Читать книгу Four Friends - Робин Карр, Robyn Carr, Robyn Carr - Страница 8

two

SONJA HAD A meditation group in the morning at the community rec center and right after that she spent a couple of hours at the health food co-op, but when she got back home in the early afternoon, she noticed that the kitchen carpenter’s truck was backed up to Andy’s open garage, and Andy’s car was there, as well. The pile of Bryce’s things was gone from the front yard. She couldn’t restrain herself any longer and she went into the house through the opened garage, guided by the sound of an electric screwdriver. When the noise paused she said, “Knock, knock.”

The carpenter turned away from the shelf he was removing. “Hello,” he said.

“Hi. Bob, isn’t it?”

“That’s right.”

“Is Andy here, by chance?”

“She’s around here somewhere,” he said.

“Whew, this is messy work, isn’t it?” she said to him.

“I’m afraid it gets to be a real messy ordeal,” he confirmed, going back to his job.

Sonja wandered through the kitchen and into the house. She called out to Andy and Andy yelled, “Back here.”

In the master bedroom, Andy was folding clothes into a cardboard box. “Oh, boy,” Sonja said. “This doesn’t look good.”

“Depends on your point of view,” Andy answered. “It’s probably long overdue.”

“You’re moving him out?”

“I’m packing up his clothes. He didn’t bring much into the relationship. Bryce has always lived kind of loose—few attachments.” She gave a sigh and folded a pair of jeans into the box. “I should have considered that.”

“Does he have things like furniture?”

“Boy things—a big-screen TV, motorcycle, sound system, computer. Basics.”

“How are you holding up?”

“Hanging in there. Noel is coming over later. I’ll explain to him, but he won’t be surprised.” She looked back into the box. “Or disappointed.”

“Oh, Andy, I hate that this is happening...”

“Like I said, it’s overdue. If I’d had a brain, I wouldn’t have gotten into it to start with.”

“So what got you into it?” Sonja asked.

She shrugged. “I think it was his basic equipment. Handsome, young, funny, endowed.” She looked up from her work. “I was just so lonely by the time he came along. You know?”

Sonja shook her head sadly. “I’m going to go home and make you something for dinner, something healthy and fortifying. Plus, a plateful of chocolate cookies. Well, they’ll be carob without sugar, but it’ll get you over the hump, and carob is so soothing to the digestive tract. I’ll round up some tea that’ll calm you so you can think clearly and feel your body’s messages....”

“Thanks, I appreciate the thought, but my body is sending me the message that it wants a greasy burger and a pint of Ben & Jerry’s, with a gin chaser. Or two.”

“Oh, I know that’s what you think you need,” Sonja admonished. “But that’ll just dull the senses and prolong the recovery. Trust me. And tomorrow morning, if it’s okay with you, I’d like to burn some sage and waft the essence through the house with feathers. To clear away his presence.”

“Shouldn’t you wait until he picks up his stuff?” Andy asked.

“I’ll do it again, after. Would you like something to equalize you? I could give you a massage and balance your chakras.”

“No one’s touching my chakras today, Sonja. Not even you.”

“I have some cleansing herbs, if you’d like to do a body cleansing. It can give you such a fresh feeling.”

“Doesn’t that sound terrific? The shits for twenty-four hours? No, thanks. What I’d really like to do is get his stuff out of my space.” Andy glanced at her watch. “I have a doctor’s appointment in two hours, then Noel will be over.”

Sonja’s face took on a startled expression. “Are you feeling sick?”

“No. Just a precaution,” she said. “It turns out Bryce hasn’t been faithful.”

“Oh, God! Oh, Andy! I’ll whip up a herbal drink for you!”

“Due respect, Sonja, but if Bryce left me any souvenirs that drink will probably have to be made up of antibiotics.”

Sonja actually got tears in her eyes. “I just hate him,” she hissed.

“Good,” Andy said. “That makes me feel way better than herbs. Let’s all just hate him for a while.”

Sonja opened her arms. “Let me hug you,” she said.

