American Wife

“No, Charlie thought of that, too.” I was smiling maniacally. “He’s so appreciative for your hospitality to us that he asked me to buy you and Lars a VCR.”

OVER THE NEXT two weeks, involuntarily, I memorized every line of Dirty Dancing. It was a different movie than I’d imagined—it was more nuanced, and it wasn’t as risque as I’d feared, though there was a scene in which, for under a second, the camera showed Patrick Swayze climbing naked out of bed after implied sex. To my surprise, there was also an abortion plotline that Ella seemed not to pick up on; mostly, she was focused on the dancing, which really was wonderful. It was set in 1963, and the main character was a year older than I’d been then, meaning many of the songs and references were evocative. I wouldn’t necessarily have chosen to watch this same movie a dozen times, and we eventually started renting others, but I did, to my surprise, quite like Dirty Dancing.

During these days, sitting in the living room in front of the television, I felt as if I were waiting for something, but what? I did not call Charlie, and he did not call me. The start of Ella’s art camp was approaching, and then it arrived; that morning, I phoned to let the director know she wouldn’t be attending. There were decisions I needed to make, plans I needed to set in motion (how I wished that my grandmother were still there to advise me), but instead, I just kept stalling.

ON THE PHONE, Jadey said, “I don’t know if I should tell you this or not,” which is a preamble that surely has never been followed by the speaker not proceeding to share the information in question. “Chas has befriended some minister named Reverend Randy,” she continued. “Nobody knows how they met, because if you ask, Chas deflects the question. Nan told me she and John saw them at dinner in the sports room last night, and I think he was with Chas at a baseball game, too.”

“Who is he?”

“That’s the thing—no one knows. No one has ever heard of him, although supposedly, he has some church over in Cudahy. Little Rose? Heavenly Flower? I’m probably making this sound more alarming than it is.”

“How does Charlie seem?”

“Well, we invited him over for dinner, but I think he’s afraid if he comes, I’ll chew him out.”

“Jadey, please don’t.”

“Believe me, Arthur has already given me the whole spiel about how you leaving and the DUI are punishment enough, blah blah blah.”

This wasn’t quite what I thought. It wasn’t that I felt protective of Charlie as much as that I knew a lecture from Jadey would be wholly ineffective and only create a wedge between them. At the same time, as the days passed, I could feel the yielding of my own anger. I missed Charlie—I missed talking to him and sitting next to him, loading the dishwasher in the kitchen at night and knowing he was watching baseball in the den, joking around in bed after we’d turned out the lights and before we fell asleep. I missed his off-color remarks and the way that when he made damning comments about people we knew, it meant I didn’t have to; I got to be the good guy and defend them.

To Jadey, I said, “I still don’t get who this Reverend Randy person is.”

“You and me both,” she said.

____

AND THEN HE called; he called the next night, by which point we’d been in Riley for three and a half weeks. It was nine, and Lars and I had moved on to a puzzle of the Sydney Opera House. Charlie said, “It’s all worked out. Jessica’s enrolled for this coming year at Biddle, full ride—full ride from us, I mean, but none of the Suttons will know, because I assumed you’d think that’s better. How’s Ella?”

“You arranged for Jessica Sutton to go to Biddle?”

“Nancy Dwyer called the family, invited them to visit campus, she said the school had heard about Jessica from us—I figured Yvonne and Miss Ruby would have to be morons not to know we were involved, so why not ’fess up partway?—and Jessica passed all the tests today. It’s a done deal. I’ll write her tuition checks at the same time I write Ella’s.”

“Charlie, that’s amazing. I’m not sure what to say. Thank you.”

“You were right.” He sounded better than he had in a long time, more energetic and upbeat, and he also didn’t sound like he’d been drinking, or at least not much. “This is an opportunity for us to do a good thing, and who are we gonna open the coffers for if not Miss Ruby, you know? I’m glad you pushed me on it. All’s well in Riley?”

It was as though Ella and I really were on vacation without him, as if Charlie and I were any married couple catching up at the end of a day apart. “We’re fine.” I lowered my voice—I was in the kitchen, and my mother and Lars were in the living room. “I think she’s a little bored, to be honest.”

Charlie chuckled. “Probably good for her.”

“You sound great,” I said. “You really—You sound wonderful.”

“I’ve started running. You know, I made fun of John for wearing those faggoty spandex, but man, Lindy, the endorphins are something else. It’s different from other sports.”

“How long have you—”

“Just the last ten days or so, but I’m a new man. Getting up at six, heading over to the track in Cudahy, at the high school. A bit of a drive, but it’s invigorating.”

Charlie was getting up at six to drive to the south side and run on the track at a public high school?

“Listen,” he said. “I don’t want to keep you. Let me sign off, and I’ll call Ella tomorrow from work.”

“Where are you right now?” I asked.

“Just watching the game on TV—the Brewers are playing in Anaheim tonight. Hey, my new office at the stadium is great. You’ll have to come see it.” His tone was as friendly and unfraught as if I were a neighbor of whom he was genuinely fond. “Have a good night, Lindy,” he said. “Love to you and El.”

I had been on the cusp of asking again where exactly he was staying—at home, it seemed, except that I just couldn’t believe it—and also who Reverend Randy was, but the conversation had gone so unexpectedly well that I gave in to its rhythms, its imminent conclusion. “Love to you, too,” I said.