On the Surface (In the Zone) (25 page)

Chapter Thirty-Three

They ate dinner in front of the TV. He told her the lasagna was great. She said thanks, and that was the gist of their dinner conversation. He tried to read her body language but the only signal he got was a definite no to sex, which sucked.

Resigned, he worked out for a while before bed—did some elliptical, some weights. Afterward, he replaced the dumbbells on the rack, took a shower and packed for the road trip. She lay in bed reading with her back to him.

He got into bed, his hair still damp. “The plane leaves at eight, so I’ll be leaving about six.”

“Okay.” Her voice was carefully neutral. “Do you want a ride to the airport? I can drop you off on the way to work.”

“Sure.”

They turned out the lights and he fell into an uneasy sleep. The next morning, he felt surly and less than fully rested. He thought she might have been crying in the middle of the night, but he was too much of a chickenshit to find out for sure.

Breakfast was as chatty an affair as dinner had been the night before. He didn’t eat much. He had no appetite. This kid issue seemed to have taken residence in his gut like a tumor. They had just gotten off the I-5 for the airport when he couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Erin, I know this is shitty timing, but we need to talk.”

“Fine.”

“It’s not going to be a fun talk.”

“Tim, just get on with it.” She gave him a sidelong glance.

Tired from his restless night, he rubbed his eyes. “Okay.” He sighed. “Do you remember what I said about hope last night?”

Keeping her eyes on the road, she nodded. “You said it sucked. That you wished someone had just straight out told you that Mollie was going to die. That it would have been kinder.” She rattled off the list like she was taking an oral exam.

“Right,” he said, steeling himself for what was coming next. “Which is why I need to tell you that I will never change my mind about having kids. Ever. I don’t care if I would make a great father. Everyone keeps saying that, but it doesn’t matter. I might make a great geologist, too, or a great pianist or shoe salesman, but I don’t want to be those either.”

“Okay, Tim. I get it. This is a big issue for you, but I don’t think that now is the time to discuss it. You’re going to be gone for two days.” She moved into the lane for departures.

“No, that’s exactly why this is the perfect time. See, discussion is pointless. I tried being a father. It didn’t work out and I don’t want to try again, and I’m telling you this so that—” he swallowed in an attempt to get rid of the sudden lump in his throat, “—so that you can decide if you can live with that or not.”

Fuck. He felt like he was going to throw up. And of course, he was fucking crying again. He lowered the window to get some fresh air, then put it back up again because of the bus diesel.

“If I can...?” She gasped. “Are—are you saying you don’t want to get married?” Her voice had a shrillness he’d never heard in it before.

“No! God. No. I’m not saying that at all. I love you. I
want
us to get married. I want to make you happy for the rest of your life, but if you can’t...fuck.” He swiped at his eyes as she turned sharply into a parking lot and found a space. After a deep breath, he said slowly, “If you can’t live without being a mom, then I’m not the man for you. Watching Mollie die fucked me up forever, so if you want to go find someone who isn’t carrying ten tons of emotional baggage, who would love to give you all the children you want, I won’t stop you. It’ll fucking kill me, but I won’t stop you.”

“I don’t want to find someone else. I want you.” She was crying by now too. Every sob was a knife in his heart.

“I need you to be sure, Erin,” he said. “Before we get married, I want you to be absolutely sure. So think about it while I’m gone. Okay? Think selfishly about what you want and what you don’t want. What you can live with and what you can live without. I’ll love you no matter what. But decide.”

He got out of the car and got his bag out of the trunk as Erin sat there, crying. He felt like the biggest asshole who ever walked the planet, but it wasn’t fair to let her keep hoping that he’d change his mind someday. The part of his heart where fatherhood used to live was dead and nothing was going to bring it back.

* * *

After only about ten minutes into her shift, Tammy took Erin aside and said, “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

Erin stuck the pen she’d been writing with behind her ear. “John Walker is getting an ultrasound at eight-ten, Alana is performing her morning constitutional and Dr. Rebenkoff is running late.”

Tammy glanced at Alana, walking down the corridor with no discernable purpose, and sighed. “I meant, what’s going on with
you
,” Tammy said. “Something happened with Tim. Something serious.”

