“Yes.” Peter frowned. “But you were living for something so much bigger than yourself. You were living for music, and it mattered so much to you.”
Ada waited, hoping he would give her what she needed: understanding. But Peter remained quiet after that, too frightened to go on. She wanted to say that he’d been different when they’d met, but it wasn’t true. He’d been the same, minus one thing: he’d been in love with her back then. He’d thought she was incredible. But she’d thought she was pretty incredible, too. When her voice dried up, when she was ostracized, when she was forced from one doctor to another who all told her that she’d never really sing again, Ada hadn’t known how to thinkof herself. She’d fallen into Peter and into the life he’d offered her here in Nantucket. They’d had Hannah. They’d continued, as Ada’s identity had drifted away or become something else.
“What are you living for?” Ada asked Peter, furrowing her brow. It felt unfair that she had to live for something all the time, something beyond her children, if he wasn’t.
“I’m looking for it,” Peter whispered. “Maybe I’ll find it soon.”
Shifting around in bed so that her eyes found the dark ceiling, Ada considered the fact that, when she met with patients struggling with their marriage, she didn’t always recommend divorce. Sometimes she recommended meditation, couples’ therapy, and couples’ activities. Sometimes she recommended waiting out the first year to see what happened. But she saw, now, that she and Peter were done for. And she didn’t know what to think about it.
“Please,” Peter whispered. “Don’t hate me.”
But Ada found that she couldn’t hate him, not even if she tried. “I’ll probably always love you,” she said to the dark room. “And maybe I’ll find a way to thank you for seeing how unhappy you were. Maybe it’s the only way forward for both of us.”
Ada didn’t want to be with someone who loved someone else. It was an act of self-harm to stay in something like that.
She deserved love, feelings, beautiful days, and laughter. She hoped that soon, her children would look at her and see a changed woman, someone they could respect. She hoped that, if she ever fell in love again, her relationship would be one that would show Hannah, Olivia, and Kade what it meant to prioritize one another.
Soon, she heard Peter’s breathing slow and deepen. A part of her itched to get out of bed and walk down the hall, but another told her to stay here and enjoy her marriage bed for the last time. All through the night, she slept peacefully, never reaching forPeter’s hand, never allowing him close to her. They slept more deeply than they had in months, perhaps because something within their bodies was telling them they needed to heal and move forward.
Chapter Nineteen
Perhaps as a way to solidify her decision to herself, Ada called her mother the following morning and told her the news. Kathy shrieked. “Divorce? Ada, surely there’s a way through this. Husbands make mistakes. Wives pick up the pieces. Think of the children!”
But Ada was thinking of her children. She was thinking of the love she wanted to show them. She realized that to prioritize her children’s needs, she had to put herself higher on her priority list. “I’ll come visit soon,” Ada told her mother, thinking of the little house and her mother all alone on the back porch, watching autumn change the leaves in the trees. Her heart opened as she added, “I love you, Mom. I really do.”
Kathy sounded miffed. “I love you, too.”
That night and the one after it, Ada did her best to maintain a happy home. Peter had requested that they wait another few days before telling the kids, so she practiced what she wanted to say to Kade, Olivia, and Hannah in her head and bided her time. She also slept in the music room, where she’d begun to listen to old operas, some of which she’d starred in, humming the old solos she’d mastered. Her throat was still tight, and there wasno coming back from the injuries she’d sustained all those years ago. But music flowed through her again.
She thought again of the pianist at the jazz club and remembered that she’d offered singing lessons, a way back to dealing with music in a real way again. Ada considered it, trying to imagine herself singing anything that wasn’t a radio hit or her children’s old favorite songs. She remembered how Peter had said she hadn’t been herself in years. She never should have turned her back on herself and music. Then again, if she hadn’t, she never would have found out how wishy-washy Peter’s commitment was.
A few days after the last night in the Bushner marriage bed, Ada woke up at dawn, went for a long walk with an opera playing through her headphones, showered, and went to work. Her first few patients of the morning were in their later stages of life, grappling with questions that Ada herself would one day encounter: how to deal with getting older, how not to hate a body that had begun to fail you, and how not to fear what was coming next. Ada listened intently and provided context. But she could see in her patients’ eyes that they thought she was too young to handle their problems. They were probably right.
Ada had begun to question her career as a therapist. What made her think that she could tell anyone how to be happy? Had she ever figured that out for herself?
At three thirty that afternoon, Nick Willis entered her office and sat across from her. Ada’s heart pumped with the memory of their strange night at the wine bar. It had felt like a date, but this was nothing she would ever admit to anyone. But today, Nick looked different to her than he had that night. He didn’t look quite as defeated. It was almost as though he’d discovered something new or come to a conclusion.
It didn’t take long for Ada to find out.
“I’ve decided something,” Nick said when she asked how he was. “I’m going to go traveling.”
Ada narrowed her eyes, surprised at her own visceral feeling. It was like her stomach dropped. “A vacation sounds perfect for you,” she said. “Especially after all you’ve been through. How long will you be gone?”
Nick shook his head ever so slightly. “That’s not what I mean. I mean, I’m leaving the island. I’m heading out. I don’t have any plans, and I don’t know when I’m coming back.”
Ada crossed her legs and set her pen aside. She considered what she might say. Something like, “Just because someone stood you up on a date, doesn’t mean you have to run.” But she sensed this was bigger than the failed date.
“Where is this coming from?” she asked. She hated that it felt like someone was leaving her. She hated that it felt almost personal.
“I woke up the other morning and realized that my daughter’s gone. She’s really gone,” Nick said. “It’s like, I knew she was. I took her to Yale myself. I helped her put the sheets on her bed and all that. But it took a little while for it to sink in. My wife is dead. My daughter’s grown up. And I’m a poet, for crying out loud.” Nick’s eyes were wistful, almost hopeful. “Nothing is keeping me here, or in the city, or anywhere else. I can travel. I can work from anywhere.”
Ada cupped her elbows, watching him intently. She hoped this wasn’t a sign of a nervous breakdown.
“Where will you go?” Ada asked.
Nick laughed. “That’s the fun part. I don’t know yet. I was thinking I could do it like in the movies. I could sell my car, head to the airport, and pick a flight out on the board.”
“Can you still do that?” Ada laughed.
