by Sarah Dunn
“Well, then, yes, if she does have cancer, I feel bad. Cancer is bad. It would suck to have cancer. Cancer is a horrible disease. Is that what you want me to say?”
“I want you to be the woman I married,” said Owen. “I want you to say what she would say.”
“I don’t think the woman you married would be in this situation, Owen. I think her head would never stop spinning. I think she’d think we were both completely out of our minds,” said Lucy.
“We both did this,” said Owen. “We agreed on the whole thing.”
“I know we did!” Lucy practically shouted. “But you. Chose. Poorly!”
“Lucy—”
“And if that woman has cancer, then that’s a bad thing for her. Cancer is a very bad thing. But that’s about as far as I can go. And when you talk to her again, which I know you will, please tell her to stay away from my son or I will call the fucking police.”
Twenty-One
What I find amazing is this: that two individuals who have zero genes in common can create a strong enough bond to stick together for a lifetime.
—Constance Waverly
The Waverly Report
Owen woke up late the next morning, in a quiet house, in an empty bed. It was strangely peaceful, alone in the cool soft sheets, and for a moment he tried his best to forget the high drama of the past few days, the fact that Izzy had cancer so bad it was visible to the naked eye, the fact that Lucy had more or less admitted she was doing something with somebody else.
She’s having sex with somebody else, Owen found himself thinking, almost against his will. As his mother used to say, They’re not playing Parcheesi.
When he finally went downstairs, he found Wyatt on the couch watching Curious George. His right arm was up to his armpit inside a box of Cheerios, but he wasn’t eating them. It was like he had stopped eating them a while back and forgotten his arm was still inside the box. There were Cheerios everywhere, of course, on the couch and on the floor, and Owen let himself get a little bit mad at Lucy. Just a little bit.
“Are you buying episodes of Curious George with the Fire Stick?”
“Yes,” said Wyatt.
“How many?”
“Six.”
Six times $2.99. Eighteen dollars’ worth of Curious George.
“We get it for free on Netflix,” said Owen.
“I don’t know how to Netflix.”
For all of Wyatt’s interest in tales of wide-scale death and destruction, he had recently discovered the innocent pleasures of Curious George. Owen sat down next to him and wished he were the man in the yellow hat.
“Hey, buddy, where’s Mama?”
“She’s in New York City!” said Wyatt. “She said she’d bring me a present from New York City!”
She’s probably off on a sexcapade, Owen thought.
And this was the truth: He didn’t like it. He didn’t like it one bit.
* * *
Lucy was climbing out of the subway station on her way to Ben’s apartment when a flurry of texts from him came through all at once.
I have to cancel. I have to go pick up the girls. The soccer game got rained out and Deborah is stuck in surgery.
Are you there? Did you get this?
I’m really sorry.
Please let me know you got this.
Can you do tomorrow afternoon? Or later this week? I know this blows.
Lucy just stood there, leaning against the subway railing, rain dripping down her neck, staring at her phone.
Of course she couldn’t do tomorrow afternoon. Of course she couldn’t! And she was mad that Ben didn’t know that, that he didn’t realize how hard it was for her to get from Beekman to Brooklyn, to extricate herself from the rest of her life to be with him. They had talked on the phone the night before, briefly, after the whole Izzy fiasco, and they’d figured out they could meet up today. Ben’s girls had soccer, then a playdate at a friend’s house, and then Deborah was picking them up, and Lucy figured she could leave Wyatt home with Owen.
She was mad that Ben didn’t realize how much she needed to see him. She was mad at Deborah, a woman she’d never met, for being a very important surgeon and depending too much on her ex-husband to pick up the slack.
And this: I know this blows?
She texted him back: Tomorrow won’t work. Enjoy your girls. Talk soon.
Lucy didn’t know what to do with herself. It was raining. It was too cold to wander for any stretch of time, and she didn’t want to go home, she didn’t want to see Owen.
She was almost to Ben’s building. At least that’s what she told herself. She was six blocks away. She just wanted to take a look. And see what? What exactly did she expect to see?
She wanted to see if he was with another woman, she supposed, although Lucy knew life wasn’t quite that simple. It wasn’t like she was going to see Ben, what, step out of his apartment building holding hands with someone and head off to brunch? That was highly unlikely. If he was with somebody, well, it was raining, and they’d probably spend the morning in bed. Still, she wanted to see if there was something to see, if there was something she should know. Better to find out now. Before she fell any further. Before she ruined her life.
It was strange, really, that he had to cancel their entire day together because of a little rain. What about the girls’ afternoon playdate? Couldn’t he have moved that around, worked a little harder to figure things out? He was a divorced dad, for heaven’s sake. Lucy knew that there were probably a dozen moms who would step in and help him out in a pinch, who would entertain his girls, feed them lunch, drop them off at the next house for him for the rest of the afternoon—women loved that shit, a chance to swoop in and help the hapless man who no longer had the benefits of a wife.
She found a little nook at the end of the street across from Ben’s building. There was some green lattice supporting what turned out to be plastic foliage, hiding some garbage cans. She wedged herself in there, underneath an awning, and pretended to be checking her phone. She broke out in a sweat.
