then they could share a bed. He was, however, somewhat disconcerted to realize when he saw her that he could have done it, sat in the restaurant eating and chatting; this particular wound had taken only a short time to heal. A while back, he might have taken this as an indication of increasing psychic health, but in his experience anything to do with getting older rarely indicated good news. Presumably, then, it was doleful proof that he couldn’t bring himself to give much of a shit about anything anymore. She was a good-looking woman, Cat, but he couldn’t for the life of him remember what had pulled him toward her. And he could no longer re-create in his mind the circumstances that had led to their marriage, or the production of Jackson, or even the stormy weather of the last year or so.
“I suppose you’ll have to go to London,” Cat said, when he told her the news about Lizzie.
“Oh, no,” he said, although the “Oh” was beginning to sound superfluous and phony, even to him. This time it had crossed his mind. “I don’t think so. That isn’t what she’d want.” Why not stick with a winning formulation?
“You think?” said Cat.
“It’s not as if we’re close,” said Tucker. “She wouldn’t be expecting me to fly across the Atlantic just to be useless.”
“Nearly right,” said Cat. “She’d be expecting you not to.”
“Right,” said Tucker. “Which is what I just said.”
“No. It wasn’t. Your way of putting it suggested that she wouldn’t care one way or the other. My way—her way—is to think the worst of you. You don’t know much about fathers and daughters, do you?”
“Not a lot, no.” Not as much as he should, anyway, seeing as he was the father of a couple of daughters.
“And she flew all the way here to see you when she found out she was pregnant. There’s something going on with her.”
He finished buttoning up Jackson’s coat and kissed him on the top of his head. Of course, the one kid who he hadn’t fucked up was the one kid whose offspring he wasn’t likely to see.
He phoned Natalie as soon as Cat and Jackson had left.
“When do you think you’ll be coming to see her?” said Natalie.
“Oh,” said Tucker, and this time the word was airier. “As soon as I can get things organized here.”
“But you are coming? Lizzie didn’t think you’d make the effort.”
“Yeah, I guessed she’d think that. I know her better than she suspects. And she doesn’t know me at all.”
“She’s very angry with you right now.”
“Well, I guess this sort of thing stirs up all sorts of inner shit.”
“I think you have to get used to it, as your children start to have children. It makes them see how absolutely hopeless you were.”
“Great, I’m looking forward to it.”
It was only much later, after he’d put Jackson to bed, that he realized he didn’t have the money to go to London. He didn’t have the money to go to New York City, was the truth of it; Cat was helping him out for the time being. What would come after that was a mystery, although not one he was particularly anxious to solve. Nobody would let Jackson starve, and that was the only thing that mattered. He called Natalie back and told her he’d been unable to make child-care arrangements.
“His mother won’t look after him? Gosh.”
That “gosh”—so English, so poisonous.
“Of course she would, but…”
“But what?”
“But she’s away. On business.”
“I thought she did things with yogurt.”
“Why can’t yogurt involve travel?”
“Wouldn’t it go off?”
At least he could still feel the open, festering exit wound that Natalie had left, so that was something. That combination of bitchiness and stupidity was as hard to bear now as it had been back then.
“So bring him. I’m sure Lizzie would like to see him. She seemed quite taken with him.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?”
“Well, it’s the school year, and…”
“Lizzie said you and Cat were breaking up.”
“That’s something that… that seems to have happened, yes.”
“So you can’t afford to fly to London.”
“It’s not that.”
“So you can afford to fly to London.”
“If, you know, push came to shove.”
“That’s exactly where push has come.”
“I can’t afford to fly to London, no. There is a little cash-flow problem at the moment.”
“We’ll pay.”
“No, I can’t…”
“Tucker. Please.”
“Fine. Thanks.”
Having no money wasn’t so bad, really, as long as he never did anything other than go for coffee with Fucker once a month or so. Adults, however, especially adults with several children, sometimes found themselves in a position where they needed access to a fund more bountiful than the bedroom change jar that departing ex-spouses had generously left behind. Natalie’s husband did something… Actually, Tucker had no real idea what he did. He could remember that it was something he disapproved of, or had belittled, anyway, so he probably did something that involved going to meetings, possibly while wearing a suit. Was he an agent of some kind? Movies? It was coming back to him now. Simon (?) headed up the London branch of some unspeakable Hollywood agency. Maybe. He was a no-talent leech, anyway, Tucker was sure about that. It was easy to feel superior to these people while you were the talent. But when you stopped being the talent, then they were just grown-up people with a job, and you were the hopeless case who was going to have to accept charity from them.
“Do you know people in London?” said Natalie. “Is there somewhere you can stay?”
“Yeah,” said Tucker. “I mean, she’s not right in the center, but we can come in on the train or whatever.”
“Where is ‘she’?” Tucker was pretty sure there were quote marks around the pronoun. It would be entirely typical of Natalie to put them there.
“It’s a place called Gooleness. On the coast.”
Natalie shrieked into the phone. “Gooleness! How on earth do you know anyone who lives in Gooleness?”
“Long story.”
“It’s hundreds of miles outside London. You can’t possibly stay there. Mark and I will find you somewhere.”
Mark, then, not Simon. And on further reflection, Mark might not, after all, be a no-talent leech. That might well be somebody else’s husband.
“Really? I don’t want you to go to any trouble.”
“Lizzie’s flat is empty, for a start. She and Zak are going to stay with us for a little while when she gets out.”
Was Zak her boyfriend? Had he heard that name before? The trouble was, there were too many tangential connections. Too many kids, too many stepfathers, too many half brothers and half sisters. He couldn’t name half the people related to his children, he realized. Natalie had other kids, for example, but who the hell knew their names? Cat did, that’s who.
“And do you still want to bring Jackson with you? Seeing as your child-care problems were completely bogus?”
