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My dinner is tough to digest, but I put on an act for Ethan’s sake.
I’m angry, but my anger isn’t aimed at Charlotte—not all of it, anyway. She senses my mood, directing most of her questions and comments to Ethan and Lawrence. Sitting less than three feet away, she’s avoiding me.
When Ethan lets out a giant yawn, Lawrence says, “Bath or outdoor shower, buddy?”
Ethan looks to him with drowsy eyes. “Shower.”
“Come on then,” he says, scooping him up.
Charlotte calls after them, “There are dry towels in the shower house.” She gets up to clear the table, because sitting here with me in this choked silence-thing we’ve got going on is physically unbearable “Was it awful? You didn’t eat much.”
“No, it was good. I like salmon, I just wasn’t that hungry.”
She nods, her look telling me she knows my stomach is in knots and knows the reason why. I get up, scrape my plate into the trash and join her at the sink. There’s a war raging inside of me. One part wants to shake her, ask her how she could do it, how she could wait so damn long to tell me. I feel cheated. Another part wants to run, the feeling of shame nearly overwhelming. I’ve now seen evidence of how hard the past few years have been, and I’ve had no hand in helping to ease the burden. And I fear that everything she said last night was true, that I wouldn’t have been the least bit supportive had she told me back then. Still another part wants to drag her in close to me. I want to soothe her, tell her that I’m here now. I want to know where we go from here.
I feel lost.
Charlotte goes to speak but she’s interrupted when Lawrence comes back inside with Ethan wrapped in a towel. She pastes on a smile. “That was a quickie.”
Lawrence grabs a pair of pajamas from a basket of folded laundry. “He looked like he was going to fall asleep standing up.” Looking to Ethan, he asks, “Mr. Gumpy or G’night Moon?”
Rubbing his eyes, Ethan mumbles, “Gumpy.” As Lawrence makes his way towards the stairs, Ethan whines, “I want Dad.”
Something warm blooms in my chest, something hopeful. Lawrence sets him down and prompts him to raise his arms over his head and then step one foot at a time into his pajamas. I take note of the wolverine on the shirt and the little shorts covered in the U-Michigan logo. It’s a reminder of the fact that they have a life somewhere, a life that hasn’t included me. But now things are different and I want in.
I look between Charlotte and Lawrence. “Is that all right?”
Lawrence shrugs. “More than all right...It’s how it should be.”
I chance a look back to Charlotte as I’m making my way upstairs with Ethan, but she’s facing away, eyes fixed on the sudsy water.
Ethan’s asleep within five minutes but I keep reading to him, my voice getting lower the further into the book I get. I read it a second time to myself, struck by how short, simple and gentle kids’ stories are. This book, about a guy named Mr. Gumpy taking a trip down the river and picking up kids and animals as he goes along, has basically nothing to it, so I can’t explain why I flip through it again and then again. I could get all philosophical and ponder its themes, like the power of human connection and all that, but I think the book just makes me calm and happy—simple as that. And I’m kind of loving that Charlotte chooses books like this for him.
It’s tricky getting out of the bed, shifting my weight so that I don’t disrupt him, but he doesn’t so much as stir. He’s down for the count. I draw the blanket up over his little body, realizing with a start that I’m actually tucking my son into bed. And then I lean down and kiss his forehead, the goodnight kiss another first.
Lawrence is alone in the living room when I come downstairs.
“I’m surprised it took so long.”
“It didn’t, he was out before I got halfway through the book.”
“Big day for him. All the excitement wore him out.”
“I know how he feels.”
Lawrence sees me looking around. “She went out for a run.”
To escape me? I’m guessing that’s the reason why. “She was never a runner when I knew her...She used to hate it.”
“You still know her,” he reminds me.
I nod, regretting the way I phrased it.
“She’s done a great job with Ethan. He couldn’t have been blessed with a better mother.”
Again I nod, tongue-tied and sad at once. “Is it all right if I use the cabin again tonight?”
“Sure.”
