Other People's Houses(73)

The waitress stepped away, wondering what the fuck was going on there. Handsome guy, pretty woman, but tension for days.

They sat in silence for a moment. A busboy brought bread and butter, and Charlie tore into a roll. Taking it out on the baked goods, apparently.

“How are the kids?” Anne tried to keep her voice neutral.

“What the fuck do you care?”

“Charlie . . .”

“They’re shitty. Kate has been wetting the bed. Theo got into a fight at school that he won’t tell me about, but I can imagine it felt pretty good to smack the shit out of someone when you’re so angry with your parents you can barely look them in the eye.”

“He’s still mad?”

“He hasn’t smiled at me in nearly three weeks.”

“What are you doing about Kate?”

“Changing the sheets. I dug out the plastic bed thingies we had when they were toddlers. I double sheet with the plastic thingies, just like we used to. It’s fine. She’ll get over it. We’ll all survive.”

“I miss you all so much.”

He popped bread into his mouth, and spoke around it. “Should have thought about that before you sucked someone else’s dick.”

“I’m so sorry, Charlie. I fucked up so badly, but I really . . .”

“Shut up, Anne. We’re here to talk about how to end our marriage, not rehash it.”

“Can’t we try and work it out? I love you . . .”

“Not enough to stay faithful. Wasn’t I good enough for you, Anne? Not enough fucking, was that the problem? I tried. You never wanted to.”

“It wasn’t that.”

“I’d ask what it was, but I don’t care. I can barely sit across the table from you, Anne, without wanting to punch you. I’ve never felt physically violent in my life, but I would happily beat you to death for what you’ve done to our kids.” The waitress had come back during this speech, and was pretending not to have heard it.

“Your wine,” she said, placing it in front of Anne.

Anne’s hand trembled as she picked up the glass. “I’m so sorry, Charlie.”

“Fuck off, Anne.”

He watched her drink, suddenly wanting to cry. He was angry, he was furious, but he was also so lonely and sad it was all he could do not to beg her to come home. He wanted to stay angry, though, so he looked away, not wanting to watch her large gray eyes fill with tears.

“I’ve never stopped loving you, Charlie. I really think I’ve been having a nervous breakdown, some kind of mental illness.”

“I don’t care about this, Anne. Let’s just work out a schedule for the kids.”

“No, Charlie. Please listen. I’ve been seeing a psychiatrist. I’ve started medication. I’ve found us a marriage therapist— Will you go with me? Please, please can we try and work this out? I don’t want to divorce you, I want to make it right, I want to come home and be there forever. I made a mistake, a terrible mistake, but I was sick, Charlie.” Her hands were shaking. She put down her wineglass before she spilled it.

“Then why didn’t you ask me for help, Anne? Why didn’t you go see a psychiatrist months ago? Why did you sleep with another man instead? Why did you creep around for months behind my back, behind the kids’ backs, cheating on all of us instead of doing something about your supposed misery? I don’t think you’re sick at all. I think you’re a selfish, narcissistic bitch who wanted to fuck a younger, good-looking guy who thought you were special. I hate you, Anne, I really fucking hate you.” For all the fury in his words, his tone of voice was cool and detached. Anne felt herself eviscerated.

He held up his hand, and the waitress came over. “I lost my appetite. Can I get the check, please?”

Anne protested. “But we haven’t worked out . . .”

Charlie shook his head. “Look, Anne, I’m not ready to do this, clearly. Did you drive here?” The waitress brought the check, and he threw his credit card down.

“No, I took an Uber.”

“I’ll drive you home, we’ll talk in the car, and then that’s it. I can’t sit with you for an hour and make small talk.” His voice was tight and she could hear the tears in it. Suddenly she remembered that same tone one night years before, when baby Kate had run a sudden fever of 104, and Charlie had rushed her to the ER. He’d called Anne to let her know—as she sat at home with toddler Theo—that they’d had to do a lumbar puncture, that they wouldn’t let him stay in the room, that he could hear his little girl crying. She knew this man so well, had loved him so long, and now she had ruined it all.

They walked silently to the valet, waited silently for the car, sat silently as they drove back to the apartment building where she was living. Anne tried several times to speak, but Charlie said nothing. She turned to him in the car as they sat outside her building.

“What about the kids?”

“Did you sign that release thing?”

“Yes, it’s inside. I’m sorry, I forgot . . .”

“Go get it. I need it to change my name to primary parent, otherwise the school will call you first for everything, and you’re just not reliable, Anne. Who knows where you’ll be if the kids need you?”

“Charlie.” For the first time Anne felt a little flare of anger. “Charlie, I know you’re angry with me, but for God’s sake I made a mistake that thousands of married people make all the time. I’m incredibly sorry, but I never let anything get in the way of taking care of the kids. You’re pissed, but even you have to admit that.”