One Small Thing (33 page)

“The floor?”

“I told you. She was hecka mad. Can I have some more cucumbers? Cucumbers only?”

Dan served him some more cucumbers—sneaking in one carrot—and then let Daniel eat in silence, the sound of his crunching echoing in the dining room. Nothing about Avery was making sense today, her early return in time for his parents’ visit, her reaction to Galvin Gold, to him, to Daniel. If she was preparing to leave him, she was doing it in a strange way, killing them all with concern before she picked up her bags, jumped in the Bay porter, and drove out of their lives.

“Dad!” Daniel was looking at him, his plate empty.

“What?” Dan wiped his mouth.

“I’m done. I know I have to say ‘Can I be excused?’ So, like, can I?”

“Yeah, sure. Clear up.”

Daniel looked at him with a ‘Duh!’ expression, picked up his plate, and took it into the kitchen. There was the sound of running water, the clink of plate against dishwasher rungs, and then footsteps down the hall.

Dan looked around the house for things he needed to do for tomorrow. But the housecleaner had been here the day before, and the furniture shone, the carpets still had vacuum marks, and aside from the dinner dishes, the kitchen sink and tile were spotless. Outside, Ramon—hired back and making up for what he saw as Dan’s lazy pruning—had hedged within an inch of every crape myrtle’s, redbud’s, and rose’s life. The lawn was an immaculate green thatch of growth, red and gold leaves swirling on the top. Valerie and Luis had promised to be in charge of the BBQ, bringing over
carne asada
and
pollo preparado
. Isabel was bringing her famous green Jell-O salad, and Jared was in charge of dessert. There was nothing left for Dan to do but go into his bedroom, wake up his wife, and ask her the questions he needed to.

The room was stuffy, the warm afternoon stuck between the walls, pulsing. Avery slept on her side, a hand on the pillow, her mouth open. Her skirt and jacket top were on the floor, her nylons wadded in a ball, her pumps kicked off into the corner. Dan walked slowly into the room and stopped, staring at her purse. The answers to his question were probably inside the black leather. All he’d have to do is reach in and pull out her cell phone, palm pilot, receipts. Out in the living room, he could listen to her messages, find out the secrets she’d been keeping from him, uncover where she’d really been and who she’d been with. Then he’d have her over a barrel, just as she’d had him. “You lied to me!” she’d cried. “You didn’t tell me anything!”

Now, with all the evidence Dan was sure he’d discover, they’d be even. But it was probably too late. She had someone else without the baggage of lies and child and a past. Dan closed his eyes, wanting to turn and leave. He’d wait until after this weekend with his parents to confront her. After all, how would he possibly get through tomorrow with Avery on a plane heading toward another man? It would be easier, as it had always been, to run away, as he’d done before.

Avery breathed out and turned onto her back, lightly snoring. Dan opened his eyes and almost laughed. “I do not snore,” she’d insisted on their honeymoon. “I have never snored in my entire life. Once I stayed awake to listen to myself, and I don’t.”

“What?”

Avery had blushed and covered her face in her pillow. “I’ve never heard it,” she said, her voice muffled.

“I’m going to tape it for you. Wait, I’ll give you an example.” Dan had breathed in hard, exhaling with a puff. “A lady snore. Not too bad. Not like the guys in the frat.”

“Oh!” she had punched him in the shoulder, and they both laughed, holding each other, not caring about snoring or anything but each other’s lips and hands and bodies.

Sighing, Dan walked toward the bed and sat, looking at Avery. It had to be now. Whatever she needed to do, should happen tonight. He’d call Isabel to watch Daniel, and then he’d drive her to the airport. He’d pack up her clothes in boxes and drop them off at eight am at UPS. The first thing he’d tell Daniel, Jared, Val and Luis, and his parents is the truth. Right away. And then he’d go on.

“Dan?” Avery looked down at him and yawned. “What time is it?

“Almost eight. You’ve been sleeping for hours.”

