By the time I left, there were thirty-six one-pint containers of various soups, stews, and pastas stacked up in the freezer, all labeled and dated. The atmosphere did not improve a whole lot except that Wes was being extremely nice. He wasn’t kidding me. Not anymore.
Thursday night I served chicken piccata with a mushroom risotto and a green salad. Wes was able to dress and come to the table unassisted, so as far as I was concerned, my responsibilities to take care of him in sickness had been fulfilled.
“So you’re really leaving in the morning?” Charlotte said.
“Where’re you going, Gammy?” Holly said, picking the mushrooms out of her risotto.
“Back to my brother’s house,” I said. “You’ll have to get your mother to bring you down to see me and I’ll take you to the beach. We can make a sand castle and hunt for seashells and all sorts of wonderful things. Don’t you like mushrooms?”
“I like ’em separate. You bring me, Mommy?”
“Sure,” Charlotte said.
“This is absolutely delicious,” Wes said.
“Yeah, it’s totally awesome,” Bertie said.
“Thanks,” I said. “But I’ve made this dish exactly the same way for as long as I’ve been cooking.”
“Well, it’s more delicious than I remember,” Wes said.
I wanted to slap him right across his disingenuous face. I sighed instead.
“So when will we see you again?” Charlotte said.
“I’ll be back for Molly’s wedding, but Harlan is coming home and I’d like to spend some time with him.”
“That’s an excellent idea, Les,” Wes said. “Please give him my very best regards.”
I looked at him and thought, Now it’s time to knock his teeth out. But I sighed again, doubly hard. It was the very first congenial thing Wes had to say about Harlan in twenty years or maybe ever. And there was no possible way that he meant that or any of the overblown compliments and platitudes he was hurling around like Frisbees.
“Do you need a ride to the airport?” Charlotte asked.
Suddenly I had a chauffeur?
“No, but thank you. I’m going to drive back to Charleston,” I said.
“How come?” Wes said and wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Do you think I can have another piece of that delicious chicken? Is there enough to go around for everyone to have seconds?”
“There’s plenty. Charlotte, please give your father another piece of the delicious chicken.” Obviously Wes had gone off the deep end. “Because I need a car there, and I want to take some things with me. It’s not that long of a trip.”
Charlotte got up without a word and fixed Wes another serving of everything on his plate.
“What are you taking?” Wes said and resumed eating with theatrical relish. “My God! This is unbelievable chicken!”
Where were my hip boots when I needed them?
“Are you worried that I’m taking the silver?” I asked.
“No, of course not, Les,” Wes said. “The silver! Isn’t your mom funny? Ha! Ha! Good one, Les!”
Charlotte and Bertie exchanged nervous looks.
“I’m taking some more clothes and a few other things I’d like to have with me.”
“Well, then take my car,” Wes said. “The tires are newer, and it’s got roadside assistance if you get a flat or something, God forbid!”
The Almighty Benz? Did Wes grow a giant brain tumor overnight?
“But, Wes, I’ve never driven your car,” I said.
“That’s because no one drives Daddy’s car,” Charlotte said. “Unless they want to die.”
“Charlotte, don’t be silly! Leslie? I insist! Drive it around the block while the kids do the dishes. You’re taking the Benz and I don’t want to hear another word about it.”
The kids were going to do the dishes? What did he say to them?
“Wes? What if something happens to it?” I said.
“Oh, don’t worry. It’s leased.”
How could I forget that? How? Really? Easy. Because I didn’t want to remember that he leased a new Benz every three years so he could get all the latest gadgets like fanny warmers and massagers. I drove an old Audi that I bought used that was leap years behind in technology. It was so old it didn’t even have a GPS, much less satellite radio or backup warning sensors.
“Well, if you insist,” I said.
“I insist. The key is in the ashtray of the car.”