Andy dropped the clothing into the box and let herself be drawn into Sonja’s arms. There was something about the way she held her that almost brought tears to Andy’s eyes. Sonja’s remedies and hocus-pocus bored her to sleep, but she had a nurturing spirit underneath it all that was wholly genuine and, in fact, healing. She was small, soft and strong, gentle and comforting. Before letting go, Sonja whispered, “Is there anything I can do for you right now?”

Andy pulled back and smiled. “Nothing. Just let me finish all this. It will help, believe me.”

“I’ll be home this afternoon. Call me if you think of anything at all. If I can drive you to the doctor so you won’t be alone, I’d be happy to.”

Andy laughed softly. “Believe me, I know the drill. This is my second cheating husband and I was single a long time in between. I practically have a standing appointment.”

Sonja said goodbye to Bob as she left through the kitchen. It crossed her mind that the disaster in there was very bad for relationships, it being the rear right of the house. She had suggested to Andy that they find somewhere else to stay during renovations, but Andy blew her off.

Ordinarily an afternoon with no classes or appointments for her consulting would make Sonja anxious—it meant she wasn’t getting the word out through referrals from people whose lives had been enhanced, and that wasn’t a good feeling. But today, she needed the time for herself. Even though she hadn’t liked Bryce, she grieved for the marriage. It would upset the balance in the neighborhood. She thought about her friends. Their husbands didn’t have a great deal in common, but on those occasions they socialized as couples, the men found plenty to talk about. They would stand around in a little clot, holding a drink or beer, talk seriously about their work or politics, tell some off-color jokes, pick at their wives behind their backs like men do—pure, simple pleasure for them.

Sonja met George when she was twenty-eight, he thirty-eight. They dated for two years before marrying and would soon celebrate their tenth anniversary. She hadn’t had many relationships before George and she knew why. She was considered eccentric. But George being mature worked out so well—he was calm, consistent. He might not fully appreciate all her zealous care, but she was keeping him healthy and his home life serene. He didn’t like to argue; he liked stability and predictability, and she liked that he liked that. She could work with that.

She prepared a small meat loaf for him that was more loaf than meat because his cholesterol was up. She lit a few candles around the house and put on one of her soothing CDs, the kind you would hear in the background at the spa. The effect was very calming. George was a financial planner and his work was fraught with tension as he dealt with clients’ futures and moved people’s money around. She had time for a warm soak in the tub and a brief meditation so that when he walked through the door she’d smell delicious and be perfectly centered.

When he came in she smiled at him, then her eyes dropped to his shirt. “Oh, George, what did you spill?”

“I don’t know,” he said, looking down. He brushed at the spot.

“Don’t worry, I can get it out. Can I fix you a special tea? I have just the thing if you’ve had a hard day.”

“No, thanks, Sonja. My day calls for a Scotch.”

She clucked and shook her head. “If you must. I’ll have dinner in just a little while—I have to run a meal over to Andy. She’s under the weather.”

“She is?” he asked, lifting his eyebrows.

“I’ll tell you about it over dinner. Just be a minute.”

She took two containers on a tray across the street to Andy’s. When she saw Noel’s car in the drive she knew she’d just hand them off; she didn’t want to interrupt them. When Andy opened the door, the unmistakable aroma of greasy pizza drifted through and Sonja frowned, then forced a smile. “Trust me,” Sonja said as she passed the tray. “This is better for you.”

Andy said thank-you and Sonja went back to her own kitchen. She caught George fixing a second Scotch and chose not to comment.

Once they were settled with their meals—hers was a pasta and greens salad with beans, his was the loaf-meat and vegetables—she said, “Bryce and Andy have split up. They’re getting divorced.”

“Oh?” he said, looking up from his fork briefly. “Too bad.”

“It was really dramatic. When Gerri and I went walking this morning, she was throwing his belongings out the front door onto the lawn, and they were screaming obscenities at each other.”

George smiled. “Is that so?”

“It’s not funny, George. She has to be tested for venereal diseases. Apparently he hasn’t been faithful.”

George made a face. “Really—I don’t need to know that.”

