I Liked My Life(64)

She’d rather slit her wrist. That’s what she said. I thought she was being dramatic.

After she left the room, I read the note:

Happy birthday, my Maddy! I look forward to celebrating your life every year because you are the best thing that ever happened to me. You deserve the world for all you do for Eve and me. Cheers to another great year … Yours, Brady

I bowled over. This four-sentence card was the sweetest thing she’d gotten from me in years. But did I learn a lesson from that? No. No, I did not. Not one bit. All it did was leave me ticked at Paula. I didn’t ask for a goddamn love letter, I asked for flowers.

Every year for my birthday Maddy did something special. Sometimes a party, sometimes a surprise weekend guest, twice a little getaway, but always something. She’d pair a beautiful card with a thoughtful gift—the kind you didn’t know you wanted but afterward can’t imagine living without. She had the windows of my car tinted because I always complained of the glare from the sun. She had my favorite leather briefcase repaired because she couldn’t find a new one that had the same depth to the outside pockets. It never crossed my mind these were grievances I could address. Maddy was resourceful in a way that left other people scratching their heads.

I did make it up to her the following Saturday while Eve was overnight at Lindsey’s. I waited until Maddy left for the gym to get everything ready. When she got home, smelling of the coconut soap from the locker room, I was in a tux, pouring champagne. She laughed. “Someone wants to get laid after being a shithead, huh?”

“No,” I said. “I’m hoping to close a deal, but not that one.”

“What then?”

“Well, I believe I’m overdue in getting you to sign my five-year renewal.”

The five-year renewal was a joke from our wedding day. As the story goes, right after Meg reached the altar and the bridal march began to play, Maddy whispered to her dad that she intended to stay committed to the marriage for five years. He broke into a stunned sweat, doing the math on how much the wedding would cost per year the marriage lasted. Then Maddy added that everyone should feel like they come up for renewal and I was on a five-year plan. Her father snorted and asked what plan I put Maddy on. “If he’s as smart as I think he is,” Maddy said, “it’ll be monthly.” They laughed the whole way down the aisle.

“I don’t know if I’d be inquiring about that with your current status,” Maddy warned. “You’re still so far in the doghouse, I should paint your name on it.”

I directed her to the bedroom, where a black cocktail dress from Saks was laid on the bed. It was a sexy, perfect fit. She came out saying, “Just because I look amazing doesn’t mean you’re forgiven.” I laughed, thinking we were making progress. She didn’t join me.

She loosened up a bit when she noticed I not only remembered her favorite entrée but drove thirty minutes to the North End to get it. It was scallop risotto from the place she requested to go to on her birthday, but I failed to get a reservation in time. Just as her anger subsided, she asked whether Paula helped plan the evening. “I intend to live to my next birthday, Maddy, so no, Paula had nothing to do with this.”

“Good,” she said, finally offering a genuine smile. “At least it appears my message was received.”

I raised my glass for a prepared toast. “You are my rock, Madeline Starling. I don’t know what this world would look like without you by my side, and I hope I never find out. I’m sorry I made you feel like a chore. I promise, if you opt to renew for another five years, I will spend every day proving my devotion to you.”

She balanced her hands back and forth like a scale. “Okay, fine,” she conceded, “I’ll keep you. But Brady?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t be such a prick ever again.”

“Yes, dear.”

The thing is, I was a prick again after that. And after that. And after that. I lost touch with our rich history. I forgot what made Maddy special. I assumed she’d be there to renew for another five years.





CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Madeline

My vantage point continues to diminish. There is a cosmic hourglass counting down my time to have impact, and I intend to get the better of it.

The dinner served its purpose: Rory has my family on the brain. She thinks mostly about me, questioning what she’s missing. The house, the good-looking husband, the smart kid, it all seems so perfect looking in. She can’t figure out what I had to escape.

Rory gracefully transitions from downward dog to pigeon. Her mind is clear of activity, so I softly recite Brady’s name. In the steady hum I’ve now mastered I say, Brady … Brady … Brady. I do it slowly, salaciously, trying to evoke the specific frame of mind I’m after. The image that pops into her consciousness is of Brady sipping his wine while maintaining deep, direct eye contact. There was something intimate about the exchange that she ignored at the time. Her cheeks blush with the recollection.

In her stretch pants and fitted tank, Rory’s sex appeal multiplies. Gone is the childlike spunk she brings to the classroom. Her firm shape will be an upgrade for Brady; I was thin but soft. Rory is solid and sweats the perfect amount. After a hot yoga class I looked like I’d been put through the heavy towel cycle in the dryer. Rory looks like she’s been sitting out by the pool on a hot day.