I look around. “Let’s check out those sculptures.”
Of course they’re all outrageously expensive, although beautiful. We admire them as we wander and talk.
“Okay, tell me what happened.”
I relate the weekend’s activities to Rachel and how Carson and I agreed to talk and see if we could work things out.
“Really?” She gazes at me hopefully.
“Are you really rooting for us?”
“I am. I love you.”
The organ in my chest gets soft. “We talked on Sunday afternoon when we got home.” I blow out a breath. “It was hard and it was exhausting. I was drained after. I think it was even harder for Carson.” I tell her my thoughts about how he seems to be in denial about his grief over losing Kane.
“I think men grieve differently than women.”
“That’s kind of sexist.”
“It’s a generalization. But I think it’s accurate. Men—most men—don’t like to look weak or vulnerable. They refuse to feel their feelings and express them and that’s not good.”
“Yeah.” I make a face. “I think you’re right. Carson basically said that.”
“Look at this.” Rachel stops in front of a small silver sculpture. It’s a sterling silver pomegranate paperweight.
“I love pomegranates.” She strokes her fingertips over the polished silver. “This is beautiful.”
“It is beautiful.”
“It’s five hundred dollars.” She makes a face. “I can’t spend that much on a pomegranate.”
“Yeah, that’s a lot.” A holder full of business cards for the artist sits nearby, and I pluck one out and tuck it into my purse while Rachel’s not looking. Her birthday is coming up in March.
We wander on.
“I was frustrated with Carson’s denial and his refusal to talk about his feelings after Kane died. But I’m afraid I didn’t try hard enough to understand what was going on with him. I knew his dad died when he was young, but he never told me that he felt he had to step up and look after his mom and his sisters. He was only sixteen.”
“Okay…”
“He said he had to be strong for them. He didn’t have time to cry or feel sorry for himself. And that’s how he felt when Kane died. He had to be strong for me. But that wasn’t good forhim. I wish I’d known that back then. I just got mad at him because I thought he didn’t care that our son had died.”
“Understandable. So… do you want to get back together with Carson?”
I don’t answer for so long that she stops walking and turns to face me.
“Ayla?”
“I love him. I do. I miss him so much. We have fun together. He was my best friend and my husband and my soulmate.”
“Wait, wait. I thoughtIwas your best friend.”
“You are. You know what I mean.”
“Yeah, I do.”
We stop in front of a bronze sculpture of a man reclining on… I don’t know. A tree stump? He’s nude, with defined abs, muscular thighs, and?—
“Holy shit, look at his peen!” Rachel stares at the piece.
