day-to-day life, work, so much work, dinners, movies, housework—and then saw what was real. All along, sneaking behind them both had been another Dan. Not the Dan she’d married, the whiz student, telecommunication wunderkind , happy, smiling, so-warm-as-he-held-her Dan. the Dan behind his desk, computer on, the phone in his hand, deals spinning out as he spoke. The Dan who had a golf handicap of 6 and a 4.5 tennis rating. The Dan who laughed with Luis in the garage as they put together tables or chairs or cribs. This other Dan held hands with a woman, Randi, their noses numb with coke, their hearts empty. They snuck into Bill and Marian’s house and stole what they knew they could sell. Instead of living, they slumped wasted on their couch, waiting for their next hit or snort. And he fucked her, gave her what he couldn’t give Avery, and then just left. This Dan, she saw, was the real Dan.
So nothing about their marriage was true. What had she expected? She should have known better. The good things never survived crashes, weren’t the things that floated up through dark water. They weren’t the things that stuck and poked and woke you up at night, saying, “Yes, yes.” She never gasped awake, sweaty from a nightmare, the sheets twisted around her, thinking, “You have a degree from one of the best colleges in the United States. You have a wonderful, attractive, successful, kind husband. A beautiful home. You are so healthy. What medical and dental insurance!” No.
The baby that she and Dan had tried so hard to have, the one Avery had carried in her head, looked at her and then shut its lovely deep eyes, floating away into darkness. All these months she’d wanted what wasn’t true, a life and family with her husband, a man she knew so well, who was kind and soft and whole. Not like her. Not brittle and sharp and needful. This was the karma she must have earned after all. So much for all the mean, pointed barbs she’d held in. It was too late to change anything. Who cared that she was smart, could earn a lot of money, and had a nice house? She’d never find what she was looking for after all. And somehow, she’d always known that.
But if she was going to lose everything, she wanted to know why. She wanted to know it all, write it down in the pages of her mind so she could read and reread it her entire life. She wiped her eyes and stopped rocking. “You need to call this woman. Midori Nolan. You need to call her now, and I’m going to listen on the other phone. We have to find out everything.”
Dan nodded. “Okay. Fine,” he said. But neither of them moved, as if getting up and leaving the room would make it true.
Outside, renegade fireworks exploded on the horizon, bursts of red, white, and blue light flashing up into the night sky and then falling back to earth.
“Ms. Nolan? This is Dan Tacconi. I’m sorry to be calling you so late. We, uh, just got in.”
Avery sat on her bed, while Dan talked in the kitchen. She could have taken the portable phone and sat by him throughout the discussion, but she didn’t want to see his face. It would be hard enough hearing his voice and then listening to whatever this woman said.
“No problem at all. I’m glad you called, Mr. Tacconi. I apologize for bothering you on a holiday. But it is crucial that we speak.”
“Dan.”
“What?”
“You can call me Dan.”
“All right. And I’m Midori.”
Avery wanted to scream, but she clenched her jaw and took the phone away from her mouth so neither of them would hear her impatient breathing.
“So you heard my messages. About Randi Gold.”
“I did. When did she—die?”
“About a month ago. She was at Turlock Medical Center at the end. We were first notified about the boy a little less than three weeks ago.”
“How did she die?”
Midori paused, and then said quietly, “We should—well, it was Hepatitits C. It
So nothing about their marriage was true. What had she expected? She should have known better. The good things never survived crashes, weren’t the things that floated up through dark water. They weren’t the things that stuck and poked and woke you up at night, saying, “Yes, yes.” She never gasped awake, sweaty from a nightmare, the sheets twisted around her, thinking, “You have a degree from one of the best colleges in the United States. You have a wonderful, attractive, successful, kind husband. A beautiful home. You are so healthy. What medical and dental insurance!” No.
The baby that she and Dan had tried so hard to have, the one Avery had carried in her head, looked at her and then shut its lovely deep eyes, floating away into darkness. All these months she’d wanted what wasn’t true, a life and family with her husband, a man she knew so well, who was kind and soft and whole. Not like her. Not brittle and sharp and needful. This was the karma she must have earned after all. So much for all the mean, pointed barbs she’d held in. It was too late to change anything. Who cared that she was smart, could earn a lot of money, and had a nice house? She’d never find what she was looking for after all. And somehow, she’d always known that.
But if she was going to lose everything, she wanted to know why. She wanted to know it all, write it down in the pages of her mind so she could read and reread it her entire life. She wiped her eyes and stopped rocking. “You need to call this woman. Midori Nolan. You need to call her now, and I’m going to listen on the other phone. We have to find out everything.”
Dan nodded. “Okay. Fine,” he said. But neither of them moved, as if getting up and leaving the room would make it true.
Outside, renegade fireworks exploded on the horizon, bursts of red, white, and blue light flashing up into the night sky and then falling back to earth.
“Ms. Nolan? This is Dan Tacconi. I’m sorry to be calling you so late. We, uh, just got in.”
Avery sat on her bed, while Dan talked in the kitchen. She could have taken the portable phone and sat by him throughout the discussion, but she didn’t want to see his face. It would be hard enough hearing his voice and then listening to whatever this woman said.
“No problem at all. I’m glad you called, Mr. Tacconi. I apologize for bothering you on a holiday. But it is crucial that we speak.”
“Dan.”
“What?”
“You can call me Dan.”
“All right. And I’m Midori.”
Avery wanted to scream, but she clenched her jaw and took the phone away from her mouth so neither of them would hear her impatient breathing.
“So you heard my messages. About Randi Gold.”
“I did. When did she—die?”
“About a month ago. She was at Turlock Medical Center at the end. We were first notified about the boy a little less than three weeks ago.”
“How did she die?”
Midori paused, and then said quietly, “We should—well, it was Hepatitits C. It
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