The Man I Love (The Fish Tales, #1)(125)

“You never got over her,” she said, her voice filled with kindness he didn’t deserve. “You just left.”

Erik breathed slowly. “I was young,” he heard himself say. His weight was down again. He hadn’t had breakfast and one beer was already sinking gooey fingers into his brain.

“You started calling for her in your sleep,” Melanie said. “The last few months I was at home. It was November—the dreams always come back to you in the fall. I was used to the thrashing around and the wordless crying out. But then you started calling for her.”

Erik clenched his fist and turned the tattoo down to face the table. His other hand came to catch his brow.

“Hey,” Melanie said, squeezing his hand. “I’m not telling you now to accuse you. I just… I worry about you, baby. You’re not mine to worry over anymore, but I do. I want you to be all right. It’s fall, November’s in two days, the dreams will start coming again. And I don’t want you to be lying next to your second wife calling Daisy’s name.”

It settled onto his shoulders, the great wrong he had done this fine woman. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Mel, I’m so sorry.”

“I forgive you,” she said. Then she sat back, rolling her eyes “Dig me. Can you tell I’ve been going back to church? And doing some therapy?”

“Growing your soul and shrinking your head,” he said. “It’s good stuff.”

“I won’t lie and say we didn’t talk about you.”

“You’re talking about me in church?”

She kicked him under the table. “Smartass.”

He smiled. “Anyway, it’s only supposed to be about you in therapy.”

“If I’m paying, I’ll make it about whatever the f*ck I want.”

He laughed, let go her fingers and reached to touch her cheek. He did like her, and it made a warm little dent in the genuine sadness which had cloaked him during the divorce proceedings.

The one drink turned into a two-hour boozy lunch. The beers loosened their tongues and hearts. They cried a little, but they also laughed a lot. And afterward, when they stumbled out onto the sidewalk and Erik hailed a cab, they were still laughing.

“Your heart is huge,” Melanie said, putting a foot into the well of the car.

“Your love is amazing,” he said, holding the door.

She put her cheek against his. “You’re good.”

“You’re adorable.”

Erik waved as the taxi pulled away, laughing when Melanie gave him the finger out the window and catching the kiss she blew before the cab turned the corner.



*



“It was weird,” Erik said to Miles as they ran through Corbett Park.

“How so?”

“It felt almost celebratory. We just got divorced and we were having a party.”

“Would you rather she told you to f*ck off forever?”

“No,” Erik said, laughing.

“Amicable divorce is an achievement,” Miles said. “And at the end of the day, you still like each other. Which is also an achievement.”

“I know,” Erik said. “But it just seemed weird.”

“Probably because you don’t have much experience with relationships ending in a healthy way.”

They emerged from the park, turned left and headed along the canal’s bike path. The sun’s rays slanted from beneath the clouds. Leaves were collecting in crunchy piles. The air was cool and dry, the perfect temperature for running. A hint of wood smoke lingered. They reached the Main Street Bridge and headed across its span. The clouds shifted and the last of the sun threw a handful of diamonds on the green waters of the canal.

“So,” Miles said. “Will you stay in touch?”

“With Melanie? I guess. I mean, sure.”

Miles chuckled. “Your apple lies so close to your father’s tree, Fish.”

Erik stopped short. “Excuse me?”

Miles stopped too, looked calmly back with hands on hips. “I teach diction. You heard me.”

“Are you actually comparing me to my father?” Erik said.

“Yes.”

Erik glanced around, open-mouthed and stunned. “I don’t know where you get off bracketing me with that—”

“Erik, shut up. I’ll preface this by saying I love you like a son. Both Janey and I love you. But it’s clear you only know two ways to relate to people: whole-hearted, complete commitment. Or estrangement. And who did you learn from?”

Erik’s teeth clicked shut. He stared.

Miles answered his own question. “Your old man. From him you learned the only way to end a relationship is to walk out and never look back. You shut it off, shut it down, cease all contact and act like it never happened. It’s what you did with Daisy. You did to Daisy exactly what your father did to you. Not consciously. Not maliciously. But because it was the only way you knew. And you almost did it with Melanie. If Mel hadn’t orchestrated that little post-mortem after you came out of the courthouse, you would’ve said vaya con dios and never called her again.”

Erik was on the defense, a sharp retort formed on his tongue. Yet at the same time Miles’s words were turning a key to the gears of his mind. And the reply dissolved.