“I think Ajit’s going to ask me to marry him.”
“Wow.” I snapped to attention. “Really?”
She gave me an impish smile. “He’s been hinting around.” Her question about moving to England was just a way of leading up to a much bigger topic.
“What will you say if he does?” I hoped it would be something like, Are you out of your freaking mind, Ajit? They were too young. What would they live on? All they ever did was fight. I tried not to let my concern show on my face.
“I don’t know, Daddy.” Tears came to her eyes. “I don’t want to lose him.”
“Couldn’t you guys just live together?” I didn’t want to come right out and tell her I thought the whole idea was crazy. “Is this all because of his parents?”
She nodded. “They’re starting to put the pressure on him.” Ajit’s parents were always kind to Sara, but he knew he was expected to marry a nice Bengali girl someday, just like his two older brothers. Now that he was about to graduate from college, his parents probably wanted to start making introductions. They probably had a list of candidates lined up and waiting. But Ajit, for all his academic achievements, saw himself as a rebel. Perhaps he was truly in love with Sara, but I was afraid he might be using her to make a point with his parents. The more I thought about it, the more it pissed me off. But I wasn’t ready to say that to her.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” I said. “These things are never easy. The course of true love and all that crap.”
She tried to smile. “How are you supposed to know when it is true love, Daddy?”
“Good question. People have been chewing that one over since the beginning of time.”
“You used to say you fell in love the instant you met Lucy.” It was interesting that she’d used her mother’s first name instead of saying Mom the way she did when Lucy was still a ghost. For Sara, Lucy had become the enemy until proven otherwise.
“Yeah, I did. And to this day I still don’t know if it was the best thing that ever happened to me or the worst.”
***
I met with my new client the next morning and got the contract signed. It looked like it was going to be a great project. She didn’t quibble about money and was already talking about other things she wanted to add. I spent the rest of the day working at another job site. All day I kept checking my cell phone to see if Elliot had called. When I got home, Sara and Ajit surprised me with the Christmas tree they’d put up and decorated. I showered and changed my clothes and took them out to dinner. Ajit talked enthusiastically about his fellowship. He had a great smile and his accent always got a little more pronounced when he turned on the charm. I didn’t know if Sara had told him about Lucy yet or how she had explained Elliot’s absence, but I was glad the subject didn’t come up. She and Ajit were happy and playful with each other, touching hands and taking food from each other’s plates. Neither of them made any hints about getting engaged. During the course of the dinner, it dawned on me that Sara might actually be the one who was pushing the idea of getting married. Maybe she was testing him, which wasn’t a bad idea. Better to find out now if he would take a stand against his parents rather than being disappointed in a year or two, after she’d followed him to England.
After dinner Sara and Ajit went off to meet some friends. When I got home there was a message from Elliot on the machine. “Hey, guys, just checking in. No contact yet. I left a message on her machine. Guess I’ll catch up with her tomorrow.” He tried to sound matter-of-fact but was clearly disappointed. He was going to feel like a fool if she was away for the holidays and he had made the trip for nothing.
Christmas Eve was a day off for me and my work crews. Sara and I went to the driving range, then out shopping. I had always made a point about not going overboard on Christmas presents. She and Elliot and I often told each other exactly what we wanted, then made a joke out of being surprised by what we got. Later in the day we stayed busy wrapping presents then got some Mexican takeout for dinner. Neither of us had heard any more from Elliot, and we seemed to make a point of not talking about it. I watched a basketball game on TV, the Lakers and the Spurs. Elliot called about nine-fifteen, past midnight in Boston.
“Hey, El,” I said. “I was hoping you’d call. Everything go all right?”
“Yeah, fine. It was pretty emotional. We talked for a long time.”
“Tell me about Lucy. Did she remarry? Have any more children?”
“No. No children. She said she…She has a boyfriend. William. Real nice guy. He knows a lot about jazz. The three of us went out to dinner and talked.”
“You back in your dorm now?”
“No, I’m still at her house. In my old room. She asked me to stay over.”
