Another Piece of My Heart

  “I know.” Andi sighed, with a smile. “Do you want to feed him?”

  Ethan reached out his arms as Andi carefully tucked Cal in, reminding Ethan to tap the end of the bottle with his fingernail to keep the baby sucking when his interest waned.

  They lay side by side, both back against the pillows, Andi stroking Cal’s head, exchanging soft smiles, and Andi forgot she was thinking about leaving. She forgot about the drama, and the crises, and the hell of Emily when Emily explodes. She leaned her head on Ethan’s shoulder.

  Anyone seeing them right now would think they were the picture of a perfect, loving, happy family: mother, father, and beautiful baby boy.

  * * *

  The late starts are becoming more normal for Andi, given how much of the night is spent awake.

  She sleeps in more and more, her body trying to catch up, waking up at eight, and sometimes later. Today is a late one. Andi goes downstairs, expecting to find Emily in the kitchen, or the family room, giving Cal his bottle. Last night, Emily insisted on keeping him, said she had slept all afternoon, felt so much better, there was no question that she was going to keep him.

  Last night, Andi didn’t wake up. At all. She is stunned, but aware that she is so exhausted, she must have needed to sleep. It is true that this morning, after just one decent night’s sleep, she feels like a new woman.

  The house is eerily quiet. Ethan had gotten up earlier, as he does every morning of late, to get Sophia off to school, and the only sound is that of the passing cars.

  Andi feels a flush of fear as she looks around for everyone. I am being silly, she tells herself. Emily has probably gone out with Cal on one of their epic walks. She goes back upstairs, her heart fluttering with fear, and pushes open Emily’s door.

  She gasps.

  The closet doors are open. Instead of the mass of black clothing, squashed together, there are empty hangers dangling pathetically from the rail. The makeup that usually clutters the top of her desk is gone, as is Catso, the threadbare cat she has slept with every night since she was three months old.

  Emily goes nowhere without Catso. Even at eighteen.

  And the bassinet is gone.

  Thirty-two

  As she pounds down the stairs, Andi’s chest heaves painfully, panic spreading through her body in waves. She takes the stairs two at a time, breathless with terror as she grabs the phone to call Ethan.

  The baby! Where’s the baby! Where have they gone?

  As she reaches the phone, she stops. She hears a squeak. Heart pounding, she pauses, phone in hand, to hear the squeak become a bawl.

  Thank God! Thank God! She races upstairs, sobbing with relief, running toward the nursery, flinging open the closed door to find Cal lying in the bassinet, placed carefully in the crib, with a folded piece of paper tucked into the sheet at the top of the crib.

  Andi scoops him up, covering him with kisses as she clutches him to her chest, still sobbing with the relief of his being okay. The note reads:

  I’m sorry, I can’t do this. You love Cal, and I can’t. Not in the way I should, and I need my life back. Mom gave me money, and I’m going away. I will be fine. Look after Cal for me. Emily.

  Andi stands, frozen, as Cal hiccups into her shoulder, and it is a good many minutes before she realizes her hand is shaking like a leaf.

  Part Three

  PARENTS

  Thirty-three

  Deanna opens the door and kisses Andi on the cheek before looking down at the large covered dish she is holding proudly in front of her. “What did you bring?” She smiles.

  “Our favorite,” Ethan says as he walks up the pathway proffering two bottles of red wine.

  Deanna gasps. “Not the chocolate croissant pudding?”

  “Yup,” Andi says. “I know it’s sinful, but how could I not? I may even do an Ashtanga class with you tomorrow to make up for the excesses of tonight.”

  Deanna throws her head back and laughs. “Since when have you even set foot in an Ashtanga class? You haven’t been to my Hatha yoga class for three years. I doubt you could even do downward dog anymore.”

  Andi grimaces. “I know, I know. You’re right, but what can I tell you? I’m busy being Mom.”

  “I know.” Deanna pulls her in and takes the dish as they both head to the kitchen. “How is that little monkey?”

  “Adorable and wonderful and perfect and gorgeous,” Andi says.

