He said it with a catch in his throat. It seemed grotesquely out of place.
I looked at Kelly. There was no enlightenment to be had there. She was playing the poised hostess, though her eyes were rimmed with red. She smiled at me. A rueful smile. Sad and beautiful.
I wanted to take her aside. To have just one moment, her to me. One moment of unfeigned grief and memory.
This outpouring of emotion for my cold and enigmatic wife, the one I had believed had not a friend in the world, was more than disconcerting. Could I really have been so wrong? So terribly, so profoundly wrong? How could the woman that I knew have kindled all these strong emotions in so varied a throng, without me having the slightest clue?
I was dizzy with it.
I needed a drink.
Fortunately, the bar was steps away.
I got myself a double. Two. I carried them to the bathroom. I locked the door. I sat on the toilet. I downed the first Scotch in two large gulps. I nursed the second. I might need to stay awhile.
Melissa had a life. She even had friends. People she had touched. People who loved her. She baked cakes. She baked goddamn cakes. When the hell did she bake cakes? Jesus, how would I know? I was never in the bloody house. If I wasn’t working, or out watching Dorita flirt with macho guys at clubs, I was hanging out at the Wolf’s Lair. Playing poker somewhere. Indulging my macho self. Melissa could have been doing anything. She could have gone to AA meetings every night of the week, and how would I have known? She didn’t talk about them, so I’d just assumed she didn’t go. Because she never mentioned friends, I’d assumed she didn’t have any. Jesus. I was a fool. A dolt. A self-centered doltish fool.
And a cuckold, I remembered with a spleenish pain. Probably.
It could have been Jerry. Or Ron. Or any other ex-drunk she’d picked up anywhere.
I felt ill.
I put my head in the toilet.
It didn’t hurt to be prepared.
77.
It was morning. The sunlight hurt my eyes. Kelly came into the kitchen.
I felt like I had somehow missed the point of everything that had ever happened to me.
Kelly, I said. I have to talk to you.
I know.
Sit down, please.
She looked at me. She saw the dread. She sat down.
Kelly, I said, you know I love you?
She rolled her eyes.
Yes.
That I’ll always love you, no matter what?
Yes. And me too.
She said it wearily. But she meant it, I knew.
I need to know something, I said.
I know you do.
Those people.
Mommy’s AA friends?
Yes, them.
Yes, Daddy? she said with an accusing look.
Did you know about them?
Of course I did.
Why didn’t you tell me about them?
Tell you about them? Did you ever ask?
I thought about that. No, I hadn’t. But should I have?
She stared at me. I was the butterfly impaled upon a pin.
I was the victim.
I was the perpetrator.
Did I have to ask? I said lamely.
I knew the answer.
I tried to tell you, she said.
You did?
I did.
And?
And you weren’t interested.
I wasn’t?
You’d already made up your mind.
I had?
You’d given up.
I had?
You told me so.
I did?
You did. Not just in words. By everything you said and did. You didn’t want anything to do with it. You’d washed your hands.
Oh Jesus. I didn’t mean for you to think that.
I know you didn’t. But you had. You’d washed your hands of her. She knew it. I knew it.
Oh God, I said. What have I done?
I didn’t mean it that way, Daddy.
I looked in Kelly’s eyes. I had to believe in them.
A sixteen-year-old child. My conscience.
Damn.
I couldn’t ask her any more. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.
I sat in the living-room chair. I looked at the empty couch.
At some point, I thought, when my mind had come back into the room, we’ll have to pack up Melissa’s things. Or something. Maybe I could hire somebody to do it.
Kelly came into the living room. She handed me a cell phone. Melissa’s.
Please, she said. Can you do something with this?
Her eyes were red.
I looked at the phone. It was just a phone. I guessed I had to cancel the service. All these things. I had to make a list. I had to find someone to make a list for me. Wasn’t there some kind of organization you could hire for that stuff?
I opened the phone. I noodled absently through the menus. Calls made. Ring tones. Little bits of Melissa.
Calls received. A long list.
Strange. I’d never seen Melissa use the damn thing.
So many things I didn’t know.
I wasn’t sure I wanted to know them all. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know any of them.
One number appeared over and over on the list. At least a dozen times.
Oh Jesus.
I didn’t want to know.