“Cool. You can play with all your toy trucks.” I meant it as a joke, but it came out sounding snide.
“She didn’t keep it the same. Just saved some of our books and things.”
“I’m sorry, El. I didn’t mean…”
“I know, Dad. It’s okay. It’s late. Let’s talk when I get home tomorrow.”
“Sure. Okay. Good night. I love you.”
“Night. Love you too. Oh wait, one more thing. I changed my ticket to a later flight. It gets in at quarter to eight.” He was trying to sound casual, no big deal, just a minor change in the schedule, acting like he didn’t know he was kicking me in the balls.
“How much did that cost?”
“Seventy-five dollars. I’ll pay you back, Dad. I just want to, you know…”
“Sure, fine. Whatever. I’ll pick you up.” I didn’t wait for him to say good night again. I ground my teeth and stared out the window. He’d been with her less than twenty-four hours, and Lucy had already started to turn him against me. I imagined her sneaking out in the middle of the night, all the stores closed, desperately trying to find some Christmas presents for him. Or maybe she’d just rummage around in the basement and haul out a bunch of nostalgia. I wondered what kind of lies she’d told him about me.
I spent a restless night. In the morning, I was up around seven and went out back and inspected the rotten deck. With my pry bar and a hammer, I started ripping up the floorboards. Sara came outside in a San Diego Chargers jersey, hugging herself with her hands tucked under her armpits. It was uncanny how her body language often reminded me of Lucy.
“Jeez, Dad. What’re you doing? It’s 7:30 Christmas morning!”
“Yes, it is. And this is a present to myself. You have a good time last night?”
She pouted as if she hadn’t. Then she grinned and stuck out her left hand to show me her ring. The diamond was as big as a jelly bean.
I gave a low whistle. “Did Ajit win the lottery or something?”
“It’s fake, Dad. He got it for fun. You know I don’t care about crap like that.”
“Oh, Sara, I’m so happy for you guys.” I put down my tools and wrapped my arms around her. “I can’t wait to walk you down the aisle.”
“Thanks, Daddy. That means the world to me.” She knew I had my doubts, but there was no sense in my saying anything. People never want you to tell them they’re wrong about love.
“When is Ajit going to break the news to his parents?”
“This afternoon. We’re going out to lunch with them. Ajit figures we’ll have less chance of a total meltdown if we tell them in a public place. I should be home by the time you and El get back from the airport.”
“He changed his flight. He’s not getting in till this evening.”
“What the fuck!” She knew how I hated to hear her say that word, but she didn’t even try to apologize.
“I don’t want to talk about it, honey. We’ll deal with it as it comes.”
I wished her luck when she left for lunch with the Banerjees, and she said she’d need it. But when she and Ajit came by the house in the late afternoon, they were giddy. Ajit said he had
talked to his father in the morning, and his father had acquiesced.
“I can’t say he was surprised when I told him,” Ajit said. “Maybe a little disappointed. But he’s an economist. He knows things in the real world don’t always work out the way you want them to. I guess he figured, why fight the inevitable.”
“He was really sweet about it,” Sara said. “He said we were a couple of contrarians.”
“What about your mom?” I said to Ajit.
“She didn’t say ten words. She likes being a martyr.”
Sara took his hand. “She’ll be fine as soon as we have kids.” It stunned me to hear her say it. She was still a kid herself.
When Ajit went home, I asked Sara if she’d told him about the situation with Lucy. She said not yet, she’d made up a story about Elliot going back to Boston to play with some big-time jazz musicians.
I said, “I think you need to tell him, honey. Sooner rather than later.”
“I know. I just want to hear what El says first.”
***
We picked up Elliot at the airport. Sara showed him her ring, and they laughed and chattered. I think we were all grateful for the distraction of the engagement. None of us wanted to talk about Lucy yet. We were all famished when we got home, and Sara made spaghetti for a late dinner. In the living room our Christmas gifts provided another distraction. The forced cordiality between us was growing, as if we were clinging to harmony when everything was about to come undone. There was a small pile of presents under the tree. Elliot said he’d had a chance to do some shopping in Boston but didn’t have time to wrap anything. He got me an alligator leather belt and a geode, a silk scarf and silver necklace for Sara. Expensive things, bought with a touch of guilt, I guess. I finally asked him about the trip.
