Lucy by the Sea (Amgash, #4)(62)

“Chrissy’s guy—the guy she was thinking of having sex with. When she saw him yesterday he had blackheads on his nose. And then he got really, really pissed at her.”

I looked at Becka, who looked back with a shake of her head. “She said she hadn’t seen the blackheads on Zoom.” Becka added, “But it wasn’t because of them she didn’t do it. I mean they didn’t help. It’s because he got so scarily mad at her.”

I said, “Thank God,” and Becka said, “Right?”

And then Chrissy came back and the sandwiches arrived and I watched Chrissy eat hers—slowly, but she kept eating it. When she was done with the first half, she looked at her plate and said, “Well, I might as well,” and she picked up the second half.

God, this relieved me.



* * *



—

I opened my mouth then, because I was just about to say, Kids, listen. Your father had cancer. But I stopped myself; I thought how he had not told them, and so I should not either. And just as I was thinking this, Becka said, musingly, “It seems like Dad always needs to have secrets.”

I was taken aback, and after a moment I said, “What kind of secrets?”

Becka shrugged and said, “Well, I don’t really know specifically anymore. It’s just that’s why we’re a little bit worried about you being back with him.”



* * *



—

I paused, considering this. “I don’t know if he has any secrets left. And honestly, girls? It doesn’t matter anymore. He and I are not young, we’re not going to be young again. And we get along fine.”

“Just fine?” Chrissy asked.

“Well, more than fine. I know who he is now—I mean, to the extent that anyone in the world can know him.”

The girls nodded. “All right,” Becka said, just as Chrissy said, “Okay, Mom. As long as you’re happy.”



* * *



—

So we sat there at our table on the sidewalk—the sun shining down on us as though it would shine on forever—and we talked more, and then finally we left, and the girls went to get their train back to New Haven; they would come back in a few days to see their father. We hugged on the sidewalk. “Bye, Mom,” they both said this as their Uber pulled up to the curb, and they stepped into the car.



* * *



—

I stood for a moment, watching them drive away. I thought how different they—and their lives—had become from what I had expected. And I thought: It is their life, they can do what they want, or need to do.



* * *



—

And then I remembered that one time, when I was pregnant with Chrissy, I had looked down at my big stomach and put my hand over it and thought: Whoever you are, you do not belong to me. My job is to help you get into the world, but you do not belong to me.



* * *



—

And remembering this now, I thought: Lucy, you were absolutely right.





vi


When I got back to the place I was staying in, William called, filled with sadness about his lab and his apartment, and then he said, “Lucy, can I come over and spend the night with you? I don’t want to stay in this apartment tonight.”

“Of course you can!” I said. “I have tons of things to tell you!”



* * *





I thought then about how when I first met William he had taken me on dates. He would take me to a real restaurant! I had never ever been to a real restaurant. And he would pay for me—so easily, he pulled out his cash and paid for me. And then we would see a movie. Once a week we did this. A movie! I had never seen movies in movie theaters until I went to college, but we would go each Friday night, to dinner and a movie, and he would toss a piece of popcorn into my face as the movie began.

This man had brought me into the world, is what I am saying. As much as I could be brought into the world, William had done this for me.



* * *



—

And yet I could not get Becka’s words out of my head: that her father was not trustworthy. I wondered what I had done, agreeing to live in Maine, with his new family now preoccupying him so much, and how I had given up my home in New York.



* * *



—

And then I remembered this: When I lived with William and the girls in Brooklyn, we had a little porch off our bedroom on the second floor, and one morning William found that a squirrel had made a big nest right there on the side of the porch, and he spoke to me about it, and he had decided, I think I decided with him, that the nest would have to go. It was too close to the house. And so William had taken a broom and swept the whole thing away.

And what I remembered is this: that for an entire day and night, and straight through the next day, that squirrel made the sound of crying. The squirrel had cried and cried and cried. Because its home had been taken away.



* * *





I looked around at the lace curtains on the windows and I thought: Mom, I don’t know who to trust! And my mother—the nice one I have made up over the years—said to me immediately: Lucy, you trust yourself.