“And how could you possibly know that?” Erin tried to inject life in her voice, but felt so weary from lack of sleep and an overall sick feeling in her heart.

“Please.” Tammy folded her arms against her chest. “Your eyes are redder than when we rented
Marley and Me
.”

Erin looked at her friend, saw the concern underneath the humor, then looked away quickly. “Okay, but not now. If I think about it now, I’ll fall apart.”

“Did you bring lunch today?”

“No.”

“Be under the tree outside the South Tower at 1:30. I’ll get us food.”

Three hours later, when Erin saw the Q Burger bag Tammy was holding, she gave her a look and Tammy shrugged. “We’re going to be talking about Tim. I thought it was fitting.”

Tammy handed her a burger, those amazing onion rings and a full-on sugary root beer. “Go on, get some of that inside you first. As soon as the food starts working its magic, you can start telling Dr. Tammy what’s bothering you.”

Erin managed a weak smile as she bit into a crunchy onion ring. “My regular doctor never prescribes onion rings.”

“I know, right? What’s up with that?” Tammy said, her mouth full of burger.

Erin concentrated on fully enjoying the junk food. She knew she’d regret the calorie overload later, but when the situation was as dire as this, she would have felt justified shoveling down a quart of ice cream for good measure.

“So, what’s going on?” Tammy finally asked.

Because Tammy already knew that Tim’s daughter had died, Erin filled her in on everything else—how Tim’s heart had been broken and he wasn’t willing to risk that again by having another child, and if she couldn’t live with that, she might have to rethink things.

Tammy didn’t take it well.

“That rat bastard! To think I actually liked him.”

“He’s not a rat bastard,” Erin said.

“He gave you an ultimatum, didn’t he? That’s classic rat-bastard behavior.”

Erin frowned. “It wasn’t like that. He wasn’t like ‘take it or leave it.’” He was upset too, Tam. He loves me. He wants me to be happy but he...he wants me to make an informed decision.”

“Erin,” Tammy said, stirring her drink with the straw, “you make it sound like you’re buying auto insurance.”

Erin growled in frustration. “You know what? You’re not helping at all.”

“I’m sorry,” Tammy shot back, “but to me, it sounds like he’s saying ‘my way or the highway.’”

“No,” Erin argued. “There’s attitude behind ‘my way or the highway,’ and Tim was crying when he left.”

That took Tammy by surprise. “He was? You didn’t say that before.”

“Well, he was. And you can never tell him I told you that.”

Tammy waved her hand dismissively. “Well, I guess that’s different.”

“So, what do you think I should do?”

Tammy sucked up some soda. “Do you believe him when he says he won’t ever change his mind?”

Erin thought back to the look on Tim’s face in the car when she dropped him off at the airport earlier. He’d been just as torn up as she had. She went even farther back and recalled when he’d told her about Mollie in the first time. How his voice had cracked and he’d fallen apart right before her eyes. Thinking about it now made her physically ill. She loved him so much and hated seeing him suffer that type of emotional pain.

“Yes. I believe him.”

“But she died, what, like five, six years ago? You know, time heals all wounds...”

“I don’t know,” Erin said. “I think that I have to take him at his word. If he does change his mind, then great. If he doesn’t...then...” Then what? Erin didn’t know.

Tammy sighed. She slumped down on the bench. “Well, I heard something on the radio once. It was a relationship person talking about marriage. They said that when you and your spouse disagree on something, like say, what movie to go see, you put a number value on how strong your feelings are about the subject. A scale of one to ten. Ten being you really feel strongly about it, and one being, you don’t really care that much. It’s supposed to make it easier to make decisions.”

“What do you mean, ‘supposed to’?” Erin asked.

Tammy made a face. “Well, I only tried it once. It didn’t work.”

“What happened?”

“He won.”

Erin chuckled. “You know, you’re probably not supposed to look at it like winning or losing.”

Tammy’s mouth crinkled up into a pout. “Probably not. But maybe we can apply this to your situation.” She put her trash back into the bag. Erin did the same. “Where do you think you are about marrying him. A ten?”

“Yes. No question.”

Tammy’s voice softened. “What about the kid issue?”

Erin fidgeted with her straw. “I don’t know. That’s hard. God, I almost wish I were infertile. That way the decision would be out of my hands.”