  “You look amazing. You just look so … happy.”

  “We are.” Ethan slides a hand around his wife’s waist and plants a kiss on her cheek. “Aren’t we?”

  Andi sinks into him with a smile as she nods. It is true. She is happy, but more than happy, she is content. Cal is now three, and the light of all their lives. Andi thinks of him as her little magician, for there is no question that he has filled all their lives with magic.

  She thinks back, sometimes, to when Emily was pregnant, to those times when she was ready to leave, when all she could think about was starting again, without Emily, without responsibilities.

  She is embarrassed to think that Pete—Pete!—was, albeit briefly, the subject of her most ardent fantasies. Pete, who now loves, and lives with, her best friend. Pete, who has become like a brother to her. How could she ever have even given Pete a second thought?

  Andi glances over at Ethan, feeling herself smile. What a wonderful man Ethan is, she thinks. How incredibly lucky am I?

  The peace that exists in their household started almost as soon as Emily left. Andi stopped tiptoeing around her own house, let go of any residual resentments she was holding against Ethan, found herself relaxing into the role of mother, a role she had always wanted, had never dared think she would play.

  The threat of Emily’s coming back didn’t go away for a long time.

  At first, Andi held back, terrified Emily was going to change her mind and come for him, reclaim Cal, take him away, but weeks went by, then months. They received the odd letter or phone call, all of which indicated Emily was not changing her mind.

  In letters, she talked about herself, with, sometimes, a sentence asking if Cal was doing well. On the phone, she’d ask how he was, never seeming to be very interested.

  Emily was in touch with her mother far more than with them, which would have been ironic, except Brooke was the one who had given Emily enough money to enable her to leave. Brooke had put Emily in touch with a friend in Seattle, who gave Emily a room in her house while she was figuring out what to do.

  She had worked in a coffeehouse for a while. Then, it seems, she came back to California for Burning Man, after which she lived on some kind of an artists’ commune in Grants Pass, Oregon, with a bunch of people she met at Burning Man.

  Andi doesn’t miss her. On the rare occasions Emily calls, Andi’s heart flutters with fear, but three years on, she is less scared. Three years on, she is more confident about her position in Cal’s life. She might not have given birth to him, but she is his mother. No question.

  There was an issue about what he should call them when he started to speak. They settled on Grandi for Andi, and Papa for Ethan. Sophia was Fifi—the closest approximation Cal could get to her name.

  At two and a half, when Cal was in preschool for three mornings a week, he started calling Andi “Mommy.”

  “I’m not Mommy,” she’d say, even though she was, and the fact that he was calling her Mommy filled her with a joy she hadn’t expected. “I’m Grandi.”

  “No.” He shook his little head. “You’re Mommy.”

  “Baby, that’s Mommy.” She led him over and showed him a picture of Emily, for she and Ethan had been careful to tell him the truth.

  “Emily’s my Tummy Mommy,” he announced seriously. “Grandi’s my mommy.”

  Later that night, Andi had told Ethan.

  “Where does he get that from?” Ethan was stunned. “Tummy Mommy?”

  It turned out that Rory, another child in the twos’ program, was adopted. He was proudly telling his friends th
at he had two mommies, and Cal announced that he did, too.

  “He’s right though,” Andi had said. “He does have two mommies. And Emily is, I guess, his Tummy Mommy.”

  I am his real mother, she thought, but she didn’t say it out loud. I am the one who has raised him, and loved him, and gotten up with him in the middle of the night when he can’t sleep.

  I am the one who gives him a bath, who cradles him on my lap as we rock together. I read him stories and answer his continual questions. I am the one who tucks him in and kisses him good night, who goes in five minutes later because I cannot bear to be away from him, and I am the one who pulls a chair up to the side of his “big boy bed,” just to watch him sleep, unable to believe the capacity for love we each hold within us.

  “I guess this is the same as adoption,” Ethan mused aloud. “Emily isn’t here, and we are, we have become, his parents. I would never have suggested he call you Mommy, but if he does, is it really wrong?”

  “Let’s just see what happens,” Andi said, her heart lifting. “It’s not something we have to decide categorically.”

