Chapter 62

62

I stared at the empty space you left in our bedroom. You’d taken Sam’s painting when you moved out. I sat on the floor and visualized it there, the mother, the cupped hand on her chin, her grasp on the baby’s thigh. The warmth of their skin.

“I’m hungry.” Violet was watching me from the doorway, still dressed in what she had worn to school. “What are you looking at?”

“We’ll order in.”

“I don’t want takeout.”

“I’ll make spaghetti.”

That worked—she left me alone. I didn’t want her there. I couldn’t lift my eyes from the nail hole in the wall.

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•   •   •I cooked while she finished her homework at the table. She had the same habit you did, putting her nose so close to the paper it nearly touched it as she wrote. I saw the hunch in her back and smiled without thinking. And then remembered you were gone. That you weren’t a person I should smile about anymore.

“You want to have ice cream after dinner and watch a show?”

“We don’t have a television anymore.”

“Right. We could play a game?”

She didn’t need to answer that one.

“What time is it? We could probably still make a movie, a later show.”

“It’s a school night.” She vigorously erased something and brushed the flakes of rubber on the floor.

“Well, I was going to make an exception.”

I slipped an apron on while I stirred the sauce. I’d gone shopping for new clothes while you moved out of our house. I wore one of the sweaters, a cream-colored cashmere wrap, straight home from the dressing room at the department store. I never did this sort of thing, buy piles of expensive new clothes at once, but I had wanted to feel reckless that day and it was the best thing I could think of. You were still paying the Visa bill.

“She has that sweater you’re wearing.”

She.I stopped stirring, as though if I were still enough, I wouldn’t spook the animal. In the periphery I saw Violet retreat back to her work, nose inches from the page. I wanted her to say more.

“That’s nice,” I said.

She looked up at me—was it?

“I guess she has great taste, then.” I winked and put her spaghetti on the table. She let it cool while she finished up and I leaned on the stove, wondering what else she might tell me.

“So, you’re going to Dad’s tomorrow. Are you excited to see his new place?”

“It’s their place.”

I didn’t know if she was lying to me or not—she seemed to know more than I did. I assumed you were living on your own, but I never made a point of asking. I wondered if you’d talked to Violet about our separation much earlier than you and I had discussed it. I took the apron off and looked at the sweater, wondering if it was too late to return it. But there was a splatter of sauce on the sleeve now.

“Okay, well, their place. Are you excited?”

“There’s something you should know about her.” She spoke sharply. I held my own dish of spaghetti, about to sit down with her. I found myself nearly out of breath all of a sudden—maybe it was the fear of what she’d say next.

“What?”

She shook her head and looked down again and I could tell she’d never intended to tell me. Or maybe there was nothing to tell.

“We don’t need to talk about her. That’s your dad’s business, not mine.” I smiled. I twirled the noodles and stuffed them in my mouth.