After dinner, the kids actually cleaned the kitchen, and I took Wes’s car out for a spin. I have to say, it was pretty much like heaven to drive. I thought, Well, you know what? Maybe I’ll dump my old Audi and lease one of these for myself! Why shouldn’t I have a nice car, one as nice as his? Maybe even one slightly newer!
The next morning I packed the Audi. I didn’t want Wes’s car. Then I went into Wes’s files with the secret forbidden key to look for the title and I found it in the folder named cars. Then I pulled a dozen checks from our joint checking account register that I had never used and put them in an envelope in my purse. I was all done with Wes Carter deciding who got what when and how much. I left the key in the center of his desk. Naked, waiting for an inquisitive pair of eyes.
No one was awake except Holly, and she was in the den fully occupied by an episode of Sesame Street, eating dry Cheerios with a juice box. Charlotte kept those things on a lower shelf in the pantry within her reach. This was parenting in 2012? I gave her a kiss and a hug and told her she was a good girl. She smiled like an angel and told me she loved me.
I had a cup of coffee and looked around, picking up a few things—pictures of my parents, the children, and Holly; a paperweight my father had given me; a small clock that I’d always loved. Its chime would remind me of Holly’s sweet voice. In a shoebox, I packed up my CDs of Mendelssohn, Schubert, Bach, and Vivaldi that no one would miss. And I took my seldom used rice steamer. After all, if I was to have a new life in Charleston, it couldn’t be a proper life without a rice steamer. I’d take my mother’s silver at another time. If I moved out bit by bit, no one would even notice.
I was about to leave when Bertie stumbled into the kitchen, wiping the sleep from his eyes.
“Hey, Mom. I’m glad you’re still here,” he said. “We got coffee?”
“Yep. A whole pot.”
“Sweet.” He poured himself a mugful. “So I’ve been thinking about what you said; you know, the other day when you read me and Charlotte the riot act?”
“What about it?” I said.
“Well, I just think you have to accept us for who we are, you know? I mean, we accept you for who you are, don’t we? It’s important to be tolerant of others and celebrate our differences.”
It was really much too early in the day for murder.
“Bertie, here’s my problem with that reasoning. When people see you, they think this is who you are.” I waved my hand from his head to his feet. “But the truth is that this whole costumelike persona is only one tiny aspect of who you are. There’s a lot more on the inside than you can see on the outside. So as long as you look like this, people will judge you unfairly.”
“Mom, I look like all the guys my age in Kathmandu.”
“But you’re in Atlanta. Take a bath.”
“I see your point.”
“Look, I’ve got to get on the road or else I’m going to sit in rush-hour traffic for hours. I’ll see you in a few weeks if you’re still here for the wedding.”
“Yeah, I think I’m gonna stay for a while. Dad needs help getting around, and it’s pretty nice here at this time of year.”
“You might think about gainful employment,” I said, and he gave me a look. “It’s just a thought.”
“Mom! Wait!”
It was Charlotte.
“You didn’t have to get up,” I said. “We said our good-byes last night.”
She threw her arms around me and hugged me hard. Then she stood back and looked at me with such an odd expression I thought she was going to start crying.
“Taking Dad to the doctor. Checkup this morning.”
“Good,” I said.
“I’m sorry, Mom. I don’t blame you for being frustrated with us. We suck.”
“Yeah, at the moment you both sort of do, but life’s long and there’s time yet for you both to amount to something spectacular.”
“I’m going to do better. I swear,” Charlotte said.
“Me too,” Bertie said.
“That’s a start. But I’d rather see y’all shoot higher than to merely be better—go be brilliant! Now, I’ll call y’all when I arrive, okay? Tell your father I said so.”
There were the perfunctory kisses all around and one last hug from Holly, who had traipsed in to see what was going on.
“Love you, Gammy,” she said. “Don’t go.”
I didn’t want to leave her either, but the only way Charlotte was ever going to be the kind of mother Holly needed was if she had to.
“It’s okay, Holly Doodle, I’ll be back before you know it.”
