Acadia State Playhouse. Theater New Brunswick. The Capitol Theater. They loved him. They had no work.
Erik found himself making wishes when the clock read 11:11 or 12:34. Searching the evening skies for the first star. Looking for signs and auguries as he entreated the universe: Please, let me find work.
Salvation came from the most random and unlikely of places. He was in Brockport’s library, researching jobs, when a spicy orange perfume slid around his nose and a woman spoke over his shoulder.
“Well, look who’s here.”
“I know that voice,” he said, not turning around.
“I hope so,” she said, her breath a warm whisper on his earlobe. “You slept next to it for six years. Four of them legally.”
Erik turned and looked up at his ex-wife. A smile spread across his face at her fine, noble features and long cornrowed hair. Then his gaze dropped.
“Well, look at you,” he said. He put out a hand and gently touched her pregnant belly.
“Don’t touch me, Erik Fiskare,” she said. “Said no woman ever.”
The scrape of his chair cut the silence of the library as he got up and embraced her. “Look at you,” he said again.
“Look at me,” she said, laughing. “In a fix.”
“How far along?”
“Five months. It’s a girl.”
He slid his hands down her arms to catch her fingers up. They were bare.
“No, you conservative twerp, I’m not married,” she said.
“Conservative? Have we met?”
“What are you doing here?”
“Book report. What are you doing here? Do you have time, you want to get coffee?”
She sighed. “I’m so sick of coffee. Soon as I give birth, I’m getting drunk. Yes, let’s get coffee. Fucking decaf, this is what it’s come to.”
Her catchup took ten seconds. She was still teaching music at a private school in East Rochester. She met a man. She got pregnant. He bailed. She made a decision. “Happily ever after,” she said. “To be continued. The end. All of the above. Fuck it.”
“I’m thrilled for you. You look beautiful.”
“Thanks, baby,” she said. “As usual, it hurts to look at you. What’s giving you that decidedly masculine, non-pregnant glow?”
He smiled, his cheekbones warm with a guilty joy. “One guess?”
She leaned her cheek on her hand and studied him a moment. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, you finally called her.”
He gave her the condensed version, ending with his current predicament. Through it, Melanie made small, precipitating noises. Nodded. Shrugged. Laughed. And now her cheek was back on her hand and her eyes blinked over a crooked smile.
“Wouldn’t it be ironic if my sister’s best friend’s cousin’s husband had a friend who knew someone who was opening a dinner theater in New Brunswick?” she asked.
He stared at her, his utter unworthiness heavy in his lap. “Oh, Mel, don’t tease me.”
THE DINNER THEATER WAS in Moncton, a two-hour commute from Saint John. Being part of a start-up venture would mean long, grueling hours. But it was open-ended work and it got Erik his papers.
Moncton, fortunately, was Will’s hometown. He got his hands on strings and started pulling. The Acadian Ballet Academy was putting together its summer intensive program. They needed guest teachers. Madame Bianco from the New Brunswick Ballet was invited. She accepted.
Maurice and Ségolène Kaeger owned an apartment in Riverview, a pretty community across the river from downtown Moncton. They rented it to graduate and doctorate students at the university. Now they offered its summer lease to Erik and Daisy. At the same time, Daisy arranged to rent Barbegazi to the guest conductor coming in for Symphonie New Brunswick’s summer program.
Emptying his office, saying goodbye to friends and colleagues and packing up his apartment left Erik drained. The twelve-hour drive from Brockport to Saint John was a bear, including an enchanting delay at customs when he had to unload the entire U-Haul, explain its contents and his intentions, and then load it again.
“You know I can stand in bars and take numbers,” he muttered under his breath as he lugged boxes back into place. “I’m not the kind of terrorist you’re watching for.”
“Reason for your visit?” an official asked him for the hundredth time.
Tired and punchy, Erik looked the guy dead in the eye and replied, “Because I love her.”
The official raised his eyebrows. A corner of his mouth went up then the other joined it, showing a wide smile with a gold tooth.