“That wouldn’t help. There’s adoption. Or surrogacy. That’s expensive, but he’s rich enough, right?”

“Don’t,” Erin said with finality.

“Sorry. But it’s true. Infertility wouldn’t solve your problem.” Tammy nudged her with her leg. “So. Kid issue. One to ten.”

Erin rubbed her face with her hands. “I don’t know,” she said through her hands. “Nine, I guess.”

“What about him? He’s probably a ten, right?”

Erin nodded. “Probably.”

“So he wins.”

And I lose
, Erin thought.

Chapter Thirty-Four

The weather in Chicago was appropriately bleak, but even if the sun had come out and heated the city to something above sixty degrees, Tim would still have felt cold, inside and out. He stayed in a hotel, like he always did when on this grim pilgrimage. He never wanted to socialize with anyone, not even his parents or sister. Luckily, they understood his need for solitude. Before leaving the hotel, he put on a cap and sunglasses in the hopes of not being recognized. No fan wanting to interact with Tim Hollander deserved to meet him in his present state of mind.

As he walked toward Mollie’s grave, he saw a woman sitting on the stone bench by the tombstone. He didn’t recognize her at first, but as he got closer he realized it was Waverly. She was a plumper than she’d been when they’d divorced. She wore gray wool slacks, a black overcoat and scarf. No hat. Her hair was shorter than he remembered and what was it about her face? As she stood and gave him a small smile, he realized she looked like an adult. They’d both grown up since those early, impetuous days when they’d met.

“Tim.”

“Hey, Wave.”

Her smile was warm but reserved and she didn’t take her hands out of her coat pockets. “I haven’t seen you for, what, three, four years?”

“That sounds about right.” He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “How have you been?”

“Good. Good. I’m married now,” she said with a lift of her shoulder. “He’s in communications. Radio mostly. His name’s Pete.”

“Hey, that’s great, Wave. Really great.”

“And I’m pregnant.”

He gaped at her. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah, it’s actually our second,” she said, putting a hand over her stomach. “We had Robert last year and then, whoops, we got caught with our pants down.” She laughed. “Literally, I guess.”

“Well, congratulations.” That explained her chubbiness.

“What about you?” she asked. “I know you’re in San Diego now.”

“Yeah. Made the move beginning of last summer and it’s been good so far. Nice to be in a new place, someplace that isn’t, you know, riddled with memories.”

“I envy you that.” She bent down and pulled a couple of weeds out from around the headstone. “I also saw you got engaged. When’s the wedding?”

At first, he was surprised she knew about his engagement, but then remembered any Chicagoan who’d watched the eleven o’clock news on Thanksgiving would have seen clips of the proposal.

He sighed. “The situation is...complicated.”

“That was a pretty heavy sigh. Is she pregnant?” she teased.

“Hell no.” He laughed as he took a brown sack out of his coat pocket. “That actually would have been simpler. I would have been idiot for making the same mistake twice, but...”

Not wanting to talk to his ex-wife about his current fiancée, he opened the bag and poured the contents into a mound on the stone bench. It was birdseed.

Mollie
,
honey?
It’s Daddy.
He looked up at the gray sky.
In case you’re not having a party up there
,
I
invited some birds to celebrate down here.
Happy birthday.
I
love and miss you everyday.

“That’s really nice, Tim.” Sighing, Waverly sat and gestured toward the seed. “I forgot that she loved birds.” When she looked up at him, she had tears in her eyes. “Oh God, Tim. How could I forget that she loved birds?” she asked, her bottom lip quivering.

“Aw, Wave,” he said, pulling her into a hug. “Don’t do that to yourself. It’s inevitable that we’re going to forget stuff about her. You probably talk about her as much as I do, which is almost never. I think about her every day, but that’s not the same thing.”

“No, you’re right.” She pulled back and dug in her purse for a tissue. “You know, we should text each other maybe, when we remember stuff. Like I was trying to dress Robert the other day and he wasn’t cooperating and I sang him—”

“The nekkie song,” he said.

She nodded, smiling. “I actually thought about calling you because you’re the only one who would appreciate that, but I didn’t have your phone number.”

“Let’s fix that right now.”

