I Liked My Life(50)

A JAG#2 vanity plate brings me to a halt—Kara’s dad’s car. What the hell is Todd Anderson doing here? Compelled as I am to atone, I won’t do it in the presence of a man who once questioned how three people manage to fit in a house that’s only six thousand square feet. I turn back toward Route 9, but not before catching a glimpse of Todd with a woman I don’t know. He presses low on the small of her back, guiding her to the passenger seat. I feel sorry for Christie, but not surprised. There’ve been long running rumors about the interesting interworkings of that marriage. Maddy never let Eve spend the night there. My general understanding is that faithfulness isn’t revered by either spouse.

The rest of my run I’m overtaken by the possibility Maddy had an affair. That’d explain everything. There was a journal entry about a professor she met while having lunch on a bench overlooking the lake on campus. Maddy claimed she forced my name into the conversation early, as much to remind herself as enlighten him. That’s not exactly a strong statement of loyalty. She went on and on about how marriage doesn’t mean you’ll never be attracted to another man, but rather that you respect your partner so much you’d never jeopardize what you built over such a fleeting inclination. She signed off claiming she’d take her lunch elsewhere moving forward, but who knows? Maybe it was the start of something.

By mile eight I have officially chucked Maddy in the same dirt pile as Todd Anderson, but by mile ten I acknowledge I’m being unfair. So she talked to someone intriguing … I can’t pretend I’ve never had a conversation that left me wanting more. And Maddy wrote she was enthralled because the man asked so many questions. It’s a fair stab. I only covered the basics. What did you do today? How’d it go?

It’s amazing, really. My career—the entirety of my professional success—is founded on my ability to drill down, to understand every situation with specificity. My big claim to fame was precisely this sort of attention to detail. HT was about to buy a company that boasted twenty thousand customers. The client list was the primary motivation for the acquisition, so I asked random questions to multiple people during due-diligence meetings. How many customers bought additional software in the past twelve months? How many customers have you lost in that same period? Is it easy to find references? I uncovered a bleak picture: a base declining more rapidly than sales accounted for, no incremental business, and poor overall customer satisfaction. We avoided the train wreck. Our competitor did not. The acquisition ultimately brought both companies down, and Jack personally thanked me. It was the catalyst for my promotion to CFO. Why have I zipped that skill up in my briefcase before coming home at night?

I need to dig in more with Eve, but asking teenagers questions is a fine art. Ask too many and you’re overbearing; ask the wrong ones and you don’t get it; ask the right ones at the wrong time and you’re annoying. It’s like walking on the edge of a cliff that Eve occasionally elects to push me off. I never know what will set her off. Last night I tried to confirm she was certain about Exeter because the full tuition is due.

“You think I’m a flake?” she replied. It was so hypersensitive that I laughed. “Is it funny when you offend people?” she snapped.

If I had a white flag I would’ve waved it. “Whoa there,” I said.

“Whoa there? I’m not a horse, Dad.”

“Sorry I asked,” I said, uncertain why I was apologizing. “I’ll mail the check.” I left the room even though the show I’d been watching wasn’t over.

How could Eve flip from the loving daughter I watched fireworks with to such a crazy lady? Maddy’s voice popped into my head: It’s that time of month. I have to give myself credit. For a man without a creative bone in his body, I have Maddy’s phrasing and sense of humor down pat. Reconstructing my dead wife is the most inspired thing I’ve ever done.

Thirteen miles complete and I’ve come full circle. There’s no other man to stick this mess on. Everything I provided Maddy was overshadowed by everything I held back. I thought it made good sense to treat work separate from home, but it meant my family only had access to half of me. I go inside to take a shower and wash off my shame.





CHAPTER TEN

Madeline

Eve wears the same black dress she picked out with Meg for my funeral. I was as surprised to see her look up the time and location of Linda’s memorial as Rory is when she arrives.

It’s a simple burial led by the nursing-home minister. After some spiritual sayings about the circle of life, Rory stands, placing the urn into the plot next to her father’s, and speaks softly to the thirty or so people in attendance. Eve expected to blend in with the crowd because her only point of reference was my service, which hundreds of people flocked to, in curiosity more than sorrow.

Rory’s low volume commands attention and the group leans in to catch every word. She wears no makeup. There are faint lines on her forehead and around her mouth, but she still looks too young to lose a parent. I wonder where that leaves Eve.

“My mother was blessed with a lived life. She danced for the Rockettes at Radio City in her teens, fought for social justice in college, married her soul mate, bore two children in two different decades, and dutifully served our family for the remainder of her life.

“Linda Maureen Murray taught me to see the beauty in everyday things, what to wear on an interview, and who to trust secrets with—the people who don’t tell you any. She believed mothers needed to keep a distinguishable life of their own, and she did. She ran a bridge group, headed up the first mentor program in New England, and rowed the Charles River daily until her body wouldn’t allow it.”