“That’s the best reason I’ve heard all day,” he said, signing Erik’s papers and handing them back. His fingers touched the bill of his cap. “Good luck, my friend.”
Erik had three days to unload his boxes and clobber and load up on sleep and sex. He sorted out what was going into the attic at Barbegazi and what was coming with him to Moncton. Then he packed up again and headed to the Riverview apartment. Daisy would finish the spring season, see to Barbegazi’s tenants and join him in two weeks.
They agreed later spending the summer in Moncton together was the best decision they could have made. It allowed them to be a couple right away. They were both clocking long, hard hours of physically demanding work, but they could sleep together every night and be the first thing they saw in the morning. Saturday nights and Sundays were all theirs and they made the most of Moncton’s offerings, all the while assessing Erik’s new job and how it was going to work for them come fall.
Almost immediately, it was obvious the two hour commute was not sustainable. Not on a daily basis and not with Erik’s schedule. Swallowing disappointment and manning up, they faced the idea of a commuter relationship come September.
“We’re in the same time zone,” Daisy said.
“And on the same timetable,” Erik said.
They both would work Wednesday to Sunday. After Sunday’s matinee performance, Erik could drive back to Saint John, spend Monday and Tuesday, then head back to Moncton on Wednesday. The Kaegers would let him continue the lease of the apartment, at an embarrassingly generous discount.
The future sorted out, they leaned into the joy of the present. The summer was beautiful that year, with mild weather and not too much rain. The days passed in a blur of work and love. They discovered the Trans Canada Trail, the world’s longest rec path, went right through Riverview. They rented bikes and explored it on their days off, even making little overnight trips to Prince Edward Island and Nova Scotia to pick up the trail there.
On the fourth of July, Jacqueline Grace Kaeger was born. Erik and Daisy headed back to Saint John.
“She’s all you, Luck,” Daisy said, looking down at the baby in her arms. Jacy had little wisps of nearly-white hair, some of it already curling up. Her wide cheeks and pointed chin were an exact, almost eerie replica of Lucky’s face.
“Finally I get some representation,” Lucky said from her hospital bed. She looked worn-out, as did Will. Erik couldn’t help feeling concerned for their well-being.
“You guys all right?” he later asked Will over beers.
“We’ll be fine,” Will said. “You make a plan and God smiles, right? But everything happens for a reason.”
“No shit,” Erik said, knocking the neck of his bottle against Will’s. They drank deeply.
“In other news,” Will said. “I’m not allowed to look in Lucky’s direction until I get a vasectomy.”
“Yeah, I’d book that immediately,” Erik said.
His foreboding turned out to be accurate and as July wound down it became evident Lucky wasn’t doing well at all.
“She’s so depressed,” Will said on the phone. “Dude, it’s bad.”
“I hear Dais on the phone with her in the middle of the night,” Erik said. “It sounds bad. Has she seen her doctor about it?”
“She finally went and he wrote her a script for antidepressants, but she’s balking at it.”
“I know,” Erik said. “I did the same
.”
“I’m going to leave Jack and Sara with the nanny this weekend. Take Lucky and the baby up to stay with my parents. I need to get her out of here and Lucky needs Dais.”
“Good idea. Come to us.”
“And listen,” Will said. “Will you help me talk to her? About the meds?”
The four friends gathered close.
Mostly Lucky talked.
“I feel like such a shit,” she said, tucked in the circle of Will’s arms and weeping. “I have this beautiful life and I’m such an ungrateful bitch.”
“Stop,” Will said against her hair as he rocked her. “Don’t beat yourself up like this, babe.”
Lucky cried harder. “I don’t understand. She’s so good. She’s such a good baby. She’s a piece of fucking cake. Jack and Sara are being amazing. Our nanny is an angel. We have a roof over our heads, we have work, we have fucking government-mandated parental leave. What the hell is wrong with me?”
“Don’t,” Daisy said, coming to sit on Lucky’s other side. “This isn’t something you’re doing. It’s something that’s happening to you.”
