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“For starters, her ex is a cheating sociopath,” he says, “and there’s not a day that goes by without him threatening to take her kids from her.”
My chest caves. I recoil like someone’s punched me as my breath lodges in my throat. Caleb left a few things out when we spoke. He very, veryintentionallyleft a few things out. “She has kids?” I whisper. “She doesn’t even look old enough.”
Beck’s eyes dart to mine. Beneath his tan, he’s paled a little. He wouldn’t have told me either if he’d thought about it. “Twins. She’s about your age.”
I flinch at the sting of tears, digging my nails into my palms to hold myself together. Lucie came home from the hospital with two children and I came home with none. And now she’s got my husband too. “He likes them?”
Beck winces. “That’s not why he’s with her.”
I look away, swallowing hard. Maybe he’s right. Maybe Caleb isn’t with her because of those kids. But the truth is that if I hadn’t lost ours, Caleb would still be with me.
* * *
The day passes even more slowlythan the one before it. I sit at Beck’s small table, dust motes dancing in the air as my laptop slowly fires up. The only place hiring anywhere in Elliott Springs is TSG, Caleb’s company, and I certainly can’t imaginethatworking out. Even when I expand the search to Santa Cruz, I see no jobs I actually want, but I guess what Iwantis no longer relevant.
There was a time when it seemed I could do no wrong, when I was the girl who overcame unbelievable odds. Professors adored me. Employers vied for me.That’sthe woman Caleb loved—not the one I became here, the one who couldn’t stay clean or remain employed—and he’ll love me when I become her again. Even if I lost my last two jobs because of substance abuse, I am going to claw my way back to the top. And once I’m there, the shadow I cast will stretch so far that it covers Lucie completely. Caleb will forget she’s even there.
I send out resumes and then watch hour upon hour of television, trying not to think about the fact that this is a holiday weekend, one I’m spending alone. Trying not to think about the fact that my husband whisked Lucie away on vacation when he and I never took a vacation together once.
I wake on the couch the next morning, covered by a blanket just as I was yesterday. I’m starting coffee when Beck emerges, his eyes barely open, greeting me with an unhappy grunt as he heads to the door. I don’t seem to be interrupting his life all that much, but I get the distinct impression that he wishes I was not around.
From the window, I watch him moving through the backyard. He’s created this crazy gym out there, where he pulls tires and pushes some big metal thing around, among other activities, because he believes exercise that mimics actual work is better for you. It sounds like nonsense to me, but the sight of him stripped down to his shorts would convince anyone he was right.
He showers and takes a seat at the counter just as I place a stack of four pancakes on his plate.
“So what did you do yesterday?” he asks, spearing several pieces of pancake on his fork, then popping them into his mouth at once.
There’s something verycavemanin the way he eats.Fuck your salad forks and polite bites,it says.
I sort of like it.
I shrug. “Sent out resumes and watched TV. Not a lot of other options until I get a job.”
He swallows the bite down with a mouthful of coffee. “What kind of work are you looking for?”
“CFO. Like before.”
I wait for him to challenge this, to point out the utter unlikelihood of anyone placing a company’s financial health in the hands of a recovering addict, even one with an MBA from Wharton, but he does not.
“You always said that there was no job in Elliott Springs you even wanted, so why scrounge around here when you can live anywhere?”
I had my dream job in San Francisco, and I gave it up when I married Caleb. I don’t regret it necessarily. I just wish I could have had both.
“Maybe it won’t be exactly what I want,” I say as I slide the pan into the sink. “But this is home for me now.”
His nod is weak, his eyes flat. Fucking Beck and his built-in lie detector. Even times when Caleb bought my bullshit hook, line and sinker, Beck would sit there with that raised brow, waiting for me to confess.
“I can pay rent,” I add. “I have some money set aside.”
Beck frowns at his empty plate. I’m not much of a cook, but he’s the most appreciative audience I’ve ever had. “I don’t need your money. I just wondered if it wasn’t a little lonely out here for you.”
Loneliness isn’t the kind of thing I’d ever admit to, and I’ve been alone nearly my entire life, so what difference does it make if I’m right back where I started? “I can’t exactly go hang out at the bar with you, and the only friends I made here were the people I used to get high with. What other option do I have?”
He rises and carries his plate to the dishwasher. “The bar’s going to be dead tonight. I’ll come home early.”
Tomorrow’s the Fourth of July, so there’s no way the bar’s really going to be dead. Ishouldtell him he doesn’t need to come home, but for some reason I don’t. I simply hitch a shoulder as if it makes no difference to me, the same way I always have.
Even though it’s always made a difference.
