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“Define ‘involved,’ ” Georgia says, an edge to her voice.
“Too much food, a large band, and my very delicious red velvet cake. It’s kind of like an anniversary party. A big anniversary party. But instead of just celebrating our anniversary . . . we are also celebrating that it is the last one.”
“Fantastic,” Georgia says.
“Look, what your mom is trying to say is that no one is the villain here,” Thomas says. “We still plan on being close. Celebrating your wedding, Georgia’s birth. We just want to do those important things in an honest way.”
“Who are you talking to, Dad?” Georgia says. “Us or yourself? You just said that five minutes ago.”
Gwyn stands up and starts to leave the room. “Well, then let’s avoid any of us getting too repetitious and take a breather, okay?
Just give ourselves a chance to get used to this. It’s not like we are surprising you that we are getting divorced. The rest is just . . . details. In a little bit, it won’t feel so severe. In a few hours, even. We’ll have some drinks, some good food. Celebrate our family.”
Georgia says, “At the divorce party?”
“Yes, at the divorce party.”
“I was kidding.”
But Gwyn gives her daughter’s shoulder a slight squeeze, as if that settles it, and starts to walk out of the room. Only Thomas tries to stop her. “Maybe you should sit until everything is covered,” he says.
“Everything, Thomas?”
This is when Maggie notices it, reminiscent of the anger she detected before: Gwyn gives Thomas a look, so quick and brutal that anyone could miss it. And everyone seems to, except for Maggie, who feels like she now knows that something is going on. Something beyond whatever it is Thomas and Gwyn are trying to pretend isn’t. But what? Everyone knows they are separating. Amicably separating, but separating nevertheless. What could be worse than that? Perhaps something a little less amicable.
Gwyn is standing in the doorway now, smiling too eagerly. “Tonight is what it is,” Gwyn says. “And this time tomorrow, it will be done. If you don’t want to come, don’t come.”
“I don’t want to come,” Georgia says.
“You’re coming,” Gwyn says.
And with that, she is gone. Maggie watches her go, the same way she came, in a swirl of white fabric and hair and wind. She looks over at Nate, who is looking back at her.
Are you okay? he asks with his eyes.
If you are, she answers.
“Guys, I get that this isn’t exactly easy,” Thomas says. “But it is all going to shake out to be for the best, I promise you. In a year, we’ll both be better off being apart. We’ll have moved on. We’ll be able to be true friends, which is something we haven’t been able to be in a long time.”
“Because of the Buddhism thing?” Georgia says.
“Because of a lot of things,” Thomas says.
Maggie looks up at her future father-in-law. There is something different in Thomas’s tone—something that sounds like the truth.
“I’m going to be away a lot on retreats and at conferences,” Thomas says. “It’s better. It’s better that your mother isn’t always sitting around waiting here for when I come home, for when I am leaving again.”
“So don’t leave again,” Georgia says.
He wraps his arms around his daughter. “Your mom and I are both okay with what is happening. This is what we want for ourselves. Isn’t that the most important part?”
“No.” But she sighs as she says it—and offers a half smile— as if she has given up the fight. For now. Thomas looks at her gratefully—for this allowance—and turns toward Nate.
“You okay, guy?” Thomas asks him.
“No, he’s not okay,” Georgia says. “He just doesn’t know himself well enough to know he’s not okay.”
Nate smiles at his sister. “I’m fine, Dad. I just think Maggie and I should unpack,” he says.
