Diana’s phone buzzes, and when she checks the screen, she finds a message from Chris.Hi—I wanted to make sure you got home safely.She wonders how long he spent on those ten words.
She reads and rereads Chris’s text, remembering his sawdust scent and the feeling of his skin against hers, how comfortable she was with him—never once worrying about the softness of her belly or her stretch marks. Her cheeks flush as she thinks about how easily her body responded to his, how longed for Chris made her feel.
Diana always saw Tom as her great, once-in-a-lifetime love. That she can delight in another man is astonishing. Strange, too. It’s as if she’s woken up with wings and suddenly can fly. She’s not sure she recognizes herself.
Chris texts again. This time he sends a photo of a sunrise peaking over Hamilton.Saw this beauty on my way to work this morning. Made me think of you.
Diana smiles, and a wave of incandescent happiness sweeps over her. She toys with several possible responses, and after too much deliberation, chooses to go with direct:We don’t have sunrises like that in Alcott. Drive was fine—no traffic. Thanks for checking in.She hits Send before she overthinks her response and places her phone face down on the table.
She’s blowing on her coffee when she hears the beep of another text, and in her haste to see if this new message is from Chris, she knocks over her drink, and a puddle of much-needed caffeine pools across the table.
Oh, this is going to be a problem,Diana thinks, grabbing napkins from the dispenser on the counter. A list presents itself—What Am I Going to Do About Chris?—and she’s grateful for a way to sort through this particular challenge.
I don’t have to do anything. It was just sex.Greatsex.
He’s my husband’s cousin, which makes him my cousin, too?
This is definitely a moral gray area.
I like him.
Liking him doesn’t mean I have to have a relationship with him.
I’m not ready for a relationship.
I shouldn’t tell anyone about this.
She tosses the sodden napkins into a nearby trash can and returns to the table. She flips over her phone to a pang of disappointment. The new text is from Jonathan, not Chris.Do you have time to talk today? Or tomorrow? I have something I want to discuss with you.
She’s still frustrated by Jonathan’s response to Tom’s letter—I’d let this all go and move on—and isn’t up to talking to him right now. When she sees Duncan enter Sully’s, Diana slides the phone back into her pocket without answering.
As Duncan walks the perimeter of the café, Diana switches to mom mode and takes in her son. What joy it is to see him like this, independent and separate, yet part of her. Part of Tom, too.
She hopes Duncan’s anger toward her has worn away during the shortened school day, but it’s clear it hasn’t when he throws down his backpack and falls onto the bench without speaking. He slumps against the window, tapping on his phone.
Diana assesses her approach. Should she dish back some of the anger he clearly has for her? Play it cool and calm? Cry? She’s never thought of manipulation as a tool in her parenting arsenal. Cajoling and persuading, yes, but not manipulation.
She decides to proceed with calm and honesty, the hardest of the options before her. “Grandma told me you were upset last night. She said it had to do with the computer. You want to tell me what happened?”
He stops tapping and makes eye contact for the first time since he walked through the door. “Grandma told you that?”
“Of course she did. She was worried and knew that I needed to know what’s going on with you.”
Before Duncan replies, Stephanie approaches with their food. “Roast beef panini and strawberry smoothie for you, Duncan. Chef’s salad for Diana. Enjoy.”
Duncan opens the bag of potato chips that accompanies his sandwich, the plastic wrapping squelching as he pulls apart the sides. He stuffs the chips in his mouth, crunching loudly and staring at Diana.
“You need to know what’s going on with me?” Duncan says in between swallows. “What about what’s going on with you and Dad’s letter? You haven’t told me anything. You’ve been looking into this, Mom. I saw your search history.”
Diana senses the pressure of his need for answers; it’s a burden that can’t be put down, a hunger that can’t be sated. She’s somewhat managed that need within herself by searching for those answers, but Duncan hasn’t had the benefit of doing something to understand Tom’s final message. Instead, he’s waited for her to offer an explanation, and she has yet to come through for him. Duncan will be disappointed when she tells him that her time in Hamilton left her no closer to the truth, only with more questions.
“I’ll explain what’s going on after you drop the attitude.” Diana rubs berry-flavored Chapstick, from a tube she borrowed from Phoebe’s backpack, off the rim of her mug. “Attacking me isn’t going to get you information, nor is it going to make either of us feel better.”
“Sorry,” he says, his cheeks turning red. He balls up the empty chip bag and drops it on the table.
Diana picks up the chips and looks inside. “I can’t believe you didn’t leave any for me, not even one.”
He smirks and picks up his sandwich. “You’re too slow.”