They followed me to the garage, watched me squeeze through the narrow space between my car and the wall to get in my car, because Wes insisted on the better one, and only then did they realize that I wasn’t taking the Benz.
“Hey!” Charlotte said. “I thought you were taking Dad’s car!”
“Nah,” I said. “I decided to get a Benz of my own when I get to Charleston. You can tell that to your father too if you want.”
“Righteous,” Bertie said and smiled.
“Oh, shut up, Bertie,” Charlotte said. “You’ve never even surfed one day in your whole life.”
“Bye, y’all!” I said, raised my window, and backed out of the garage. Wes was in my rearview mirror, dressed for the day and holding The Wall Street Journal. I stopped and rolled down my window again.
“Les? Can you turn the car off? I want to talk to you for a minute.”
Every hair on the back of my neck stood up. Instinctively, I knew Wes had something up his sleeve. Had he already discovered the missing checks? And that I had taken the title to the Audi?
“Sure,” I said and put the car in park.
“Want to get out so we can go sit on the porch?”
“Okay,” I said, turned the car off, and got out. “What’s going on, Wes?”
“I’ve been thinking, that’s all, and I just want to talk to you about something.”
I sat on one of the wrought-iron benches that stood on either side of our front door, and he sat on the other.
“You know, I don’t think we’ve ever sat on these at the same time,” I said, and it was true. They were awfully nice, but mostly decorative.
“You’re probably right. So, Les, I’ve been thinking. We can’t do this like this.”
“Do what how?” I said.
“Almost thirty years together and boom? It’s not right. I think we owe each other more than this, you know, to at least try and figure out what we’re doing here.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, remember I told you that I got the name of someone I wanted us to go and see? They’re these supershrinks who manage to rehab all kinds of relationships, and I think we ought to go and see them. You know, give it a stab? In fact, I’ve already set up a couple of crisis sessions with them for the week after next. Normally, it takes weeks to get in, but I convinced them . . .”
“You what?”
“Yeah, I did. I knew you wanted to go see your brother and all that, which is fine. So go see him, have fun, but please if you can, come back next Sunday so we can make our Monday appointments?”
I thought about it and came to a quick conclusion that it was hopeless.
“I don’t know, Wes. I don’t know.”
“Look, I never asked you for much,” he said. “I think this is critical.”
I just looked at him and cocked my head to one side. Was he kidding? Never asked me for much? He saw it on my face.
“Okay,” he said, “maybe I asked for a lot. But you’re walking out of here and busting up our family like this? I just think you owe it to me and to all of us to make sure this is the right thing to do.”
Now what was I supposed to say to that? Frankly, I didn’t feel like I owed him a damn thing. It was quite the other way around. But he had gone to the trouble of trying to get us to at least talk it out with a professional. Maybe that meant something. Maybe his experience with cancer had made him reconsider his behavior.
“Okay, Wes. I’ll go to one session for you, but that’s it.”
“Well, I booked more than one, but we’ll see. Thanks, Leslie. I just don’t want you to have any regrets.”
“I’ll see you Sunday,” I said and started the car. “E-mail me the information, okay?”
“Sure. Drive safe.”
Wes was really going to lose his mind when he discovered the missing checks. He was going to need CPR. I smiled the whole way out of Atlanta. I knew the only reason he wanted to see those psychiatrists was because he didn’t want to give up one dime he had to his name. It had nothing to do with love. But what if it did? It was true that different people loved in different ways and that they showed it differently. What if all the nice things Wes had been saying to me were his way of trying to show me how much he cared? It was easy to leave Wes when I was convinced he didn’t give a damn, but I didn’t want to hurt anyone. That wasn’t the woman I’d ever been. But they all made me so angry! What would life be if I went back to Wes? Horrible! It gave me chest pain to even consider it. But was I ready to walk away from all of it? My children? Holly?
