Lost and Wanted(40)

“Yeah.”

“And that’s the funny thing, right? Because that’s her mom all over. They’re exactly alike. Addie’s all about the plans she made and the people she hired, but she’s not going to sit there and talk about pain. And if you don’t see it—if you don’t actually sit there with her, you know, the eightieth time she tells Simmi that no, she can’t come watch gymnastics, or Daddy better have lunch with you, because Mama has to stay in bed, again—well then it’s hard to totally get what’s happening.”

“I never saw her like that.”

“Well, it sucks.”

“I can imagine.”

Terrence was nodding madly. “Even you can imagine. Anyone with the empathy of a squirrel—”

I felt a little offended, but Terrence seemed barely to register my presence. “Not Addie, though. She’s like, ‘Oh my god, my daughter’s death didn’t go according to plan. It must be because of this trash she married.’?”

“But why would you—”

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, exactly. What possible motivation do I have? It actually would have been good for Simmi, I think, having her grandparents there when it happened. But I was just following orders, and Charlie said her parents wouldn’t have let her do it the way she wanted. And she was right about that.”

He paused and looked to see whether I was following. “You know they made us get a prenup?”

“No.”

“I’d never even heard of that—didn’t know what it was. But Charlie was getting those staff writing jobs, show after show, at least before she got sick. There was no reason to think she wasn’t going all the way, you know? An EP credit, then her own show. Everybody loved her out there.”

    “Addie made you get the prenup?”

Terrence smiled. “That’s what you’d think, right? But it was him—Carl. He didn’t grow up with all this stuff—the fancy house, the fancy school. He grew up more like me, not that he’d ever admit it.”

I didn’t contradict Terrence, but I’d never known Carl to conceal anything about his background. If anything, he used to play up his origins as a scholarship kid, especially if I mentioned my work-study jobs. He would tease his own daughter for being spoiled—but gently, with some pride. Addie’s family was part of a long-standing Philadelphia elite, but it was Carl’s practice, and his television work, that had paid for Harvard.

“Like they thought I’d try to steal from her.” Terrence shook his head, disgusted. Then, more quietly: “Like it wasn’t going to last.”

“Yeah.”

“Charlie said she wouldn’t sign the prenup—I was the one who finally convinced her. I didn’t want them to think I’d talked her out of it.”

“I understand.”

“So now the only thing we own in common is the house. She insisted on that. The rest’s in trust for Simmi—not that it’s so much. Charlie liked to spend what she earned.”

“I’m sure Carl and Addie know that.”

“Okay,” Terrence said. “But then why’s she seeing a lawyer?”

“I don’t know.”

Terrence got up and started toward Jack’s room. Then he seemed to reconsider, turned back to me. “That’s why I have to get out of there.”

“But you wouldn’t want this apartment.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“No, I mean—it’s nice. But it’s even smaller than this one. And compared to your house in Santa Monica—”

“We haven’t sold the house yet,” Terrence said shortly. “I don’t have a ton of cash. And I won’t take anything from them, beyond the tuition. It was Addie who suggested this.”

    Terrence seemed to soften a little, and I thought that my guess had been right.

“She remembered that you had a tenant—it was actually the first thing that we’ve all been able to agree on. Simmi loves the idea.”

I also had a guess about why Simmi loved the idea, but I couldn’t say so. I didn’t want to suggest that my son, or our household, was psychologically or emotionally unstable, since I thought that was exactly what Terrence was trying to escape; maybe he had even considered that his in-laws’ grief was compounding his and Simmi’s own. And if I were going to keep Jack’s fantasy about the ghost to myself, it occurred to me that I should do the same with the new, scientifically oriented messages from Charlie’s phone. It was my role as a mother—and maybe even as a scientist—to help keep everyone’s feet firmly planted on the ground.

I thought of them in the apartment downstairs. I thought of the kids running up and down to visit each other, of spontaneous trips to the park or to a movie. I thought of the practical advantages, of being able to call Terrence—who seemed to be working a very flexible schedule—if I was going to be twenty minutes late for the sitter, and of being able to take care of Simmi in turn. And I thought of Charlie. For the last several years—maybe since that visit when Jack was four—I’d wondered whether she put any stock in our friendship; eerie messages aside, now both Addie’s and Terrence’s behavior gave me hope that she had.