“I’m not sure I can put it into words,” he said, taking a deep breath. “It was like watching a movie, only I was the one who was in it. I had to keep reminding myself that it was real. I left two messages on her answering machine and called myself Nathan, which was truly weird. When I talked to her on the phone the next morning, she invited me to come to her house. I didn’t know what to call her. It’s kind of hard to say ‘Mom’ to someone you just met. Anyway, she’s real nice. She works as a librarian in an elementary school and loves her job. She also teaches a night class for adults on reading aloud to children. We didn’t talk about what happened between you and her, Dad. She said it would just lead to a lot of ugliness back and forth and make everyone miserable.” I gave Sara a quick glance as if to say, I told you so. Lucy would never want all the sordid details to be revealed. “I was pretty cautious with her at first. I said I was called Elliot now, but I didn’t tell her our last name or where I went to school or anything. She could see I didn’t trust her, so she came right out and said she wasn’t going to turn you in to the police, Dad. She made me a promise.”
“Well, that’s a big relief,” Sara said.
“Great,” I said. “Did you get that in writing?” Another joke that fell flat.
He told us the two of them went out shopping for groceries and she cooked Hungarian goulash for dinner. I wondered if she was still in touch with Sandor. Nearly everything Elliot said felt like it carried a hidden message from Lucy to me. She had given him a stash of photographs from our life together, which Sara was curious to see. The only photo I had of them as little children was the one I’d had in my wallet when we left Boston. Lucy also included a recent photograph of herself, kneeling on the grass next to an ugly brown dog.
Sara said, “God, she’s so beautiful.”
“No argument there,” I said. Her hair was streaked with gray, her face a bit drawn and angular, but her smile was radiant.
Elliot said, “The dog’s name was Frodo. He died a few months ago. She wants me to go to the animal shelter with her and help pick out a new pup.”
I tried not to react. Lucy was already making plans for when he came back. I could see her insinuating herself into his life. Inviting him for dinner all the time, going to see The Spendthrifts play. How long would it be before he moved into her house? Sara started asking him questions about Lucy. As I shifted in my chair, a muscle spasm gripped my lower back and I let out a groan.
“I’m sorry, El.” I stood up, wincing. “I tore the deck off the house today, and my back is seizing up on me.”
Sara said, “Do you want me to get you a heat pack?”
“No, no, I’ll be fine. I just need to go lie down.”
I gimped off to my bedroom and fell asleep in my clothes.
***
I woke up about one-thirty and couldn’t get back to sleep. It wasn’t the muscle spasms in my back so much as the turmoil in my head. On my way to the kitchen, I noticed light coming through the crack under Sara’s door. I paused in the hall for a moment, listening, wondering if she and Elliot were still up talking. In the kitchen I poured a glass of milk, then peeled back the tin foil and started eating the leftover apple cobbler out of the baking pan.
“Hey, Dad,” Sara said, coming into the kitchen.
“Hey, honey. Can’t sleep?”
She shook her head.
“Is it Lucy or Ajit?”
“Her. I called Ajit and told him everything. I was afraid he’d think we were a bunch of lunatics, but he was great about it.” She ate a few crumbs from the pan with her fingers. “Lucy gave El a present to bring home for me. Can I show you?”
“Sure.”
Sara went to her room and came back with a tattered copy of Eloise.