What if she saw something?
Lucy was driving herself more and more crazy with each passing minute. She was soaked to the bone. Leave now, she kept saying to herself. And then: Just five more minutes. Now, Lucy. And then, Just a little bit longer.
She had no idea how long she’d stood there, with her mind racing like a crazy person, before she saw him.
She recognized him by the way he walked. She didn’t even know she knew how Ben walked, but apparently she did, because she spotted him from half a block away.
And he was with his girls.
Eliza was the older one. She was twelve but looked younger to Lucy’s eyes, still a girl, still with a straight-up-and-down figure. When she got a little closer Lucy saw that the girl was covered in freckles, just like her mother. Peggy was ten and built like a young Teddy Kennedy. She already had her buds. They both had their soccer cleats tied together by their laces and dangling over their shoulders. Ben was holding a huge green-and-white umbrella and carrying a brown paper bag splotched with drops of rain. Bagels, probably.
They ducked into the apartment building, and the door closed behind them. Lucy took a few steps back and leaned against the brick building. She was shaking. She closed her eyes and tried to breathe.
“Lucy!”
Lucy’s heart stopped.
“Victoria,” said Lucy. “Wow. Hey. Hi.”
It was Brooklyn Victoria, wife of hipster Thom, mother of the long-haired boy named Flannery. Lucy hadn’t spoken to her since that drunken night on their deck back in July. The night that started everything, really.
“Oh my God, I thought that was you,” said Victoria. “What are you doing here? You look like you’re hiding from someone!”
“No, no. I’m just lost.”
“I’d say,” said Victoria. “What are you doing in this neighborhood?”
“Nothing, really. I had some time to myself and I wanted to see Brooklyn. I feel so out of i
t these days. I didn’t realize it would be raining.”
“Well, you picked the wrong part,” said Victoria. “It’s nothing but apartment buildings and dry cleaner’s around here. You should have called me. I would have pointed you in the right direction.”
“I should have.”
“Do you have a few minutes for a cup of coffee?” asked Victoria.
Lucy checked the time on her phone to give herself a second to think. “Looks like I do,” she said.
* * *
Owen was cruising slowly down Beekman’s main street, searching for a parking space. Wyatt was in back, chattering away, happy to have his dad all to himself.
Owen hadn’t wanted to involve Wyatt in this particular mission but he couldn’t figure out a way around it. Lucy had disappeared into the city for the day, and Izzy had stopped responding to his texts and his e-mails. He felt like he should check on her. He wanted to see if she was okay.
He found a parking spot a few streets down from Izzy’s house and was heading toward it when he saw Sunny Bang stepping off Izzy’s front porch. He grabbed Wyatt by the shoulder and tried to spin him in another direction so they could avoid Sunny, but he wasn’t quick enough.
“Sunny Bang!” Wyatt yelled when he spotted her. “Sunny Bang! Sunny Bang! Sunny Bang!”
“Wyatt!” said Sunny. “It’s good to see you!”
Sunny knelt down to Wyatt’s eye level and said, “Guess what? I’ve got an extra apple in my purse. Do you want it?”
“No,” said Wyatt.
“No, thank you,” said Sunny, correcting him.
“I hate apples.”
“You can just say ‘No, thank you.’”
“Apples are disgusting. They’re completely, completely disgusting. They have worms in them!”
Owen just shrugged at Sunny as if to say, What can you do?
“Yo. Owen. Why are you here?”
“Me?” said Owen. “What do you mean?”
“I didn’t know you knew Izzy Radford. This is her house.”
“I, uh, I know her.”
“From where?”
“From her store.”
“Oh my God,” said Sunny Bang.
“What?”
“Do not tell me that what I think is happening is actually happening.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” said Owen.
“Oh my God! Oh my God, Owen!”
“What?”
“You and Izzy.”
“Me and—what? No.”
“Do not lie to me, Owen.”
“I’m not lying, Sunny,” said Owen.
“Stop lying, Owen.”
“I’m not lying.”
“Stop lying.”
“I’m not—”
“Stop!”
Owen took a deep breath and then said, “Lucy knows about it.”
“I know what Lucy knows. Lucy talks to me. I’m her friend.”
“So you, uh, know the deal.”
“I do know the deal. I think it’s a stupid deal, but I do know about it. I probably know more than you do at this point.”
“No doubt.”
“Which isn’t a problem, because I’m very good with secrets,” said Sunny Bang.
“Thank you, Sunny. I appreciate it.”
“You know who’s not good with secrets? Izzy Radford,” said Sunny. “And she has cancer.”
“Yeah, I—she told me.”
“It’s bad. It’s bad bad,” said Sunny. “So you two can stop whatever shenanigans you’ve got going on right now. I’m serious, Owen. Right now!”
“It’s stopped. We stopped already.”
“Good.
“Right.”
Sunny folded her arms across the front of her chest and cocked her head at him. “I’m arranging for people to bring her meals. I’ll put you down for a week from Thursday. Grill some of those sausages you do so well. Throw in a side salad and a so-so bottle of chardonnay. Oh, and drop it off at my house, not here. I’ll make sure she knows it’s from you.”
