Eight Minutes (13 page)

“The distance. Between us.” He shakes his head. “It’s too much. We’re getting too far apart on too many things.”

“So let’s close it, Eric. That’s all we have to do.” I keep my voice even. Logical. “Things ebb and flow. It’s good you said something. We’re too far apart; okay. We know what to do. We close the gap.”

“Shel. It’s not just ebb and flow. It’s so wide now—like an abyss. I don’t know if we can anymore.”

I can’t stop the hot tears or the tremble in my voice. “That’s why you went to see Anna? Because you’re having doubts about our marriage?”

“Yes.”

“What did she say? She told you we could fix it, didn’t she?”

“Yes,” he admitted. “But I told her, just like I’m trying to tell you, I’m not sure we can.”

My mouth is so dry I can barely swallow.

He says, “Look. I know why you really went to see that psychic guy.”

“You do?”

His tone is even and measured. There’s no judgment in his voice. “You were trying to contact Kay, weren’t you? Or John Robberson. Right? So you can ask him why he wants Toby to go see her.”

I nod.

“That’s what I mean. You couldn’t even tell me that. Instead, you come home crying about miscarriages and your mother and talking about smelling our dead dog . . .”

I feel as if he’s slapped me in the face.

“Anyway. That’s not my point. You can’t tell me the real reason, but you and Lakshmi are totally together on this, aren’t you? It’s all you talk about.”

“You can’t be jealous of my best friend. I get to have friends, Eric.”

“I’m not saying you shouldn’t have friends. But you have to admit, right now, you’re closer to Lakshmi than you are to me. Doesn’t that bother you?”

“It’s different.”

“How? You confide in her. It’s like your little secret world, and I can’t get in. You keep your true thoughts and feelings from me and spend all your time trying to sell me on your latest theory. Do you care what I think about any of this? No. Anytime I try to tell you my opinion, you get all defensive and we get into a fight about it.”

“But—”

“I even tried to objectively demonstrate how misguided you are, how much weight you’re assigning to random acts of imagination. That was the whole thing with the game, which you blew way out of proportion. I’m trying, but what do I get back? You smelled the dog? Do you hear the words coming out of your mouth? But if I don’t pick up a fork and eat an entire plateful of the shit you’re dishing up, you think I’m attacking you. I can’t win.”

“What if—”

“Look, Shel. I see where you’re going. I see what you want to believe. Maybe it has to do with losing your mom, or the miscarriages, or whatever . . . We’re not on the same page anymore.”

“Is that it? We’re just not communicating? We can fix that, Eric.”

“I wish it was that easy. I’m sorry, but it feels like our belief systems have shifted.” He makes the same hand motion that weathermen make when they’re demonstrating how tectonic plates shift in an earthquake. He jerks one hand toward him, the other toward me, until they’re barely touching on the sides.

I flinch.

“I’m over here,” he says, indicating the hand closest to him. “And I can’t get to where you are, over here.” He pushes his other hand even farther in the other direction.

He takes a breath before he continues. “Hear me out. I can’t bring myself to respect what you’re doing. I realized the other day, my entire picture of you, of who you are, has shifted. You were always so smart and reasonable . . . You used to see the world the way I do. And now . . . Shelly, you’re chasing a ghost. The widow of a ghost. And you think it’s your motherly duty. And you’re so convinced there’s something there, you don’t give a rat’s ass if I like it or not. You’re hell-bent on pursuing this. It’s like you can’t
not
do it.”

He’s right. I can’t say anything in response.

“I just don’t know if I can spend the rest of my life with someone who believes something so far away from what I know to be true.”

“Eric, lots of couples have different beliefs. I don’t understand why we have to believe the same thing.” I reach for his hand.

“Because of Toby.” He pulls away. “I refuse to teach him to believe his imaginary friend is more important than his real life. I can’t support you teaching our son to believe in a ghost, to assign some cosmic significance to the games he plays on the playground. What you believe about John Robberson is so fundamentally ridiculous, I literally cannot believe what comes out of your mouth anymore. I have to force myself not to think about it just to get through the day, and I dread coming home and listening to your latest speculation. You’re caught up in this thing that only exists in your own head.”