“It was almost like I knew what it was before I opened it,” she said. “I remembered how much we liked reading it together. This letter was tucked inside.” She took out a small piece of pale blue stationery and read aloud. “Dear Sarah. Merry Christmas. It’s three o’clock in the morning, and I have spent the last two hours trying to write this letter. Elliot told me why you didn’t want him to come see me. I can understand why you feel the way you do. I know how much you love your father and want to protect him. Please believe me when I say that I will not contact the authorities or try to settle any score with him. Nothing can be gained for any of us by deconstructing the past. All I want is to see you again. But that isn’t something I can control. You are a grown-up now, and I don’t want to intrude on your life unless you want me to be a part of it. My hope is that you will find it in your heart to reach out to me and let me earn your trust. With all my love, Mom.” Sara turned over the page and kept reading. “Yikes! Every time I try to write this letter, it gets worse. I’m not sure why it’s so hard to sound like me. I’ve actually written to you and your brother in a journal hundreds of times since you’ve been gone. Maybe one of those entries will work better. All I really want to say is that I have never stopped loving you or missing you, and tonight I miss you more than ever.”
It took me a second to reply. I wasn’t sure what Sara expected. “Powerful stuff,” I said.
“Yeah.” She took a folded sheet of paper from the back of the book and handed it to me. I sat down at the kitchen table to read, my life unraveling in photocopies from Boston. I recognized Lucy’s cramped handwriting.
7-21-95 (12 years, 1 month & 7 days gone) Sarah, I’m sorry I missed your birthday yesterday. It wasn’t that I forgot. I was thinking about you all day, but I was sightseeing and museum-hopping and I kept putting it off, waiting for the right time to sit down and try to say something meaningful, which is the kind of thing that never works out the way you plan—not for me, anyway. I’m in France, traveling with my new beau, William Hufnagel. Have you ever been to France? I was your age the first time I came. I visited a girl who had been an exchange student in our high school. She lived in Saint-Malo on the chilly coast of Brittany. William and I are on the other side of the country, exploring the Riviera. This morning we drove up into the hills above Nice to see the Matisse Chapel in Vence. I’d read about the chapel in guidebooks but had n
ever seen it before. It was the last big art project he did before he died and his only piece of architecture. The place is breathtaking. I’m not a religious person, but when you sit inside the chapel, bathed in the blue and green and yellow light, you know God must have inspired Matisse to do it, one last surge of creativity before the angels whisked him up to Heaven. (If Matisse didn’t make it, I don’t want to go.) At the moment I’m in the garden outside the chapel while William goes off to get some bread and wine and cheese for our lunch. It’s strange, I almost never go into a church back in Boston, but when I’m in France, I can’t get enough of them. Not so much the big cathedrals, though you’d have to be a cold fish not to be awed by Chartres or Notre Dame. I prefer the churches in the villages—some sturdy little Romanesque église with faded frescoes above the altar and the names of the dead soldiers from the Great War on a plaque on the wall, five or six brothers from the same family, sorrow beyond human understanding. I would love to bring you here to Matisse’s chapel someday. We could sit quietly in the sanctuary and breathe in the light and think about that old man in his wheelchair with a paint brush on a long stick and an imagination as big as the sun. It’s enough to make you believe in miracles, sugar pop, which is how I feel right now. I know I’m going to see you again.
I looked at Sara. We both had tears in our eyes.
“You know what’s really crazy?” she said. “I went to that chapel with some friends about a month ago.”
I blew out a long breath. “You have to make up your own mind, honey.”
***
Sara flew to Boston just after New Year’s to meet her mother. She said the visit went well. She seemed to want to talk about it, but I didn’t. I couldn’t prevent her and Elliot from having a relationship with Lucy, but as far as I was concerned it was “Don’t ask, don’t tell.” I never wanted to hear Lucy’s name again. But I knew that wasn’t going to be possible.
In the middle of January, shortly after the kids were back at school, Ajit’s father called me and asked if we could have lunch together. The few times I’d met him he seemed like a nice guy. He was tall and handsome like Ajit, but a little stiff. Even at soccer games he always wore a coat and tie. When he spoke, it sounded like he’d learned English from a textbook. I was concerned when he called to set up the lunch. I thought he might have concerns about Ajit and Sara’s engagement and wanted to see if I felt the same. But it was nothing of the sort. We met at a restaurant near the university where he was a professor.
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