Chương 2
“I don’t think so.”
“Then what is she?”
The traffic light ahead turned red.
I stopped behind a white SUV with a stick-figure family on the rear window.
“A friend, I think.”
Lucy considered this.
“Daddy has lots of friends.”
“Yes.”
“Why haven’t I met that one?”
The light turned green.
“I don’t know.”
At home, Lucy abandoned the subject because five-year-olds possess the mercy of distraction.
She wanted macaroni instead of the chicken I had planned, then complained that one noodle looked “suspicious,” then spent ten minutes searching for a pink marker that was in her hand.
I answered two bookkeeping emails while she took her bath.
I packed her lunch for the next day.
I wiped toothpaste off the bathroom faucet.
Normal life kept occurring with almost insulting confidence.
At eight fifteen, Lucy climbed into bed and asked whether Daddy would come kiss her good night.
“He might be late.”
“He’s always late.”
She did not say it accusingly.
That made it worse.
I read her two books instead of one.
By the middle of the second, she was asleep with one hand curled beneath her cheek.
Caleb came home at nine forty-three.
I knew the exact time because I was sitting at the kitchen island folding Lucy’s kindergarten clothes beside the microwave clock.
He set his keys in the ceramic bowl by the door.
“You could’ve waited.”
I folded one sleeve inward.
“For what?”
“To come to the office.”
I looked up.
“You asked me to bring your medication.”
“I know.”
He loosened his tie.
“I just meant you didn’t need to come upstairs.”
“You didn’t say that.”
“I had someone there.”
“I noticed.”
His shoulders dropped.
“I knew this was going to become a thing.”
I stopped folding.
“A thing?”
“You know what I mean.”
“No, Caleb.”
I placed Lucy’s shirt on the pile.
“Explain what I mean.”
He walked to the refrigerator and stood looking inside as though a better marriage might be behind the orange juice.
“Rebecca might do some consulting for us.”
“What kind?”
“Brand positioning, presentation strategy, client-facing materials.”
It was plausible.
Caleb was a senior director at a commercial development company, and Rebecca worked in corporate communications.
A bad lie would have been easier.
“So today was business?”
“Yes.”
“Why did you tell reception not to disturb you?”
“Because we were talking privately.”
“About brand positioning?”
He closed the refrigerator.
“Among other things.”
“What other things?”
“Jesus, Margot.”
He checked the clock.
“I’ve been working since seven this morning.”
There it was.
The door closing.
For years, I had treated Caleb’s exhaustion like diplomatic immunity.
He worked hard.
That part was true.
When we met, his ambition had been one of the things I loved about him.
He remembered deadlines, arrived early, researched restaurants before making reservations, and once built a spreadsheet comparing washing machines because he distrusted online rankings.
After Lucy was born, his career accelerated.
Promotions brought bigger projects, bigger projects brought travel, and travel brought messages telling me not to wait up.
I worked too, keeping books for three small businesses from home, but my schedule had been designed around Lucy because somebody’s had to bend.
Over time, my flexibility stopped looking like work.
It became infrastructure.
Daycare.
Doctors.
Groceries.
Laundry.
School forms.
Birthday gifts.
Plumbers.
Even Patricia’s Mother’s Day flowers.
When Caleb forgot something, I remembered it.
When work exploded, I absorbed the blast.
When he had a migraine, I brought medicine.
“I asked you a question,” I said.
“And I answered.”
“No.”
I watched him take a bottle of sparkling water from the refrigerator.
“You gave me the answer you prepared.”
His fingers tightened around the cap.
“That’s ridiculous.”
“How long have you known Rebecca was back?”
“A while.”
“How long?”
“I don’t know exactly.”
“Since April?”
He looked at me.
That pause was answer enough.
“You’ve known for five months.”
“It hasn’t been some secret.”
“You never told me.”
“Not mentioning somebody isn’t the same as hiding them.”
I laughed once.
There was nothing funny in it.
“At Easter, your mother asked whether you knew Rebecca was back.”
Caleb looked away.
“You stared at your plate.”
“So?”
“In June, Aaron started saying her name at dinner and stopped when he looked at you.”
“You’re collecting random moments now?”
“Three weeks ago, you said her name in your sleep.”
His face changed.
Only slightly.
“That’s insane.”
“I didn’t say it meant anything.”
“Then why bring it up?”
“Because today I discovered the woman you’ve somehow never mentioned knows my name and our daughter’s name and is happy to finally meet us.”
He rubbed both hands over his face.
“I dated Rebecca when I was twenty-one.”
“I know.”
“That was eighteen years ago.”
“I know.”
“Then what exactly are you accusing me of?”
“I haven’t accused you of anything.”
“This feels a hell of a lot like an interrogation.”
I looked at the half-folded clothes between us.
“How many times have you seen her since April?”
Caleb unscrewed the bottle.
The cap made a small plastic crack.
“Today was business.”
“That still isn’t a number.”
He drank without looking at me.
“How many times, Caleb?”
“A few.”
“What does a few mean?”
“Coffee.”
He put the bottle down.
“A couple lunches.”
“Anything else?”
“We ran into each other.”
“Where?”
“Uptown.”
“And?”
“And we talked.”
His irritation arrived before the rest of the truth.
“That’s what adults do when they haven’t seen each other in years.”
I picked up Lucy’s purple leggings and folded them carefully along the seam.
“Did you tell her about me?”
“Of course.”
“Did you tell her about Lucy?”
“Obviously.”
“Did you tell her we were happy?”
Caleb went still.
The refrigerator hummed behind him.
A car passed outside, bass vibrating faintly through the windows.
He looked tired now, but not from a migraine.
“Margot, I’m going upstairs.”
I put the leggings on top of the pile.
“Did you?”
May you like
His hand closed around the water bottle.
“You’re determined to make something ugly out of nothing.”