I drove for several hours and finally began to sense the Lowcountry. I passed over the Edisto and other smaller bodies of water, over which hung the enormous branches of live oaks and long sheers of Spanish moss. Those haunted trees had graced the banks of these same rivers and streams from the days the Catawbas, the Sewees, and the very first fathers and mothers of our country walked the land. At one point in South Carolina’s history over twenty tribes of Native Americans lived here. In my mind’s eye, I could almost see them silently moving down the water in canoes or making their way through the woods. The water, glassy and pristine, reflected every dock and boat and tree in a perfect mirror image. How did I always forget how powerful the Lowcountry was? Because I had lived the past thirty-plus years of my life in Atlanta, lost in the needs of Wes and the children when Wes had never cared about mine. It was so beautiful here you could lose yourself in the landscape.
Actually, I thought to myself, that’s kind of a funny point because what were my needs? I’d been so consumed by Wes and the children I’d never had time to develop any personal desires. I gardened, true, but mostly out of a sense of duty to the house. Okay, I’ll admit I got some pleasure out of the results, and the work itself was a great way to relieve stress. But the only passion I really ever had, my love of chamber music, had been squelched by Wes’s aversion to it. Well, things are going to be very different from now on, I told myself. Very different. Maybe I’d indulge myself in endless concerts, learn all about it. Maybe I’d grow fruit trees and wire gorgeous music into the garden of wherever I wound up living.
As soon as I passed Orangeburg and changed counties, I opened my windows and let the edges of the Lowcountry rush inside. It’s just a fact of life that the air around Charleston is sweeter and thick. I wanted to drink it. I called Jonathan when I was about thirty miles outside of the city. He didn’t pick up, so I just left a message that I’d be home soon.
Just as I was coming into the business area on the outskirts of Charleston, my cell phone rang. It was Harlan calling from Milan. I pulled into a gas station to talk to him.
“Ciao, bella! Come stai?”
“Tutto bene!” I said, using all my Italian in one exchange. “When are you getting home? I have so much to tell you!” I pulled over into a filling station.
“Tomorrow afternoon. Is everything okay?”
“Yes. Everything is fine.”
“Where are you? Do I hear the roar of traffic?”
“Yes, you do. I’m in an Exxon station. As you know, it’s against the law to hold a phone and drive an old beat-up car at the same time. I’m just coming back from Atlanta.”
“It’s a bad idea anyway, never mind the law. Why did you go to Atlanta? A conjugal visit?”
“Heavens, no! No, this is terrible, but Wes found out that he had testicular cancer, so I went to Atlanta to get him through the surgery.”
“Testicular cancer? Holy Mother Church! That’s terrible! Is he all right?”
“He’s totally fine. They don’t think he’ll even need chemo.”
“Well, good, I guess. Now, more important, how’s my Miss Jo?”
I giggled. I couldn’t blame Harlan for not caring too much about Wes’s well-being.
“She’s been staying with her uncle Jonathan while I was away, and I fear he’s spoiled her rotten.”
“Impossible. She couldn’t be any more rotten than she is.”
“Well, we’re all in love with her. That’s a fact.”
“I brought her something she’s going to love,” he said, in a voice that told me whatever the gift was that it was something ridiculous.
“Okay, tell me,” I said. “What extravagance did you manage to find?”
“Matching father/daughter Prada raincoats and hats.” He started to laugh. “You know Leonard adored anything Prada.”
“Oh, Harlan, there’s no excuse for you!”
“And a great handbag for her auntie too! You’ll love it!”
“Oh, Harlan! You are too much, brother. I’m going to make a feast for you!”
“If you’ll just throw away all the catalogs and junk mail, that will be sufficient, thanks. Hey, how’s Jonathan?”
“Jonathan’s great. He’s probably the kindest man I’ve ever met.”
“Hmmm. Sounds lukewarm to me. Don’t settle for lukewarm, Les.”
“Hey, Harlan? I’m not settling ever again. Don’t worry about that. See you tomorrow. Safe flight!”
