"This okay?"
"A golf course?"
"It's a gorgeous walk. I'm out here three or four times a week. Usually in the mornings."
"I take it you're a member."
"David loved to golf," she said.
We stepped onto the cart path and began making our way down one of the lush green fairways. As I took in the surroundings, I realized Emily had been right. The fairways and greens were immaculate and generously lined with dogwoods, magnolias, and live oaks. There were neatly trimmed azalea bushes and ponds that sparkled beneath blue skies; a steady breeze kept the temperature tolerable.
"What happened?" she asked, and over the course of the nine or ten holes we traversed, I told her everything. Maybe I shouldn't have; maybe I should have been more reticent, but once the flow of words started, I seemed unable to stop. I talked and talked, answering Emily's questions whenever they came up. I told her about our marriage and the early years with London, I told her how important it had been to me to make Vivian happy, my never-ending desire to please her. I spoke about the last year, and went into detail describing what an emotional basket case I'd been since Vivian had walked out the door. As I spoke, I was alternately confused and sad, enraged and frustrated, but mainly, I was still at a loss. I felt like someone who thought he'd known the rules of the game he'd been playing, only to learn that the wrong rules had been placed in the box.
"I appreciate you listening," I said as I came to the end of my sorry tale.
"I was glad to," she said. "I've been through it, too. And I get it. Believe me. The year that David moved out was the hardest year of my life," she said. "And yes, the first couple of months were excruciating. All day, every day, I wondered whether I'd done the right thing by telling him to go. And after that, I'm not saying that I was Mary Poppins. It took probably another four or five months before I began to feel a little bit like my old self again some of the time. But by then, I also kind of knew that Bodhi and I were going to make it."
"How are you now?"
"Better," she said. She cracked a wry smile. "Well, most of the time. It's strange, but the more time passes, the less I can remember the bad things while the good memories still linger. Before Bodhi, we used to lie in bed on Sunday mornings and have coffee and read the paper. We didn't even talk that much, but I still recall how comfortable those mornings felt. And like I said, David was always a good father. It would be so much easier if I forgot the good stuff instead."
"It sounds like it was really hard."
"It can be awful. Arguing about money is often the worst part. When money's involved, it can get vicious."
"Was it like that for you?"
"No, thank God. David is more than fair with alimony and child support, and we couldn't make it if he weren't. It doesn't hurt that his family is as rich as Midas and he earns a lot of money, but I also think he felt guilty. It's not that he's a bad guy, he's just not a particularly good husband, unless you don't mind constant philandering."
"I can see how that might be a problem for some."
I felt her eyes drift toward me. "She might come back, you know. Sometimes they do."
I reflected on Friday's lunch, and the way she'd acted when I handed off the vase. I remembered what Liz had told me.
"I don't think so."
"Even if she realizes she made a mistake?"
"I still don't know that she'd want to come back. I get the sense that she's been unhappy with me for a long time. I tried to be the best husband and father I could be and it never seemed to be enough."
"You sound like you're not sure whether I'll believe you."
"Do you?"
"Of course. Why wouldn't I?"
"Because she left me."
"That was her decision. And it says less about you than it does about her."
"I still feel like a failure."
"I can understand that. I felt the same way. I think most people do."
"I'm not sure Vivian does. She doesn't seem to care at all."
"She cares," Emily said. "And she's hurting, too. Walking away from a marriage isn't easy for anyone. But she's also in love with someone new, and that's a big distraction. She isn't thinking about the two of you as much as you are. Which means she's not hurting as frequently as you are."
"I think I need a distraction."
"Oh, yeah, that's exactly what you need. Maybe some midtwenties, cheerleader type, right? Or an aerobics teacher? Or maybe a dancer." When I raised an eyebrow, she shrugged and went on. "Those were David's preferences. Of course, if push came to shove, he'd sleep with anyone."
"Sorry."
"I'm not. He's not my problem anymore," she said. "He's dating someone back in Sydney. He told me he's actually thinking about marriage."
"Already?"
"It's his life," she shrugged. "If he asked me, I'd tell him that he should probably give it more time, but he didn't ask so I didn't offer. And besides, we're divorced. He can do what he wants."
I put a hand in my pocket as I walked beside her. "How can you do that? Not let it bother you, I mean. When I think about Vivian and Walter, I get so angry and it hurts. I can't disengage."
"It's still too new," she said. "But as tough as I sound and as much as I meant what I said about David, it still hurt when he told me. No one likes to feel they're easily replaced. For a long time, even though I told people that I wanted David to be happy after we'd separated, what I really wanted was for him to sit at home like a hermit, feeling awful about himself and grieving for everything he lost."
I imagined Vivian like that. "That sounds good. How can we convince them to do that?"
She laughed. "If only it were that easy, right? Exes are never easy. Last weekend, he actually hit on me."
"Seriously? What about his girlfriend?"
"She didn't come up. And I'll admit that there was a minute or so where I considered going through with it. He is handsome, and we used to have a good time together."
"How did it happen?"
"Alcohol," she said and I laughed.
