I want him to know he’s not telling me anything I don’t already know, but I also didn’t expect a compliment to come out of Thomas’s mouth. Questions about the furnace that is overdue for replacement, yes. Whether I had concerns over Andrew dropping microeconomics this semester? Of course. Or if I thought John would pass the California bar on his first try, sure. I had reviewed the answers to severalconversation topics in my head, knowing I would have to contend with Thomas at some point this evening. But him complimenting me in an evening gown? No.
And now that I stand here, my body strong, and my heart even stronger, I don’t want Thomas to think for a minute that I pulled myself together this winter evening because of his spring assessment of me. I don’t want Thomas to know he had that much sway, even if he did. What I do want Thomas to know is that who he now sees standing here with him—she is for me. Well, for me, Dr. Kwan, and her bully receptionist, Mary Jane.
As I’m about to lay in and let Thomas know every single way his leaving me has infinitely improved my life, I narrow my eyes and study my Brit-banging husband. Thomas looks terrible. Mr. LonGev-ity stands in front of me like he has had the life wrung out of him. Like no amount of cold plunges, colostrum pills, cauliflower, creatine, or collagen powders could prop him up to survive whatever is bringing him down.
I tell myself not to be catty. I don’t want to be petty. But this isn’t the first time I’ve lied to myself. I just can’t let this choice moment pass. Standing tall in my one-shouldered, drapey, midnight-blue goddess gown, I peek my toned leg out of the thigh-high slit and rest my left palm softly on Thomas’s face. He lets the weight of his head relax into my hand and releases an audible sigh of relief.
“You look like shit.” I pull my hand away, and like the flower arrangement, Thomas almost topples over. “You’ve totally let yourself go, Thomas. It’s like you don’t care about yourself anymore. You don’ttakecare of yourself anymore.” His cruel words spoken at our dining room table come flooding back, and I fling them in his face, verbatim.
“It seems you’ve lost your appetite for life.” I deliver the final familiar blow. “What’s happened to you?” I can tell from Thomas’s expression that he thinks I might actually care. I don’t.
Thomas rubs his chin. “Life in London hasn’t turned out like I hoped it would,” he declares with defeat.
“Oh, no? Not enough vitamin D to keep your levels up in cloudy London? I could have told you that.” I spit out my lack of empathy, not bothering to wipe the droplets off Thomas’s jacket. “Buy yourself some supplements, and swim on home in time for tea, Thomas. I have zero interest in this conversation.” I feel my phone vibrate in the clutch I’m holding. Hopefully Quinn is trying to find me to solve some manufactured mother-of-the-bride emergency and save me from this tête-à-tête with Thomas.
As I unclasp the purse, Thomas grabs my wrist. “The baby isn’t mine. Turns out, Eugenie was sleeping with more than one CEO candidate she was trying to place. I was the only idiot who didn’t run when she said she was pregnant.” I grip my purse tightly, and the buzz of my phone stops. “Eugenie never actually told me directly that the baby was mine; I just assumed it was.”
“So the headhunter was doing exactly that: hunting head.Ha!” I peel Thomas’s fingers off my wrist one by one and down my half glass of champagne in a single gulp. The continuing tale of Thomas’s leaving just became more clichéd than I thought. He was willing to destroy our family solely on the assumption that he was the baby’s father. Thomas thought he had the virility of a young man, when really what he had was the gullibility of an old foolish one.
I open my clutch to see who is texting me and if they can keep me from doing something to Thomas tonight that could land me in jail tomorrow.
7:52 p.m. (Cathy Culpepper)
Sorry to bother you on New Year’s Eve Callie but great news! The family wants the house, as is, no contingencies. Asking for a 15-day close so they can do a little work and get settled before the twins arrive. Happy New Year to us!
Right. The Colonial I never wanted. I had forgotten about the potential sale in the chaos of preparing to meet with Elizabeth and running wedding errands up, down, and across town. In the few quietmoments I had to think, my thoughts were on Porter. How many near misses had we shared in grocery stores, on opposite sides of playing fields, at gas stations, or most likely, public libraries? When I was on a wait-list for obscure books, was it because Porter was the one who had them checked out? When Thomas and I toured Regis and stepped into an English classroom, was Porter holding literary court in another one just across the hall? Had my boys met Chap at high school parties? My mind couldn’t escape all the sliding-doors possibilities of the last twenty years.
“I’ve given notice at my company.”
“Huh?” I snap back into the current moment, ruffled that Thomas is still there.
“I said, I’ve given notice at my company. It’s never been the right fit. Taking the job was just the easy bet to save my career.” Thomas’s explanation lamely trails off.
“Why would you give up your job?” I scoff, shocked by Thomas’s consistent ability, well into middle age, to act rashly. “Seems to me it’s the only thing you have left going for you.”
“I hope that’s not the only thing I have going for me, Callie. What I want is to come home. I want to come home to you, John, and Andrew. You are still in our house. John and Andrew are still at UC Berkeley. We are still, well, us. Nothing drastic has changed at home.”
I look to the dance floor and see John effortlessly twirl a nimble brunette under his arm and into a dip. I want to run over and warn him that this moment, this one right here, is the least complicated it’s ever going to be, so enjoy it, but don’t lose sight of what is most important—him.
“Oh, you made it very clear last spring that I was no longer me, and because I was no longer me, we were no longer us. I think the exact words you used were that‘our life has become too predictable, too boring.’You said you needed more out of life than me. That you needed more than this.” I poke myself in the chest so there is no mistaking whatthisis. Thatthisis me. And the truth is, a lot has changed since Thomas left. Most notably, while Thomas got lost, I’ve been found.
“Callie, I wasn’t thinking straight. I don’t know if it was the intermittent fasting or ...”
“You’re blaming leaving me on your eating window?” I howl, confusing even myself if I am laughing or crying.
“Callie, we’re a family. You can’t throw away twenty-five years because I made a mistake.”
“You didn’t make a mistake, Thomas. You made a choice. There’s only one person in this marriage to blame for choosing badly. You.” I’ve done what Quinn asked of me, for the sake of Alice and this evening, but now I am done with Thomas for the sake of me.
Goddammit, Quinn, where are you?I skip over Cathy’s text and send out a quick SOS to Quinn.
8:05 p.m. (Callie)
Come rescue me. At bar in back corner.
In my haste, I forget to tell Quinn what she’s rescuing me from, but she’s a smart woman, and there is only one possible answer at this wedding.
8:05 p.m. (Quinn)