Was my relationship with Jonathan lukewarm? Hardly. His kindness is what brought me back to life and made me feel like a woman again. Harlan would see that when he got home. But Harlan would also see that I wasn’t ready to jump into another committed relationship with anyone. Besides, Jonathan kept talking about moving across country in perhaps as soon as a year.
By the time I pulled into Harlan’s driveway, I had spoken to Jonathan. He had a plan. He was picking me up at six, we were driving out to the beach, and he was making dinner for me.
“Nothing fancy,” he’d said, “but at least you won’t have to cook on your first night home.”
I’d told him I’d be ready and I was. I brought all my things inside and placed the pictures I’d brought all around my bedroom and the sitting room. I put a small one of Holly right by my bed. I was excited to see Jonathan. God forgive me, but the few hundred miles between me and Wes felt so good. I’m sorry to say it, but it just did. I was already dreading going back for the wedding.
I had this crazy fluttering in my chest, and the closer it got to six o’clock my pulse picked up speed. But true to his punctual habits, six o’clock rolled around and the doorbell rang.
“Hey!” I said. “It feels like I haven’t seen you in a month!”
It was true.
“Hey, yourself!” He gave me a great big hug and a bunch of silly, noisy smooches all over my face that made me laugh. “I missed you!”
“I missed you too. You’ve got Miss JP in the car?”
“She’s out at the beach. I can tell you with authority that she doesn’t like the sand at all.”
“Well, of course not. She’s got tender little princess paws. That mean old sand gets very hot.”
“I can’t believe Harlan doesn’t have little sandals for her,” he said. “In eight colors.”
“I know. It’s abusive. He’ll be home tomorrow. I’ll bring it up with him.”
“Tomorrow? Great! I hate to admit it, but I’m not cut out for dogs,” he said.
“Really? I thought you loved Miss Jo.”
“I do. If you could potty train her, I’d love her a lot more. Come on, let’s get going. I’m too old to pick up poop.”
He held open my car door, and I slipped in the car next to him.
“Potty train a dog?” I said. “I know they can potty train cats, but I’m too old to share a bathroom with anyone.”
We got to Jonathan’s house and pulled up in the yard. I could hear Miss Jo yipping on the other side of the door. She was excited, and when we opened the door, she literally jumped with joy.
“Come here, you darling little girl!” I said, and she flew into my arms, licking my face in a frenzy of dog kisses. “My goodness!”
“Can you imagine what she’s going to do when she sees Harlan?”
“She’ll pass out cold!” We laughed. Miss Jo was now on the floor, on her back, tongue hanging out with happiness while I rubbed her tummy.
“Feel like a glass of wine?”
“Are you kidding? You cannot believe the week I’ve just had.”
He poured me a goblet of wine, and he had one for himself.
“I’ll bet. Come on outside and let’s catch the breeze.”
We walked out to the porch, and the breeze blew my hair all around. It felt like a baptism then, as though the damp salty air cleansed me of all my sins. It was telling me I was home and I was safe. I inhaled, exhaled, took a sip of my wine, and looked at Jonathan with the sparkling ocean and the white dunes and the crazy sky shot with so many colors, all behind him in a panorama of what heaven must look like.
“I love the way you look,” I said. “I love the way your eyebrows grow and the shape of your nose and how you listen with your eyes and ears. You’re just wonderful. Do you know that?”
“Where have you been all my life?”
“Darlin’? I’ve been in the wrong church, in the wrong pew, at the wrong service. The air smells so good out here.”
“Yes, it does. So tell me how it went.”
“Where to start? Wes’s surgery was textbook and he’s fine, still waiting for the lab report but we’re pretty sure he’s rid of the cancer, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t high drama. My daughter and son? They’re another story. They almost drove me insane, and for the first time in forever, I gave them both a piece of my mind.”
“What’s the matter with them?”
