I decided to run at the lakefront so I wouldn’t see anyone I knew. The sky was dark when I got on the highway, the Milwaukee skyline, with its numerous church steeples tucked between the glass high-rises, still in silhouette. Gabe’s building was one of them, and I wondered if he was on his way to work, if the lawyer was. I had no idea what he’d advised Erik to do, and felt again the stab of the word regret. Above me was the green sign for “Chicago and East,” and I wondered where I would I go if Erik and I separated.
He was gone by the time I got home. I spent the morning in Spencer’s room, scribbling notes for a collage about weather. September 11 was four days away. Thinking of that had led to Spencer’s History of Weather calendar, which had led to my wondering about the weather on important dates in my own life. I read that in 1607, on the date Lucy was born (January 30), the Bristol Channel flooded, drowning both people and livestock, and in 1804, on the date I married Erik, the first tropical cyclone in modern history to produce snow toppled the steeple of North Church in Boston. I looked up my birthday, and Annabelle’s, Eva’s, my mom’s, but the descriptions were all of tragedies, and whatever I was looking for, it wasn’t that.
Finally, in The Encyclopedia of Weather I read: When rocks are broken into pieces and moved by natural forces (wind, rain), it is called erosion. But when a rock is changed or broken and stays where it is, it is called weathering. I read the words again, slowly, and then again: When a rock is changed or broken and stays where it is…Longing and grief unraveled inside me. I wanted so badly to weather this.
An officer who barely looked older than Spencer knocked on the door in the early afternoon with the court-ordered PFA. He explained it to me, making sure I understood “no contact” meant not even through a third party. He called me ma’am and was polite, but I could barely breathe, I was so humiliated. After he left, I sat on the stairs in our foyer, not sure what to do.
Eva phoned midafternoon, but I let the call go to the answering machine. “Hey, lovely. Text me that you’re okay. Gabe’s going to phone in a bit.” Erik called to say he’d be home late, not to bother with dinner. I knew he was staying to watch the dress rehearsal, something we’d planned to do together. I realized then that I couldn’t have gone. Annabelle would be there. Nor could I attend the play. I had to maintain a distance of at least fifty feet. Even at a public event? I wondered. How was that fair? I sat abruptly at the table, the kitchen dim and shadowy, the blinds still shut from the previous night. The microwave beeped—the coffee I’d been reheating was done—but I couldn’t move. I wanted to see Eva on her big night. I wanted to see Kelly. I wasn’t even sure why. Maybe because she was a part of Lucy’s life, maybe because this was as close as I would get to my daughter. How could Annabelle take this from me too?
I worked on the collage half-heartedly, baking sheets of newsprint to “weather” them, googling scientific terms, jotting down ideas. The light changed from afternoon to evening. And then someone rang the doorbell, and it was Gabe, cradling a paper bag of alcohol in one arm, a plastic bag of Chinese food in the other.
“Aren’t you supposed to be at the rehearsal?” I asked as I stepped back to let him in.
“Nah. Eva says I make her too nervous.”
I was mortified that he was here. I had on the too-big Walmart shorts I used as PJs, a T-shirt, and fuzzy slippers. No makeup. Hair scraped into a ponytail. “Eva sent you, didn’t she?” I said as he followed me into the kitchen. I couldn’t look at him. I just wanted to escape upstairs to change my clothes and brush my teeth.
“She’s worried.” Gabe took off his sunglasses, set the bags on the counter, and scrutinized me. “With good reason, maybe?” His voice was gentle. “Let’s get you a drink.”
“Let’s get me looking presentable first,” I said. “Give me five minutes.”
Upstairs, I threw on jeans and a lightweight sweater, brushed my hair, and tried in vain to make my swollen eyes look less so with a coat of mascara. From downstairs, I could hear cabinets opening and closing, music coming on, and though I knew he meant well, I wished he hadn’t come. Tears filled my eyes and I blotted them with a Kleenex, my skin raw and chapped. I imagined he’d tried to talk Eva out of this—“Come on. Claire doesn’t need me to sit there and hold her hand”—and Eva, good, kind, loyal Eva, whom none of us deserved, would have said, “I know, but do it for me?”