Lucky gulped and sniffed. A flicker of understanding seemed to cross her flushed, swollen face.
“Nobody thinks you’re doing this on purpose,” Erik said. “Look around the table, Luck. You got three breakdowns in front of you. We’ve all been there and it’s not something you choose to do for kicks.”
“We’re the jury of your peers,” Daisy said, smiling as she smoothed Lucky’s hair. “Not the judges.”
Lucky exhaled. Took a deep breath and exhaled again. “I love you guys. I’d be fucked without you…” She looked across to Erik and held out her hands. As he caught them tight and squeezed, he noticed for the first time Lucky wore her gold wedding band on her left index finger. To be one with Will, who had no choice but to wear his there.
“I just want you to feel better,” Will said.
“I do, too,” she cried, letting go of Erik and slumping against her husband. Will rested his forehead on her temple, his love for her etched in every line of his face.
“Take the meds,” Daisy said softly. “They won’t make it all go away, but they’ll help you feel yourself again.”
“It makes me feel so weak,” Lucky said.
“You’re in a weak place right now,” Erik said, smiling as his own therapist’s words came out of his mouth.
“Life is too short to go around feeling like you’re dying,” Daisy said.
Lucky dropped her head on Daisy’s shoulder. “It sucks.”
“A cesspool of sucking suckage,” Daisy said, twirling one blonde curl around her finger then tucking it behind Lucky’s ear.
“It won’t suck forever, honey,” Will said. “This is only right now. Fish is right—it’s not weakness, it’s just a weak place. So go on the meds a month. Try counseling a month. Four weeks. Just to get out of this place and into a better one.”
“I’ll go back on mine, too,” Daisy said, which got a chuckle from Lucky.
“Me too,” Erik said. “We’ll do it together.”
“The friends that medicate together, stay together,” Will said.
Lucky laughed for real then. Lifting up her chin she looked around the circle. The tears were falling again, but a little light was back in her grey eyes. “All right,” she said. “All right, I’ll try.”
AS MUCH AS THEY planned the logistics and anticipated the pitfalls, it was hard when September came and Daisy went back to Saint John. They looked for the bright side: two hours apart wasn’t twelve hours apart. Two solid days together was better than a scattered handful of hours over a week. It was far from perfect but it was better than before.
And it was hard.
“At least Lucky’s glad to have Daisy back,” Will said on the phone. “From the department of silver linings.”
“How is she doing?” Erik asked.
“All right,” Will said, a sigh in his voice hinting she was far from all right.
“Truth, please,” Erik said.
Another sigh. “It’s slow to come around and I don’t need to tell you therapy can make it get darker in your mind before the light comes on. But she’s definitely more engaged. Starting to crack jokes about depression rather than crying about it. Which is good. I mean, if you can laugh at a shitty situation, you have the upper hand.”
Erik hesitated. “Any insight as to what’s behind all this?”
Will gave a short chuckle. “One guess?”
“Begins with a J, rhymes with moody?”
“Fucking Judy,” Will said. “You know, dude, I don’t hate people. I don’t have the time and it isn’t in my nature. But when I say I hate my motherin-law, I mean I detest my motherin-law.”
“I take it not much support coming from her.”
“Zero.”
“She doesn’t call at all?”
“Oh, she calls plenty. To tell Lucky all the wrong things, invalidate her feelings, belittle her accomplishments and undermime any progress she’s made. I’m at the point now where I run interference on the calls and it’s a fucking chore just to be civil.”
“But it’s not the lack of support that drove Lucky over the edge. It goes deeper than that, right? It’s older.”
“It’s as old as Lucky.” Will paused. “Hang on a sec, I’m going outside. Too many ears around.”
Erik sat on the couch, putting his feet up on the coffee table. If he were at Barbegazi, Bastet would have immediately jumped in his lap. Out of habit, his hand reached, looking for the dome of that silvery head nudging at him. The empty air beneath his curved palm made the dull ache of missing Daisy rear up like a startled cobra.
