Page 59 of Learning at 40

Probably not more than two or three at the most, if I had to guess. It’s been three years, she said about when she last had sex. She also said she didn’t fuck him for the house.

I feel sick.

She’d have no motive in seeking revenge on me. She’s been very reassuring that my father’s sins do not reflect on me. She wanted to know more details about my dad yesterday, but I’m the one who shut down. I’m the one who has flown off the handle and accused her of something he’d done—theft.

Swiping both hands over my face, I stare back at Mason. “I fucked this up.”

“I’d say pretty much.” Mason sadly agrees with me while nodding.

“Oh my God, what did I do?”

“You accused the woman you love of stealing from you, and then you all but called her a gold digger, implying she fucked an old guy for a house.” Mason makes a face that tightens his jaw and strains his neck muscles. I close my eyes.

“I need to go back there and apologize.” I was always entering her yard to either offer apologies or express gratitude. Today, I’d done neither. Quickly, I stand, racing out the door and skipping down the stairs two at a time. Stepping out onto the drive, my boys are drawing with chalk on the concrete.

“Trevor. Oliver. Have you seen my watch?” Had I asked them this question before? Had I asked them a second time?

“It’s in your suitcase,” Trevor offers without hesitation.

“My suitcase?” I question. I’ve looked in my bag a thousand times.

“Yeah. The little pocket on the front.” I stare at Trevor as he moves his hand to explain the pouch in relation to the bigger bag. The pocket isn’t large enough for anything other than a wallet or a . . . Fuck. I never put things in there.

“It’s like a secret flap,” Oliver says. “A good place for hidden treasure.”

My eyes close, and I tip my head to the heavens before glancing back at them.

“Boys. Think very carefully. Did River give the watch to you?” Why would she give it to seven-year-old children?

Trevor shrugs like he can’t remember, but Oliver speaks as he draws a giant X on the driveway. “Miss River was going to work. You were out running. She said she thought you might miss it, and she was trusting us to put it in a special place where you would find it, and no one else would see it.”

She’d given them a treasure to bury, and they did as she asked. She had unconditional faith in them at seven years of age, and I’d had no faith in her. Idiot. I stare at my boys, especially Trevor. River’s trust might have meant something to him even at such a young age. She asked, and they obliged. They’d been doing it since the day they met her. They respected her, so they abided by her rules, and I’d just obliterated all of that.

Not for them, for me.

+ + +

Me: Where are you?

I don’t really expect her to respond, not after the way I acted, but it’s after midnight, our typical meetup time, and I’m pacing in her backyard. She hasn’t answered my calls, having left her house hours earlier than her typical time for work, and she hasn’t replied to a single text during her eight-hour shift.

By twelve thirty, I’m beside myself. By one in the morning, I’m thinking she isn’t coming home. Either way, I make myself comfortable on the chaise lounge on the cool August night and wait. She has to work the later shift tomorrow as well. She’ll be here eventually.

The quiet of the night and the darkness offer reflection. As much as I’d love to wait for River in her yard, she’s made it very clear to me again—this is her property. I have no boundaries when it comes to her, but I should. I don’t need her calling the police on me, which I rightfully deserve. I’ve barged onto this land more than once, and my eyes wander to the house.

It’s only a house, Ben used to tell me. Home is where your heart is. It’s such a fucking cheesy thing to say, but I consider the words for the first time ever. I’d left my heart in this house when I thought it was a home. Ironically, my heart seems to still be in the same place as I’ve given it to the woman who currently owns this house. This time, it isn’t my father who lost the right to this place. It’s all on me.

I still can’t believe I saw my dad yesterday afternoon. What was he doing here? Why was he here? He shouldn’t be in the area. Hell, he shouldn’t even be in the state of Michigan as far as I was concerned. He didn’t have a right to return. And did he actually work there? The T-shirt advertising Robbyn’s River Adventures was enough of a hint that he did. My father, the former accountant, the ex-convict, was working at some canoe rental place.

Fuck my life. I tip back my head and stare up at the sky as memories flip through my mind one after another of this house, this yard, my family. Barbecues and summer nights. Snow forts and sleds. The laughter. The eventual pain. Nothing made sense.

Near two a.m., I give up and retreat across the yard, returning to Anna’s with my head hung in defeat. I’ve paid either Calvin or Bryce every night to listen for my boys, and I wonder if that makes me a terrible father. I’d asked River what she thinks, putting words to her thoughts.

You think I’m a shit dad, don’t you?

God, how many things can I accuse her of in one argument? I realize I’m projecting my own insecurities on her. I’m turning into a terrible father in my own way, just like mine.

As I enter the house, the plan is to head directly upstairs to my room. I can vigilantly watch River’s yard from there. But I see a soft glow coming from the kitchen area and cross the entryway.