particular past, this terrible story.
“Why?” she asked, shaking her head. “What happened?”
Without looking at her, he shrugged, mumbling into his hands. “It was a different life. She was—I wanted to be with her.”
It was with these words that Avery felt herself float off the couch, lifting slowly above herself and Dan, looking down at the two people on the couch. She could feel her body, but she wasn’t connected to it. And it didn’t really feel that strange, hovering over the horrible conversation. It was something she must have done before, practiced, learned by heart. Maybe it began when her dad was recovering from exploratory surgery in the hospital, everyone stiff and shaking in the plastic chairs, her body rising above them all, looking down on the rectangle of the bed, the grief that spiraled upward from her mother and sisters.
From up here, it didn’t seem strange that Dan had lived with a girlfriend Avery had never heard about before, that he drank, stole, did drugs, worked in a hardware store, had a baby. Why not? It didn’t bother her up here; in fact, all she really could see were the pots in the kitchen, the coffee maker, her pill in its bottle, the bright outdoor lights. From here, there was tomorrow with its litany of pills, phone calls to her doctor, walk with Valerie and Tomás to Monte Veda Park.
“Aves!” She rushed back inside herself, felt her tight chest, a band around her middle, pulling, pulling.
“What?”
“It got worse. My parents—they called the police. They didn’t press charges eventually, but they cut me off.”
Images ran through her head from movies and TV—dark apartments, high people flung back into momentary ecstasy on ratty mattresses. Nothing but the need for more stimulus, more high, now, now, enough so that they’d break into relatives’ houses, stealing what would give them what they needed.
“I don’t believe it.” But she did believe it. It all made sense.
“We lived a terrible life. It was like there was no morning or night, just—well, the same awful flatness every day. Jared refused to come over.” Dan paused, and now Bill and Marian’s absence, remoteness, coldness made sense to her. They couldn’t trust him yet, all these years later. Despite his degrees—despite her—he still might take what they had.
“Randi started to steal—“
Avery shook her head quickly and stood up. “You know, Dan, this is too much. We get this call from some strange woman and now you’re telling me this? You lived some slimy, drug-addict life, and you never thought to tell me about that? What if you’ve got some disease? What did she die of anyway?”
Dan shook his head, his whole body limp. “I don’t know.”
“Great. What if you have it? What if you’ve given it to me?” She put her hands over her eyes.
“You know I was tested for HIV and Hepatitis and STD’s before all this started. This baby stuff.”
“But before that! When we got engaged? When we were first married! You marry me with this secret past and don’t mention it?”
Dan stood up and tried to put his arms around her, but she shrugged him away and backed up. He dropped his hands to his sides. “I had myself tested then, too. For everything. I was always fine. I would have told you then if I wasn’t. I promise you.”
“Promise me? I thought we promised each other a whole bunch of stuff. I thought we told each other everything. I thought we were living the same life.” Avery sat down on the rocking chair she’d bought at I Bambini , and covered her face with her hands, feeling tears pool under her palms, rocking herself into silence.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
She looked up and her mouth opened, but she couldn’t put her lips around words. She closed her eyes again and replayed their life together, seeing what she’d thought was true—how they’d met, their wedding, their
“Why?” she asked, shaking her head. “What happened?”
Without looking at her, he shrugged, mumbling into his hands. “It was a different life. She was—I wanted to be with her.”
It was with these words that Avery felt herself float off the couch, lifting slowly above herself and Dan, looking down at the two people on the couch. She could feel her body, but she wasn’t connected to it. And it didn’t really feel that strange, hovering over the horrible conversation. It was something she must have done before, practiced, learned by heart. Maybe it began when her dad was recovering from exploratory surgery in the hospital, everyone stiff and shaking in the plastic chairs, her body rising above them all, looking down on the rectangle of the bed, the grief that spiraled upward from her mother and sisters.
From up here, it didn’t seem strange that Dan had lived with a girlfriend Avery had never heard about before, that he drank, stole, did drugs, worked in a hardware store, had a baby. Why not? It didn’t bother her up here; in fact, all she really could see were the pots in the kitchen, the coffee maker, her pill in its bottle, the bright outdoor lights. From here, there was tomorrow with its litany of pills, phone calls to her doctor, walk with Valerie and Tomás to Monte Veda Park.
“Aves!” She rushed back inside herself, felt her tight chest, a band around her middle, pulling, pulling.
“What?”
“It got worse. My parents—they called the police. They didn’t press charges eventually, but they cut me off.”
Images ran through her head from movies and TV—dark apartments, high people flung back into momentary ecstasy on ratty mattresses. Nothing but the need for more stimulus, more high, now, now, enough so that they’d break into relatives’ houses, stealing what would give them what they needed.
“I don’t believe it.” But she did believe it. It all made sense.
“We lived a terrible life. It was like there was no morning or night, just—well, the same awful flatness every day. Jared refused to come over.” Dan paused, and now Bill and Marian’s absence, remoteness, coldness made sense to her. They couldn’t trust him yet, all these years later. Despite his degrees—despite her—he still might take what they had.
“Randi started to steal—“
Avery shook her head quickly and stood up. “You know, Dan, this is too much. We get this call from some strange woman and now you’re telling me this? You lived some slimy, drug-addict life, and you never thought to tell me about that? What if you’ve got some disease? What did she die of anyway?”
Dan shook his head, his whole body limp. “I don’t know.”
“Great. What if you have it? What if you’ve given it to me?” She put her hands over her eyes.
“You know I was tested for HIV and Hepatitis and STD’s before all this started. This baby stuff.”
“But before that! When we got engaged? When we were first married! You marry me with this secret past and don’t mention it?”
Dan stood up and tried to put his arms around her, but she shrugged him away and backed up. He dropped his hands to his sides. “I had myself tested then, too. For everything. I was always fine. I would have told you then if I wasn’t. I promise you.”
“Promise me? I thought we promised each other a whole bunch of stuff. I thought we told each other everything. I thought we were living the same life.” Avery sat down on the rocking chair she’d bought at I Bambini , and covered her face with her hands, feeling tears pool under her palms, rocking herself into silence.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
She looked up and her mouth opened, but she couldn’t put her lips around words. She closed her eyes again and replayed their life together, seeing what she’d thought was true—how they’d met, their wedding, their
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