Every Note Played(41)

“I’m okay for now.”

“I don’t get it,” says Grace. “You couldn’t stand living with him. You said the day he moved out was the happiest day of your life.”

Karina bristles. She shouldn’t have said such a thing within ear’s distance of Grace. Karina’s hoping she didn’t lack all judgment and say this directly to Grace. She might’ve. She doesn’t ask.

“Let me look after him for a few hours here and there. How about Tuesday and Wednesday evenings?” asks Elise.

“No. I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking. I am.”

“No, really, I’m okay.”

“I could at least come over and keep you company.”

Reluctantly, Karina acquiesces. “Okay.”

Elise puts an arm around Karina and hugs her as they walk.

“I’m worried about leaving you alone with Dad.”

“I’m not alone. Elise is coming over Tuesday and Wednesday evenings. Don’t worry, honey. I have plenty of help.”

“You don’t. And this is only going to get harder. You realize this, right?”

Karina does, but she doesn’t answer Grace or acknowledge her with a nod. Karina keeps walking, her frozen eyeballs focused on the ground. One step at a time.

“Maybe I should stay home and take this semester off.”

“No, you’re not doing that,” says Karina.

“What if I figured out a way to do the next semester at BU or Northeastern?”

“No. We’re not discussing this. Your father would never want you to do that for him.”

“I’d be doing it for you, not him.”

As much as Karina would love for Grace to stay, to help with Richard and fill the void, she won’t risk Grace’s future. Karina knows all too well that a life derailed, even for a short time, can’t always find its way back to its original track. She never even made it back to the station. No, she won’t let Grace pause her studies, her relationship with Matt, her pursuit of happiness for a semester. For one second. Especially not for Richard. She won’t let Grace make the same mistake she made. That pattern ends with her.

Restless ghosts of unresolved resentment rise to the surface, as full and fresh and haunting as they were twenty years ago, ten years ago, last week. Karina lets the aching pain run through her, the tragic story of how Richard ruined her life, welcoming it for its familiarity, for the way it makes her feel justified.

“You’re not disrupting your life out there.”

“You’re disrupting yours,” says Grace.

“That’s different.”

“She has a point,” says Elise. “You’re not exactly moving on if Richard is living in the den. Can you see your mom bringing a date home? This is the living room, and that’s my ex-husband in the den.”

“Richard isn’t keeping me from dating. I’m not interested in dating.”

“What are you interested in then?” asks Elise.

Getting warm. Ending this conversation.

“How about coming with me and my students on the New Orleans trip?”

“I can’t this year.”

“Why?”

Her ex-husband in the den.

“I think you like having Richard around to blame for things. It’s like a comfortable habit.”

Karina hates to admit it, but there is truth to this. If she blames him, she never has to blame herself.

“You can hire help for a few days, someone to stay the nights,” says Elise.

“I can’t.”

“You won’t.”

“Fine. I won’t.”

“Why?”

Karina doesn’t answer because she doesn’t know. Or maybe she’s beginning to but can’t yet articulate it. She senses something like a program running in the background, an awareness creeping up the basement stairs of her subconscious.

Maybe this horrible, bizarre living situation is giving her and Richard a chance at resolution, at forgiveness. She considers this possibility, first suggested by Bill last week, as the three walk in silence, Elise and Grace waiting patiently for an answer. Karina would like to forgive Richard for uprooting them to Boston; for missing most of Grace’s childhood; for cheating on her, betraying and humiliating her, robbing her of happiness. She’s tried many times over the years. After giving it much thought, she believes Bill, that forgiving Richard would be good for her. What’s the saying? Not forgiving someone is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die. But she hasn’t been big enough or spiritually evolved enough or brave enough to do it. Richard is sick and dying, and she still can’t let him off the hook. Making him wrong allows her to feel right, and feeling right is her drug of choice.

And she’d like to be forgiven. But she can’t bring herself to apologize to Richard, to say the words. She’s handcuffed by shame and a stubborn, self-righteous logic that supports her side of the story. She had her reasons. Maybe her actions now can be the words she’s still too afraid to offer.

“I don’t know,” says Karina.

“I could come back for that,” says Grace. “Go to New Orleans.”

“No, you don’t need to.”

“How many days is it?” asks Grace.