“I love the way the laces curl over each other. It’s lovely.” Alison reached her arm around Sadie and pulled her in for hug. “Just like you.” In Alison’s embrace, Sadie felt tears prick her eyes, but she continued smiling, like a rain shower on a sunny day.
Alison kissed Sadie’s cheek and then took the basket of bath goodies from her.
“Wait a minute.” Sadie went to the wall and grabbed a few of the sunshine bath bombs she knew her aunt loved.
“Are we done here?” Alison asked. “Because I’m ready for a big tortilla salad. I can’t eat anything after lunch, so we have to make this meal count.”
Following Alison to the counter, Sadie reached into her pocket for the money her mother had thrust at her as she’d walked out the door. Today, her mom’s money would come in handy. Hopefully the small present would help her aunt relax and take her mind off her upcoming surgery.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Alison
September 10, 2019
A FEW EVENINGS AFTER THE CRAFT STORE RUN-IN, Alison was thinking about her argument with Cynthia, about her sister’s selfishness and ridiculous sense of entitlement, when Michael walked into the bedroom carrying his alarm clock and favorite pillow.
“It’s time,” he said, placing the pillow on his side of the bed and the alarm clock on the nightstand. “I’m not asking permission to sleep next to my wife. I was waiting for you to ask me, but since that’s not happening, I made an executive decision.”
Alison kept her eyes on her phone. Maybe if she ignored him, he’d give up and go away.
“How’s Nate?” Becca texted. “Keeping his mouth zipped?”
Choosing the blushing face emoji, Alison tried to tell her he’d almost outed them a few days ago.
“Did he tell Rhea?” Becca texted.
“No.” She was now able to type two and three letter words. Maybe speech therapy was actually doing something.
“Maybe it’s time to let people know,” Becca said.
“Can you put your phone away and listen for once?” Michael said.
She tucked her phone into the side of the chair. She hadn’t thought he was serious when he’d suggested moving back to the bedroom a few weeks ago. She felt her muscles stiffen with anxiety, unsure how to respond to his sudden move.
“It’s time for us to reconnect,” he said.
Their wedding portrait caught her eye, a fixture over the bed that she rarely noticed anymore. Looking at it now brought her back to that late September afternoon, the sunlight glinting off the dark blue water of Boston Harbor and the way Michael smiled at her with his whole face as they exchanged vows. No one had ever looked at her that way before. One of the reasons she’d married him was that he was so in love with her. It had felt good to be doted on, to be the center of someone else’s universe, but that feeling wasn’t enough for her anymore.
“No … not yet,” she stammered. She tried to stand up from the chair using the strength of her left leg, but she couldn’t make it happen. Her left side had been getting a lot stronger to compensate for her right, but she still wasn’t able to stand without assistance.
Michael reached out to help and she accepted his hand without thought. His grip felt steady and firm, just like he was. In the past, his steadiness and clockwork predictability had made her feel safe and secure. When they first met, he’d already signed on with a big accounting firm with a six-figure salary, bonuses, and eventual partnership. With Michael, Alison knew she would never have to worry about paying the bills. There would always be money for groceries, gym memberships, a home in a nice neighborhood. No matter what was going on in the world, people always needed help with their taxes.
After he pulled her up, Michael put his hands on her shoulders. “I know we have a lot to work on. I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make things right between us.”
“I …don’t.” She attempted to say she wasn’t ready for this, that sleeping in the same bed wouldn’t make things better between them. The proximity may even exacerbate their problems, his warm breath on her neck and arm flung across her body making her to feel trapped and claustrophobic.
“We’ll be like the Sox battling back from behind to win the pennant. If they can do it, so can we,” he said, a self-satisfied smile on his face.
His baseball analogy didn’t fit. There were no relief pitchers, no coaches, no rookies to pull up from the minors. It was just Alison and Michael and they were no longer a good team. No amount of coaching or strategizing could change that. She kept thinking about a conversation they’d had right after coming home from the fertility clinic that last time. As soon as she looked at the ultrasound screen—the little gray blob in her uterus sickeningly still, no faint flickering of the heartbeat—she knew this time would be the same as all the others. She felt the familiar crushing disappointment, but also an unexpected sense of relief. A baby had been their goal for so long that she hadn’t stopped to think about whether it was still something she wanted or whether she was just going through the motions. Maybe if they stopped trying, they could reclaim their lives.
She was silent all the way home in the car and Michael gave her some space, but over dinner, he insisted on talking about it.
“You can’t let this get you down,” he said. “So many couples have been through the same thing and eventually, it works. I have to believe it will happen for us, too.”
She had pushed her food around the plate.
“There’s no reason why we won’t get lucky,” he said. “Your eggs are healthy and my sperm count is good. We just have to keep trying.”
She couldn’t stomach any more discussion about oocytes and fallopian tubes and sperm motility. Getting pregnant had been the sole focus of their marriage for the past four years, and she had nothing to show for it other than feelings of loneliness, inadequacy, and frustration. Getting pregnant was all they ever talked about anymore, the only thing they had in common. They never talked about funny things that happened at work or the binge-worthy new shows on Netflix or interesting articles from The Boston Globe. Maybe a baby would have created a new ground to stand on, a fresh start, but with each failed cycle, that hope faded away.
