The Wife Stalker(48)
“Yeah, a really big one,” Stelli said.
“Okay with you, Evie?” Leo asked.
“Yup.”
“Are we all set, then?”
Piper picked up the menu and scanned it, hoping there might be something healthier on offer. Lots of pizza combinations, some pasta dishes, and a few salad options. She put the menu down and looked up at Leo. “I’ll have a garden salad with oil and vinegar.”
“Borrrring,” Stelli said, rolling his eyes.
Leo just looked at her and shrugged his shoulders.
“Don’t you like pizza?” Evie asked her.
“Well, it’s not my favorite. I really love salad, though.”
“Mommy always got pizza when we came here. She loved it here, didn’t she, Daddy?” Stelli said.
It was as if her happy balloon had been pricked and all the air seeped out. Piper felt her face flush, and when she looked at Leo, his eyes were hard to read.
“Yeah, buddy. She liked it here a lot,” he said.
The mention of their mother always caught Piper off guard. It was like walking through an empty field that seemed to have been cleared of mines, and then, bam, having one blow up in her face. She’d believed her time with Stelli this afternoon had brought them a bit closer, but now in a flash she was the interloper again. The three of them all seemed to fit together perfectly. Sitting here, feeling like she was not enough, made her think of all the times she’d felt this way as a child. She’d never felt like she formed a close bond with her own parents.
Her parents were good on paper: accomplished and hardworking. Her father, a mechanical engineer, taught at the Naval Academy, and her microbiologist mother worked in a private research lab. As the only child, she’d felt the full force of the high standards they set for her. It was expected that she be a straight-A student. There was no acceptable excuse for even a B-plus. Their house was quiet, dull, and tedious, a home where spontaneity and lightheartedness were frowned upon. Her mother had checked her homework every night, all the way through the twelfth grade, as if she were still a child. Tests and report cards were scrutinized. Her every movement, her every act, had been inspected by them.
They were not a family that hugged or kissed or said I love you. She remembered being so surprised the first time she’d gone to her friend Julia’s house, which was filled with kids and laughter. Julia’s mother had been warm and welcoming, pulling her into a hug. It was a complete revelation to her that families lived that way, enjoying each other and having fun together. She had only short glimpses of this, however, because her own parents had been firm about time spent away from home. She had to come straight home from school and get right to work on homework, which usually lasted three or four hours. Going out on school nights was strictly forbidden. Saturday was the only day she was allowed to see friends, and that was the day she tried to spend as much time as possible at Julia’s.
Of course, she’d left as soon as she graduated from high school, moving away from Annapolis for good. Now, after her years studying psychology at University of California and the work she’d done in the field of recovery, she realized what a cold and barren upbringing she’d had. It was probably part of the reason she’d never really wanted children of her own.
How ironic that, once again, she had married a man with kids.
32
Joanna
“Here,” I said, handing the two photographs to Celeste. “Pictures of Evie and Stelli from last Christmas.” At our last session Celeste had asked me to choose a memory for today and to email it to her beforehand. I chose last Christmas, when we were still happy and together. One picture showed Evie in her bright red Christmas pajamas, a llama bedecked with a tree-light necklace smiling on her PJ top. She was laughing, her hair still messy with sleep, while peeking out from inside her princess tent.
Celeste studied both of the photographs for a minute, and then looked up at me. “Your recounting of this memory was very evocative, Joanna. Haunting almost. I read it several times. How did it feel to put it into words?”
I thought about it for a moment before answering. “It was difficult to write,” I admitted. “The day itself was so wonderful. We put the children to bed on Christmas Eve and stayed up late putting Stelli’s new bicycle together and arranging all the furniture in Evie’s dollhouse. I didn’t get to bed until after one. Of course, the children were up early to see what Santa brought them.” I smiled as I pictured the two of them rushing to the mantel and grabbing their stockings. “Evie exclaimed over her heart locket and silver bracelet, and Stelli was already setting up his army men. There was wrapping paper everywhere, and it was all a big glorious messy ball of happiness.”
Celeste nodded. “And the rest of the day?”
“We let them play with all their toys, of course, and Leo and I just sat watching them, enjoying all the fun they were having. I remember bringing French toast with syrup and fresh strawberries into the den and letting everyone eat breakfast there for once so that they wouldn’t have to leave their presents. The four of us sat on the floor in front of the fireplace. Evie kept her new stuffed tiger on her lap while we ate.”
“Can we talk about Stelli and what you wrote about reading to him?”
My stomach twisted at the thought. “They were both exhausted by bedtime, and so was I. Stelli asked me to read one of his new books to him—The One and Only Ivan. He insisted I read it a second time, which I did, but when he asked for a third time, I snapped at him and said I was too tired. I gave him a peck on the cheek, turned out the light, and left the room.” I felt tears fill my eyes. “I’m so sorry I was impatient with him. I would give anything to read it to him again now, as many times as he wanted.”