And Cherry would send him photos of the puppy when he was on the road.
The dog was a lot for Cherry when Tom was traveling. Stevie chewed on everything at first. You couldn’t look away from her. She chewed the corner off an antique Persian rug. She chewed up a pair of Rachel Antonoff penny loafers. Cherry had to go home at lunch to take the puppy out, and then again right after work. And she felt guilty going anywhere at night and leaving Stevie in her kennel. It was like having a baby she’d never wanted.
Tom doted on Stevie when he was home, especially as things got bad—when they were going unmanageably well—withThursday.
He took longer and longer walks with her.
He took to sitting on the floor with her while he drew on his tablet.
Tom couldn’t sleep the night before he left for his first big trip to California to work on the movie.
“I feel bad leaving you with Stevie for this long.”
“It’s just a month,” Cherry said. They were lying next to each other in bed. Cherry had rolled onto her side, facing away from him.
“It’s at least a month,” he said glumly. “If you want, I could hire someone to walk her.”
“You don’t trust me to walk her?”
“I trust you. I don’t want to burden you.”
“It’s not a burden,” she said.
“You don’t mean that.”
“It’s a small burden.”
“You don’t mean that, either.”
“It’s only a month, Tom.”
Tom slung an arm over her waist, his hand on her stomach. “I could do all this over Zoom.”
“You hate Zoom.”
“Do youwantme to go?”
Cherry had to think about that...
She didn’t want Tom to go. She hated sleeping without him.
But he was so unhappy, so much of the time. And he always seemed angry lately. Not with Cherry—with theworld. With everyone who was asking too much of him. (Any amount of asking seemed like too much. Cherry couldn’t imagine a question that wouldn’t snag at Tom and needle him.)
She’d thought Tom would feel better when he quit his job, but in a way this was worse. Now Tom hadseveraljobs. He answered to people in New York and Los Angeles. He answered to the entire internet. To late-night talk show hosts and those assholes atSaturday Night Live. He always got so much email. He always got so muchmail. He got up early to take phone calls from reporters in other time zones.
Tom had to beonall the time and smart all the time. He had to be creative and productive and game. And he couldn’t seem to be all those thingsandbe happy. He couldn’t seem to be all those things and be the person Cherry had fallen in love with.
She still loved him.
She loved him.
She couldn’t sleep without him.
But it was like living with a shadow—like living with someone who never smiled at you and never looked forward to anything. (It was kind of like living with her dad.)
Did she want him to go?
What Cherry wanted was irrelevant.