“My daughter just has this awful attitude. She thinks I live to wait on her like a personal maid. And she’s pushy. And she’s lazy. My God, she’s lazy! She can’t even wash a spoon! Can’t support her child. And she drinks too much. Only to be outdone by her brother, who looks like a shepherd from the days of Moses. He can’t earn a living either. And he smells.”
“Look, my kids gave me a run for my money too, but you can never give up on them. Ever hear the old saying, every flower blooms in its own time? They just haven’t bloomed yet.”
“Well, my two are sure taking their sweet time.”
“Hmmm. Listen, just remember; don’t give up on them. How old are they?”
“Old enough to act like adults.”
“Maybe now they will. You put the fear of God in them and walked out? I’m sure you gave them a lot to think about.”
“Honestly? I think they were more insulted than put in their place. I hope you’re right. I guess a lot remains to be seen.”
“Always. Be thankful that life’s long. You hungry? I’ve got a bowl of steamed shrimp in the refrigerator. And some kind of avocado, tomato, mozzarella salad they were selling at Whole Foods.”
“That sounds like exactly what I want.”
He had set the table in his dining room, but in the end we decided to eat at the table on the porch. The air was too delicious to ignore and peeling shrimp was a messy business anyway. We talked and ate until the island was covered in darkness, and then we lit some hurricane-covered candles and talked some more.
“So I promised him I’d go to this therapy with him, which I’m sure will be a complete waste of time and money.”
“Most therapy is a narcissistic exercise,” Jonathan said.
“Honey? You think Wes Carter is in this to justify his exemplary behavior and have a professional agree with him? Heck, no. He’s trying to keep control of every single asset. It’s all about control. He thinks a therapist can make me see the error of my ways, as though this will help me calm down and spend the rest of my life making Wes’s breakfast. Ain’t happening. You should’ve heard him. He said he set this all up for me so I wouldn’t have any regrets.”
“Good grief. The subtle manipulation. I hate head games.”
“Me too. The only regret I have is that I agreed to go back.”
“Well, a few sessions with a shrink are one thing. But I can’t imagine you going back to that life. I mean, it’s your decision. You have to do what you think is the best thing for you.”
“Don’t worry. I’m never going back. This visit convinced me of that more than ever.”
“You’re not stringing me along, are you, Leslie?”
“Why in the world would you say that?”
“Therapy makes me nervous. A clever therapist can make you believe a lot of things.”
“I’ll be on guard.”
In the morning, Jonathan dropped me and Miss Jo off at Harlan’s and then went on to work. It was so easy to be with him. As much as I proclaimed that I wasn’t going to get into a serious relationship with anyone, I could slide right into Jonathan’s life like a hand slips into the perfect-fitting kid glove. We both knew it. The truth was that Jonathan was as much a friend as he was a lover and maybe at this point in my life, that was what I needed. Maybe as you aged, what you wanted from a relationship changed too. Yes, I could see that. It wasn’t so terrible to get older if you could be with someone who had a good sense of how much you wanted and if how much you were willing to give was enough for them. No, Jonathan and I were in a comfortable groove.
I thought about this as I rushed around, tidying up all the rooms, putting fresh flowers in the dining room and a small vase of roses right from the garden next to Harlan’s bed, but there was already one there. This house was making me a wreck. I lifted the vase and inhaled. They smelled delicious enough to eat. His e-mail said he was arriving at three, and I still had tons to do to prepare for his homecoming. I fluffed his pillows and changed his towels, which were probably dusty from sitting there for a month, and I checked the liquor cabinet, making a list of what to replenish. Then I shopped, deciding to make rack of lamb for dinner with mashed potatoes and those little French string beans. Comfort food. And I made an apple tart. Harlan loved apples. Okay, I used a premade crust, but the house smelled fantastic and I knew Harlan would be so happy.
All the while I flitted from room to room, Miss Jo was on my heels, following me everywhere. Every time I said, Daddy’s coming home, she wagged her tail and barked. It was as though she knew Harlan was on his way back to her. Finally, at around three, she sat in front of her wardrobe closet and barked like mad. She wanted a new outfit. I didn’t blame her. She’d most likely been wearing the same dress all week.
