A Good Marriage(68)

“It’s from Cork,” Kerry said. “Where my grandparents live. I mentioned it once, and Amanda, thoughtfully, was listening. Thank you very much. And I didn’t even have to take out the garbage or kill any water bugs to get it.”

“But you’re so good at water bug assassination,” Sarah razzed him back. “Hey, there’s an idea if things get really tight for us: the coveralls, the spray can, you’d be a natural.”

Kerry rolled his eyes, then leaned in to hug Amanda. She felt so safe for a moment that it tugged her tears back to the surface.

Her dad had called, again, right before she’d reached Sarah and Kerry’s door. She was trying to brush it off, but that was getting harder and harder to do. How had he found her in Brooklyn? How did he know to even look? That police officer had been right: it didn’t make sense, not with all the steps Zach had taken to protect their privacy.

“Thank you again for this,” Kerry said, releasing Amanda. He held the bottle up. “I will genuinely treasure it. And now I am going to retire downstairs to my man cave to watch some birthday baseball, if that’s okay with you ladies. You may send Sebe down when he arrives, even though he is French and hence useless.”

“Can you clean up while you’re down there? Somebody’s going to call the health department soon.” Sarah looked at Amanda. “I won’t even go down there anymore.”

“Ah, my plan is working perfectly.” Kerry grinned, then leaned over to kiss Sarah on the cheek and pat her rear end. “Thank you, dear, for arranging my birthday dinner. I do appreciate it and you. I will gladly slay water bugs for you any day.”

Once Kerry had gone, Sarah bent over to remove a perfectly roasted chicken from the oven, then turned to toss a quinoa salad. Amanda watched, mesmerized by Sarah’s effortless command of the kitchen, which was cheerful and homey if somewhat dated, like the rest of the house.

“That looks amazing,” Amanda said, eyeing the roasting pan.

Sarah nodded at her handiwork. “Not bad, right? If only Zach knew what he was missing.”

Amanda closed her eyes and sighed. “I really am so sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry. My teasing is such a bad habit. It’s a compulsion. Ask Kerry. But I do worry about you. It’s all none of my …” Sarah stopped tossing abruptly, a salad spoon gripped upright in each hand. “Oh, fuck it. You already know I think everything is my business. So here it is: Amanda, you are a surrendered wife, and it is fucking disturbing. I don’t know what it’s like out in Palo Alto, but here in Brooklyn husbands and wives are equal partners, no matter who brings home the bigger paycheck. Up until the foundation, I’ve always stayed home, but Kerry listens to me. Because he loves me, and knows that I love him. That’s how marriage is supposed to work. You know that, right?”

“Yes,” Amanda said, and she did. In theory. “But you and Kerry have the perfect marriage.”

“No, we don’t!” Sarah cried. “I made out with my kid’s soccer coach!” She leaned back, double-checking that Kerry really had gone downstairs.

“But Kerry forgave you,” Amanda said.

“Yes, but not because we’re perfect. He forgave me because we love each other. There’s a difference. Believe me, we still have plenty of problems.” Sarah looked for a moment like she was going to elaborate, but did not. “Everybody does. But you need to at least have a voice, Mandy. Period. Otherwise, I’m sorry, but it’s not really a marriage—it’s, I don’t know, servitude.”

“I have a voice,” Amanda offered lamely.

“You do not!” Sarah cried, but then she closed her eyes and took a breath. She laid her palms flat against the counter. “When you cannot make your husband come to a single dinner party—I’m sorry, but you do not have a voice. That’s a fact. And, as your friend, it’s my job to be honest. Frankly, I think it’s a risky way to live.”

“Risky? What do you mean?”

“I mean in sickness and health and loneliness and despair and all that,” she said. “When you’re married, you’re each other’s first line of defense. You’re supposed to take care of each other.”

Sarah was right. And how could Zach possibly protect Amanda—from her loneliness or her despair, or her bad dreams, much less from her dad—if he didn’t even know about any of it? They’d been together more than a decade, and Zach didn’t know anything about the awful things her dad had done.

Amanda nodded. “I know what you’re saying is true. I do.”

“Good,” Sarah said with a satisfied nod, then turned to move the chicken from the roasting pan onto the chopping block. The doorbell rang just as Sarah stuck a fork into the chicken and set down a huge knife for carving.

“That must be Maude and Sebe. I’ll be right back. Watch the chicken.”

A moment later, there was the sound of the front door opening, followed by Sarah’s lively, high-pitched hellos.

“Oh, good. The coast is clear,” Kerry said, breezing back into the kitchen. Furtively, he grabbed a roasted potato out of the pan and popped it into his mouth. He grimaced from the heat, fanning his open lips. In his sweatpants and T-shirt, he was all belly, like an oversize little boy. He peered then at Amanda’s earrings. “Wow, those are something. Don’t let Sarah see them, for God’s sake.”