"Anyway, he'd been out all day with Bodhi and when he brought Bodhi home, Bodhi went right to bed. I was having a glass of wine and I offered him one. One glass led to the next and he was being his regular charming self, and the next thing I knew, his hand was on my knee. I knew what he wanted and..."
I waited as she collected her thoughts. She looked over at me.
"I knew it was a terrible idea, but I still liked the way he made me feel. It's crazy, but that's how it was. It's been a long time since I felt desired and attractive. Part of it's my own fault, of course. It's not like I've really put myself out there in the last year and a half. I've gone on a few dates and the guys were nice, but I figured out pretty quickly that I wasn't ready to start another relationship. Which meant that when they called a second time, I always put them off. Sometimes, I wish I were the type of person who could sleep around without feeling guilty or like I'm a tramp, but I'm not wired that way. I've never had a one-night stand."
"Wait, I thought there was this guy in college once..."
"That doesn't count," she said with an airy wave. "I have erased that evening from my memory, so it never happened."
"Ah," I said.
"Anyway, David started to kiss my neck, and part of me was thinking Oh, why the hell not? Fortunately, I came to my senses. On the plus side, he handled the rejection gracefully. No temper tantrums, no argument. Just a shrug and sigh, like I was the one who was really going to be missing out." She shook her head. "And I can't believe I just told you all that."
"It's no big deal. If it makes you feel better, I probably won't remember it. The tornado of emotions I'm living in is wreaking havoc with my memory."
"May I ask a question?"
"Go ahead."
"What about London?"
"That's more complicated," I admitted. "For now, Vivian thinks it's best that London stay with me since she's traveling so much and hasn't had time to get her place set up. But she was pre
tty clear that after that, she wants London to move to Atlanta."
"How do you feel about that?"
"I don't want her to go... but I also know that she needs her mom."
"What does that mean?"
"I don't know. I guess it's something we'll be discussing. To be honest, I don't know anything about this entire process."
"Have you spoken to an attorney yet?"
"No," I said. "She didn't mention divorce until yesterday. And before that, I was in no condition to do much of anything."
By then, I could see the clubhouse in the distance. I wasn't sure how far we'd walked, but we'd been out there for over an hour. My stomach gurgled.
Emily must have heard it. "Are you hungry? Why don't we grab a bite to eat?"
"I don't think we're dressed for the country club."
"We'll sit in the bar area. It's casual. It's where golfers end up after they finish their rounds."
As much as the walk with Emily had felt necessary, having lunch--just the two of us, at the club--made me feel as though I was crossing a boundary of sorts. I was still married. Vivian and I weren't even legally separated. Hence, this was wrong.
And yet...
The other side of the equation was obvious, even to me. What would Vivian say to me if she found out? That I was crossing a line? That rumors would start?
I cleared my throat. "Lunch sounds great."
The clubhouse was imposing and somewhat stuffy on the outside, but the interior had been recently renovated and was lighter and airier than I'd expected. Windows lined two of the walls, offering a spectacular view of the eighteenth hole. I spotted a foursome making their way to the putting green as Emily pointed to a table in the corner, one of the few that wasn't already occupied.
"How about over there?" she said.
"Fine."
I followed her to the table, my eyes drifting lower to the once-familiar contours of her legs, glad she was in shorts. They were tan and lean, the kind of legs that had always caught my eye.
After we sat, she leaned across the table. "I told you we wouldn't be underdressed. That group just came in from the tennis courts."
"I didn't notice," I said. "But good to know."
"Have you ever eaten here?"
"Once, in the dining room. Jesse Peters has a membership here and we met with a client."
"I see him every now and then. Or used to anyway. I would catch him staring at me."
"That sounds like him."
"Oh, if you're interested, the burger here is out of this world," she said. "The chef actually won a burger competition on one of those shows on the Food Network. It comes with some amazing sweet potato fries."
"I haven't had a burger in a long time," I said. "Is that what you're getting?"
"Of course."
I couldn't help noting that Vivian would never have ordered a burger, nor would she have approved if I'd ordered one.
The waitress came by with menus, but Emily shook her head. "We're both getting the burgers," she said. "And I'd like a glass of Chardonnay."
"Make it two," I said, surprising myself. Of course, the whole afternoon had been bewildering to that point, but in a good way. Emily, I noticed, was gazing out the window, toward the putting green before she turned back to me.
"I guess our children are done with art class by now. What do you think London is doing?"
"Vivian probably took her out to lunch. As for what's next, I have no idea."
"Didn't she tell you?"
"No," I said. "Our lunch on Friday was a little tense, so we didn't get around to discussing their plans."
"They were tense with David, too, for a long time. It's just a hard and awful thing for anyone to live through, even if it has to be done. And only people who've gone through it can understand how terrible it really is."
"That's not very encouraging," I said.
"It's true, though. There's no way I could have made it without the support of some really good friends. I probably talked to both Marguerite and Grace on the phone two or three hours a week--maybe more, in the beginning. And what was strange was that prior to my divorce, I wasn't particularly close to either of them. But I ended up leaning on them, and they were always there to prop me up when I needed it."
"They sounds like lifesavers."
