The Dollhouse by Fiona Davis Page B

roar of the traffic was deafening, so she turned east onto a quieter cross street and dialed.
    â€œRose.”
    She was surprised he’d picked up, after the way she’d stormed out last night, spending a few hours with Maddy at the bar before returning to a Griff-less apartment. She had to give him kudos for facing the music.
    â€œGriff, we have to talk.” Everything she said was preprogrammed, the litany of sentences passed on through time when one person rejected another.
    â€œI know, and we will. I am so sorry about this.”
    â€œWhy do you have to go back? I had no idea; you didn’t give me any warning you were unhappy.”
    He sighed. “It’s not like that. I realized it’s not about my happiness. I am happy, happier, with you. But until the girls are more stable, I can’t leave them. We think Miranda has a serious illness.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œIt’s very possible she has bipolar disorder. We’re trying to find out more.”
    â€œI’m sorry.” She couldn’t argue with him. Sicknesses of the mind were just as terrible as those of the body, no different from cancer. Like herfather, spiraling out of control, getting worse every day. “What are you going to do?”
    â€œWe’re finding a treatment center for her. It’s complicated, and that’s why I have to be around right now.”
    â€œDo you think, once the crisis has passed, you might come back? That we could pick up where we leave off?”
    â€œPerhaps. If you want that. I don’t know if you’d want that by then.”
    â€œNeither do I.”
    Of course she would. Why kid herself? She’d invested three years in their relationship, and letting go wasn’t easy.
    â€œGod, Rose, this is torture. I know I keep saying this, but I’m so sorry to do this to you.”
    His voice was heavy, sad. If only he’d confided in her, told her what was happening. She knew Miranda was difficult, but assumed it was typical teen drama. A passing my-parents-ruined-my-life-by-getting-divorced kind of thing.
    â€œI just wish you’d said something sooner. I might have helped.”
    â€œIt’s not for you to fix. It’s for me and Connie.”
    Rose checked her watch. She should be getting back. “Can we keep on talking?”
    â€œOf course. I’m going to Albany with the mayor for a few days. We’ll talk when I get back.”
    Back in her cubicle twenty minutes later, Rose’s phone rang. Maddy calling for an update. She whispered a quick rehash of her conversation with Griff.
    â€œYou’re out of your mind.” Maddy was never one to hold back. “You need to be getting angry, not acting like an understanding suck-up.”
    That hurt. “I’m not sucking up.” Rose ducked her head down, hoping for a smidgen of privacy. “He’s going through something awful, just like me and my dad. If I’m calm and reasonable about the situation, he might come to his senses later.”
    â€œDo you really want a man like that?”
    â€œWhat, one who cares for his children? Yes, in fact, I do.”
    â€œPlenty of men get divorced and care for their children without having to go back to their ex-wives. It’s more than that. He’s giving you the sympathetic version because he knows you’ll fall for it.”
    If she were Maddy, she’d toss Griff off the nearest cliff, but his actions weren’t so cut-and-dried in Rose’s mind. Griff was a man with a sick child, desperate to make her better.
    A sharp pain seared along her scalp, the beginnings of a bad headache. Maddy had a point, Griff had a point. She didn’t know what to think.
    â€œI’m not prepared to blow it all up yet. And I don’t think he is, either.” She rubbed her temples with her thumb and ring finger. “Please, Maddy, I need your support. Neither of us has kids, so we can’t really