  She was Mommy from that day forward. It cemented her place in his life, and eased her fears about Emily coming home. She couldn’t replace this. Andi was Mommy now, and that wasn’t something that could ever be taken away.

  Sophia, at sixteen, is no longer an aunt but a sister, not to mention a willing babysitter; but she is also a teenager, and they are careful not to ask too much from her, to allow her to have a social life.

  The four of them are happy in a way Andi never thought possible. Finally, finally, she has the life she has always wanted. Finally, finally, her dreams have all come true.

  Thirty-four

  “Where’s Pete?” Ethan asks, peering around the kitchen.

  “Bringing more wood in for the fire. We figure it’s almost Thanksgiving, so a fire’s entirely justified. Pete even turned the air on this afternoon so we could get the full fall effect.”

  “It’s the one thing I continue to miss about New York.” Andi smiles wryly. “Nothing like the proper seasons, although winter was evil. I do not miss months of filthy grey slush and bone-chilling cold.”

  Ethan gives her a kiss. “I’m going to go help Pete.” He heads out the back door just as the front doorbell rings.

  “I thought it was just us?” Andi asks quizzically.

  “Nope. I asked the boys, too. Drew called today and I said if they weren’t doing anything, they should come.”

  “Yay! I’ll get the door.” Andi turns, but the boys have already let themselves in and are standing in the hallway. “I’m still angry with you.” She attempts a frown as she approaches.

  “We’ll still come and visit.” Drew puts his arms around Andi and pulls her close. “And you can come stay with us in the city anytime.”

  “But I don’t like the city.” Andi pouts, leaning her head against Drew’s chest.

  “Liar,” he croons as Topher comes over and steals her for a hug of his own.

  “You better not let anyone awful buy your house,” she warns. “You have to let me approve all potential buyers.”

  “Forget it.” Topher shakes his head. “You won’t approve anyone because you’re waiting for another us, and there’s only one of us.”

  “That’s true.” Pete finally comes in, kissing Andi and hugging Drew and Topher. “And we have kind of forgiven you, plus you’re going to have to find a new trainer, and you’re never going to find one as good as me.”

  “We’re not going to have to find a trainer,” Topher says. “We’re talking about a half-hour commute in the middle of the day. Drew’s still going to come out to the gym.”

  “Great! Can we have lunch afterward?” Andi’s face lights up.

  “Of course!” Drew says. “You wait. Once we move away you’ll probably see me more than you’ve seen me for years although you’re the one who’s never around. Every time I look up, you’re whisking Cal here there and everywhere. Has he started piano lessons yet?”

  “Next week,” Andi says.

  “Are you serious?” Pete turns to her in horror.

  “No, I’m not serious,” Andi says. “We’re waiting at least another month.” And everyone laughs.

  * * *

  In the living room, Pete appears holding a tray with filled champagne flutes.

  “What are we celebrating?” Drew asks as Deanna hands out the glasses.

  “Well,” Deanna stalls until everyone is holding a glass, then walks over to Pete and takes his hand.

  “Well,” Pete says. “We wanted you to be the first to know that Deanna has agreed to marry me.”

  “Oh, my God!” Drew jumps up so quickly he knocks the champagne glass over, but he is too busy flinging his arms around Deanna and Pete to care. “I’m so happy! That’s such great news!” he says, swiftly joined by everyone in the room.

  “It’s wonderful!” Andi squeezes Deanna hard. “You absolutely deserve it.”

  “I’m so happy,” Deanna says. “I really didn’t think I would ever be this happy again. I didn’t think I deserved it, but now.” She gives a sweet shrug. “I know I do.”

  * * *

  Andi’s in the kitchen, rooting around the fridge for some cans of cranberry-lime seltzer that are, apparently, nestling in the back, when Drew comes in.

  “Hey,” he says quietly, bending down so his head is next to Andi’s. “You okay?”

  “Me?” She is confused. “I’m great. Why?” She pulls her head out of the fridge. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  Drew drops his voice. “I know you always had a bit of a thing about Pete. I mean, I know it was a while ago, I just wanted to check you were okay with everything.”