When they were done inputting contact information in each other’s phones, she glanced at her watch and then at him. “I have to be somewhere at eleven so I don’t have much time, but do you maybe want to get coffee somewhere? There’s a Starbucks not far from here.”

He studied her face. Her blue eyes were as beautiful as ever, but softer somehow. They used to have a keenness to them, a challenge from a woman who was still mostly girl back then. But she seemed happy now. And she had a kid, with one on the way. She was happily married, a mom again, after she’d sworn she’d never ever have sex again if this was what happened. He’d known she’d break that vow, but had always wondered if she’d healed enough to get married again and start over.

Now he knew.

“Come on,” she prompted, tucking a lock of blond hair behind her ear. “We’ll drink hot chockie like we used to.”

* * *

When their hot cocoa was ready, Tim took the lid off his and took a sip so he got whipped cream on his upper lip. The three of them used to do that whenever they came to Starbucks. Mollie had loved having a cup that looked exactly like theirs.

When Waverly saw what he’d done, she laughed as he sat at the corner table she’d gotten. Her coat and scarf hung on the back of her chair. He did the same.

“So, show me a picture of Robert,” Tim said.

Waverly got out her phone. “Here he is. He’s thirteen months old.”

Tim saw a lot of Waverly in her son. Mollie, too, actually. “He looks like a happy kid.”

“He is. It’s hard sometimes because his smile reminds me so much of Mollie’s.” She put the phone away.

“How’s the boutique doing? You probably have stores all over the city by now.”

She shook her head. “I sold it. I wanted to stay home and be a full-time mom. Taking care of my family is my job now.”

“That’s great, Wave.” He shifted in his seat, jittery all of a sudden. He wished he were on the ice right now with his stick and a big pile of pucks he could hit the shit out of. Gulping down some cocoa, he thought he should have just gone back to the hotel. “Really. More power to you.”

“You know, Tim, it’s possible to start over. To have a family. You shouldn’t be afraid to try again.”

“Whoa. Back off there. Who said I wanted to have a family?”

She gave him a knowing smile. “Tim, honey, it was all over your face when you looked at Robert’s picture. I didn’t want to think about it either, but Peter wanted kids.”

Tim drank more of his hot chocolate, wishing it were whiskey. He said nothing.

“And he was patient. So patient. He never brought it up or hinted around. He just...loved me. It’s going to sound ridiculously corny, and I won’t blame you if you want to throw up, but he brought me back to life, Tim. I had...” She struggled for the words. “I’d mentally confined myself in a dark house and refused to come outside into the sunshine, and Peter came along and smiled at me and loved me and just opened the door.”

“Wow. You should send that to Hallmark. Maybe they’d put it on a card.” Shithead Tim was at it again, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

She smiled that damned knowing smile again. “I know you’re just lashing out because what we’re talking about scares you.”

“You know,” he said, rolling the edge of his napkin, “if you get any more condescending, I might have to leave.”

“If you do, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life,” she said, dead serious. “Just listen to me. I know what you’re going through. You think that if you have another child, you’ll live every day in fear of something happening to her. I’m not going to lie. There are times when I’m scared to death. At the beginning, I hated mornings because I was terrified he’d died of SIDS. But then I realized that all mothers have the same fears. I just have them to a greater degree. I’m absolutely certain that when he approaches his third birthday, I’ll be watching him like a hawk to see if he starts complaining of being overly tired. But the fear is manageable. And it’s really nothing compared to the happiness that I get from being a mom again.”

Tim still said nothing.

“Tim, I know you don’t believe me, but it’s true. Think back on the happiest times we had with Mollie and let me tell you, you can have that again. Sometimes it’s bittersweet, but it’s there. It’s real, and it’s better than feeling shitty all the time or jealous of everyone else whose kids are alive and kicking.”

“I don’t know. It seems as if you’re trying to replace Mollie.”

“No, Tim. That’s not it at all.” She looked at her watch and blanched. “Look, I have to go. I’m sorry, but think about what I said.” She laid her hand over his and waited until he looked up at her. “Moving on and being a mom or a dad again doesn’t negate Mollie’s existence. Nothing could. I will visit her grave every year until the day I die. I will never forget her and neither will you. But you deserve happiness, Tim. And your bride to be does too. You were never a coward on the ice. Don’t be one off it.”