Lucy by the Sea (Amgash, #4)(61)

“Then we’ll find you a new doctor. New York is filled with doctors.”

She said, “I’m afraid they’ll shoot me up with progesterone or something, and that increases my chances of cancer later. I’ve researched this online.”

“Online,” I said. “You’re getting your medical information online. Well, that may be true. Or not. But we’re going to get you to a new doctor. Your father should know one, he knows people in the sciences. Come on, Chrissy. For heaven’s sake, this is not over.”

“I don’t know…” she said.

“Well, we’ll find out.”

Briefly she touched my hand, and as she pulled it away I took her hand in mine, and she let me. We sat in the sun holding hands.



* * *



—

After a few moments Becka asked me, “Mom, so you’re going to live the rest of your life up there on a cliff in Maine?”

“I know,” I said, turning my face to her. “I know exactly what you’re asking. I’ve been wondering that myself.”

Becka said, “Well, it’s a cute house. I mean, it could be worse.”

“Oh God, it could be a lot worse,” I said. Then I said, “Your father loves it there because of his new family and all the parasites and potatoes—”

“I know,” Chrissy interrupted. “That’s all he talks about when he calls these days.”

I thought, Oh God, William. But I continued, “So your father is happy there, and I’ve made some friends. Bob Burgess for one, I think he’s one of the best friends I’ve ever had.” I described him briefly, his sweet bigness, his baggy jeans.

Chrissy looked at me then, and she smiled almost playfully. “Are you going to have an affair, Mom?”

“No,” I said seriously. “He’s married to a minister, she’s a good woman, I think he’s a little afraid of her—”

“Why?” Becka interrupted this time.

“Well, he sneaks cigarettes when she’s not around.”

Chrissy actually laughed at this. And Becka said, “Wait—how old is this guy?”

“Oh, my age I’d say.”

“And he has to sneak cigarettes behind his wife’s back?”

“Yup,” I said.

“Mom, that’s crazy.”

“Well,” I said, “you know, we all make our choices.” But as I said that I wondered if it was true—if we really did make our choices—and I thought of that thing I had seen on my computer one night about there being no free will and that everything was predetermined. So I said, “I guess we make our own choices, I don’t really know.”

Chrissy turned to look at me. “What do you mean? Mom, you just sat here the other day talking me out of a choice I probably would have made, so how can you say you don’t really know if we make our own choices?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t know if I believe it or not.” I paused. “I don’t really know anything.” I added, “Except how much I love you and Becka. I know that.”

Chrissy looked straight ahead. “Mom,” she said softly, “you know a lot.”



* * *



—

Becka spoke again. “Well, we were just thinking— Okay, I’ll just say it. We wondered if Dad manipulated you into going up there for the pandemic to get you back with him so he doesn’t ever have to be alone again.”

“Seriously?” I was really surprised, and then I remembered how Lauren, Becka’s therapist, had told Becka years ago that William manipulated me, and how I had never understood it.

I said to them, “He took me up there to save my life. He got you guys out of the city hoping to save your lives as well.”

“Oh, we know he loves us,” Becka said. She added, “And we love him. But why did he take you to Maine and not somewhere else? Probably because of Lois Bubar, and that worked out for him.”

I felt a tiny sense of alarm go through me, because I had had that thought myself, after William had met with Lois the first time.

Becka continued, “And you know that saying: Women grieve, and men replace.” After a moment she said thoughtfully, “I’m just not sure Dad’s always trustworthy.”

“In what way, exactly…?” I started to ask.



* * *



—

But then Chrissy suddenly said this: “I’m hungry.”

She said that!



* * *



—

I stood up and said, “Let’s find a place to eat.” So we left the park, the sun had come out brightly again, and on Madison Avenue was a place with tables outside, and we sat down in the sunshine and Chrissy looked at the menu and then she said to the waiter, “I’ll have a chicken salad sandwich.”

“Me too,” I said. And Becka shrugged and said, “Okay, then. I will too.”

We sat there talking, and after a few moments Chrissy said, “That coffee made me have to pee,” so she went inside with her mask on, and while she was in there Becka said to me, “Mom, the guy had blackheads on his nose.”

“What guy?” I asked, looking around.