But as soon as she says “mask,” I feel the bottom drop out of my stomach. What the hell is going on?
“Was it a Guy Fawkes mask?” I ask.
“I don’t know,” says Olivia. “What’s that?”
“You know, like Anonymous, from the internet.”
I pull up a picture on my phone and show it to her. Ben cranes his head to look as well. I hate it when he gets close to me. I can smell his aftershave and his post-teaching sweat smell, which reminds me of sex. I hate him for it. I hate how much I like it.
“No, it wasn’t a mask like that,” says Olivia. I’m surprised at how relieved I am, even though what she is telling me is still objectively horrible. “It was hairier and with teeth, like a werewolf. It scared me, which was good, otherwise I might have run right into the door!”
“Maybe you interrupted a robbery in progress,” says Jane. “Maybe he was the getaway driver and you spooked him, and so he drove off, leaving his partners behind.”
“You’re right,” says Olivia, getting excited. “I’m probably a hero. But, like, you’re being sexist to assume it was a man.”
The doctor, who turns out to just be some tired girl in her twenties, shows up then with a stack of papers to be signed.
“Which one of you is the parent?” she asks. I snatch the papers out of her hands and search my purse for a pen. Ben doesn’t say anything. I sign and then we all make our way out of the emergency room. The contrast between the chilliness of the ER air conditioning and the hot day outside makes me shiver a little, but it feels good.
“I’m calling us a car,” says Ben. “Actually, can I ask you for a favor?”
“Yeah, you can ask,” I say.
“Would you mind picking Olivia and Jane up from school tomorrow?” he says. “Olivia can’t bike home now, and she probably shouldn’t be walking home, and it’s the end of the year, so for me that means the Quiz Bowl. We’ve got after-school practice tomorrow for the big tournament this weekend.”
Ordinarily, I would relish the opportunity to steal them for an afternoon. But I can’t swing it.
“Actually, I hate to say it, but tomorrow is terrible for me,” I say. “Can’t they just take Ubers home?”
“That’s what I said,” agrees Olivia.
“I just don’t feel comfortable with them taking cars like that,” says Ben. “They really aren’t old enough.”
“Fine, well, I can send a car from Nylo around for them,” I offer.
“You really can’t just swing by?” says Ben.
“I really can’t,” I say. “Not tomorrow. I’m busy as well, and what I’m doing is way more important than your Quiz Bowl.”
“Oh yeah, sure, okay, I’m sure it is.”
“I just mean in the greater scheme of things,” I say. “Obviously this Quiz Bowl is very important to you.”
“And to all the children I teach,” he says. He looks stubborn and pained. Whatever amorous stirrings were being provoked by his scent and by his attention to our daughters simmers away, cooked off by his weird inferiority complex energy. The sex was always good between us, but I guess he was the first one to realize that it was only good because we hated each other. Maybe I just didn’t mind the hate as much. Our hate did eventually lead to the creation of human life.
The worst part is that I can tell that Olivia and Jane are both a little disappointed that I won’t be picking them up. I can’t fathom why. All they do lately is “merely tolerate” me. I feel like I’m blowing a chance to make a connection, to scoop up a trick that Ben is leaving on the table. But I can’t make any promises, not with this game going on.
“So what, then? Two weekends from now?” says Ben.
“Yeah, that should work,” I say.
The Uber rolls up and Ben opens the door for the girls. We help Olivia duck inside, but she honestly doesn’t seem that hurt by what has happened. She’s way tougher than I would be. I am such a baby when it comes to pain and sickness and injury and all that. Jane gets in next to her and Ben slips into the front seat.
I find myself leaning forward as if by habit to give him a kiss on the cheek, to wish them all safe travels, but I’m not allowed to do that anymore. I am still allowed to be overwhelmed by silent rage and resentment, though, so I do this instead as they drive away and leave me alone on the sidewalk.
14
I drink more White Coke and bourbon alone up in my study at my Townhouse while thinking about the events of the day, just like General Zhukov would have done.
Zhukov is an underrated general, but he isn’t my favorite. My favorite is Grant. He was legitimately strategically interesting and always dependable, not particularly prone to dramatic flights of romantic fancy. He wasn’t as skittish or paranoid as many men of his era, or many men after. I admire his strategic acumen and also his ability to keep cool while his own country was “torn asunder.”
It’s hard to kill a foreign enemy. It’s almost impossible to kill rebels in your own country, inspiring your troops to be merciless against their former friends and family.
Grant was a short, sad, stoic drunk whose best quality was his loyalty to his men and officers. He wasn’t put in charge because of connections or because he looked good in uniform. He achieved command of the Union forces as a result of being one of the only generals who was not afraid to take risks, to execute bold plans, to follow up and chase retreating rebels in order to capture men and materiel. He successfully split the Confederacy in half, and then in half again, doing the hard work in a long war. He was elevated to his command as a result of
