Never

by Lulu Pratt

  “So, one day a week, Mondays, she’ll be either with your parents or my dad, and then I’ll pick her up on Tuesday mornings,” Lara says.

  “I’ll pick her up from your place after work on Tuesday, and drop her off on my way out to work on Wednesdays,” I add.

  “And then I’ll pick her up on Thursday morning, and keep her overnight to Friday morning?”

  The waitress brings our main meal, my sandwich and the weird-looking salad that Lara ordered, and I think about the arrangement. It’s going to mean a lot of driving for both of us, but with us living apart that’s the only real way to make it happen the way it should. I’m just glad that Lara’s happy to keep my daughter overnight one night a week. It’ll give me a chance to catch up a bit on the stuff that Alexis normally did around the house.

  With all that decided, Lara asks about how things have been, whether I’ve been able to juggle shit with taking care of Riley and working.

  “I’m thinking I might need to hire a maid,” I admit.

  Lara laughs a little. “Well, I guess that’s fair,” she says, but there’s that look in her eyes that I remember from when we were still going out, that look that says that she’s judging me a little bit.

  “I’m working an extra hour and a half a day, or I will be, to get Fridays off,” I point out, feeling defensive.

  “I get it,” Lara says with a shrug.

  “You seem to be pretty okay with everything,” I say, looking her over again. I can’t help myself. The only times I’ve seen Lara in the past two or three years, I’ve been with her sister, or it’s been in the shadow of Alexis’ death. It’s only been two weeks, and I still miss the woman I married, the mother of my child and the one who helped me figure out the man I want to be. But I can’t deny that without Alexis around, it’s easier to see, again, how pretty Lara is. It’s the most terrible thought I could probably have, but I can’t help it.

  “I’m good at pretending to be pretty okay,” Lara says with a little smile.

  “I mean, if this is going to screw up your life or something, we don’t have to follow the will,” I say. I don’t really mean it, not from the perspective of Riley, at least. I know I’m going to need more help, and my parents and my fatherin-law aren’t going to be able to watch Riley the whole time I’m working.

  “No, no, it’s just that we’re going to be seeing a lot of each other, and I didn’t really think about that,” Lara says.

  I hadn’t really thought about it either, just that I absolutely need help raising my daughter with her mother gone.

  “I guess I see where you’re coming from,” I say.

  Chapter Twelve

  Lara

  I take a few bites of my salad, drink a few sips of water and coffee. I knew that this meeting was going to be hard, but the hardest part of this has been the fact that I actually feel almost friendly to Ethan. I tell myself that it’s because he is hurting, but we were polite yet cold the few times we saw one another after the breakup and before I learned that he was with my sister. Fundamentally, he was a good guy who just make some questionable choices. I don’t know how to deal with that.

  “Is there anything you can think of that I’d need to keep around the apartment for her?” I can barely even look at Ethan. I’m torn between trying to understand why I feel like being friendly to him, and the reminder of why I shouldn’t feel friendly at all. It’s stupid, and I know it. I shouldn’t be so mixed up. I shouldn’t be so confused, but I just have to deal with it.

  “Well, you’ll have her diaper bag and all that,” Ethan says.

  “She… obviously she isn’t getting milk anymore,” I say. “Or did you switch to formula or something?” I knew that Alexis had been supplementing Riley’s normal food with breast milk she pumped, but obviously without my sister there was no source for that anymore.

  “I figured it was kind of… as good a time as any to completely wean her,” Ethan says.

  I nod.

  “She’s eighteen months or close enough,” I agree.

  “She still asks for Alexis sometimes, but not as much,” Ethan tells me. I think I hear his voice crack a little. I look up and he shakes his head and blows slowly through his mouth.

  I’m not sure if I’m more relieved for his sake, or saddened by the fact that he has to be thinking that Riley’s forgotten her mother already, or at least, that she’s realized that no amount of asking is going to bring her mother back.