She sat up and pushed her hair back. Half-moons of mascara hung under her eyes. “I’m exhausted.”

“Hard trip?”

“Did you call?” she asked suddenly. “Did you find out what we can do about that asshole?” Avery licked her lips, her eyes focused.

“Vince wants us to keep a log of his calls and change our phone number as soon as possible. We have to be aware of who drives by. That kind of thing. I’ve got to talk with Flora about this. But we can’t give in to anything Galvin says. He has no claim at all.”

“Of course he doesn’t! You’re the father, for Christ’s sake.” Avery folded her arms and yet looked like she could weep. “That poor boy.”

“Daniel?”

She nodded and wiped her eyes. “God.”

“Aves. Aves?”

She shook her head and breathed in. “I’m okay.”

“Are you?”

“What do you mean?”

Dan scooted closer to her, her thigh next to his hip. “Something’s happened. You’re home. You weren’t supposed to be. Brody called earlier and said that he’d been trying to reach you for hours. He wouldn’t leave a message. What’s going on?”

She looked down, biting her cheek in the way she always did. Once he’d made a point of feeling the inside of her cheek with his tongue, running it over the bitten sides as she laughed and then pushed him away. “You’re finding out all my quirks,” she’d said.

He’d tried to find them those first months of knowing her, wanting to make sure she was flawed—flawed enough to want him.

“Aves.”

“I—I don’t know.” She wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“You can tell me,” he said.

Dan put his hand on her thigh and she glanced up, her eyes full again. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For everything since July.”

“It’s not your fault,” he said, scooting even closer.

“But it is. You don’t know—I’ve been so gone, Dan. I didn’t know how to deal with the stories you told me. I felt like Randi had moved into our house and was changing everything. It was like she was here, even before Daniel came. But I was wrong. And now it’s too late.”

Dan stared at his hand on her thigh, his skin almost gray in the bedroom darkness. He’d been right. She was going; she was being nice because in some way, she still loved him and didn’t want to crush him. As she’d been crushed by the news of Randi, Daniel, and his other life.

“No it’s not,” he blurted out. “It’s not too late at all. It will get better. It is getting better. Can’t you tell? You bought him the skateboard!”

She leaned forward and grabbed his shoulders. “It’s not you, Dan. It’s not even Daniel. It’s me. I’ve screwed up. I made some mistakes, and I don’t know how to be anymore. I can’t
be
at work. I can’t
be
here. I don’t know how to fit into anything anymore.”

“What mistakes,” he asked, closing his eyes, feeling her grip on his shoulders.

She let go and sat back against the headboard. “I screwed up.”

“How?”

“Oh, Dan. I don’t know how you could want me for a wife. Or even around Daniel.”

“What did you do?” he asked. His stomach broke apart into a hundred fires, and he tried to keep his mouth from trembling.

Avery nodded. “I—I almost did something stupid.”

Almost. almost
.

Dan was silent, listening to the word in his head.

She sniffed. “I started to—to get involved with a man I met in St. Louis.”

“The man in the room that night.” Dan felt the words on his tongue like rotten fruit. He pinched his lips, hearing the man’s breaths as he sat behind Avery on the bed, seeing the man’s laughter as Avery waved him into silence as she talked.

“Yes,” she said, nodding. “But nothing happened. Nothing important.”

“What would be important?”

“Having an affair. Having sex. Sleeping together. It didn’t happen.”

“What happened?” Dan asked, letting his mouth go slack, feeling his tears in his cheeks and throat. He wanted to bolt out of the room, and he wanted to hear. It was how it felt at when he watched
Nightmare on Elm Street
when he was little, covering his eyes with his hands but leaving space to see through his fingers. Even though it was horrible, he had to know.

“We kissed. He wanted to—maybe I did, too,” she said, almost gasping, her words pushed out. “I wanted to not be home, in this mess, trying to figure out this life. I wanted a new life. Something to make me feel not me. Not this. And he was there. It wasn’t about him, really. I was running away. That’s all.”

