Still, rather than question that, he ate alone and the kitchen and decided to join her. Why not? It was unheard of for him to be in bed before ten-thirty, and on weekends, even one-thirty was a stretch. So, why not?
“Dinner was good,” Brendan said, rather than answer her question. “Wish I’d been here to eat it with you.”
Tracy sighed. “Me too.”
“Sweetheart, look …”
Tracy’s lips pressed against his before he could finish his apology. She slid her tongue between his lips, and he kissed her back, sliding a hand round her waist, pulling her closer. But she put a hand on his chest.
“No, I’m … it’s not that,” she said. “I’m actually kind of tired. I just wanted you to know you don’t need to explain. I know you’re busy. I’m glad you enjoyed dinner. G’night.”
Then she kissed him at the corner of his lips and turned her back to him.
What the hell ...?
“Trace …”
“I’m seriously tired, Brendan. Can we talk … or whatever, tomorrow?”
“Yeah. But I…”
“Thank you.” Tracy sighed, pushed her butt into his groin, and pulled his arm round her.
Within minutes, Brendan heard the even rhythm of her breaths that told him she was asleep.
After giving it a shot for about thirty minutes, he gave up. It was just too early for him to sleep. His body-clock wouldn’t allow it. Brendan got up, planning to head back downstairs to maybe look over some work he brought home, or watch television. First taking a stop in the bathroom and standing in front of the toilet taking a leak, he noticed what he hadn’t seen before. On the counter, next to the sink was an open box of tampons.
8
You’re really going all in with that wine.”
Robyn sat and placed her chic purse on the chair next to Tracy’s, indicating the large glass of merlot.
Robyn had the glow of a happy and fulfilled woman. Having recently grown out her hair to a cute bob, bluntly cut so that it framed her chin and jaw, she looked sleek, and well put-together. The way Tracy used to be, when she worked and was ever-mindful of how she might appear to her many well-heeled clients.
Now, all she had been able to manage for this lunch was her recent staple—a long braid down the center of her back, khakis, ballet flats and a crisp white shirt. She wondered, as she looked across the table at her friend, whether she was letting herself go.
“I may as well drink since the sitter has Layla all afternoon. They won’t be back until four. I can stand to get tipsy if I want.”
“Hey. No need to justify it to me,” Robyn said touching her hand. “I just thought you were on the baby-train, that’s all. You know … alcohol in moderation for our aging eggs and whatnot?”
Tracy shook her head and reached for the glass. “Actually, we’re pulling back on all that.”
Robyn, who had just reached for the menu, put it down again, her brows knitting in concern.
“What do you mean ‘pulling back on all that’? The last time we talked, you were doing daily temperature charts and checking cervical mucus.”
Tracy shrugged. “Well, turns out I was traveling on the baby-train all alone. Brendan didn’t even bother buying his ticket.”
Robyn rolled her eyes and picked up the menu, glancing down at it. “Oh, I see. You’re having one of your … episodes again.”
“What does that mean?”
“Tracy, you’ve been through this a million times. These little dances with insecurity about Brendan and whether he’s committed to you, to parenting, to family life. And every single time it’s just a …” Robyn shrugged. “Figment of your imagination.”
“Oh my god. I swear. Between you and Riley, both of you trying to convince me I’m out of my mind when I’m the one who lives with the man.”
Robyn sighed. “Okay, so tell me. What did he do?”
The question was asked dutifully, the way long-suffering friends of high-strung people ask questions—without any genuine consideration of the possibility that the response might be valid.
“He’s been missing our conception days. Repeatedly. First because of client demands, then some stupid IT crisis, then …”
“The stupid IT crisis where someone tried to hack in and steal all the company’s money?” Robyn asked without looking up from the menu. “Yeah I heard about that.”
Tracy put her wineglass down so forcefully, some of the contents sloshed out of it and onto the white tablecloth, leaving a burgundy stain. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a server give a little start, preparing to come over and intervene.
“I don’t know why I ever tell you or Riley anything. If you’re going to just … minimize and criticize, and ridicule …”
At that, Robyn looked up, and this time she swallowed, and studied Tracy’s face for a few beats before speaking, slowly and deliberately.
“Okay. I’m sorry. It’s obvious you’re upset,” she began.
“If you’re going to speak to me like I’m some kind of head-case, I may as well …” Tracy said between her teeth.
She made as though to stand, but Robyn clamped a hand over hers, stilling her.
“Tracy,” she said carefully. “You need to …” With her other hand, she moved Tracy’s wineglass aside, away from Tracy and closer to her side of the table.
A server approached.
“Good afternoon,” he said, giving Robyn a pleasant smile. “Might I …?”
Robyn handed him the wineglass without waiting for the rest of his inquiry.
“We’ll just need water with lemon, please,” she said. “And do you have green tea? Maybe jasmine?”
“Absolutely. Would you …?” He looked at Tracy.
“A pot for the table, thank you,” Robyn said, speaking over him again, clearly eager to have him leave them. “And then just a few more minutes for us to look over the menu.”
