What's Mine and Yours(64)

“We’re even then.”

“Noelle, I tried. I wrote to you about the play, and you never answered.”

“What was I supposed to say? I couldn’t reach you for days. I even tried your assistant, and then I get an email that you’re extending your trip.”

“I was afraid.”

“Afraid of what? Afraid I’d break up with you? You’re my husband.”

“Maybe that’s not the right word—I am ashamed.”

Noelle caught her breath, waited for him to confess.

“I’ve gotten so caught up here—I suppose I wanted to forget. I’m not proud of it. I was so embarrassed that I didn’t know you’d gone away until I spoke to your mother. Did she tell you I called?”

“She didn’t mention it.”

“It’s so good to hear your voice. Maybe I dialed subconsciously. Maybe it was meant to happen.”

Noelle could feel her every intake of breath. “Where are you?”

“I’m at this café, in the middle of a work lunch.”

“Oh yeah? What are you having for lunch?”

“I wish I could talk more, babe, but, actually, I—”

“You fucking coward.”

“Noelle.”

“I’m used to you lying to yourself, but you will not lie to me.”

“Noelle, let me explain. What did you hear?”

“You’re a fake and a fraud, and I hate you. I hope I never see your face again.”

“Noelle, you have to listen to me. Calm down.”

“Is this the part where you tell me the problem is my reaction? All my feelings—”

“There can be more than one problem at a time, and, yes, part of it is the way you lose control—”

“Oh, shut the fuck up.” She said it before she could stop herself, and soon Nelson was yelling back at her, “No, fuck you!”

She could hear him breathless on the phone, and she sat stunned. She had expected Nelson to grovel, to say sorry, beg her not to leave. She spoke to him in a hush.

“Can you imagine if he were here? If he could see us? If he were unlucky enough to have us as parents? Maybe it’s better that we lost him.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I mean every word. Don’t you bother coming back.”

She hung up and felt her resolve collapse. She was sobbing when the screen door rattled open and Diane came onto the porch, dragging a sweatshirt on over her head. She rushed to Noelle, sat beside her, circled her with her arms. “What’s the matter?” she said, and Noelle let herself unclench. She told her sister everything she’d been holding on to—the lost child, and Golden Brook, her pathetic, domestic life, Nelson’s remoteness, the rustling and fucking she’d heard on the line.

“I’d say it wasn’t his fault,” she said. “I did become kind of a loser afterward. But, of course, it’s his fault. I hate him.”

It felt forceful and good to curse Nelson, to shed her instinct to shield him from her disappointment, to spare him.

“I can’t believe he’s cheating.” Diane yanked her close. “I have half a mind to call his mother. I bet she’d set him straight.”

“I always liked her, you know, but Nelson doesn’t really talk to her anymore, so neither do I. Not officially. He just sort of drifted away.”

Diane considered this. “Maybe this is a pattern of his, Nells. Maybe this is what he does. He reaches a new stage of life, and he leaves some woman behind.”

“But he married me. We made promises.” She tried to still herself, but her eyes filled with tears. “Please don’t tell Mama.”

“I won’t tell a soul.”

Diane held her sister, and Noelle laid her head on her shoulder. Her baby sister’s body was firm, solid, and it felt good to let Diane hold her up.

“Maybe you two will work this out.”

Noelle pulled away from her sister, looked her squarely in the eyes.

“I’m not saying you should, but some people stay together after a thing like this.” Diane didn’t say it aloud, that she was thinking of Alma. If Alma ever cheated on her, Diane was certain she’d take her back. Any life without Alma seemed worse than a life with her in it.

Noelle shook her head, disbelieving. “I’ll never be able to forgive him. I’m not going to wind up like Mama, hung up on a man she can’t trust.”

“Give yourself some time,” Diane said. “It’s all too fresh. You don’t have to decide now.”

The sisters let a hush fall between them. They held hands and sat together on the porch, looking out at the yard.

Despite the dark, the birds were already singing in the trees. When it was light out, they’d zip across the yard, ribbons of color, flying from one bird feeder to the other, bluebirds and cardinals and chipping sparrows. Sometimes a mourning dove. Noelle liked to take her coffee on the porch and watch the birds fly back and forth between the wooden posts. There were often deer on the lawn, chewing at twigs; they scattered as soon as a car approached. The land reminded her of where they had all grown up, before moving in with Hank, although Diane’s place was smaller, a ranch style. But it was all familiar: the lush scent of the mulch and grass, her garden, the pines, the critters in the yard, the scant light that pierced the trees, all the humble space and quiet, the spiderwebs in the windowsills on the porch. Crickets sometimes got into the house, and sang and leapt around the living room. Noelle had seen Alma catch them in her hands and release them outside.