“Some people have pretty complicated, tragic relationships.”

“I guess that’s true,” he answered. He pushed his plate away.

“You haven’t eaten much. You’re not upset, are you?”

“No,” he said. “I had a late lunch.”

“Not something bad for your cholesterol, I hope.”

“Of course not, Sonja. I had a plate of grass. It was scrumptious.”

She smiled patiently. “Oh, you had something bad, I can tell. Well, that’s why I go to so much trouble to make sure you eat well in the evening. No matter how you carry on, I know you appreciate that I look after you as well as I can.”

“Indeed I do. I just wish that occasionally you could look after me with a spice or two. I’d love to taste my food briefly before it passes through my body.”

“And I’d like you to last,” she said. “Because I love you so.”

“You sure you don’t want me to last so you have someone to control into old age?” he returned, lifting a graying brow.

“George! What a thing to say! Just when one of my best friends is going through a terrible divorce!”

“And getting tested for venereal diseases,” he added. “You’d better rush her over some grains and herbs.”

Sonja laughed at him. “You love to do that, don’t you? Pick at my remedies. Well, I guess I’m smart enough to know that I don’t have what she needs for something like that—it’s prescription only. I am going over there first thing tomorrow to burn some sage and smudge the air with Indian feathers just to clear out the negative presence.”

He stood from the table and shook his head. “I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”

* * *

Gerri ordered a pizza for the kids. Once that was devoured, they headed for their evening pastimes—family-room TV, computers, phones, homework, usually in that order.

Gerri fixed herself a drink instead of dinner, wondering briefly if Sonja had a herb for homicidal tendencies. She was going to confront Phil, of course. She’d been with the man a long time. She thought there was nothing she didn’t know about him. I’ve been getting fart marks out of his underwear for almost twenty-five years for God’s sake.

Though it was still biting cold in the March night, she bundled up and went out onto the deck, under the starlight. At least she wasn’t hot. She’d been trying to size up her emotions all day long and still didn’t have a handle on whether she was enraged, confused, hurt or completely off base. She went over every day of their marriage—the births of the children, the fights, the really hard times. There was the year she lost both her parents, one after the other, to cancer—it was a blur. She’d been vacant, wandering around in a complete daze, but Phil had picked up the slack; he was completely there for her. No one could have comforted her better. Could he have done that and still had someone else in his life? Someone he went to and said, “You can’t believe how bad things are at home....”

She saw Phil enter through the kitchen, toss his briefcase and laptop on the breakfast bar and wander through the house, looking for her. It was the first thing he did every night unless she was standing in the kitchen.

Eventually he found his way to the deck just as she was exhaling a long stream of cigarette smoke. Her first cigarette in twelve years. He stood in the doorway, noted the drink and cigarette and said, “Jesus Christ, did someone die?”

“You had an affair,” she said evenly.

He took a panicked step toward her, his face in a frozen state of shock, and after making a partial recovery said, “I’d better get a drink and a jacket.” He turned to go back into the house.

So. He had. If he hadn’t he would have said, “What? What the hell are you talking about?” And all she could think was that the son of a bitch was still good-looking, maybe better looking than he had been at twenty-eight. Fifty-three now, still sporting a full head of that thick rich brown hair, now delicately threaded with gray at the temples. His face was just mildly lined but not so much from age as from the sun on the golf course. Then there were those teeth, beautiful and strong. He was not yet seeing the periodontist but she was. Up till today, she’d been happy for him about that. And he’d managed to stay fit, maybe the slightest paunch, graying chest hair, but he was tall and solid. Strong. She hated him so much.

He came back outside with his own drink, wearing his weekend jacket over his shirt and loosened tie. “Lay it on me, Gerri. What’s going on?”

“You had an affair. I just found out.”

“And where’d you hear that?”

“Never mind. Just tell me. And start with the truth because you don’t know how much I know.”

He took a deep breath and a drink from his glass. Then he said, “I had an affair. Years ago. I’m sorry. It’s been completely in the past for a long, long time. I’m sorry,” he said again. “It wasn’t your fault—it was my fault. My failing, my inadequacy. You can’t imagine how much I regret it.”