He’d set out place mats on the counter, the plastic educational ones we hadn’t used in forever. The solar system for him; dinosaurs for me. “Oh, dear,” I said.
“I could have given you ‘rocks and fossils,’ but it looked a little chewed up. Here.” He handed me a cosmo, then raised his glass: “To better days? Or maybe ‘peace on earth, goodwill to all’?”
“Better days might be more doable,” I said.
“Doable is good.” He eyeballed me over the rim of his glass. “This is going to be okay, you know.”
I didn’t know, but I nodded. “It’s sweet of you to do this.”
He waved the comment off. “The Chinese place is right down the street, and besides, where else could I learn…” He lifted his container of lo mein from the place mat and read out loud: “Ninety-four moons, 3,583 comets, and a whopping 796,289 asteroids have been found in our solar system!” He set down the carton and stage-whispered: “I’m pretty sure asteroids are just rocks and pebbles.”
“Yes, but…” I scanned my own place mat for a good fact: “Did you know ostriches are the fastest dinosaur?”
“What?” He leaned forward to read it for himself, then looked up. “That is an embarrassment for all dinosaurs!”
“It is, isn’t it?” I laughed. And just like that, I was glad he was there. I’d often found his humor annoying—I never realized how much he used it to put people at ease.
“What?” He wiped a hand over his jaw. “I have soy sauce dribbling down my chin?”
“I was thinking that you’re good at making people feel comfortable. It’s a nice quality.”
“Well, thank you. It bugs the shit out of Eva.”
I asked if he’d come straight from work—he wasn’t in a suit, but khakis and a blue oxford—and he told me Thursdays were his volunteer afternoons at the Milwaukee Boys and Girls Club. I mentioned running at the lake that morning and looking for his building, and we talked about the fifth anniversary of 9/11, which was on Monday. I complimented him on his new eyeglasses. “Very Clark Kent,” I assured him.
“Is that good or bad? Eva picked them out.” He took them off and looked at them, his face suddenly naked, then put them back on.
It was dark out by then and we were practically sitting in the dark ourselves, only the stove light on behind him. He rose to make me another drink, and I turned on the hanging lamp over the table, which gave the room a rosy glow. The Eagles CD he’d chosen had ended, and I put on some Lucinda. It felt odd to be alone with Gabe, and I found myself casting a series of sideways glances at him as he poured my drink from the shaker.
“You’re watching me again,” he said without looking up.
I smiled and sat back down. “I’m used to hanging out with you in a group.”
He was concentrating on carrying my full-to-the-rim martini glass across the room without spilling. “Voilà!” he said when he finally set it in front of me, then sat down and reached for the wine bottle to fill his own glass. “I said something similar to Eva after the opening gala.” He sipped his wine. “I think it was the first time I actually talked to you for real. Crazy, isn’t it?” He raised his chin toward the table behind me. “What’s that about?” The table was covered with the curling sheets of paper I’d baked to make them look weathered.
I glanced over my shoulder. “An idea for a collage. I’m not sure yet. Something about weather.”
“Ahh, you’re thinking of our boy.”
Our boy. I nodded and inhaled a sharp breath. I wanted to ask Gabe what he thought about Annabelle, but I didn’t want to put him on the spot. I had no idea how he felt about her. I pictured how radiant she’d been at the gala.
As if reading my mind, he said, “Her petition for custody is crap, you know.”
“That’s what your friend said. It’s just, I’m not sure how we’re going to do this.” Tears sprang to my eyes. “I’m pretty sure our friendship is over.”
“And you don’t want it to be? Seriously?”
