This Close to Okay(14)



Talliecat. He heard it chime in his head like the chorus of the Grateful Dead’s “China Cat Sunflower.” He’d need to add some numbers, too, just in case it was already taken. He glanced at the DVDs on the shelf beside him: all the James Bond movies in a neat row, in order. Talliecat007. Password: Thur$dayOctober2nine.

He went to Facebook again, found Tallie’s profile photo, and saved it to the desktop. Uploaded it so it would show up as her photo with her new email address. He got Joel’s email address from his profile, copied and pasted it into the recipient box.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: i still care about you too

hey joel, this is my new personal email address. starting fresh. i’ve been thinking about your last message and obviously i still care about you too. and thanks for letting me know it’s okay to write…when or if i need to. it’s weird not being married to you anymore. you’re montana joel. a father. you have a baby and a ponytail!



Emmett laughed at this part. He couldn’t help it. He put his finger to his lips and shushed his drunken self, which made him laugh harder. He turned to look at Tallie’s locked bedroom door, wondered if she was asleep. He walked down the hallway quietly and listened. Heard nothing but his clothes in the dryer, tumbling hot. Getting back to the email, he wrote: so i’m open to talking.

but it would be nice if you’d admit none of this was my fault and i couldn’t have done anything differently to stop it. i know better than to think i can control what anyone else does…but it would feel good to hear you say it. the way you went out and got another woman pregnant because you think i’m broken? crushing. i’m still working on my heart about it. it’s baffling how you can think you know someone…and not know them at all. maybe not even a little bit.

are you coming back to town anytime soon?

do you miss me sometimes?



He didn’t sign her name. The do you miss me sometimes? hovered there at the end, unpinned. Sent.

Tallie and Joel weren’t Facebook friends, and there wasn’t much on her page, but under “work and education” it read TLC, which Emmett thought was pretty cute. Under “family and relationships” her brother was listed: Lionel Clark. Emmett clicked on his profile, read Lionel’s announcement for a big party he was having on Saturday.

It’s time for the Annual Clark Halloween Party again! Best costume wins $2500 with another $2500 donated to the charity of the winner’s choice!



Emmett scrolled through Lionel’s page until he found photos of Tallie. A guy tagged Nico Tate had his arm around her in one, and she was smiling a different smile. Blissful. Emmett felt a twitch of jealousy. He clicked on Nico’s profile. Half of his page was in Dutch, some French, a bit of English. Flipped through photos of him kayaking and rock climbing. He was a tennis coach, and there were links to his website. Photos of him on the court with his students, at fund-raising events with Roger Federer and Serena Williams. There were also more pictures of Tallie: Nico and Tallie on a tennis court, Nico and Tallie at a wedding. A younger Tallie, scarfed in an orchard with her head thrown back laughing, a bright blurred apple in her hand. The picture could’ve been a movie poster—an autumn romance with a happy ending. Emmett leaned closer to the screen.

He was careful to sign out of the new fake email account, deleted the photo of Tallie he’d saved to the desktop. He deleted everything in the browser history that revealed his snooping, clicked through sports news, looked at the box score for the baseball game he and Tallie had watched together. Closed the laptop, set it on the coffee table.

Emmett got his phone from his backpack and entered the new email information so he’d know when Joel had responded. And if he didn’t, who cared? Nothing mattered. He stepped to the window, wishing the moon was out. Would he ever see it again? The forecast called for rain off and on all weekend. If this was really it for him, no more moonlight. Felt like years since the last time he’d drowned himself in it. Day or night, he loved looking up at the sky, being out underneath it. He’d taken so much for granted.

He lay on her couch, covered himself with the blankets she’d brought out for him, felt himself sinking. He still had the nightmares from time to time—his own metallic voice screaming, detached. Demonic. Every dark, demented horror of all he’d seen and been forced to do. The violence and loneliness stabbed at him, left invisible gashes for the soul leak.

But thinking about the future was a comfort to him as he drifted off, everything ending soon. Sleep being so much like death. No nightmares that night. He slept in the cardigan with the weight of Tallie’s hand-knitted blankets on him in what felt like smooth, zipped-up, dreamless darkness, like he’d never been awake.





PART TWO





Friday





TALLIE




In the morning, Tallie saw a text from Lionel—a reply to a question she had forgotten she’d asked before the haze of Emmett excitement. The thought of I let a strange, unstable man spend the night had tapped her on the shoulder and woken her up long before her alarm had a chance to.

Same thing every year, so quit playing. I’m not telling you my costume. It’s a secret, her brother had written before dawn, the forever early riser he was.

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