When they were alone again, Tracy pulled her hand from beneath Robyn’s, feeling suddenly ashamed of her outburst. She was always this person among their friends—the one who needed to be handled and placated. Feeling tears rise to her eyes, she stared out the plate glass window at the busy Manhattan street outside.
They were among the first lunchtime patrons in the normally bustling Midtown restaurant, because Robyn could only make it at noon. Her calendar was weighed down with meetings all day she had explained on the phone last night. She couldn’t make anything later.
So, Tracy had arranged for the sitter once again, and left Layla in her care early, wandering around Brooklyn Heights on her own, sitting in a café, killing time until she took the train in. She felt out of place in her own home these days. Almost daily, Layla was growing more self-sufficient, doing more than simply climbing up and down the stairs without assistance. Her baby didn’t need her as much as she used to.
“Tell me what’s wrong,” Robyn said.
“I went on a date,” Tracy said. “Did Riley tell you?”
“A date?” Robyn’s eyes widened.
“It wasn’t like a date-date. But yes. Brendan has this new colleague. This gorgeous French woman working for him. And she’s married to this really rich, guy. We went to their house and she was all over Brendan. Like … not in an obvious way, not like throwing herself at him. But you know what I’m talking about. When they hover just a little too much, a little too closely. When they lean in often …”
Robyn nodded.
As the wife of one of the biggest music entrepreneurs in the country, she knew only too well what Tracy was referring to. She, Riley, and Tracy had had many of these kinds of conversations, about the women who moved in, oh-so-subtly, on famous, but very much attached men. Just enough that it could be sensed by the men they targeted, but not enough that would justify a wife or girlfriend calling them out on it.
“It wasn’t anything crass or obvious,” Tracy continued. “But you know when it’s just short of what you can mention to your husband without looking like some crazy, delusional
, shrew? And you know Brendan already has it in his head that I’m insanely jealous about him …”
Robyn smiled.
“Okay,” Tracy acknowledged. “I am insanely jealous about him. But I know what’s real and what’s not. And this woman …”
“I believe you,” Robyn said reassuringly. “Anyway, go on. So how does this all add up to you going on a date with someone?”
Tracy filled in the rest, explaining about her conversation on the terrace with Thierry Wolfe, and the call inviting her to go look at art he might buy. And the lunch afterwards.
“I guess I thought I might learn something about his wife by spending a little time with him. But when we did have lunch,” Tracy said. “I saw that Riley was right. He was attracted to me, and if I gave even the slightest signal, it could have turned into something it shouldn’t.”
“But you recognized it for what it was, and put a stop to it,” Robyn said nodding. “Right?”
“Right. But it was a wake-up call,” Tracy said.
Robyn looked confused and was just about to say something when their waiter returned with the tea and water. After setting it all on the table, he stood expectantly while Robyn and Tracy made hasty choices from the lunch menu.
“It was a wake-up call,” Tracy said again. “I did something stupid. It was nothing in the end, but it reminded me of what I’m capable of. Of what I could risk. And you should have seen Brendan’s face when I told him.”
“What? How did he …?”
“He didn’t react. At all. But I could feel the gears turning in his mind, while he wondered whether I could ever …” Tracy pursed her lips and looked down at the table. “Maybe the reason he doesn’t know if he wants another baby is …”
“No,” Robyn said shutting that line of reasoning down. “Like I keep telling you, like he keeps telling you, he does want another baby. He talks about it all the time. And Tracy, you know he loves the hell out of Layla. He loves the hell out of you. Whenever I ask Brendan how he is, when I run into him at the office, the first thing he does is talk about you, about his family. I ask him how he is, and the first thing he thinks about is you. You, and Layla. Do you have any idea how … rare that is?”
“But then why doesn’t he …?”
“Have you ever considered that what he tells you is true? That he was held up with clients. That he did have a crisis at the office. I mean, sure, maybe he could plan better, but Jesus, they all could. I used to have to drag Chris out of his office at three in the morning. The only thing I could do to get him to bed sometimes was to dangle my naked butt at him. Even when I was too exhausted to have sex, I turned myself into a human pacifier just to get my man to get some sleep.”
Tracy spluttered into laughter, but Robyn didn’t even smile.
“I mean it,” she said. “We’re married to very driven, ambitious, Type-A men, who take seriously the business of providing for their families. And we’re lucky to have that. But the balance part of it? Sometimes—fair or not—that part’s on us. We’re the ones who need to tug on their coattails and remind them of what’s really important.”
“I’ve tried. But with my track-record, he just thinks I’m overreacting.”
“And sometimes you are, Tracy. I love you like a sister and I tell you this as a friend. Sometimes you are overreacting. You’ll get pregnant. You will be fat with a new baby before winter, I’m sure of it. But you just need to relax a little. Give him a break, and maybe establish a little balance for yourself as well. Stop sweating him so hard.”
“Brendan mentioned that I might want to go back to work.”
“Do you?”
“God, no. I love being at home. And I know it sounds terrible, but there’s something about knowing that he takes care of me, of us. Provides everything we need. Something about that is just so … sexy, y’know?”