  “It’s got to be hard on her, even if she doesn’t really understand, especially because she doesn’t,” I say, looking at my niece.

  Riley’s completely focused on her chicken and fruit and chips and she is as interested in making a mess of everything as she is in getting it into her mouth. Ethan takes a break from his sandwich to help Riley make some progress on actually eating her food, and after a few moments I take over from him, leaving my salad on the sidelines.

  “I didn’t really realize how much Alexis did around the house until…”

  I know what Ethan is saying even though he just lets the sentence die off.

  “Well, she was home, wasn’t she?” It occurs to me that I don’t even really know what my sister’s life was like before she died. I’d cut her and Ethan out of my own life so completely, so ruthlessly, that even Mom, who never quite gave up on the idea of one day seeing me and Alexis reconcile, knew better than to broach the topic of my sister beyond the most basic news.

  “Yeah, she was,” Ethan says. He looks exhausted, and I can’t blame him. It has to have been one of the worst weeks of his life, trying to keep the house at least clean enough to be safe for a toddler, trying to keep himself fed, and working his normal hours, on top of losing his wife.

  I feel a little stirring of sympathy for a man who I once swore I would hate for the rest of my life and I don’t even know whether I should let myself feel it or stifle it completely.

  “You should get a maid,” I tell him. I laughed at the idea when he mentioned it, because it just seemed so ridiculous, but if there’s no one but him and Riley at the house, and he’s having to work extra hours through the week to have a three-day weekend, then I can see the benefit.

  “I can get my parents at least to help out with getting groceries and stuff,” Ethan says absently. “I mean, they have to go to the grocery store anyway, I can just give them money and have them take my list.”

  “I could, too,” I point out. I don’t even know why I’m volunteering to get more involved than I’m meant to, but I reason to myself that making sure that Riley’s home is comfortable and well-stocked is just as much part of helping to raise her as actually spending time with her is.

  “I thought you didn’t want to be too involved,” Ethan counters.

  I shrug.

  “I mean, it’s not like I’m going to be seeing you outside of taking care of Riley,” I say. It sounds cold to my ears, but I have to say it anyway. You can’t let your guard down. He still betrayed you. He still hooked up with your sister. No amount of pity for his current situation is enough to reverse what he did to me, what my sister did to me.

  “Right,” Ethan says. I look at him, but there’s no hint of teasing in his voice, there’s no sign that he takes what I said anything other than completely seriously.

  “Anyway, we should probably figure out what to do about doctors’ appointments and stuff,” I say, switching back to the safest possible topic, the little girl we’re both responsible for raising.

  We talk more about the logistics of how two people living in separate towns and houses are going to raise a child together, and take turns eating our own food and helping Riley eat hers, and even as I’m leaving to go back to my apartment, to finish setting everything up to have my first day working from home on Tuesday, with my niece staying with me, I’m completely and totally confused about how to feel.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Ethan

  I pull into the parking lot outside of Lara’s apartment building, barely awake, just alert enou
gh to be able to drive safely. I drink a gulp of coffee and look around for a parking spot. The first full week of our new schedule is coming to a close, and I’m just happy that I’ll have three days with my little girl, and no work to worry about.

  I find a spot relatively close to the entrance of the building and pull into it, looking to make sure it’s actually a guest spot. I got yelled at by one of the security guys the first time I parked in Lara’s lot. I put the car in park and glance in the back seat to make sure it’s clear for Riley’s car seat.

  I finish my coffee, shut off the engine, and get out of the car. It’ll only take me about thirty minutes to get back to the house, and if I’m lucky, Lara is already feeding Riley. I’ll be able to get my daughter home, and she’ll get a nap, and then we can play for a while. It’ll be a nice, restful weekend after a damned stressful week.

