and felt their approval.

“I think you deserve a beer or two,” Hank said, thrusting his hand on my shoulder as we left for the day.

Eyeing my phone, I realized it was already seven at night—which meant that Rachel was already in bed. I’d missed her. With a firm nod, I followed Hank to one of the several bars, keeping myself even-keeled as the others dove deeper into drunkenness. Sitting back, eyeing them intently, I was ready with a wink or a smile when they needed my approval. I would give them no more of myself.

I couldn’t get attached to this world.

The next day was similar. Hours of meetings and earnest talks and it left me tired and strung-out by the end of the day. It was only five, at this point, meaning I could race back to the hotel and video chat with Rachel. As I left the office, Samantha burst between me and the door, pushing her breasts high on her chest, arching her back.

With a soft smile, she asked, “Why don’t the two of us head out to grab a drink tonight? You know, it’s kind of a tradition for HR to do a bit of the ‘showing around’ business. I consider it my civic duty.”

Caught off-guard, I began to stammer. I sensed her attraction for me, and I could feel it simmering in the air. But I shook my head, feeling somber and dry. I had nothing to offer this woman. “I really should head back.”

My heart raced as I returned to my hotel room, waiting for a text from Rachel. When it came—affirming she could video chat, only for a bit, I opened my video chat and placed the call across the country. Rachel’s small, mouse-like face appeared, making me overjoyed.

“Hey, baby!” I cried out. “How are you doing?”

“Ugh,” Rachel said, rolling her eyes. They were bright, dramatic, hunting for my approval. “Just loads of homework, Daddy. You wouldn’t believe it. It’s like I’m in high school or something.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” I said, smiling. “Is any of it too tricky?”

“Well, I asked Mom for a little bit of help on the math problems, but she says she’s too busy,” Rachel said, shrugging.

Immediately, I felt my heart drop. “I’m sorry. Too busy?” I asked, my eyebrows drawn together. “What is she doing to be so busy?”

“Well, she said she had to clean Greg’s car. And then shop for groceries or something. I don’t know,” Rachel said, shrugging. As she opened her mouth wider, I caught sight of the gap between her teeth—the lost one, that had come loose at the nearby breakfast place that sold the custard-filled pancakes. We’d tied it up in a napkin, saving it for the tooth fairy. She said she didn’t believe. But she played along, for my sake.

“Can you get your mother?” I asked. My anger rose, causing my cheeks to blister red. “Just for a minute.”

I heard Rachel cry out, her voice falling down the steps, hunting for Marnie. Marnie’s gruff steps resounded through the house. Inwardly, I told myself to calm the fuck down. That it wasn’t important and that the world would continue to spin.

“Tyler?” Marnie said, ripping the phone from Rachel’s grasp. “I don’t have long.”

“Sure you do,” I responded in a gruff voice. “You have plenty of time to help your daughter with her homework. What is it? You’ve got some kind of schedule, now?”

Marnie’s nostrils flared. “Those are rough words coming from someone who actively took a position across the country from your daughter,” she retorted.

I could sense Rachel somewhere behind her and could hear her frenzied breath. But I couldn’t stop my tongue from drawing more insults.

“I’m doing the best I can for our family. I don’t suppose you know what that means, do you? Or did you not think about that before you started messing around with Mike from the flower shop?”

Enraged, Marnie snapped her finger over the END button, halting the video chat. I stared at the blank screen, wishing I had just shut up. Wishing I’d allowed a few more moments of solace with my daughter. But putting her in the care of Marnie was all-but destroying me, mentally. I sensed she wasn’t being taken care of. Her mother and Greg lived blindly, beer-to-beer, while Rachel skimmed science books and took on loneliness and quirkiness, without feeling loved. Jesus, that woman was going to be the death of me.

I looked outside my window as San Francisco crept by and the sun disappeared beneath the water. Down below, so many people were marching the streets, their eyes bright toward a future of their making. They didn’t have the baggage I did. They didn’t have a care in the world.