“You had an affair,” she said again, blown away by his admission. “I need you to tell me about it. The truth about it. When it started, who it was, when it ended. And most important, why!”

He leaned back in his chair. “The why might be impossible—I’ve asked myself a hundred times. Years ago, years ago, there was an attractive woman in the office. We worked together briefly and hit it off right away—she was very personable, funny. I did the one thing I thought I’d never do— Not only was it straying from my marriage, which I’d never even been tempted to do, but also it was a coworker, the potential for major-league sexual harassment. Defying all common sense, I made a pass. She responded to me. We had a couple of lunches, met for a drink a few times. She was single, lived alone and I made the mistake of going to her place one late afternoon and got carried away, knowing it was wrong, feeling like shit with guilt, but it got started. It ended almost six years ago. Nothing like that ever happened before, and it will never happen again.”

Gerri did a quick mental calculation. Six years ago, while he was having an affair, the kids had been seven, ten and thirteen. She remembered that year and the preceding year—soccer, band, one starting middle school. Her mother had died of uterine cancer nine years ago, her father quickly following of prostate cancer. That had been a horrible time, but by six years ago things had leveled out emotionally. As far as she could remember, there wasn’t anything particularly noteworthy going on. They hadn’t had a standoff about him buying a sailboat; none of the kids were sick or in trouble; she hadn’t yet been having the menopausal symptoms that rocked her stable world.

“When did it start?” she demanded.

He hung his head briefly. “Seven years ago. It was on and off for a couple of years. Not steady, but on and off.”

“A couple of years?” she asked, horrified.

“On and off, Gerri,” he said. “I’d see her, then tell her I just couldn’t do that and wouldn’t see her again for months, then slip back, break it off, slip back. And so on.”

“Oh, for God’s sake! Slipped? Can’t you come up with anything more intelligent than slipped?”

“No,” he said. “I honestly can’t. I never drank too much, my job was secure, my case load wasn’t any worse or high pressure than usual, we weren’t in any kind of huge crisis that I can remember, you and I were getting along just fine....”

She felt the sting of tears in her eyes and it made her furious. “Then why?” Her voice cracked.

“I don’t know. She wanted me. Someone desirable actually wanted me. You and I were fine, but there were always so many complications keeping us from... I guess I was thinking like an eighteen-year-old. But really, there should be a statute of limitations on shit like this— I screwed up, I haven’t screwed up since and you can be damn sure it won’t happen again. And it was a long, long time ago.”

“Who is she?”

“No,” he said without hesitation. “She’s gone. It’s over. We haven’t had any contact in over five years and there’s nothing to be gained.”

“I might have to see her,” Gerri said.

“No,” he answered again. “I don’t know where she is, what her life is like, but I’ve messed up my life enough. There’s no point in messing up hers, as well. Gerri, I realize what happened is unforgivable in your eyes, but I’m here because I want to be your husband and want to be with my family. That’s the bottom line. That’s all I want. Whether it’s perfect or at times difficult, that’s my choice, not something I have to rely on willpower for. There was never any question about loving you.”

“God, you can’t really have done this,” she said. “You had an affair for two years, and I never knew. Never even smelled it in the wind....”

“I wasn’t with her often. I’m busy—you know that. And I never once missed a family thing to be with another woman, I swear to God. I never let it interfere with my family, my marriage or my job,” he said.

“Well.” She laughed humorlessly. “What magnificent control. Tell me, was the sex at least fantastic?”

“Irrelevant,” he said, bolstering himself with a deep drink.

“Not to me, it’s not!”

“Gerri, the worst sex I ever had was fantastic. Men and women probably look at that differently.”

“You know they know in the prosecutor’s office.”

He sipped again. Maybe nervously. “I realize there was some gossip, but I only leveled with one person—my boss. When it was over, I told the D.A. I’d been involved with someone in the office. I find it hard to believe he shared that with the troops. He has a lot of faults, but he learned how to keep confidences years ago.”