Robyn laughed. “It is,” she admitted, reaching for the elegant porcelain teapot and refreshing their cups. “Don’t get me wrong, I don’t care that much about Chris’ money, but knowing that he made it … that it’s the result of the sweat of his brow, his ingenuity, his … genius? That’s as good as female Viagra.”
It was Tracy’s turn to laugh. Settling back into her chair, she reached for a packet of sweetener and reminded herself to thank God for her life’s many blessings, like nice lunches in upscale restaurants, and friends who ‘loved her like a sister’ but told her the truth like a friend.
“So, what’re you going to do?” Robyn asked. “To find some balance. For you, I mean.”
“I don’t know,” Tracy said wryly.
“You’ll get pregnant, Tracy,” Robyn said, with conviction. “You will. But maybe … I mean, is that even what’s really bothering you?”
“Yes, of course.” Tracy looked her directly in the eyes. “I mean, what else would it be?”
“Okay,” Robyn said. “Okay.”
She was home before Layla and the sitter returned. Tracy wandered about the house, picking up knick-knacks that were misplaced, and needlessly rearranging others. She brought the family laundry up from the basement, and sat on the edge of the bed, meticulously folding it. Within a half hour, the house was completely in order—there were no dishes that needed to be done, no specks of dirt needing to be swept away, and not a single item out of place.
There was a time when that that observation would have pleased her, but today it felt hollow and unsatisfactory. And for reasons she couldn’t explain, she reached for the phone to call her mother.
When she answered, her mother’s voice sounded as it always did–stern, tight, as though the caller had done something to offend her, even if she didn’t know what it was yet.
“Mom, it’s me,” Tracy said.
“Tracy Ann?”
“Yes.”
“Is there something the matter with the baby? With Layla?”
“No,” Tracy said. “There’s nothing wrong with her. I just called to see how you’re doing.”
There was a long pause while her mother absorbed the words.
“I’m fine.” There was a note of suspicion in her voice.
They weren’t in the habit of calling just to see how the other was. Their calls were transactional—making plans for holidays, for the periodic visits that would ensure Layla know and recognize her maternal grandmother, for the mailing of presents on birthdays.
“I was thinking,” Tracy said, feeling a mass like a stone in her throat, “that maybe I could come to see you. For a few days.”
“To see me?”
“Yes. Would that be alright?”
This wasn’t her intention when she called her mother. If someone had asked her, just moments earlier whether she wanted to go to Georgia to visit, she would have replied with an emphatic ‘no.’ And she still didn’t think it would be accurate to say she ‘wanted’ to see her mother. It was more that it seemed necessary, as though in seeing her, one final missing piece of a puzzle might fall into place. Except Tracy didn’t know what the completed puzzle looked like, nor was she confident that she would know how to identify the missing piece.
“Would you bring Layla?” her mother asked.
“I … I hadn’t thought of it. I could, but I thought maybe just us, this once. Just to …”
“Come if you want. But I couldn’t take time off from my work to entertain you, Tracy. I have a schedule that I keep. You know that.”
Her mother didn’t work. She volunteered. She had been well provided for when her husband passed away years ago and had herself retired with a pension that wasn’t exceptionally large, but more than adequate to cover her needs. Taking time off, whenever she wanted to, was far from a hardship.
“It would just be a few days.” It sounded like she was begging. “Maybe just two?”
“I can’t,” her mother said. And this time, her voice was rigid. “And to be honest, I’m not sure whether you can either. You would leave your husband and your baby to come here and … what?”
“Talk, I thought
,” Tracy said.
“Did you have something in particular you wanted to talk about?”
“Everything. Nothing. Just … talk.” For reasons she would have been at a loss to explain, Tracy felt the pinprick of tears at the backs of her eyes.
Her mother gave a long-suffering sigh. “I can’t imagine what it is you think would be worth flying all the way here, just to talk about. We can talk on the telephone. We’re talking now, are we not?”
“It isn’t the same as in person. And I thought we could talk about us,” Tracy said. She exhaled a short burst of air. Saying that last word, that single, tiny word had taken an extraordinary effort. “I thought maybe we might …”
On the other end of the line, her mother sighed yet again, and made a clucking noise in the back of her throat.
“I can tell from the sound of your voice that you’ve gone and gotten yourself all worked-up about something. I thought you’d outgrown all of this … melodrama,” she said almost scornfully. “You would get on a plane, and leave your child and your husband to …”
“Brendan would understand. And he would take great care of Layla if I was gone for a couple of days. I just thought …”
“No, you didn’t think. You never do. I don’t have time for this, Tracy Ann. I have an appointment I can’t miss.”
And then the line went dead.
9
She woke late, as she always did on Saturdays. But what didn’t always happen was that Brendan was still in bed with her. Today he was. Tracy opened her eyes and found herself looking directly into his. He had clearly been awake for some time and was staring at her. His expression was hard to read, and he seemed pensive.
“Hi,” she said, her voice quiet. “What time is it?”
Four: Stories of Marriage Page 25