“I’m not her, Gabe! I wish I could just turn off my feelings, but—” I stopped. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to jump down your throat. It’s just, you saw her at the gala. She was so kind. You both were. She totally had my back. And now…” A fresh wave of tears streamed down my face. “I want to be angry and I’m sure I will be, but I’m just too hurt. That she really thinks I’d harm our children? What do I do with that? Or with the fact that my husband is so filled with regret for betraying her.” And regret for staying with me. I picked up the chopsticks, set them down. My eyes, even my lips, felt swollen. “God, I am so sick of crying. I don’t even know why I am—” More tears spilled down my face.
Gabe got up, disappeared into our bathroom, and came back with a roll of toilet paper, which he plunked in front of me. “You do know Erik loves you, right?”
“I do. But his allegiance is to her.” I grabbed a handful of toilet paper and wiped my eyes.
“Please tell me you don’t really think that.”
“I do.”
“Well, don’t. Because it’s crap. The truth is, we all kowtow to her. Even Eva.” He leaned both elbows on the counter. After a moment, he said, “Look, I don’t know what’s gone down between you and Erik the last two days, but the reason we all bow and scrape to Annabelle is just habit. Nothing more.” He took a swig of wine. “When we met freshman year, Annabelle’s mom was already sick, and it was bad even then. But by the end, her mom was out of her mind with pain, and the stuff she said—screaming that Annabelle had ruined her life, that she should have aborted her—”
“My God.” Why had she never told me?
“Exactly. So when Annabelle was upset about whatever—Erik didn’t jump high enough or she and Eva disagreed about…anything—we just gave in, because Christ almighty, why wouldn’t we? Why do anything to make Annabelle’s life harder? Like I said, it became a habit.”
“Why didn’t Erik ever tell me this?”
“He probably doesn’t realize. And look, none of this excuses what Annabelle did, but it pains me that you think Erik’s making some kind of choice of her over you. She took your kids and he’s scared out of his fucking mind. That’s it. End of story. And if it wasn’t for this play on Saturday, he’d be here and you guys would be figuring this all out.”
For a moment, neither of us said anything. The Lucinda CD had ended. “So, what did you mean…You said you all kowtow to Annabelle, which makes sense with Erik because of the kids, but why would you? If anyone has leverage…”
“Leverage? Seriously?” He reached for the wine bottle sitting to the side of the counter and emptied it into his glass. “You honestly think she’d balk at using our affair against me?”
“Yes! She’d be devastated if Eva found out.”
He was shaking his head. “Annabelle would chew off her own leg to get out of a trap, so if it was to her benefit to tell Eva? She’d do it in a fucking heartbeat. And somehow manage to turn herself into a victim and get kudos for coming clean. Look what she did to you and Erik. One mistake—and granted, it’s a big one—but she takes your kids? Gets a PFA against you? It’s bullshit.”
“I can’t go to the play because of it.” My eyes filled again, and I grabbed another wad of toilet paper. “Can a person run out of tears?” I pressed the tissue to one eye. “It probably seems so stupid, crying over a play when my marriage is ending and the kids are gone.”
“Your marriage isn’t ending. And the kids will be back before you know it.” He took a swallow of wine. “And Kelly’s connected to your daughter, so of course you want to go to the play. It’s not stupid in the least.” He paused. “So, let’s go.”
“How? She’ll have me arrested! God, can you imagine that scene?”
“She’ll do nothing of the sort. And I’ll be happy to remind her how much she owes Eva.”
“You really think—” I can go? I started to say, but the words slid out from under me. I had no idea why I was crying again. “I’m sorry,” I sniffled. “You’re being so nice and all I do is blubber.”
“Shit, Claire. I’d be bawling too if I’d gone through half of what you have.” He clasped his hand awkwardly over mine, gave it a quick squeeze, then let go. “I’m sorry about your daughter,” he said gently. “And I’m sorry Annabelle wasn’t able to handle it with more…” He shook his head. “Grace, I guess. Compassion.”
Why couldn’t Erik have said this much? I thought, another rush of tears streaming down my face. And I wondered if, despite his effort to understand my past, some part of him never really could. Had I been driving a car and hit a patch of black ice, he would have understood there was nothing I could have done, but that postpartum was a kind of black ice across my life that I never saw until I was spinning wildly out of control—he’d never made that leap. I know he wanted to, and maybe he thought he had, but I don’t think he ever did.