“Why’d you tell him, then?”

“I told myself it was because we serve at the discretion of the people—because if there was ever an accusation of any kind, I couldn’t let him be blindsided. But in the years since I realized that it helped to end it for good—confessing. Because I knew what I’d done was wrong and I was consumed by guilt. I think it was like standing up at a meeting and saying ‘Hi, my name is Phil and I cheated on my wife.’ He told me that behavior could not be tolerated and if I valued my job, it had to stop.” Phil chuckled. “Imagine that from him, huh? Son of a bitch has a revolving door for a zipper.” He took another drink. “I could have done the same thing here, with you—confessed, let you hit me over the head with a baseball bat until you were convinced I could be a better husband, but I couldn’t risk losing you.”

Tears rolled down her cheeks and she stamped out the cigarette. “My God, Phil. I think my insides are festering. I’ll be peeing blood by morning.”

He leaned toward her. He reached for her hands, but she wouldn’t let him connect. “Listen, I did the wrong thing, not you. I hoped you’d never be hurt by it, I hoped I’d make it right over time by being a good partner, a good father. None of it was your fault and I’ll pay the price—but don’t let it eat you up. No reason both of us should carry the load.”

And yet in her mind there were so many things she couldn’t quite place in the context of the affair. She remembered that during sex one night he said, “Didn’t you used to move your hips?” and she had laughed, thinking he was so funny. Was that when he realized he needed a woman with some passion? He’d remarked that he loved her coming to bed naked these days and she’d firmly told him not to get any ideas. They were too tired at night, too rushed in the mornings, had too many kids around the house on the weekends and never, absolutely never got away alone. And then there was the fact that she was hot-flashing her brains out and her vagina felt like sandpaper. The things people don’t tell you about menopause... But five years ago, seven years ago, she hadn’t had any of those symptoms. She had been so content.

He had asked her if she wanted to get away for a weekend, if only to the city. Just the two of them. When was that? He hadn’t asked in a long time and she had never suggested it. They hadn’t escaped—there were always too many family and work obligations. She asked herself if she had driven him to her by being so unlike a mistress, and that made her want to kill him on the spot.

“I never had an affair,” she said.

“I know,” he said.

“No! You don’t know! You don’t know any more than I knew about yours, but I’m telling you, I had just as many kids, just as little sex, just as much pressure and I never had an affair!”

“Gerri—”

“Phil, I don’t think I can live with you now, knowing.”

“Let’s not do that,” he said calmly. “Let’s work through it if we can, go to counseling if you want to, do whatever it takes. But let’s not throw in the towel now, after almost twenty-five years and one terrible mistake that I’ll do anything I can to make amends for.”

She shook her head and wiped the moisture off her cheeks. “I don’t know if I can do it,” she said with a hiccup of emotion.

“After everything you’ve seen in families—the abuse, addiction, crime, neglect—Gerri, please keep your head. We can weather this. We love each other.”

“We’re not like those families.” She sniffed. “You and I—we were always different. We always played as a team. Fuck you, you asshole, you played on another team!”

“All right, listen to me. If you decide you can’t live with it, if you can’t forgive me, we’ll deal with that—but first, you have to give it a little time, some effort. You obviously just learned of this and you’re hot as a pistol. If you feel the same way after we’ve tried to get beyond my crimes, we’ll make a plan that’s best for the family. But not the very day you find out. It’s reactionary.”

“Weren’t you reactionary? Falling into bed with her like that? Not even sure why?”

“Absolutely,” he said with a nod. “And trust me, the price was high, even without you knowing what I’d done. Give yourself a little time to think. Please.”

“You’ve done some real stupid, lame-ass, highly punishable things in our marriage,” she said. “I was with my dying mother and you were supposed to pick up the kids and bring them, but you lost track of time and left them standing around outside the school, waiting, while it was getting dark. And they were so little!” He nodded solemnly. She didn’t add that she’d fired a hospital water jug at him when they’d finally shown up and despite the fact she’d left a nice purple bruise on his head, he’d held her close while she cried. For a long time. “I was about to go into labor with Matthew and you went on a fishing trip, because the mayor asked you to go, to represent the prosecutor’s office.” She’d been so angry with him for that. She was so afraid she’d have to have the baby all on her own. But Matthew waited for his father. “You drank too much at the neighborhood block party and peed in the clothes hamper in the middle of the night.” A slight smile threatened his lips. “You don’t deserve for me to think it over.”

