CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

GOODNIGHT MOON

THE FOLLOWING WEEK, both of Emily’s 11/11/11 wishes came true: an editor at O, The Oprah Magazine who’d been following her blog wanted her to do a Valentine’s Day article, and Charles and Clarissa reconciled. Emily knew her wishes hadn’t been technically “soul mate” related, as Cathy had instructed, but they were as close as she could get. She should have been thrilled by the news, over the moon, but instead she felt empty. She was finally getting some traction on her career as a journalist and she would soon have her life back. She had been imagining this moment for months. But all she could think of was that she was pregnant and alone, and had no one with whom to share the news. As incomprehensible as it seemed even to her, the person she most wanted to tell was Duncan.

She was only wearing a camisole and jeans and hadn’t even brushed her hair. She threw on her down coat and grabbed her purse. She knew she couldn’t take a moment to look at herself in the mirror, the equivalent of stepping on a scale before an ice-cream-sandwich binge.

It was an intensely bright, cold day. The wind stung her cheeks as she walked up Broadway. But she felt invigorated, more purposeful and awake than she had in weeks.

Duncan answered the door, wearing a pair of faded jeans and a T-shirt. He looked surprised and relieved when he saw her.

“I came to return this,” she said, handing him the red raining-cats-and-dogs New Yorker umbrella.

“Come here, you,” he responded, pulling her close. “And you,” he added, kissing her abdomen.

Even as she was melting in his arms, a place she’d said she’d never allow herself to return to, Emily registered every change since she’d last been there. The new comforter on the bed. A bird’s nest with three blue eggs on the mantle. A steamer trunk by the window.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have come,” she said.

“Yes, you should.”

He led her to the bed, kissed her, then unclasped her bra. But Emily’s eyes were focused on a long blond hair glinting from the folds in the sheets. She had the urge to inspect it, wrap it around her index finger, examine its texture, the subtle variations in gold and yellow. Instead, she swept it to the floor. She was not going to act out of fear. False evidence appearing real, she repeated in her head, until she believed it.

They didn’t make love. There wasn’t enough time; he had an appointment. Later. Tonight. I have plans for you.

They kissed at the door and Emily floated down the stairs. Duncan watched her the way he had that first day they met at Barnes & Noble. “I’m putting the champagne on ice,” he called after her. “So proud of you.”

In the courtyard, she looked up at Duncan’s window. She was hoping he’d be looking down. When she turned, she saw Lara walking out of the shadows of the cobbled archway. She was holding the hands of two little girls. One was Astrid. Suddenly, Emily felt queasy.

Lara walked right up to her and smiled. “I can’t believe you’re still here,” she said.

“That makes two of us,” Emily answered.

The sun was too bright, magnified as if through a telescope. She put up her hood to shield herself from the wind and sun and eyes of passersby and walked home in a complete fog, past the familiar shops on Broadway, without the slightest awareness. The streets were a blur, like time-lapse photography. If there were any thoughts, she couldn’t identify a single one of them. Then, as if she’d blinked, she was standing in the lobby of her building.

“How are you, Mrs. Andrews?” the doorman asked in greeting.

Kalman was on vacation in Montenegro visiting his family. His replacement was Tulus, a small man who looked like he was wearing his father’s oversized suit. He was sorting the mail in a metal pushcart. She took the stack of catalogs and periodicals he handed her, only realizing in the elevator that he’d mistakenly given her Mrs. Weisenbaum’s Women’s Wear Daily. Upstairs, two other issues, wrapped in plastic, were waiting on the vestibule table. Adele was probably visiting her daughter in Larchmont and Tulus didn’t know to hold her mail. She’d have taken them inside, though it was hard to tell what might set Adele off.

In her tiny alcove office, still wearing her coat, Emily adjusted her chair and turned on her computer. Strangely, Mrs. Weisenbaum’s television was blaring through the wall. She dashed off and posted her blog entry for the day. She and Charles were picking Zach up early and taking him to a Columbia-Georgetown basketball game. They had decided both of them should be there when Zach heard the news that Charles was moving back in with Clarissa.

