Landline(2)

Georgie felt like she was reading from a script. She’d already had this entire conversation, almost verbatim, this afternoon with Seth. . . .

“It’s Christmas,” she’d argued. They were in their office, and Seth was sitting on Georgie’s side of the big L-shaped desk they shared. He’d had her cornered.

“Come on, Georgie, we’ll still have Christmas—we’ll have the best Christmas ever after the meeting.”

“Tell that to my kids.”

“I will. Your kids love me.”

“Seth, it’s Christmas. Can’t this meeting wait?”

“We’ve already been waiting our whole career. This is happening, Georgie. Now. It’s finally happening.”

Seth wouldn’t stop saying her name.

Neal’s nostrils were flaring.

“My mom’s expecting us,” he said.

“I know,” Georgie whispered.

“And the kids . . . Alice sent Santa Claus a change-of-address card, so he’d know she’d be in Omaha.”

Georgie tried to smile. It was a weak effort. “I think he’ll figure it out.”

“That’s not—” Neal shoved the corkscrew in a drawer, then slammed it shut. His voice dropped. “That’s not the point.”

“I know.” She leaned over her plate. “But we can go see your mom next month.”

“And take Alice out of school?”

“If we have to.”

Neal had both hands on the counter, clenching the muscles in his forearms. Like he was retroactively bracing himself for bad news. His head was hanging down, and his hair fell away from his forehead.

“This might be our shot,” Georgie said. “Our own show.”

Neal nodded without lifting his head. “Right,” he said. His voice was soft and flat.

Georgie waited.

Sometimes she lost her place when she was arguing with Neal. The argument would shift into something else—into somewhere more dangerous—and Georgie wouldn’t even realize it. Sometimes Neal would end the conversation or abandon it while she was still making her point, and she’d just go on arguing long after he’d checked out.

Georgie wasn’t sure whether this even qualified as an argument. Yet.

So she waited.

Neal hung his head.

“What does ‘right’ mean?” she finally asked.

He pushed off the counter, all bare arms and square shoulders. “It means that you’re right. Obviously.” He started clearing the stove. “You have to go to this meeting. It’s important.”

He said it almost lightly. Maybe everything was going to be fine, after all. Maybe he’d even be excited for her. Eventually.

“So,” she said, testing the air between them. “We’ll see about visiting your mom next month?”

Neal opened the dishwasher and started gathering up dishes. “No.”

Georgie pressed her lips together and bit them. “You don’t want to take Alice out of school?”

He shook his head.

She watched him load the dishwasher. “This summer, then?”

His head jerked slightly, like something had brushed his ear. Neal had lovely ears. A little too big, and they poked out at the top like wings. Georgie liked to hold his head by his ears. When he’d let her.

She could imagine his head in her hands now. Could feel her thumbs stroking the tops of his ears, her knuckles brushing against his clippered hair.

“No,” he said again, standing up straight and wiping his palms on his pajama pants. “We’ve already got plane tickets.”

“Neal, I’m serious. I can’t miss this meeting.”

“I know,” he said, turning toward her. His jaw was set. Permanently.

Back in college, Neal had thought about joining the military; he would have been really good at the part where you have to deliver terrible news or execute a heartbreaking order without betraying how much it was costing you. Neal’s face could fly the Enola Gay.

“I don’t understand,” Georgie said.

“You can’t miss this meeting,” he said. “And we already have plane tickets. You’ll be working all week anyway. So you stay here, focus on your show—and we’ll go see my mom.”

“But it’s Christmas. The kids—”

“They can have Christmas again with you when we get back. They’ll love that. Two Christmases.”

Georgie wasn’t sure how to react. Maybe if Neal had been smiling when he said that last thing . . .

He motioned at her plate. “Do you want me to heat that back up for you?”

“It’s fine,” she said.

He nodded his head, minimally, then brushed past her, leaning over just enough to touch his lips to her cheek. Then he was in the living room, lifting Alice up off the couch. Georgie could hear him shushing her—“It’s okay, sweetie, I’ve got you”—and climbing the stairs.





WEDNESDAY





DECEMBER 18, 2013





CHAPTER 2


Georgie’s phone was dead.

It was always dead unless it was plugged in—she probably needed a new battery, but she kept forgetting to deal with it.