freely, but rarely felt on the receiving end. Anything that helped was a blessing.
“I was so worried about Angel,” she said, “and then so relieved. It never occurred to me that anything could have happened to Ben.”
There was nothing else for me to say. Glassware clinked as the table next to ours was cleared. The summer hires yelled back and forth to each other, moving in and out of the kitchen, and a car horn honked on the street outside. The sounds came to me, familiar but misplaced. We found ourselves again in the normal world, straightened up, and moved toward calm again. The people at the next table, two men on a business lunch, I guessed, regarded us without looking directly.
“Oh, Jesus, just look at us,” Reese said. A final coda on our outburst.
I wiped my cheek with an open hand, smeared the damp tears across my face. I felt spent, but relieved just the same. Something had changed, but I couldn’t say what. I wiped my eyes with my napkin, then put it on my lap and took note of my bisque.
“I’m not hungry,” she said, but lifted the spoon to her lips all the same.
I nodded. There were dozens of questions to ask her. One in particular. But I had played all of my emotions for the time being, needed to regroup, to prepare for the answers she would give. Later, at some point, I realized the waiter had brought our meals. I couldn’t say when. Reese and I, we made slight efforts at our entrées, but finally gave up, sipped our tea instead.
“Benjamin was happy with you,” she said, unprompted, breaking a long silence. “I could hear it every time I talked with him. He always talked about you.”
“Thank you,” I managed, feeling the thinness of the response weighed against her odd compliment.
She leaned back, lit a cigarette. I waited for them to come and tell her to put it out, but no one bothered. We’d outlasted the lunch crowd. I pushed my plate away, finished without really tasting anything at all. As I waited for the waiter to bring me the check, I realized that contrary to all expectations, the strangeness of the day had fallen away. For the second time in a single afternoon, I seemed to catch a passing glance at the person I used to be. Even more, maybe it was the person I wanted to be.
5
Reese
“I
’ll be back to pick you two up around four,” Gina said as Reese got out of her car. “Isn’t that what they told you?”
“Four or four-thirty,” Reese said. “I’m surprised they’re letting her leave so soon, but I guess they know what they’re doing. Why don’t you make it five? That will give me time to talk with the doctor again.”
Reese wanted to go through everything with them one more time, how to change her daughter’s bandages, how much painkiller to give her. For the first time since she’d found out Angel was okay, she was frightened. What if she screwed up? But she wouldn’t show fear. Angel had to be confident that everything was okay. Besides, Reese knew she had gotten very good at masking her bad feelings, both physical and emotional.
“Five,” Gina said, her elbow leaning out of the car window. “I’ll be here.”
“Thanks, Gina, and . . . I don’t know what to say about Benjamin. I’m really sorry you’ve been through all this.” Reese struggled with the condolence. There were no Hallmark greetings for an ex-wife expressing sympathies to the widow. Maybe there should be. More and more, everyone was somebody’s ex-wife, ex-husband.
“There’s not much to say,” Gina offered. “Do you need for me to pick up anything for you? Toothpaste? Shampoo?”
Reese felt relieved. This woman didn’t want to delve any deeper into emotions than they had already gone. Their moment of bonding had passed and Reese still felt overexposed.
“No, thanks. We’re good.”
Gina had offered to let her and Angel stay on the boat. It didn’t seem like the best idea in the world, but there weren’t a lot of options out there. She had sixty-seven dollars
“I was so worried about Angel,” she said, “and then so relieved. It never occurred to me that anything could have happened to Ben.”
There was nothing else for me to say. Glassware clinked as the table next to ours was cleared. The summer hires yelled back and forth to each other, moving in and out of the kitchen, and a car horn honked on the street outside. The sounds came to me, familiar but misplaced. We found ourselves again in the normal world, straightened up, and moved toward calm again. The people at the next table, two men on a business lunch, I guessed, regarded us without looking directly.
“Oh, Jesus, just look at us,” Reese said. A final coda on our outburst.
I wiped my cheek with an open hand, smeared the damp tears across my face. I felt spent, but relieved just the same. Something had changed, but I couldn’t say what. I wiped my eyes with my napkin, then put it on my lap and took note of my bisque.
“I’m not hungry,” she said, but lifted the spoon to her lips all the same.
I nodded. There were dozens of questions to ask her. One in particular. But I had played all of my emotions for the time being, needed to regroup, to prepare for the answers she would give. Later, at some point, I realized the waiter had brought our meals. I couldn’t say when. Reese and I, we made slight efforts at our entrées, but finally gave up, sipped our tea instead.
“Benjamin was happy with you,” she said, unprompted, breaking a long silence. “I could hear it every time I talked with him. He always talked about you.”
“Thank you,” I managed, feeling the thinness of the response weighed against her odd compliment.
She leaned back, lit a cigarette. I waited for them to come and tell her to put it out, but no one bothered. We’d outlasted the lunch crowd. I pushed my plate away, finished without really tasting anything at all. As I waited for the waiter to bring me the check, I realized that contrary to all expectations, the strangeness of the day had fallen away. For the second time in a single afternoon, I seemed to catch a passing glance at the person I used to be. Even more, maybe it was the person I wanted to be.
5
Reese
“I
’ll be back to pick you two up around four,” Gina said as Reese got out of her car. “Isn’t that what they told you?”
“Four or four-thirty,” Reese said. “I’m surprised they’re letting her leave so soon, but I guess they know what they’re doing. Why don’t you make it five? That will give me time to talk with the doctor again.”
Reese wanted to go through everything with them one more time, how to change her daughter’s bandages, how much painkiller to give her. For the first time since she’d found out Angel was okay, she was frightened. What if she screwed up? But she wouldn’t show fear. Angel had to be confident that everything was okay. Besides, Reese knew she had gotten very good at masking her bad feelings, both physical and emotional.
“Five,” Gina said, her elbow leaning out of the car window. “I’ll be here.”
“Thanks, Gina, and . . . I don’t know what to say about Benjamin. I’m really sorry you’ve been through all this.” Reese struggled with the condolence. There were no Hallmark greetings for an ex-wife expressing sympathies to the widow. Maybe there should be. More and more, everyone was somebody’s ex-wife, ex-husband.
“There’s not much to say,” Gina offered. “Do you need for me to pick up anything for you? Toothpaste? Shampoo?”
Reese felt relieved. This woman didn’t want to delve any deeper into emotions than they had already gone. Their moment of bonding had passed and Reese still felt overexposed.
“No, thanks. We’re good.”
Gina had offered to let her and Angel stay on the boat. It didn’t seem like the best idea in the world, but there weren’t a lot of options out there. She had sixty-seven dollars
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