“I think it might be time to give up,” she said. “I don’t think I can take any more disappointment.”
“How can you say that? I’ve never known you to give up on anything.”
“Well, this might be the thing that breaks me. I can’t do this anymore.”
Michael wouldn’t let her give up. He wanted to keep trying and look at other options like adoption and surrogacy. Failure was not something he was willing to accept.
Now, Michael walked to the nightstand and plugged in his alarm clock. “We have so much history. Isn’t that worth something?”
Alison considered the word. History was a thing of the past, irrelevant, obsolete. Michael hadn’t done anything wrong. He was the same man who’d stood by her side through all the invitro cycles: the man who given her the hormone shots in her butt to increase egg production, who’d squeezed her hand to take her mind off the pain as the catheter passed through her cervix, and whose shoulder absorbed her tears when only one line showed up on the stick; but she was no longer the same woman.
He came back over to her, placed his left arm around her lower back and swept her into a dance turn. “Remember our first dance?” he asked. “You still look just as gorgeous as you did that day.”
“Right.” He couldn’t really mean that. She’d come a long way since the surgery, but she was far from gorgeous.
“Triple step, triple step, rock step,” he said with a poor attempt at a Russian accent. “I’ll never forget. Those Russian dance teachers burned it into my brain.” Alison’s mind remembered the steps, but her body wouldn’t follow along. She allowed Michael to take her in his strong arms, turning her in circles as he said the steps out loud.
He started singing “It Had to Be You,” the song from their first dance, and continued to move her around the room. His
singing always made her smile. The notes weren’t perfect, but he sang with joy and an uncharacteristic sense of abandon. He flopped onto the bench seat at the foot of the bed, pulling her down onto his lap.
“We’ve made so many good memories, Alison,” he said, wrapping his arms around her. “This is just another challenge we’ll get through.”
“Not sure,” she said.
Michael helped her stand and assisted her into bed. He then undressed down to his boxer shorts, his belly hanging over the elastic waistband. Never one to carry any extra weight, this year had changed everything.
“Past.” Alison wasn’t sure what she meant. Was she trying to tell Michael that she agreed with him, that they might still have a life together or was she trying to say that their marriage was a thing of the past, a buried artifact not worth excavating?
“It’s time to work on our future,” he said. “Like they always say, marriage takes work. It’s not always going to be a cakewalk.”
Alison didn’t know what more to say. The silence stretched out between them.
“You know I’ve been hearing things around town,” Michael said. “At racquetball the other night, Andy Samuel said something about a surgeon who’s taken a leave of absence because of drug use. Do you think that could be Grant?”
“No … no way.” Alison’s first instinct was to defend her brother-in-law. She couldn’t imagine this horrific rumor to be true.
“There might be something to it,” Michael said. “I think we should try to dig deeper, don’t you? We deserve to know the truth.”
Alison pulled the covers up to her neck, wishing she could hide underneath them for the next few months. This whole thing was so overwhelming in so many ways.
“Alison, are you even listening to me? Alison?”
He gave up waiting for her response and turned onto his side. His broad back was covered with brown hairs, growing thicker with each passing year. “Goodnight,” he said. “We’ll talk more about this tomorrow.”
She closed her eyes. With everything they’d shared, she would always love Michael, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to be married to him anymore, especially now that he was making allegations about her family. The questions she’d been asking herself came rushing back into her head. Her attraction to Becca was undeniable, so much stronger than any she’d ever felt for Michael. But was sex enough? Was what she had with Becca worth forsaking her commitment to Michael? Her relationship with Becca had made her question everything. Michael had never been the right man for her, but maybe no man would ever be. She thought about Becca’s suggestion that they tell people about their relationship, share the news on their terms rather than waiting for others to jump to conclusions. With her mind swirling with thoughts, she was suddenly so tired. The constant back and forth was exhausting, and Michael’s insinuations had made it even worse. She closed her eyes, hoping to have some answers in the morning.
The next afternoon, Alison sat in the living room waiting for Sadie to arrive. She’d texted in the morning asking if she could come after school. Alison was glad for the spur of the moment plan because advanced notice would have worsened her anxiety. She was scared Sadie would see her as weak, that she would realize how much Alison depended on Rhea to navigate the world, that her disability would completely change their relationship. The doorbell rang and Rhea went to answer it.
“Well, hello,” Rhea said. “It’s nice to see you again.”
“Hi.” Sadie stepped inside, her hands clasped in front of her.
Alison stayed seated. She didn’t want Sadie to see her limping or using the cane. When she smiled, she hoped Sadie wouldn’t notice the right side of her mouth drooping.
“Can I hug you?” Sadie asked.
“Okay,” Alison said. People seemed to think that being disabled made her fragile, that hugging her would somehow worsen the damage.
