Of course she did.

Before we could speak more about it, Vivian breezed past me to the kitchen. I followed and tried to engage in conversation, but it was clear that Vivian was edgy and in no mood to mumble more than one-word answers. In the end, she made pasta and sautéed vegetables for London and me, along with a salad for herself, and dinner was eaten quickly. It wasn’t until we were loading the dishes into the dishwasher that I finally asked her what was wrong.

“You didn’t tell me that you took the training wheels off her bike today. And that by riding her bike, you meant actually riding her bike.”

“Sorry about that,” I said. “I thought you understood.”

“How was I supposed to know what you meant? You weren’t very clear.”

“Are you upset?”

“Yes, I’m upset. Why wouldn’t I be upset?”

“I’m not sure why you would be.”

“Because I wasn’t there. Did it ever cross your mind that I might have liked to have seen London riding her bike for the first time?”

“She’s still just a beginner. She can’t do the turns yet without tipping over.”

“So? The issue is that you went ahead and taught her to ride a bike without me. Why didn’t you wait until I got home?”

“I didn’t think about it.”

She grabbed a dish towel and began drying her hands. “That’s exactly your problem, Russ. You do this every time. Our whole life has always been about what you wanted.”

“That’s not true,” I protested. “And how was I supposed to know you’d even want to watch? You didn’t want the bike in the first place.”

“Of course I wanted London to have a bike! Why would you think that? I’m the one who bought it for her for Christmas.”

I stared at her, thinking, I had to drag you to the store. Did she really not remember it that way? Or was I going crazy?

As I pondered the question, she turned to leave. “Where are you going?” I asked.

“London needs a bath,” she said. “You don’t mind if I spend a little time with my daughter, do you?”

She left the kitchen, her words ricocheting in my mind.

My daughter?

After London went to bed, Vivian and I sat on the couch, the television tuned to the Food Network. Vivian was sipping a glass of wine. I thought again about bringing up the day care issue, but I wasn’t sure whether or not she still angry about the bike riding incident. Her eyes flicked toward me with a quick smile, then back to her magazine. Better than being ignored, I supposed.

“Hey Viv?” I asked.

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry you missed watching London’s first bike ride. I really didn’t think it was that big of a deal.”

She seemed to consider my words and I watched her shoulders drop slightly.

“It’s all right. I just wish I had been there to see it. I hate that I wasn’t.”

“I understand that. I’ve missed a lot of firsts over the years, too.”

“But you’re not her mom. It’s different for mothers.”

“I guess so,” I said, not completely sure about that. But there was no need to point that out.

“Maybe tomorrow night, you can show me,” she said, her voice soft, and I saw the Vivian that I’d fallen for so many years ago. It was uncanny, how my wife never seemed to age.

“I’m glad your event went off without a hitch. I’ll bet you already have your boss eating out of the palm of your hand.”

“Walter doesn’t eat out of anyone’s hand.”

“How’s next week shaping up?”

“I’ll find out more tomorrow. I might have another overnight on Wednesday.”

“Another fund-raiser?”

“No. This time it’s a trip to D.C. And I know London’s going to be upset again. It makes me feel like an awful mother.”

“You’re not awful. And London knows you love her.”

“But it’s her last summer before kindergarten, and she probably feels like I’ve abandoned her. She needs stability and right now, she’s not getting it.”

“I’m doing my best.”

“I know you are. She told me that she likes spending time with you, but that it’s weird.”

“She said it’s weird for her?”

“You know what she means. She’s just used to me, that’s all. It’s been a big change for her. You know that.”

“I still don’t like the word weird.”

“She’s a child. She doesn’t have a huge vocabulary. No big deal. You ready to hit the bedroom? We can put on the TV and relax.”

“Are you making a pass at me?”

“Maybe.”

“Is that a yes or a no?”

“How about I finish my glass of wine first.”

I smiled, and later, when our bodies were intertwined, I found myself thinking that as hard as the previous week had been, it ended in an absolutely perfect way.

CHAPTER 9

The Past Is Never Quite Past

A few years ago, when feeling nostalgic, I reflected on some of the most meaningful days of my life. I recalled my high school and college graduations, the day I proposed and my wedding day, and of course, the day that London was born. And yet, none of those moments had been surprises, because I’d known they were coming.

I also recalled the memorable firsts of my own life, just as I recalled those firsts with London. My first kiss, the first time I slept with a woman, my first beer, and the first time my dad let me slide behind the wheel of a car. I remembered my first real paycheck and the near reverential feeling I had as I walked through the first home I’d purchased.