“I know. But I won’t leave the house without telling the kids why.”

“You’re not serious!”

“I’m completely serious. It was my mistake, I’ll fess up, take my medicine. I hope we don’t come to that, Gerri. You know the best counselors in the business. Pick one out, set us up. If that doesn’t help, at least we will have tried.”

“See, right now you’re just too goddamn calm,” she said. “Like you’ve been ready for this day for a long time and had it all planned, what you were going to say, how you were going to play it. You lawyered up—you strategized it.”

“You’re partially right,” he admitted. “I’ve had years to think about what I’d say if you found out, if you came at me. I decided a long time ago, I wasn’t going to lie or make excuses.” He shook his head. “I’m so sorry.”

She wished he’d have spent that time coming up with a good story to refute what she’d heard—she didn’t want to know what she knew. “Please don’t sleep in my bed tonight.”

He gave a resigned nod.

She rose to go to their room, but stopped before entering the house. Pulling her jacket tighter around herself, without looking at him, she asked, “Did you love her?”

“I loved you. Always.”

“But her? Did you also love her?” She turned to look at him.

He stood up and faced her, his hands in his pockets. “I wasn’t using her. She was a nice woman, I was fond of her. I was attracted to her and I cared about her. You know I’d have to have some feelings, that I’m not the kind of man who fucks around. But from the first time we were together, even before we were together, I told her I had a good marriage, that I loved my wife, that I didn’t want a divorce. I feel as bad about what I did to her as what I’ve done to you.”

“So. You loved her. In your way.”

“I never weighed it, honey. I knew how much I loved you, but I wasn’t thinking with the right head. I was all steamed up and driven. I wish I’d known how to stop that, but... Gerri, I wasn’t done with my sex life. I was still interested. Responsive. I can’t undo it. I can tell you one thing—I might’ve thought that’s what I wanted at the time, but it didn’t make me happy. It made me miserable.”

She shook her head in equal parts disgust and pity, then turned and went to the bedroom. Wasn’t done? She couldn’t remember a time he’d let her know something was missing for him. The bigger ache came from knowing there hadn’t been anything missing for her! She’d thought they had the perfect marriage, the perfect family.

If he’d been beside her in their bed, she would have kicked him every time she turned over. But having him on the family room couch left her feeling so alone, she cried. In every crisis of her life, she’d turned to Phil, and now he was the crisis in her life. She wanted him to feel more pain for her, yet if he’d come to their bed and tried to hold her through her tears, she would have torn his eyes out. If he apologized one more time, she might stab him in his sleep.

The next morning, she went for her walk and she wore sunglasses. Of course Sonja and Andy could tell something was wrong. “There’s a dreadful situation at work I can’t talk about yet,” she said. “I’ll tell you when it’s okay to.”

* * *

Andy called Bryce once she had his things packed up—it had only taken a couple of days. She got his voice mail and left him a detailed message: she was filing for divorce, would be canceling credit cards, closing the joint accounts and would have copies of the statements for him, a final accounting. She knew he had a company credit card he could use, but still she asked if he needed money.

He came for his things that very night. He told her, in a very subdued, boyish way, that he’d be fine financially. She knew in that instant that he was relieved to be free of her—she cramped his style. He was not the kind of man ready to have serious ties. She didn’t bring up the house—there was already a divorce lien on its proceeds of sale from her first husband. It appeared Bryce was going to take his belongings and go away quietly, content to have the ball and chain removed from his life. There was something about the simplicity of it that hurt more than the screaming fights. He was so easily done. Finished. Why couldn’t she have made the break long ago? She knew why—it was embarrassing to be so foolish, so wrong, at her age.