“Sorry,” Will said. “Anyway, you know Lucky’s family pretty much mirrors our situation. Two kids and then Lucky was a surprise third.”
“When did her parents divorce?”
“She was six. And the unspoken skeleton banging on the closet door is Rich was already kicking around the idea of separating when Judy got pregnant with Lucky. Either accidentally or on purpose.”
“Did he have someone else?” Erik asked. “Or he’d just had enough?”
“Not sure. Somehow Judy shamed or manipulated him into staying. He came back home and stuck around for the kids’ sake.”
“So basically, Lucky was Judy’s pawn in a loveless marriage?”
“Yeah. And when Rich left anyway, she became Judy’s punching bag.”
“Because she failed to serve her purpose.”
“Exactly. Plant that seed in Lucky’s subconscious and fast-forward to when we find ourselves pregnant for an unexpected third time. What do you get?”
“Rattling bones.”
“Whether Lucky saw Jacy as herself and Lucky was going to turn into Judy. Or both…”
“You’re not Rich, though,” Erik said. “And your marriage is anything but loveless.”
“Doesn’t matter, I guess. It obviously triggered something.”
“Weird how it’s nothing you consciously do or decide,” Erik said. “When an instinctive, free-associated idea gets into your mind, it gets into your DNA. You just start living it.”
“Yeah,” Will said, his voice dull and tired. “She’s working through it. She likes her therapist and the meds seem to be evening her out. She’s getting up and getting dressed and getting through the days. But…”
“She’s not herself,” Erik said. “And you miss her.”
“I hate seeing her so lost. I hate that half her candles are blown out. She’s here, but her eyes are just…gone. God, it fucking kills me. Especially since I know how bad it can get and I’m helpless to fix it. I want to go in with a wrench and duct tape and make it all better. I suck at patience.”
“You’re the most patient person I know. Are you kidding?”
“It’s a cleverly-crafted illusion,” Will said. “I want the world yesterday. Always have.”
“Huh.”
“I can’t do anything about it,” Will said. “Directly,
anyway. It’s all indirect support—managing the kids and the house, trying to carve out time just for us, wrapping my arms around her every chance I get. Blah blah.”
“Hey, they sound like little things but they’re huge.”
Will gave a grunt. Erik caught the keen edge of frustration within it, and only hesitated a few seconds before saying, “Probably not much sex going on, huh?”
“Shit,” Will said. “I feel like a douche for being bothered by it but Jesus Christ.”
“This is entre nous,” Erik said. “Douche away.”
“Same sob story,” Will said. “She’s here. She’s present. She doesn’t initiate, but if I want to, she lets me in. But her head is just somewhere else. It feels so empty and it makes me sad. I miss her jumping my bones. God, I suck.”
“Come on, you do not,” Erik said, laughing. “Sex is your and Lucky’s favorite hobby.”
“Cheapest form of entertainment there is,” Will said, a little humor back in his voice.
“It’s a huge part of your relationship,” Erik said. “Sucks to have it disappear. Sucks for anyone.”
“Yeah, especially since we were back in a groove since Sara turned two. Before that we were just too damn tired to do more than sloppily grope. But once we got a routine going and the kids were sleeping through the night, we kind of had a Renaissance.”
“Now it’s the Dark Ages.”
Will made a disgusted noise.
“It’ll come back,” Erik said, realizing a man had a dozen ways to feel impotent.
“I know,” Will said. “I’m just impatient. And horny. But enough about me. You guys doing okay? Your teeth must ache from missing her.”
“We’re all right,” Erik said. “I make no illusions about patience. The circumstances suck balls and I want to be living with her for good. Yesterday. But so far we’re managing. And joking about it.”
“Joking around and jerking off.”
“Twice today.”
“Same. Ever look at so much porn you depressed yourself?”
“No.”
“Yeah, me neither. All right, I need to go. It’s the evening meltdown.”
“Have fun. Say hi to everyone.”
“Love you,” Will said. “Don’t fucking call me.” He hung up.
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