“What’s his name?”

“Dan, don’t ask. It doesn’t matter, does it?”

“What’s his name?”

“Mischa.”

“Did you love him? This Mischa?”

She shook her head. “No. But I wanted to. I wanted to have an excuse to leave, but when it came down to it, I thought about us. You. Daniel. How we—how we are a family. Even if it’s messy and ridiculous and not the way I wanted it at all. That’s why I came home, Dan. That’s why I’m here now. That’s why I’ll stay, if you want me to.”

Dan took his hand off her thigh and stared blankly, feeling everything as if from a distance, his tears on his cheeks. This was what he’d wanted, wasn’t it? She wanted to stay with him. He wouldn’t have that strange life he’d imagined, the house run by Flora, Ramon, and the housecleaner—Irma? Edna?—he didn’t even know by sight. He’d already pictured the vacations he and Daniel would take to Disneyland and Hawaii, the two of them a sad, uneven couple on the roller coaster or on the beach. The dinners out at Sizzler and Applebee’s, the cartoon or action movie matinees. Back to school night, class Christmas parties, open house. Softball games, swim lessons, shopping trips at Macy’s. “Where’s the wife?” people would say as he walked by. “What’s wrong with him?”

Dan swallowed. “Why?” he asked, knowing the answer.

“I don’t know. I know, but I don’t.”

“I don’t understand. You were mad at me for keeping Randi a secret.”

“Yeah.”

He thought of that song from years back, the one about irony, the rain on a wedding day, the no smoking sign on a cigarette break. He’d finally understood irony when he heard it, and when he found out about Daniel, he felt it. Could he add this scene to the lyric, getting your wife back after she’s tried out another man? Was this irony?

“Dan?”

He wanted to get up and throw something. He clenched his hands, feeling the sledgehammer heavy in his palms, hearing the crack and split of the crib. But everything was already broken. This was the real irony. His life had come back together in pieces. And he’d worked so hard to fix it since Daniel came into his life, but he hadn’t been able to. Not without Avery. And she wanted to stay. With him. With both of them. He breathed that idea in, and out, and let it sit in his chest, along with the facts of his and Randi’s and Daniel’s story, Avery’s running away and coming back, her arms around another man’s shoulders, and everything they’d both done since July.

It was hard to see her in the dark, so he leaned over and turned on the nightstand light. They both blinked and then looked at each other. The room was warm in the light, the mess of the rumbled bed and the tossed clothes somehow comforting, as if nothing had changed. But they had changed. Everything had. For one thing, hey hadn’t had a conversation this long since before the 4th. Dan stared at her, her hair ratted from the pillow, her eyes weepy with dark circles, her lips smeared with long-ago lipstick. Breathing in, he smelled her in a way he hadn’t before, something disgusting pricking his nose, the smell of her arms holding another man, her lips—those smeared lips—pressing against another neck, face, forehead. What else was different? What had happened to her breasts and to her vagina, lust and desire changing the very cells that were geared for him, hormonally stimulated for him! All that work of making their two bodies function together, and she touched someone else.

Dan grimaced, acid in his throat. He hardly recognized her.

“What do we do?” he asked.

She reached out a hand, but he wasn’t sure if he could touch her. She’d held this Mischa in the way she’d held him, and he bit down hard until he felt his jaw ache. But she’d been confused, upset—but so what!. “Avery,” he said, shaking his head. “Oh, God.”

“Dan?” Her eyes were wide, her hand still outstretched.

He took her hand, and closed it eyes. Even though she looked and smelled like a different woman, at her touch he remembered everything, their wedding, the way her smooth hand fit into his, her touch at night while they were asleep and making love, the way she waved her hands when she told him to fix the sink faucet or take out the trash. It was her. Avery. She was still here. She was still herself, just as Randi had been herself even while addicted to drugs. She’d kept the secret of Daniel to herself; she’d held everything together as best as she could, leaving the note behind that would save her son.