When she stepped out of her apartment, paramedics were carrying Mrs. Weisenbaum on a stretcher. Adele’s daughter had panicked after not being able to get in touch with her mother by telephone, and discovered her lying on the floor. Apparently, her back had gone out and she’d been like that for days. Emily was unable to take a full breath. She felt like there was a lead weight on her chest. If only she’d notified someone when she’d had the chance, sparing Adele her nearly three-day ordeal.

Emily held the door as the paramedics maneuvered the stretcher into the elevator, in the process accidentally knocking Mrs. Weisenbaum’s mail off the vestibule table. When she kneeled down to collect it, she discovered a red envelope between two issues of WWD. She waited with Adele’s daughter until her mother was safely in the ambulance before opening the envelope. Inside was a single sheet of onionskin paper with the cryptic words: When you find what you’re looking for, you will find us . . .

* * *

Emily was running late so she met Zach and Charles at the basketball game. When she arrived, she spotted Zach sitting next to Charles, wearing his Hoyas sweatshirt. She stood for a moment watching them in the stands. They looked at ease, laughing and sharing a container of popcorn. It was rare that she saw the two of them together like this, from a distance, when they weren’t aware of her presence, and she almost didn’t want to intrude.

Zach waved. She climbed the shaky metal bleachers and sat down on the other side of Zach. He offered her some popcorn. “Have you ever been to a game?” he asked.

“One or two,” she answered.

“I’ll tell you what’s going on if you don’t understand.”

“Okay,” Emily said. Charles was studying the roster, but from the slight twitch of his eyebrow, she knew it had registered.

The first year she and Charles were dating they went to nearly every one of the Knicks’ home games. They sat in the seven-dollar nosebleed section before the Garden was renovated and the blue seats were turned into skyboxes affordable only for Wall Street types. She even had her own Knicks jersey, just like Zach. Those were the days before partner dinners and firm outings, when Charles thought she was the perfect girlfriend and liked her best in a T-shirt and jeans.

“Let’s go, Hoyas!” Zach yelled. “Air ball! What? He fouled him! Did you see that, Mom?”

“He was definitely fouled,” she said, resting her arm around his shoulder. He didn’t pull away or make a face. Even Charles smiled at her once or twice.

After the game they went to the Carnegie Deli. Both Charles and Emily had hesitated when Zach suggested it. It was where they’d had their first date. But then maybe it was exactly the right place to talk about new beginnings. Zach chose a booth near the window. He asked if he could have a Shirley Temple. Emily said sure. Zach could have a Shirley Temple with three cherries, anything he wanted, as far as she was concerned.

“When did we last come here?” Zach asked.

“I think it was with Uncle Jack after we saw The Scarlet Pimpernel,” Charles said.

“And before that?”

“With Grandma.”

“And before that?”

“I don’t think you’d remember that,” Charles answered.

Emily knew what he was thinking: that was the day she told Charles she was pregnant with Zach and she had a craving for kreplach soup. She thought about the child she was carrying now, the child she had decided to have and raise on her own. Max’s attack had put everything in perspective. The baby would be born in June. She’d turn the office into a nursery. The only thing she hadn’t figured out yet was how to tell Zach.

The waiter took out his pad and pen. “Okay, bossman, what’ll it be?”

“Two pastrami sandwiches, French fries, extra coleslaw, one half-sour and two sour pickles,” Zach said, proud to be doing the ordering.

“You got it.”

After the waiter left, Zach asked, “You like the sour ones, right, Mom? And you like half-sour, Dad, right?”

“I’m amazed you remember that,” Charles said.

The boy smiled. “Kenneth said I have a really good memory. I just need to study harder.”

“Sounds like good advice.”

“I guess.” Zach took a sip of his drink.