Sadie came over and leaned down to hug her, before taking a seat on the couch.
Rhea excused herself to the kitchen.
“It’s so strange to see you,” Sadie said. “It’s been forever.”
“I … know.”
“That wasn’t my choice,” she said. “My mother basically forbade me from coming over. Every time I ask, she has another reason. At first, she said she wanted to give you time to heal, and then she started saying that things were complicated and having contact could make it worse. Whatever that means. My parents have been really weird lately.”
“Alright,” Alison said. She couldn’t even imagine the level of tension in their house. “Your … mom?” Alison stumbled, trying to ask whether Cynthia knew about this visit.
“She thinks I’m at mock trial practice,” she said. “I’ll have to Uber home in a little bit. They’ve been really strict with me since everything happened. To keep me away from bad influences, they say.”
“Who?”
“They never say, but I know they mean Piper,” Sadie said. “The girl who made me get the tattoo.”
Getting a tattoo seemed like a pretty innocent teenage dalliance, not a major transgression. There had to be more to the story that Alison hadn’t pieced together yet.
“Ddddd … your Dad?” Even though Grant had drastically changed the course of Alison’s life, she still wanted to know he was okay.
“It’s been rough,” Sadie said. “They’re both really hard to be around. So moody and irritable. I never know what’s going to set them off. I’m just trying to keep my head down and get through the day.”
“Alright … I …” Alison attempted to tell Sadie that she understood how hard that must be, that she would always be there for her in spirit, even if she couldn’t put that sentiment into words.
“I guess I didn’t realize how much I really depended on you until you disappeared from my life,” Sadie said. “My family is falling apart and I don’t know how to fix it. Friends are one thing, but family is another.”
Sometimes this girl was shockingly smart, internalizing things adults took their whole lives to figure out. Alison had ached for Sadie, too, thinking about her often: the funny things she said, her cute smile, her unconditional love.
“Miss you … too,” Alison stammered. Sadie’s face lit up. Despite the ridiculous mess their family was in, Sadie seemed happy to be here. Her smile made Alison want to stop wallowing in misery, feeling sorry for herself and perseverating about all of the things she could no longer do. There were still so many things she could do, and she had her whole life ahead of her to do them.
“I know I’m supposed to depend on myself,” Sadie said. “but sometimes it’s just hard to do it alone. Sometimes I just need someone to lean on. Mom and Dad are constantly fighting now. Mom keeps saying she doesn’t trust Dad anymore.” Alison’s mind drifted to Becca. Was Becca her found family, the person she turned to for comfort and support? Was Becca the one she could trust to have her back no matter the situation?
“It’s just … everything with my Dad …” Sadie began crying, her shoulders heaving with each sob.
“Okay.” Alison took Sadie’s hand. She was so proud of the incredible young woman Sadie had become, so strong and smart and amazing. Even with the difficulties in their family, she was doing her best to keep her head up. She inspired Alison to be a better person. Alison wished she could tell Sadie to trust in herself and her boundless abilities, that she should find her inner strength, the warrior within. With these thoughts, she realized she should heed her own advice, if not for herself, then for her niece. Sadie needed her. She didn’t care if Alison walked with a cane, had trouble finding words, and dribbled when she drank. Sadie loved Alison just the way she was.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Grant
March 15, 2019
GRANT HELD HIS ID CARD up to the reader and entered the pre-operative area. Early morning was the busiest time here, with all the staff hustling to get patients ready for the first surgeries of the day. As he looked around for Alison, he found the background noise of the nurses chattering and
monitors beeping more irritating than usual, like an annoying fly buzzing next to his ear. He had decided to take another Adderall to make sure he was extra sharp. He could deal with the annoyance if it improved his concentration. This was not going to be an easy case, and he couldn’t afford to fuck it up.
“Well, good morning,” he said when he found Alison on the other side of the room, Michael standing next to the stretcher. “How are you feeling?”
“My body feels fine,” she said, “but my mind, not so great. I think I’ve been doing too much Googling.”
“I told her to stop, but she wouldn’t listen,” Michael said.
“Never a good thing,” Grant said. “Didn’t I warn you to stay away from the computer?”
“I can’t stop thinking about the odds. If only one in a hundred thousand people get AVMs each year, how did I get so lucky? You know I’m not religious, but I can’t help thinking that someone up there is trying to tell me something.”
“Alison, stop with the philosophical nonsense,” Michael said. “Sometimes the toast just lands jelly side down.”
Grant patted Michael on the back. Usually he found Michael’s incessant use of pat phrases annoying, but today he was thankful to have Michael on his side.
“He’s right,” Grant said. “Sometimes things just happen. And now is not the time to wax poetic about why.” Grant pressed his hand to the side of his neck to try to slow his carotid pulse.
“The number of people who have disabilities after surgery is so much higher than I thought,” Alison said.
“What do you mean?” Grant asked.
“I got sucked in to a message board. Some woman kept talking about how her husband lost all his short-term memory and another one’s permanently in a wheelchair.”
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