  “Oh you are so sweet.” Andi smiles. “But nuts. I never had a thing about Pete. I just thought he was cute for about two seconds when I first met him. I couldn’t be happier. Shoo. Go back in the living room. I’ll be in in just a second.”

  She finds the seltzer, and pauses as she cracks the can open. Of course she is okay with everything. If anything, she is embarrassed at how she read so much into one night of flirting all those years ago, and relieved she didn’t make a move, or reciprocate other than by privately fantasizing that he was the man for her.

  When Deanna started teaching yoga classes at the same gym and announced one day that he had asked her out on a date, Andi was taken aback.

  “I know this is stupid”—Deanna had smiled bashfully—“but I feel like I’m betraying you somehow. I mean, I know you’re married, and I know you probably aren’t interested in Pete, and let’s face it, even if you were, you’re married!” She attempted to make a joke. “But I still feel weird saying yes.”

  “Don’t be so ridiculous!” Andi commanded, feeling utterly betrayed. This had happened just after Cal was born, when Emily was still at home, when Andi was entertaining fantasies of leaving, of Pete possibly being the man for her. “He’s adorable, and you must go.”

  “But that night,” Deanna had pressed. “When we went salsa dancing…”

  “Oh stop!” Andi said. “It was fun to flirt, that’s all. I’m married, Deanna, and you absolutely do not have to ask my permission. Go have fun. He’s cute as a button!”

  The morning after their date, Andi had to sit on her hands to stop herself from calling. It was all she could think about. At lunchtime, she couldn’t resist, then felt sick as Deanna gushed about what a wonderful time they had had, that they were seeing each other again the next night.

  She hated herself for hoping it would end. Was furious with herself that she harbored a wish for it to go wrong, and when, after four weeks, Pete told Deanna he thought he might have fallen in love with her, Andi’s smile and exclamation of delight felt false and wrong.

  Then Emily left, and Andi was far too busy looking after Cal to think about Pete. When Deanna suggested the four of them have dinner, Andi spent far longer than usual doing her makeup, chose a colorful dress that made her feel beautiful and sexy, wore hig
her heels than she had worn for years.

  “Wow!” Ethan wolf-whistled when he saw her. By that time, they were back in the master bedroom. They were sleeping together without sleeping together. No sex for weeks, but they were back in the same bed, and slowly, slowly, the affection between them was growing.

  Andi wanted Deanna to be happy. But she also wanted Pete to look at her and think she was gorgeous. She wanted to show him what he was missing. Even though, yes, she knew she was married if not entirely happily.

  They met at Frantoio for dinner. Deanna was in jeans and boots, and Andi felt ridiculous; more so when she saw that Pete clearly had eyes only for Deanna.

  Andi had mistakenly thought there was all this chemistry between them, chemistry that was indicating she might have made a terrible mistake in marrying Ethan, but clearly it was all in her imagination. There wasn’t a spark of anything. He was nice to her, but no nicer than anyone in the same position would have been.

  In many ways, the death of the fantasy enabled Andi to open up to the possibility of Ethan again. Here was a wonderful man who loved her, who was good to her, and who, she increasingly realized, she loved in return.

  When Emily left, when Andi saw just how good a man Ethan was, how much he loved Cal, how tenderly he held him, how solicitous and caring he was with Andi, she started to fall in love with him all over again.

  Their relationship became far more solid than it had been prior to Cal’s arrival. Emily was the knife that had always threatened to splinter their relationship, to drive it apart. Once she had gone, Cal became the glue that bonded them together, a bond that was more secure than Andi would ever have thought possible.

  So secure she never gave her brief attraction to Pete another thought, assuming she must have imagined a chemistry between them the night of the salsa dancing, and thanking God she hadn’t done anything stupid, hadn’t embarrassed herself in any way.

  How easy it would have been, back then, when she was so unhappy, to let herself be pulled into an affair, if not with Pete, then with someone else, someone who offered her a glimpse of the greener grass elsewhere.