When Bryce came, he was with one of his closest friends, using his truck to load the big screen, sound system and speakers, boxes of clothes and books, toiletries and miscellany. Bryce rode away behind his possessions on his motorcycle and all the while Bob, working in the kitchen, managed to stay very busy and very quiet. It was completely over in an hour and Bryce would never be back. He hadn’t even waved goodbye.

The trash was full of Sonja’s concoctions, the entire house was filled with dust from Bob’s construction in the kitchen plus the odor of burnt sage from Sonja’s cleansing voodoo. Gerri, who was Andy’s rock, was distracted by some heavy work problem and felt terrible about her lack of support, but Andy reassured her that she was getting along pretty well. She’d gone back to work the morning after the boy toys disappeared from her life.

While there was a part of her that wished for quiet and solitude in the evenings, there was another part grateful that Bob was in her kitchen, pleasantly working away as the sun set. She sat on her bed with the news on, there being no TV in the family room anymore, and took odd comfort in the humming, whistling and construction noise.

She wandered into the kitchen. “How’s it going?” she asked him.

“Good,” he said. The crowbar was being used to pry the old, chipped ceramic tiles off the floor. “Very good.”

“I’m going to have a glass of wine,” she said. “What can I give you?”

“Oh, I’m just fine with water.”

“I didn’t mean I was going to get you liquored up,” she laughed. “I realize you use power tools. But how about a cola or something?”

He looked up from his work, smiling. He wiped a rag across his sweating bald head. “That would sure be nice, thanks.”

She went for a glass in the laundry room where she kept the few dishes she needed since the kitchen cupboards had been torn out and carried away. The refrigerator was purring along in the garage now. She couldn’t actually cook anything but she could get ice and keep things cold. As she looked inside she said, “Hey, have you eaten?”

“I have,” he said. “Had something on my way over.”

“How about Beau?” she asked, and as she did so, the yellow Lab lifted his head and looked at her with those sad eyes that suggested he hadn’t been fed in days, lying eyes that made her laugh.

“Don’t believe a word he says. I always take care of Beau first,” Bob said.

She poured his cola, her white wine. She settled at the table in the nook, still undisturbed and covered with dust. “Could I ask you a personal question?”

He glanced over his shoulder. “Sure. If I get confused by it, I’ll make up an answer.”

“Funny,” she said. “Why did you and your wife separate?”

“Oh, that,” he chuckled. “It’s real simple, actually. She left me. She’s gay.”

Andy actually choked on her first swallow of wine. “Gay?” she echoed.

He laughed. “Don’t ask me the chronology of that, okay? I mean, since birth, I assume, but of course, I had no idea. We weren’t exactly kids when we got married. I was over forty, she was over thirty. It was something she struggled with, spent a lot of time at church, trying to get the cure. I think she just wanted to be like everyone else—live an average life and have children. But that’s really not the way to go.”

“Holy shit, Bob,” Andy said.

“Life’s not easy if you’re gay, even in San Francisco. If your family thinks you’re just being difficult people keep trying to impress that all you have to do is concentrate and you’ll stop being gay. It’s a little more complicated than that.”

“Well, I’ll say,” Andy said, taking a gulp. She wanted to know everything, right now. How’d that work? What made her choose him? How was sex? And the one she couldn’t help, “You didn’t have the first idea? Going in?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “That was stupid of me and wrong of her, I guess. But I understand. I think she was really trying. She had high hopes.”

“Oh, man,” she said, overwhelmed. “I gotta know— How long did it last?”

“The time we were together? A couple of years from the time we met. She’s such a sweet girl. We were good friends first, then decided to get married. I admit, when she first told me she just couldn’t pretend to be straight anymore, I was mad. But I couldn’t stay mad at her, you know? Her life was more of a struggle than mine, so I learned a little tolerance. For a long time there I’d been worried she was sick or something, but finally she just told me the truth, she’d thought she could stop being a lesbian and could be married with children, but it just wasn’t going to happen.” He lifted his head and looked upward as if remembering. “She asked me if it would be okay if she left. And I said of course. What was I going to say? No?”