  It isn’t until I’m knocking on Lara’s door that it occurs to me to think about how weird it is that I’m at her place at all, or that twice this week Lara’s been to the house Alexis and I bought together when we got married. We’re obviously going to have to tighten the schedule. Yesterday I nearly ended up late for work because I just hadn’t figured on how much the morning traffic, combined with dropping Riley off at Lara’s place, would throw off my drive. But so far it looks like things are going to go more or less smoothly, however weird the whole situation is.

  The door opens, and Lara is right there in front of me, her dark hair messy and her face a little tired-looking, but her eyes are bright, and I can’t help but notice that the front of her tank top is damp, and she doesn’t seem to be wearing anything underneath it. She pulls the sweater she’s got on over that to cover herself, and I look away, feeling ashamed.

  “Riley’s just finishing breakfast,” Lara says quickly, letting me into her apartment. I follow her and see my daughter, seated in her high chair, banging on the tray in front of it. She has some yogurt smeared around her mouth, and I can’t help but smile.

  “Looks like a good breakfast,” I say, sitting down.

  “Can I get you something? A cup of coffee?” In spite of how awkward things are between us, there’s this weird kind of polite thing that both Lara and I seem to have decided to try without speaking of it. When she picked up Riley from my place I made sure she had coffee and something to eat, and the times I’ve come to pick up my daughter, whether it’s in the evening or in the morning, she’s offered me something.

  “I just finished a cup, actually,” I say, picking up the spoon on my daughter’s high chair tray to help her feed herself.

  “I’ve got some oatmeal if you’re hungry,” Lara says.

  I shrug. “I’ll eat some,” I tell her. Normally Riley eats a little more properly if other people are eating too.

  Lara fixes me a bowl of oatmeal and sits down at the table. Riley’s learning new words at a crazy rate, and she babbles at the two of us in between messy bites of food, throwing words out without really paying much attention to whether they make sense or not.

  “Any plans for the weekend?”

  I shrug again, taking a bite of my oatmeal. Lara sets down a glass of orange juice without asking if I want it or not, and I take a sip.

  “We might go to the park,” I say. I need to meet with some people about the headstone for Alexis’ grave today, and I’ve got a meeting at the bank tomorrow to finally formally take her name off the account. Our lawyer’s been organizing a lot of the details of what he calls “the estate,” which always chills me, thinking of my wife as an ‘estate,’ but there’s stuff that I actually have to do in person, and the weekend is the only time I’ve really got to do it.

  “Sounds like fun,” Lara says. She gets up again and grabs a towel off the ring next to the sink, and I watch her get a corner of it wet before bringing it to Riley’s high chair to mop at my daughter’s face. “Oh! I meant to tell you, if you need me to pick anything up for the week, I can drop it off on Tuesday when I pick her up.”

  “You deserve a few days to relax,” I point out. It’s obvious to me that the whole situation is taking a bit of a toll on Lara as much as it is on me, and I have to think that it can’t be that easy for her to work from home when she has to watch Riley. She’s probably working into the night.

  “I’ll have the actual weekend,” Lara says.

  “You have to go in today, right?” I look her up and down, she doesn’t look like someone who’s about to start the morning commute.

  “I’m going in at ten,” Lara explains.

  “Oh,” I say, trying to think of something to say to that. It’s been ages since we really talked on a normal basis, and I’ve seen her more in the past week than in at least six years. In the last year I’d only seen her at her mom’s funeral and then at Thanksgiving and Christmas last year, before Alexis died.

  “Anyway, like I said, if you need me to bring anything to the house, let me know,” she says.

  “Right, yeah. I will,” I tell her.

  “Ann-Lara! Ann-Lara!” It’s as close as Riley gets to “Aunt Lara”, which Alexis had wanted Riley to call her, and Lara ignores me in favor of my daughter at the call.

  “What is it, Riley-baby?”

  I take advantage of the moment to myself to eat a little more oatmeal and drink some orange juice.

  “Love you!” Riley giggles at the success of distracting her aunt, and I grin to myself.

