What's Mine and Yours(28)

Take his friend, that baker. A man with talent, a good heart. He had been judicious, stayed out of trouble, and still, the universe had blown his dreams away. Life was a gust of wind, a puff of air, and nothing more—Robbie had to remember that. He couldn’t afford to waste any time.

The girls came crashing in, sandy and red-skinned. They surrounded him, kissed his cheeks solemnly, and immediately Robbie knew something was wrong. Lacey May and Hank hung back, holding hands. Hank grinned too wide.

“We might as well come right out with it,” he said.

Robbie’s eyes drew instinctively to Lacey May’s hand.

“But Lacey and I are still married,” he said. “I haven’t signed any papers. She hasn’t asked me to sign any papers.”

“I’ll go on and put this cake in the freezer,” Hank said, and he called the girls into the other room. Lacey May yanked Robbie by the hand out to the porch, but he couldn’t feel her holding him. The night was humid. Lightning bugs flickered across the lawn.

“I should have let you visit,” Robbie said. “We lied to the girls, and they found out anyway. Maybe if they’d seen me, we wouldn’t be here. Maybe you wouldn’t have forgotten you love me.”

“Robbie, none of this is about love.”

Her voice was a pin sliding under Robbie’s skin.

“You don’t need him anymore, Lacey. I’m here. I’m going to get back on my feet.”

“It’s not about money neither.”

“Oh God, please don’t tell me it’s physical.”

“He’s a good man. I can count on him.”

“He used to take high school girls behind the store to feel them up. He used to pretend to squeeze your ass when we worked at the restaurant. Why would you trust him? Noelle will be a teenager in a couple years.”

“Those were just rumors. Besides, he was lonely then. It’s different now.”

“How could you wear that ring in front of me? I just got out.”

“I don’t believe in fairy tales anymore, Robbie. I don’t believe love solves anything. We’re still family, you understand? I’ll never keep you from the girls. But I can’t be your wife.”

Robbie had a flash of running into the house and swinging at Hank, bringing his fist down on his skinny head until it was all pulp, ripe. He shook the vision away; he had to act fast. A ring was nothing; a promise wasn’t the same thing as a life lived. He had more to offer her: a future, yes, but also their past. You couldn’t change your roots, and he was hers. Lacey had grown from him, like Eve from one of Adam’s ribs. There wasn’t one of them without the other. He had to help her see.

“You remember, Lacey, that time we went to the quarry together? You were teaching me how to swim?”

“Robbie, we’ve had a lot of good times. It was all so long ago.”

“You remember?” he asked again.

They had left the Hot Wing early. Lacey drove them to a deserted parking lot with a knocked-over trailhead. She led them to the old rock quarry lake. There were other teenagers there, drinking and diving off the rocks. The lake was sunken in a ring of trees, the water green and warm, sixty feet deep at the center. They started close to the edge, where it was shallow. Robbie went too far out, and when he couldn’t reach the bottom with his toes, he panicked, slipped under. He remembered it as if he’d been able to see Lacey May gliding across the surface, her pale arms cutting through the water. She wrapped an arm around his chest, hauled him back to land.

They had laughed, as if Robbie hadn’t nearly drowned. His mouth was already open when Lacey May tilted him back onto the grass. The earth stuck to their wet skin; there were ants. They went on kissing for a long time. Robbie had a gummy, hot sensation in his shorts, a lightness in his head. It was the best he’d ever felt, and the best he would ever feel, until he had cocaine.

“When I was in there, I used to put pictures in my head. To motivate myself. To make me do the right thing. And even when I knew you were with him, the picture I held on to was you, dragging me up. I’d see myself with my head underwater, and then I’d see you bringing me back.”

“You ever think anyone else could use some rescuing besides you?”

“It’s a sickness,” Robbie said. “I’m sick.”

“If you’re sick, then so am I.”

“Then let’s be sick together.”

“Two sick people can’t run a house. Robbie, I’ve made up my mind.”

She embraced him, but it wasn’t the way he’d wanted her to. She fluttered her fingers against his shoulders, angled her hips away. It was worse, far worse, than if she hadn’t touched him at all.

*

They settled on a routine of weekend visits. Robbie drove up in an old blue Chevrolet, honked, and the girls would go running to meet him. He had become a celebrity to his own children, whisking them away to the mall or bowling or for milkshakes. When he dropped them off, the girls would be sullen and smart with Lacey May, as if she were the one who had gotten high, stolen a cop car, and ruined it all.

She was wearing Hank’s ring, though he had promised to give her time to square away her affairs. He meant the divorce, the house. He hadn’t told her to sell it, but it was obvious what he wanted. He sulked whenever she left to tend to the house, as if she were off to meet a lover. She’d come back from clearing the gutter or mowing the lawn, and Hank would ignore her until they were alone in bed, then he’d be rougher with her, grab her by the hair, flip her around, and hold her where he wanted her. It wasn’t quite mean, but it wasn’t sweet either.