“But did it... Well, you know... Did it damage your masculinity?”

He laughed. “I didn’t have that much experience with my masculinity,” he said.

“But you were an older guy and—”

She stopped. I’m having this conversation with my kitchen carpenter, she thought, internally appalled. Yet she couldn’t help it. His take on this was fascinating.

“Nah,” was all he said.

“Did you ever hear from her again?” she asked.

“Oh, yes, all the time,” he said. “Once or twice a year now, at least. She’s with someone now, very happy. They’ve been together quite a while. They’d like to have a child together. In fact, I was offered the job, but I declined. They both like me,” he said with a lovable, almost mischievous grin. “She’s still just the nicest, sweetest girl. She always thinks to ask me how I am. And I’m the same as before.”

“Wow,” Andy said. And I thought he was an ordinary workman with an ordinary life. But there was something about him that, in all its simplicity, was deep. Thoughtful.

“Doesn’t she want a divorce?” Andy heard herself ask.

“I think it’s kind of irrelevant,” he said.

“Well, how do you know? You might meet someone someday.”

“Aw, I sort of doubt that. A little late in the game for me. But I have her phone number. If I called her and said something about that, there wouldn’t be a problem. We had an agreement when she left—real simple and nonlegal, you know. The date of the split, the assets—which were as close to zero as you can get. I scrounged up a couple thousand dollars to help her get on her feet and she was so grateful for that. We’re good.”

“You gave her money, too?” Andy asked.

“Well, she had to have some walking-around money. It’s not easy to start over, especially around here.”

“Bob, I think you’re pure gold.”

“Me? Nah, anyone would’ve done that. Like I said, she’s a real sweet girl. I’m just so glad to know she’s okay.” He looked at her closely. “Understand?”

All she could think was, I want to be like you. That pure. So undamaged even though he’d gone through a potentially devastating experience. “Sounds like you’ve completely forgiven her. For lying to you, for trying to have a straight life at your expense.”

“Mrs....Andy, it didn’t cost me anything to forgive her for that. I just assume everyone is doing the best they can. Besides, she’s a good person.” He looked at her and asked. “How are you getting along since...you know.”

“Since the TV and motorcycle went away?” she asked with a laugh. “I’m still kind of numb, I guess, because I haven’t had much of a reaction. My son was relieved—he hadn’t been getting along with my husband too well the past couple of years. And I know this is going to sound kind of silly, but it’s nice you’re working here. Makes me feel less alone.”

“Yeah, that’s the hard part. All of a sudden, alone. My wife, she might’ve been a lesbian, but she was, most of all, a great friend. We had a lot to talk about every day.”

“Well, I’m used to being alone. Bryce traveled in his job so he was gone several nights a week, anyway. And when he was in town, he wasn’t the homebody type—he was more the party-boy type. Thus the divorce.”

“I’m awful sorry, Andy.”

“Thanks,” she said. She got herself a refill of wine. “I’m going back to my room to watch TV—holler if you need me. In fact, I’m going to invite Beau if that’s all right?”

“He’s probably got sawdust and stuff on him.”

“I’ll ask him to shake. Beau. Wanna watch some CNN for a while?” Beau got to his feet and wagged his tail. “That’ll be nice,” she said to Bob. “A guy I can trust on the bed, watching TV with me.”

“You enjoy him. He can be a real good friend.”

“You can come and find him when you’re done. I’m not going to bed or anything. I’m only in the bedroom because it’s quiet...and there’s no TV in the family room.”

Three hours later Bob knocked softly on the bedroom door, which stood ajar about an inch, and Andy sat up with a start. Beau was sitting upright on the bed, wagging and making a noise that was a combination whine and moan. “Come in,” she called.

Bob gingerly pushed the door open and Beau bolted off the bed to go to him. “He make a good TV buddy?”

“He put me to sleep,” she said. She stretched. “That was great.”

“It’s his best trick. See you tomorrow night.”

“Thanks,” she said. That might be one of the kindest men I’ve ever known, she thought. Too bad he’s...Bob.