“I’m with you, girl. Jonathan’s a great guy but all that seersucker? It doesn’t scream fashionista, does it? I think it’s time to resurrect the martini dress and the Barbara Bush pearls. What do you think?”
Soon, I was pulling into the Charleston Airport with a coiffed Miss Jo. Now, I’m not saying she knew exactly what was going on, but she recognized the airport as a place where people came and went. We parked, went inside, checked the arrivals board, and waited in the baggage claim. His plane had just touched down.
Minutes later, here he came. Miss Jo was so excited she wiggled her way out of my arms, jumped to the floor, and strained against her leash until he reached her.
“Yes, yes! My sweet! Daddy’s home! Hey, Les!”
“Hey, Harlan.”
I couldn’t stop laughing. It was the sweetest thing I ever saw. Miss Jo was wild with enthusiasm. Wild! She sat, she held out her paw, she walked on her hind legs, she rolled over, and she sat up to beg. She performed all her tricks to show Harlan how happy she was that he was back. Finally, he picked her up and cuddled her, and only then did she begin to calm down.
“Thank the Lord I only have one dog!” he said, and we laughed.
“Let’s get your bags,” I said. “Are you exhausted?”
“Beyond! All the trustees came home yesterday with our travel person, but I stayed an extra day. At least I didn’t have to be the tour guide and lead all our folks through customs and all of that.”
I nodded my head. “So it was great, huh?”
“What can I say? Italy? It’s incredible. Just boggles the mind. Even the dirt is more beautiful than ours. Plus, it’s porcini mushroom season. Grilled, with a little olive oil and coarse salt? I ate them for lunch and dinner every day until my tongue turned black. Then I gave them a rest.”
“That was probably for the best. Are those your bags?”
“Yep. Adesso! Andiamo! Let’s blow this pizza parlor.”
“Am I going to be subjected to Italian metaphors for the foreseeable future?”
“Sì, signora.”
“Good! I’m so happy you’re home. I really am, Harlan. I missed you like mad.”
We threw his bags in the trunk of my Audi and slammed the lid closed.
“There’s nothing in the world like a great sister!” he said.
“I’m assuming that means me,” I said and gave him another sisterly hug.
Over dinner, I told Harlan the whole Atlanta story about Wes, his surgery, the kids, and the proposed therapy, and he was as attentive as he could be given how tired he was.
“Sounds like insanity. So, by the way, how are things with Jonathan?”
“Comfortable. Wonderful. But you know, I’m not divorced, and I haven’t even decided if I’m going to go through with a divorce. And he’s talking about moving to California to be near his kids.”
“Plans change.” Harlan paused and then said, “Well, sugar, if you don’t know what you want to do, therapy is an excellent idea.”
“You don’t think it’s a waste of time?”
“Maybe, but look. Thirty years is a long time, and I wouldn’t throw that away until I’d satisfied myself that it was truly over.”
“I think this is about the money. He knows I know.”
“How did he handle that revelation?”
“Ballistic on the level of a Chinese New Year’s firework display? In Beijing? At the Olympics?”
“I bet. Well, look, I think you have to go back. Then you can tell yourself you gave your marriage every chance you could.”
“Harlan? Do you think it’s possible to sell my Audi and lease a new little red Benz before I go to Atlanta? I brought some checks with me.”
Harlan nearly spit his mashed potatoes across the table, and then he began to laugh this uproariously crazy laugh. I hadn’t heard him thunder like that in twenty years. Then I began to laugh with him. This went on for what seemed to be a very long time. We got up from the table, and Harlan hugged me with all his might.
“She’s saved!” he cried. “Oh, Leslie Greene Carter! You’re alive! It would be my greatest pleasure to handle that for you myself!”
“Can we get one that comes with diamond stud earrings?”
“I’m certain that we can.”