"They are. To this day, I'm not sure why they were there for me the way they were. And I'm guessing that you'll probably need the same thing--two or three people that you can really talk to. It was strange--I thought that my sister Jess or Dianne, who was probably my best friend at the time, would be my stalwarts. But it didn't work out that way."
"What do you mean?"
"It's hard to describe, but Marguerite and Grace always knew how to say the right thing at the right time, in just the right way. Jess and Dianne didn't. Sometimes, they offered advice I didn't want to hear, or they questioned whether I was doing the right thing when what I really needed was reassurance."
Considering this, I wondered who I would lean on. Marge and Liz, obviously, but they sort of counted as one person. I already knew my mom would get too emotional, and my dad wouldn't know what to say. As for friends, it dawned on me that I didn't really have any. Between work and my family, I'd let most of my friendships wilt on the vine in the years since London was born.
"Marge and Liz have been great," I said.
"I figured they would be. I always liked Marge."
The feeling is mutual, I thought.
The waiter delivered two glasses of wine. Emily reached for her glass. "We should make a toast," she said. "To Marge, Liz, Marguerite, Grace, Bodhi, and London."
"The kids, too?"
"Bodhi was the real reason I didn't fall apart. Because of him, I couldn't. It'll be the same with London."
I knew she was right as soon as she said it. "All right. But then, I feel like I have to put you in there, too. You've been pretty supportive so far."
"And you can always call me any time."
We fell into small talk then. I told her about London, while she spoke about Bodhi; she told me about some of the places she'd traveled in the years since we'd last seen each other. Perhaps because we'd already spoken exhaustively about Vivian and David, their names didn't come up, and for the first time since Vivian had walked out the door, the anxiety I'd been feeling seemed to dissipate entirely.
The burgers eventually arrived and we each ordered a second glass of wine. The burger, as she'd predicted, was among the best I'd ever had. It was stuffed with cheese and topped with a fried egg, but because my recent lack of appetite had made my stomach shrink, I couldn't eat more than half.
Our plates were cleared, but we lingered at the table, finishing our wine. She told me a story about Bodhi giving himself a haircut, laughing aloud when she showed me the picture on her cell phone. He'd lopped off, nearly down to the roots, an inch-wide chunk of hair in what used to be his bangs. His forehead shown through like a gap between teeth, but what made the photo priceless was his grin.
"That's great," I laughed. "How were you?"
"Initially I was upset, not only about his hair but that he'd gotten hold of the scissors in the first place. When I saw how proud of himself he was, though, I started to laugh. The next thing I knew, we were laughing together. Then I grabbed my phone. Now, this photo is framed and sits on my bedside table."
"I'm not sure how I would have reacted if London had done that. And one thing I can say for sure: Vivian would not have laughed."
"No?"
"She wasn't a big laugher." In fact, I couldn't remember the last time I'd heard her laugh.
"Even with Marge? Marge used to crack me up all the time."
"Especially with Marge. They don't really get along that well."
"How is that possible? Does she still tease you?"
"Mercilessly."
Emily laughed again and I was reminded of how much I had always liked the sound of her laugh, melodic and genuine at the same time.
"You know what?"
she said. "This day turned out a lot better than I thought it would. If you hadn't come along, I don't know what I'd be doing. Probably staring at my paintings in frustration. Or cleaning the house."
"I'd probably be working."
"This is way better."
"Agreed. Would you like another glass?"
"Of course," she said. "But I won't. I have to drive. But go ahead if you want one."
"I'm fine, too. What are you doing tonight?"
"Like you, I'll be hanging out with my sister. You remember Jess? She and Brian invited me to dinner."
"That sounds fun."
"Mmm... not so sure. I sometimes wonder if Brian thinks I'm putting ideas in Jess's head. Like about getting divorced."
"Are they having troubles?"
"All married couples have troubles now and then. It kind of goes with the institution itself."
"Why is marriage so hard?"
"Who knows? I think it's probably because people get married without knowing who they really are in the first place. Or how they're crazy."
"Are you crazy?"
"Of course. And I don't mean crazy-crazy. I mean, in the way that everyone is. One person might be too sensitive to perceived slights, or another might get really angry when they don't get their way. Another shuts down or holds grudges for weeks. That's what I'm talking about. We all do things that are unhealthy in relationships, but I'm not sure people recognize that unless they're really self-aware. And when you consider that each partner brings his or her own set of issues, it's a miracle that any marriages last the duration."
"That's a little pessimistic, don't you think? Your parents have been married forever. Mine have, too."
"But are they happy with each other? Or are they together out of habit? Or because they're afraid to be alone? In the coffee shop earlier, I was watching this older couple a few tables over. They may have been together for fifty years, but I don't think they said a single word to each other."
I thought about my parents, remembering that Marge and I had wondered the same thing.
"Do you think you'll ever get married again?"
"I don't know," she said. "Sometimes I think I want to, but other times, I think I'm happy being alone, too. And with Bodhi, it's not as though I have a lot of energy to devote to finding a new life partner. What I can say is that I'm a lot clearer on the kind of person that I want if it ever comes to that. I've decided to be very picky."