“Okay.”
“Now go home,” said Sunny. “I mean it, Owen. Go!”
* * *
Lucy and Victoria walked a few blocks west to a wine bar Victoria had been to before. Coffee for Victoria meant wine, of course, and Lucy was fine with that. It was barely noon, but drinking with Victoria was better than wandering around in the rain all by herself, and she wasn’t in the mood to go home. And Ben was with his girls.
Ben was with his girls!
“You seem distracted,” Victoria said once they sat down.
“I’m just cold,” said Lucy. “My feet got wet.”
“I’ll go to the bar and get us something. God forbid anyone actually waits on a table in this place. What would you like?”
“A glass of sauvignon blanc, thanks.”
Ben was with his girls! She had gone to such a dark place, and so quickly. I love him, Lucy thought. I really do.
“I can’t believe we haven’t talked since that night on our deck,” Lucy said when Victoria came back with their drinks.
“That was a crazy night,” said Victoria.
“It was.”
“I can’t remember being that drunk and still being able to function.”
“Some crazy stuff was said,” said Lucy. “Crazy crazy.”
“Oh my God, I wish I could take everything back. You guys must have thought we were insane.”
“We sort of did,” said Lucy.
“Three weeks after we saw you, Frank and Jim split up.”
“Really?”
“Yep. Frank filed for divorce out of the blue.”
“Why? What happened?”
“He fell in love,” Victoria said. She rolled her eyes when she said it, like love was an imaginary thing.
“With who?”
“With some stay-at-home dad whose wife is a managing director at Morgan Stanley. They’re going for full custody of all of the kids, and it looks like they’ll get it too. All five children. And neither of them will have to work another day of their lives.”
“Yikes.”
“It’s really awful,” said Victoria. She took a big sip of her wine. “Jim is devastated. Devastated.”
“So you didn’t go through with it?” Lucy finally asked Victoria after they’d ordered a cheese plate and olives. “The open-marriage thing?”
Victoria swirled the wine around in her glass for a moment and then said, “No, we did.”
“You did?”
“Yep,” said Victoria.
“And?”
“It was a total disaster.”
Lucy couldn’t hide her curiosity. “Really? What happened?”
“Let’s see,” Victoria said. “I became insanely jealous. Thom completely lost all perspective on his life. I begged him to stop. He asked for a divorce.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yeah, it was a real shit-show there for a while.”
“Why didn’t you call me?” said Lucy.
“I was embarrassed. I couldn’t face anything or anybody. I’m sorry I was so out of touch,” said Victoria. “I think he had someone he wanted to sleep with and then sort of made this whole deal thing come up. And so he slept with her.”
“And?”
“Apparently it was great,” she said. “Apparently she was everything I’m not, in bed and otherwise.”
“He told you that?”
“Yep. Apparently, I’m a bitch,” she said. “And I’m cold and controlling and she is warm and sweet and kind.”
“So you’re getting divorced?”
“No,” said Victoria. “Not at the moment, at least.”
“What does that mean?”
“Well, after he promised to stop seeing her and yet kept right on seeing her, and then promised again and then kept seeing her anyway, I did that thing women have been doing since the beginning of time.”
“What’s that?”
“I decided to look the other way.”
“Huh,” said Lucy. “So, I don’t get it; is he still seeing her?”
“Of course he is! But I’ve stopped asking. I’ve stopped snooping. You know me, once I set my mind to something, I follow through.”
“How do you do it?”
“Mostly I just play dumb. He comes home late from work? I pour him a drink and ask him how his day was. He has to go to Seattle for business? I send him a cheery e-mail around dinnertime saying I love him and I’m going to bed early and we can talk in the morning. Basically, I’m making staying with me easier than leaving me.”
“Why?”
“Eventually he’ll get as tired of her as he is of me. Eventually she’ll turn into a bitch and a shrew and a nag and a bore. He’ll come up for air, look around a bit, and see his son, our friends, his life, and our life together, and he’ll decide it’s easier to stay than it would be to go. And not just that it’s easier. He’ll see that he has a lot to lose, things that actually mean a great deal to him.”
“Yeah, maybe,” said Lucy, nodding slowly. “But how long do you think that’s gonna take?”
“Three years.”
“Three years?”
“All the marriages I’ve seen go through something like this, three years seems to be the number.”
“Really?”
“I think sometime after the first year, the other woman starts to become demanding, maybe a bit of the sex haze begins to go away, and eventually the guy realizes that she isn’t the magical solution to all of his problems the way he thought she’d be. And instead of one unhappy woman in his life, now he’s got two.”
“Three years is a long time to look the other way.”
“I have this image in my mind when I do it,” said Victoria. She leaned back and rested her head against the red leather at the top of their booth. “I think of a dignified, beautiful French woman. She lives in Avignon with her husband and her two adolescent children. And every time her husband goes to Paris, she knows in some part of the back of her mind that he visits his mistress. Just the way his father did and the way her father did. I’m not saying it doesn’t upset her, but she accepts it as the way of the world. And she doesn’t find it humiliating like an American woman would, because all the women in her circle are in the same boat. Or realize that they probably will be soon.”