And then, just as Zoe and I are headed toward the exit with our discharge papers and backup lollipops in hand, I hear a vaguely familiar voice behind me, saying, 'Claudia? Is that you?'
My stomach drops as I place the voice. Then I turn slowly and look straight into Tucker Janssen's big, green eyes.
twenty-nine
'Hi, Tucker,' I say, taking in her perfectly pressed white doctor's coat, blue scrubs, and shiny stethoscope. And of course, her long, blond mane pulled into her trademark ponytail. She is prettier than I remembered. But maybe it's the difference between seeing someone after a run and seeing someone with a bit of makeup. I shudder to think what she might look like fully dressed for dinner. My heart sinks, and I eye the exit door, hoping that our conversation will be short. Despite the very significant thing we have in common, I have nothing to say to her.
'Hi, Claudia,' she says, looking completely at ease.
I remind myself that I'm not supposed to know that she's a doctor. So I go through the song and dance of feigning surprise. 'Are you a doctor?' I say.
'Yeah,' she says with false modesty. 'I'm a pediatric surgeon.'
'Oh,' I say. 'That's nice.'
'What are you doing here?' she asks, glancing down at Zoe. 'Is everything okay?'
Her concern seems genuine, but is still highly irritating. I know it's irrational, but I feel as if she is judging me. Assessing the magnitude of my negligence. Concluding that I would, indeed, make an unfit, inept mother.
I say, 'My niece had a little spill, that's all. But she's fine now.'
'Poor thing,' Tucker croons.
Zoe, who has returned to her outgoing self, chimes in, 'I got five stitches!'
I panic, wondering what else Zoe will say. I pray that Tucker won't mention Ben because then the floodgates will open. I can just hear Zoe:
Sure enough, Zoe's comment gives Tucker license to interact with my niece. As if sharing a grave secret, she stoops, winks, and says, 'The pink kind?'
Zoe beams. 'Uh-huh. The pink kind.'
Tucker tousles Zoe's hair and gives her a doting smile. Then she stands and says to me, 'She's adorable.'
'Thanks,' I say, although I'm not sure it's appropriate to accept compliments on behalf of someone else's child, even if she is my niece. I shift my weight from one foot to the other. Then my mind goes blank as I look toward the exit again. I desperately don't want to segue into other topics, like, say, marathons or Ben. I wonder if Tucker knows about my plans to see her boyfriend. I surmise that she does, as I recall how Ben told me when his ex, Nicole, sent him a birthday present about a year after we began dating. Struggling to sound nonchalant, I remember saying, 'Oh. That's nice… What did she give you?'
'A book of poetry,' he said matter-of-factly, as if it meant nothing to him at all.
Meanwhile, I couldn't think of a more menacingly meaningful gift than a book, let alone a book of
Ben said, 'Yeah. Whatever. No biggie. Just wanted to tell you in the interest of full disclosure.'
That's how Ben is-direct and honest. So I'm sure he was very forthright about our lunch date.
Sure enough, Tucker says, 'So. How are you doing these days, Claudia?'
Her words are innocent enough, but there is a shade of condescension and pity in her voice. She is also, ever so subtly, laying claim to her man. She is behaving
'Fine. And you?' I say tersely and formally. I am not about to be intimidated. I was
'I'm great,' she throws out comfortably. She might as well add,
My discomfort shifts to resentment as I process her
And that's all
Her
Her diamond ring on her
I can't say for sure if she flashed it on purpose, but I do know with certainty that she saw me looking at it. So I have no choice but to acknowledge it now. I take a deep breath and recruit every bit of will I have in me to point in the general direction of her hand and say, 'Congratulations.'
She smiles triumphantly and glances down at her hand before dipping it into her jacket pocket. Then she blushes and says, 'Thank you, Claudia. It… happened quickly.'
'Yes… Well… congratulations,' I say again, feeling so dizzy with devastation that I can barely see straight, let alone move.
Tucker starts to inquire about my Thanksgiving plans, but I interrupt and say we really must go home now. Then I take Zoe's hand and lead her outside where we climb into a taxi. I give the cabbie our address. As I watch the city blocks blur by my window, I am gripped with the knowledge that this day will forever remain the worst of my
'What's wrong, Aunt Claudia?' Zoe asks, her own voice shaky with fear. She has never seen me cry before. 'Why are you sad?'
'Because my heart hurts,' I say, wiping my tears away with the back of my hand.
'Why? Why does your heart hurt?' she asks me, now on the verge of tears herself.
I can't answer her-so she keeps asking the question. Over and over.
Finally I say, 'Because I love Uncle Ben.'
'Why does that make you sad?' she says, her small hand darting out to take mine.
'Because, Zoe,' I say, too defeated to spin the truth or try to protect her. 'Because Ben is going to marry someone else.'
'That
Through fresh tears, I nod and whisper yes.
I spend the rest of the afternoon trying to explain to Zoe one of the very saddest notions in love and life: sometimes the timing is wrong-and sometimes you realize the heart of the matter way too late in the game. I tell her that it was a big mistake to divorce Ben. I wanted my life to look a certain way, and when Ben didn't fit into that plan, I gave up on him. And now, the person I care about most is gone. Ben belongs to someone else now. Ben belongs to Tucker.
Maybe Zoe truly grasps what I'm telling her, but at the very least she pretends to understand, her expression becoming almost comically philosophical. I feel a bit ashamed for dumping so much on a child with a head injury