“She has.”
“Then just appreciate her for that, and let it be what it’s going to be.”
I hesitated. “Vivian thinks that hanging out Emily and the kids is confusing to London. And she’s right.”
Marge made a skeptical face, but in the end she folded her hands on the table and leaned toward me. “So don’t bring London and Bodhi,” she said pointedly. “Why don’t you just try going out with her?”
“Like on a date?”
“Yes,” Marge said. “Like a date.”
“What about London?”
“Liz and I would be more than happy to babysit. And besides, didn’t you just say that London was going to be in Atlanta in a couple of weeks? Seize the day, little brother.”
On Halloween night, Vivian was unusually warm, even insisting that she take a photo of me with London on her phone, which she then texted to me right away. I handed out candy to the neighborhood kids. There were so many coming by the house, I sat in the rocking chair on the front porch so I wouldn’t have to keep getting up from the couch.
The next morning, I woke to a text from Vivian that said she’d be leaving around six, and could I try to be home by then?
On the way out the door that evening, she pulled me into a hug and whispered to me that I was doing a great job with London.
The first couple of weeks of November blurred together in a string of eighteen-hour days, marked by the routines that had become second nature. I exercised, worked, took care of London – who started back with piano lessons – cooked, cleaned, and made nightly calls to Emily. Thanks to my new clients, I was so busy that I didn’t even have time to swing by my parents the following weekend, nor visit with Marge and Liz even once. A few things from that period do stand out in my memory, however.
The week after Halloween, I had a Realtor come by so I could put the house up for sale. She walked through and asked a lot of questions; toward the end, she suggested that I rearrange the furniture, to show the rooms to better effect. One by one, at her suggestion, the pieces ended up back where Vivian had originally placed them. Before she left, she retrieved a mallet from her car and pounded a bright red realty sign into the yard out front.
The sight of the sign made something sink inside me, and out of instinct, I called Emily. As usual, she brought me back onto solid ground, even encouraging me with the prospect of turning to a fresh page in my life, in a new home. Maybe it was the prospect of Vivian taking London to Atlanta for the weekend, but as the conversation was winding down, I found myself thinking about Marge’s suggestion that I ask Emily out. Before I could gather my courage, however, Emily spoke up.
“Russ, I’ve been meaning to ask you – would you like to accompany me to the opening of the art show I told you about? The one that’s going to include a few of my paintings?”
She sounded a bit nervous, and I could almost picture her smoothing her hair behind her ear, the way she always did when she was anxious. “I mean, it’s fine if you can’t, but since the opening is the weekend when London’s going to be in Atlanta, I thought…”
“I’d love to,” I interrupted. “I’m so glad you asked.”
As the weekend of November thirteenth approached, I helped London prepare for her trip to Atlanta, which took more time than I thought it would. London was excited at the idea of visiting Vivian in her new apartment, and packed and repacked her suitcase four or five times. She fretted for days over what to bring, ultimately packing several different outfits, in addition to Barbies, coloring books, crayons, and the book Two by Two. Vivian had texted that she would pick London up at five, which I interpreted to mean she’d drive both ways. Of course, I’d forgotten about Spannerman’s private jet, but I was reminded of that as soon as the limousine pulled to a stop in front of the house.
I carried London’s bag to the car and handed it to the driver. By then, London had crawled into the limousine and was already exploring the plush interior.
It hurt to see her leaving, even if she was with her mom.
“I’ll have her back here Sunday about seven,” Vivian said. “And of course, you can call anytime and I’ll put her on the phone.”
“I’ll try not to be a nuisance about it.”
“You’re her father,” Vivian said. “You’re not a nuisance.” She looked away before continuing. “And just so you know, she’s not going to meet Walter this weekend. It’s too soon for him to meet her. I wouldn’t do that to her.”
I nodded, surprised – and yes, undeniably grateful.
“Do you have any big plans?” I asked, somehow eager to prolong their departure.
“There are a lot of things to do there. I think we’ll play it by ear. But I should probably be going. I don’t want it to be too late when we get to the apartment.”
This time, there was no hug. As she turned away, however, her eyes caught the sight of the realty sign and she paused. Then, with a resolute flick of her hair over her shoulder, she moved to the open door and the driver closed it behind her.
I watched the limo pull away, feeling strangely bereft. Despite everything that had happened to this point, there always seemed to be another way to remind me that I’d lost the future I’d once imagined.
I don’t know why the thought of attending Emily’s gallery opening made me nervous. Emily and I had coffee together practically every weekend, we talked on the phone most nights, and I’d spent an evening drinking wine on her back patio. We’d spent whole days on expeditions with the kids. Moreover, we would be attending an event at which her work, not mine, would be on display – so if anyone should be nervous, it stood to reason it should be her.