It seemed the shit just kept hitting the fan. Jesse had screamed at Tera that morning about the fact that there were no eggs and that he wasn't a fucking vegan, earning him a time out in his room. And Tera gave Steve a piece of her mind when she learned that Dora would be coming over to talk later. He'd finally gotten her to calm down and agree to take the kids out, but that wasn't the end of his problematic day. Steve's client, Constance King, a major pain in the ass diva, was driving everyone crazy on the set of Walk And Talk Lies. Half the cast wanted to strangle her. The director had a meltdown. An actual red-in-the-face-screaming-throwing-things-I'm-going-to-kill-you-meltdown. By the time he got the call from the actor's agent, Constance was threatening to sue. It took all morning to smooth ruffled feathers. He'd almost had to cancel Dora.
But now here she was, at his door. A golden hue of light splashed across her face, and for a moment, Dora looked like the girl he'd met twenty-four years ago. She was in high-waisted jeans, a black and white striped t-shirt that fell off the shoulder and wore a white cashmere scarf around her neck. Her hair was scraped back in a ponytail. It was cold out––had been for months. Steve couldn't remember the last warm day.
"Where's your car?" He asked.
"I don't know how to drive yet." Dora paused and added, "I mean, I don't remember. Barbara called me a, um, what is it called?"
Steve was struck by her answer, yet more proof that Dora's memory was actually gone. He shook his head at the thought. Of course, her memory was gone. Dora watched him earnestly. She looked so young somehow that an involuntary laugh bubbled out of him.
"What?"
"Nothing. I sometimes forget all you've forgotten. You probably took an Uber or Lyft here," he said.
"Lyft," she confirmed.
"Come in." He stepped out of the way to let her through and watched as she stood gawking.
"This is your house?"
"Last I checked."
She was impressed. Dora had never shown any admiration over this house. In fact, it was just the opposite: a cold indifference. Once upon a time, he'd wanted her to be impressed, to feel like she'd missed out in leaving him. But Dora never cared or at least she never showed she did, and now that he'd bought the opulent prefab home, it was slowly crushing him financially. Steve looked around with Dora, seeing it with fresh eyes, and felt a stab of disgust. He took Dora to the living room and offered to make her a cappuccino, her favorite.
"No, thank you." She wrinkled her nose at the offer.
Steve looked at the time on his phone. It was half-past noon, a little early for a glass of wine, but what the heck.
"Glass of Chardonnay?"
A look of uncertainty flitted across Dora's face, but then she nodded.
He returned with two stemless glasses of chilled Rombauer. When they talked a few days ago, Dora had asked him questions about their old life, how it was they started dating again, when they had married and why she had become gay. She'd asked little about their kids. As far as her change in sexual orientation, he couldn't answer. Maybe she had always been gay. His suggestion was met with fierce denial. It didn't matter anyway, Steve thought. Not anymore. Their relationship, as a couple, at least, was long over. Erica brought out a whole new side of Dora. That was how Steve always saw it. But now that he was aware of this multiple personality thing, this amnesia, he wondered. Was Dora a separate personality who had seamlessly taken over? A personality that held Serene's memories, yet wasn't Serene? He watched Dora take a sip of wine and then set the glass on the coffee table.
"I'm sorry about yesterday," she began.
Steve felt a flash of irritation. "I never thought it was a good idea to let Jesse go around dressed like that. He's bound to be teased. I told you, he's too young to make this kind of gender identity decision. You know kids, they go through phases. I was fine about letting him dress up at the house, but for god's sake, Dora, he's only nine."
"I don't like it either," Dora said, brows pulled in tight, mouth turned down.
"If you thought it was a bad idea––" Steve stopped himself, staring into her imploring dark eyes. He forgot that she wasn't the Dora he knew and interacted with over the past six years. The woman who'd snuck around behind his back, having an affair for two years with her now wife. Serene had changed her name to Dora in the last year of their marriage. Had started Dora's Closet then, too.
"You don't like Jesse dressing up as a girl?" He asked to make sure he was hearing her correctly.
"It's like you said, he's too young, and," she stretched her fingers out in front of her, examining them, then shrugged. "I don't know. Erica said…" she hesitated and didn't finish the thought. "I don't remember what I was thinking or why I decided on certain things." She looked up, searching his face. Steve was about to ask her how things were going in counseling, but she said, "I don't really know the kids. At least not now."
Her admission was stunning––the lack of regret. The lack of… what was it? It was as if the kids didn't belong to her at all. As if she were talking about someone else's children she'd been saddled with. This was Dora, Steve kept having