Charles wiped his hands on his jeans. “Zach, your mom and I have something to tell you. Remember I told you Clarissa and I were having problems?”

Zach nodded. “Yeah.”

“Well, we talked and worked things out and I’m going to be moving back in with her.”

Zach was fiddling with the Lost in Space keychain on his backpack. “Warning, warning. That does not compute.”

“When?” he asked.

“Tonight.”

Zach was quiet. He looked down and began shredding his napkin. “Sasha and I broke up.”

“I’m sorry,” Charles said. “We know how much you liked her.”

“But we got back together.”

“Oh, that’s good.”

“Yeah, we still have unfinished business,” Zach explained.

A few weeks ago, one of Emily’s copies of The Love Book had vanished. Now she was pretty sure she knew where it had gone.

“Unfinished business? What do you mean?” Charles asked.

“You know, like you and Mom.”

Charles ruffled Zach’s hair. “Let’s talk about something else, okay, kiddo?”

“Why did you and Mom get divorced?”

“Zach, we’ve talked about this.” Charles gave Emily a help-me look. “Your mother and I love each other, but we don’t want to be married anymore.”

“What about all the unfinished business?” Zach asked.

Emily reached out and touched her son’s hand. “What unfinished business?”

“Forget it,” Zach said.

“Tell us, sweetie, we want to hear.”

Zach’s chin quivered. Emily could see one of the star-shaped scars on the side of his cheek from when he’d had chicken pox.

“Me,” he said. “I’m not finished yet.”

* * *

Emily went to tuck Zach into bed. Charles said he had some work to take care of, but Emily knew it was because he was afraid he might lose it in front of the boy.

Zach was hugging Yoda. They were both dressed like Hoyas. Emily sat on the edge of the bed. “Do you want me to stay until you fall asleep? I can read to you if you want.”

“You think I’m a baby.”

“Sorry. I forget sometimes. It’s like I blinked and suddenly you were ten years old. I know I’ve made lots of mistakes, but from now on I’m going to be a better mom.”

“Mom, please don’t get all mushy.”

“I’m proud of you, that’s all.”

“For what?” he asked.

“You know.”

“Yeah. I’m proud of me too.”

She gave Zach a kiss and turned out the light. “Sleep tight. Don’t let the bedbugs bite.”

“Mom, you promised.”

“Sorry. Goodnight, Zachary Andrews.”

“Goodnight, Emily.”

“Zachary!” she said, trying to sound stern.

“I mean, goodnight, Mom.” She was about to close the door when she heard him say, “Goodnight, bears sitting on chairs.”

She pressed her forehead against the door, tried to swallow. Goodnight Moon had been his favorite book. They used to recite it together every night.

“Goodnight comb,” she answered.

“Goodnight brush.”

“Goodnight bowl full of mush,” she said, glad for the darkness.

“And goodnight to the little old lady whispering ‘hush.’”

“Love you, Zach,” she said.

“Love you too, Mom.”

Charles was standing in the front hall with his suitcase. His face was drawn, the circles under his eyes darker. “Poor kid,” he said. “We ruined his life five years ago and now I’m ruining it again.”

“No, Charles. You’re wrong. Don’t you see? He just helped us all move on.”

Emily waited until she heard the front door close before she allowed herself to really cry. Afterward, she felt as if she’d been punched in the stomach and wrung out like a rag. The fat naked man was standing in the window across the courtyard. The very sight of him made her wince. She felt a stabbing pain in her side. She splashed cold water on her face. She’d never had such a strong physical reaction to emotional pain before. Then she felt a warm gush between her legs. She sank to the floor and hugged her knees to her chest as if she could make it stop.

She heard footsteps. Zach couldn’t see her like this. She braced herself on the side of the tub and tried to stand, but the cramps were excruciating and all she could do was curl up on the tiled floor.

No, please God, no.

And then someone was kneeling beside her, wiping her forehead with a cool wet cloth.

Charles?

“You’re going to be fine. The ambulance is on its way.”