  “I love you too, Riley-baby,” Lara says, and I can hear it in her voice. The way she sounds talking to my daughter is totally different from how she sounds talking to anyone else, even her own father. But I guess that makes sense, her father isn’t a baby. But there’s a kind of love in her voice, and on her face, that I just can’t imagine anyone else being on the receiving end of.

  “Up? Up?” Riley looks up at Lara hopefully and Lara shakes her head.

  “Two more bites of oatmeal and you can get up,” Lara says. She sounds so much like Alexis in that moment, firm, but caring, and warm, that it wakes up the dull ache deep down between my ribs and sharpens it into something like a knife. I close my eyes and wait for the pain to return to its regular dull throb.

  “Okay,” Riley says, pouting slightly.

  I help Riley finish her breakfast, and then Lara takes the tray away, bringing it to the sink while I unfasten the belt holding my daughter into her chair and lift her out of it. I give my little girl a kiss and a hug, and clean her up a bit. Obviously, Lara gave her a good bath the night before, judging by the sweet smell of her skin and hair, so I won’t have to worry about that.

  I gather the diaper bag, make sure Riley and I aren’t leaving anything behind that we’ll end up needing over the weekend, and even though I know I’ve got a ton of shit to do today, and obviously, Lara needs to get ready for work, I can’t help wanting to linger. I hadn’t counted on how different the house would be without Alexis in it. I keep expecting to turn a corner and see her playing with Riley, or hear her call for me to get the laundry out of the dryer, or to take the trash out.

  Even if things are incredibly awkward between Lara and me, at least her apartment isn’t haunted. At least she’s another adult I can talk to.

  “I’ll see you on Tuesday, I guess,” I say finally, making sure that Riley’s secure in the carrier that doubles as her car seat insert.

  “Yep, see you then,” Lara says. I try to think of an excuse to stay for a few more minutes, just to talk, maybe even about the weird haunted feeling I have in the house when alone with Riley, but there’s no point in it. I just have to go. I pick up the diaper bag, and my daughter, and Lara unlocks her apartment door and opens it for me to leave.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Lara

  I turn off the burner on the stove and step back, looking over everything. Riley is in her playpen in the living room, babbling to herself as she plays with some new toys we bought at the store during my break earlier in the day.

  “Okay, he should be here any time now,” I mutter to myself, looking around the ki
tchen. I’ve thrown together a quick meal. Once again Ethan has to work late, and it’ll be easier to keep Riley on the right schedule for him to eat at my place, along with his daughter, before going home.

  It’s weird to me how, in the span of four weeks, this has become normal. On Monday I go into the office and go to meetings, and set my schedule for the rest of the week, cramming as much work as I possibly can into the day. Tuesday, I pick Riley up from Ethan’s house and bring her back to my apartment, and the day flies by between playing and caring for her and getting as much of my work done as possible while she’s napping or occupied. Then, by mutual agreement, I drop her back off at home with Ethan that evening. Wednesday, this morning, Ethan drops Riley off with me on his way out to the work-site, and then picks her up at the end of the day on his way home. Tomorrow, I’ll go to Ethan’s place in the morning, pick Riley up, and keep her until Friday morning, when Ethan will pick her up and I’ll get ready for work.

  There’s a knock at the door and Riley calls out from her playpen. Even she knows that it’s her dad, even though we’ve only done this for two weeks. She’s ceased even asking about her mother. I’m sure either Ethan or I will have to deal with the subject eventually, but I’m sure it’s a relief for him not to have to answer her questions about when she’ll see Alexis again. It’s questions he can’t even really answer, because at nineteen months old there’s no way for Riley to understand her mother being dead, or even that she’s just not coming back.

  I open the door and Ethan comes in. It’s obviously been a tough day at work, and it’s seven-thirty at night, so he’s been working for the better part of almost twelve hours. He’s in a pair of jeans and a plaid work shirt with a denim jacket on over it, and his hair is plastered against his head from sweat. He still looks like a defeated man and I can’t blame him.

  “Hey,” I say, letting him into the apartment and closing the door behind him.