The New Husband(48)

“Sure,” Ben said, for some reason thinking he was a part of the discussion Simon wanted to have.

“Actually, Ben and I are doing our lab report for science,” I said, spitting out the words, concocting some half-baked reason on the fly. “It’s a huge project, worth twenty percent of our grade, so—”

So go away … so no, so I don’t want to talk to you.

The teacher part of Simon understood the significance; the other part of him pretended to care.

“What’s your report about?” he asked.

Of course, Ben told him. He even talked about hyperthyroidism.

“Very interesting,” said Simon. “Listen, Ben, could I have a minute alone with Maggie? Would you mind?”

Ben grew noticeably uncomfortable, because he knew I would be uncomfortable, but he didn’t know how to get either of us out of it.

“Um … um … um…” he stammered.

“It’s okay,” I said, coming to his rescue. “I’ll take this home and finish it up. I know what to do. Just give me that paragraph on serotonin or whatever before the end of the day.”

Ben got up from his seat, hurriedly collected his things, and left with a wave good-bye.

When he was gone, Simon said, “So, Maggie, I’ve been thinking a lot about what happened and I can’t apologize enough for what I did. I was out of line and feel really stupid about it.”

His words were kind, but his eyes were cold.

“That’s okay,” I told him, thinking maybe that would be enough and he’d go, but no, he stayed.

“I … I just…” Like Ben, he was struggling for the right words. “This hasn’t been easy.”

And I thought: The understatement of the year award goes to …

“I’m trying really hard here, but for whatever reason I keep messing up.”

“It’s fine,” I said. “I broke your musket. We’re even.”

Not even close, but whatever. Winker.

“Forget about that, sweetheart,” he said. “I just want this to work out for all of us.”

And I wanted to scream: Did you just call me sweetheart? What was next? Pumpkin? Oh. My. God. Please, please, please, just go away. I was about to lie about needing to get to class when my phone buzzed. I glanced at it, naturally, even though Simon was still pouring his heart out to me, repeating his excuse about how teaching children and living with them wasn’t the same thing. When my eyes went to the phone display, my heart leapt to my throat. I’d received a new Talkie to Me message from Tracy Nuts.

“So what can we do to make it easier on everyone, especially your mom?” Simon asked. “I’ve been thinking maybe we should start family counseling.”

I only half heard him. All I wanted to do was open that message from my dad. I wanted to see it, read it, touch it. My head and heart hurt with a desperate need, but I didn’t want to do anything to clue Simon in.

I knew my own weakness well, and if I broke down in tears in front of him, he’d ask questions, and that could lead to problems. It destroyed me to wait even a fraction of a second. Maybe my father wanted to chat—right now, online—and this was our only moment. Maybe the police were closing in on him (for reasons unknown) and this was it, our last chance to communicate before he vanished again for good.

I held my breath, tried to block out the images of my dad sitting in a car, or at a park, or somewhere, clutching his phone, eyes glued to the screen, sirens blaring in the background, and him going, “Come on, Maggie. Where are you? Where are you? I have to say good-bye. I have to tell you one last time how much I love you and how sorry I am for everything.”

“It’s fine,” I blurted out, my legs bouncing like I had ants crawling on my skin. “Talk to Mom about it, okay? I don’t know. I … I have to go.” I gathered up my papers and books as fast as I could.

“I just want us to be friends,” Simon said.

“Yeah, okay,” I said, and off I ran, out of the library and into the hallway, bringing my phone to my face.

I opened the Talkie app and tapped on Dad’s message, reading while walking.

Sweetheart it’s me. Have your phone available Monday at noon. I’ll have a few minutes to chat online with you. I’ll tell you what I can, but I can’t tell you everything.





CHAPTER 26


It’s never going to end with Maggie and Simon, Nina thought glumly as she arrived at Dr. Wilcox’s office for her afternoon therapy session. The big family meeting from the night before had produced a tense truce, but little more. Simon had told Nina in a brief phone conversation earlier in the day that he’d spoken with Maggie at school and tried apologizing again. He thought he’d made some progress, but said she was acting oddly, really distracted, visibly upset by something. He didn’t get the sense it was related to him.

“I’m really worried about her,” Simon said, and suggested to Nina that she and Maggie have a heart-to-heart conversation.

That was probably sage advice, thought Nina. Despite Rona’s assurance about a gentle ramp-up period, the work had been piling up at a steady rate. Perhaps Simon was right to think Maggie didn’t like the competition for her mother’s attention.

As much as Nina wanted to get home to help sort it out, she had a more pressing need that required Dr. Wilcox’s expertise.