I thought of all the times in the last six years when I’d mentioned maybe telling Annabelle about Lucy, and every single time, he’d insisted Annabelle would never understand. Was it possible, though, that his certainty wasn’t because he knew Annabelle so well but because that’s how he felt? Not that he blamed me for what had happened—he didn’t. But maybe he was ashamed. Of me. And in breaking our pact of silence, by telling Annabelle and Eva, maybe I’d broken the container where he’d needed to keep that truth. My parents had a similar pact, didn’t they? My dad’s inability to talk about Lucy, my mom’s acceptance of this. But not talking about Lucy wasn’t that simple for me, no matter how much Erik might have wanted, maybe needed, this. I had tried, I wanted to tell him. Did he understand that? How hard I had tried?
“How do you do it every week?” I asked Gabe. It was too painful to think about Erik right now.
“How do I do what? Put up with Annabelle?”
“But it’s more than that, right? I mean, she’s Eva’s best friend and you’re Spencer’s godfather and…She’s kind of all over your life.”
“She’s all over everyone’s life, Claire. But I don’t dislike Annabelle. She’s fun and funny and…It’s what’s so baffling. She’s like two different people.”
I nodded.
“I’m sure Eva’s told you how, when her dad was dying, Annabelle sent care packages to Philly every day. She never missed. And look at all the crap she does to make our Saturday nights special. Plus, she’s brilliant. She’s handled PR for a couple of my clients, and you want someone to do damage control? She’s it. But it’s no accident that’s her specialty. Christ, it’s not even ironic. It’s sad. She understands damage because she’s the fucking queen of it.”
“But why?”
“Who knows?” He was turning his glass in half circles on the counter. “Maybe because she never had a dad or because of her mom dying so young or her mom being so young—what was she, sixteen when she had Annabelle?” A muscle jumped in his jaw. “All I know is I’ve never met anyone so insecure.” He looked like he was about to say more, then stopped.
“Can I ask you something?”
He swirled his wine without looking up. “About the elephant we’re so expertly circling? Go for it.”
“Were you in love with her?”
“Not for a second. Not even close. I wish I had been. It kills me that I betrayed Eva for something so…It was stupid. And I know Annabelle thinks she was in love with me, but she wasn’t. We were two needy fucked-up people.” He smiled, though it was one of those crooked smiles people make when they’re trying not to cry. “Want to hear something truly messed up?”
“Sure.”
“I envy you.”
“Me?”
“Yeah, I do. Because as bad as this feels, at least the truth is out there. Whatever’s going to happen is going to happen. It’s out of your hands.” He lined up his chopsticks, first one, then the other, so they were parallel with the edge of his place mat. “I wish to God I’d come clean with Eva from the start.”
“What do you think would have happened?”
“She probably would have left me.”
“Then how can you wish that?”
“Because (a) there’s always the chance she wouldn’t have, and I’ll never know, and (b) if we had gotten through it, I’m pretty sure our lives would be very different. But even if we couldn’t make it work, as badly as it would have hurt, I would have moved on. We all would have. Instead, I feel like the four of us got stuck in a holding pattern.”
“I know a lot about those,” I said quietly. And then, “Would you still be a lawyer?”
“Without Eva? No way. After the debacle with Annabelle, I promised myself I’d give Eva the life she wanted, no matter what. Which meant I had to make the big bucks, let her focus on acting.” He smiled, and this time it was real. “You want to know what I’d be now, though? If I could do it all over again?”
“What?” I was smiling too.
“A teacher.” His whole face lit up. “Kids.” He held his palm out to his side. “Yea high.” He shook his head. “I love being with those little fuckers at the Boys and Girls Club.”
I think of that moment often. Because, of course, Gabe is a teacher. Or he will be. He just started his student teaching. Second grade. We walk by the lake every few weeks and he regales me with stories of his kids, all the wacky things they do and say. He waits until we’re almost back to our cars before he asks how Eva is doing.