I blink, stupidly.

He rakes his hand through his hair. “Haven’t we been through enough? Why are you doing this to us? To Toby?”

“I’m trying to protect Toby.”

He shakes his head. “I know you don’t want to listen to me, but see if you can hear this: I will not allow you to drag him into this. You are not protecting him. But I will.” He looks at me, his eyes even and cold. “Is this sinking in with you? I will do whatever it takes to protect him. Even from you, if I have to.”

My ears are ringing, and I’m not sure if I can speak. We have just crossed a line that I never thought we would. We haven’t even been married ten years, and this is the most dangerous conversation we’ve ever had.

Careful.

My armpits are clammy with sweat, and my heart feels all revved up, like that toy car of
Toby’s where he yanks a plastic handle through the center of the engine, its teeth catching on the gears, causing it to scream. Vrrr! I close my eyes and shudder, picturing how he keeps stabbing that plastic spear into the heart of the engine, just to see how loud it will roar before he lets it go. Vrrr! Vrrr!
Vrrr!

“Shel? Did you hear me?”

Breathe.

I roll my lips together in a tight line and hold up my finger, silently asking him to give me a moment. I choke back the fear that’s flooding me right now. I know how much the next words out of my mouth matter. I can’t dissolve. I can’t lash back at him. I can’t say anything I will regret. I have to stand up and let the wave crash into me. It doesn’t have to knock me down. I won’t let it.

Recap.

“Yes. I hear you.” I take his hands and visually strip every strand of sarcasm off my tongue. “Let me assure you, there’s no reason Toby needs for you to protect him . . . from me.”

He opens his mouth.

“I hear you,” I continue. “I hear you saying I’m responsible for creating distance in our marriage because I won’t ignore this John Robberson thing.”

He nods.

“You think my friendship with Lakshmi is keeping me from confiding in you. And your feelings are hurt because you think I’m not taking your perspective into account.”

“Yes.”

“You are worried, very worried, about Toby and how this affects him. And, I guess, you’re disappointed in me, because you think I’m being gullible and irrational. Do I have that right?”

“Yes.”

I exhale shakily.

“But you’re not saying, are you, that you don’t love me anymore?” My voice cracks at the end, and I hate myself for it.

“Shel.”

I wipe my cheeks with the back of my hand. “Right? I don’t hear you saying you’re ready to give up on our family, do I?”

“No. Not yet.”

“Okay.”

This recap thing works. I can see why men get good at this; it’s a relief to compartmentalize it. You can’t think and feel at the same time. I’m choosing to think because I can’t afford to uncork everything I feel. Not in this moment. I can do that later. Right now, I have to force myself to say everything from his point of view.

“So, bottom line, you’re saying that my interest in John Robberson is out of control.”

“Yes.”

“You’re . . . rather offensively . . . suggesting that it’s more than an interest—that it’s some catastrophic shift in my fundamental”—I make the tectonic-plates movement with my hands, now making him cringe—“belief system.” I glare at him. “Do I have that right?”

He nods.

“So. If you see that I
can
control it, if I stop researching, stop talking to Toby about it, draw a boundary with Lakshmi, tell you the truth about where I am with it . . . basically, you need to see that I’ve got it settled in my mind.”

“Shel.”

“Just tell me: if I can do that, will it resolve the issue?”

He says, “That’s why I went to see Anna. I don’t know if you
can
get it settled in your mind, Shel. I mean, come on. You thought you smelled our dead dog tonight. And you think that holds a hidden meaning. So I don’t know.”

“I’ll get a grip on it. I promise.”

“Maybe we need some time apart—”

“Don’t.” I hold his gaze and force myself not to cry any harder.

He’s the one who looks away. “Fix it,” he says. “If you can.”

“I can.”

“I’m not so sure.”

“Give me time. You’ll see.”

He goes to sleep in the guest room. Our marriage bed feels like one of those overhyped mattresses where one partner’s setting is ninety degrees lower than the other’s. His side is now at zero. Instead of being comforted that I can have it my way, all I can feel is the resulting hump in the middle, a barrier that keeps us apart. Tears run into my ears as I lie flat on my back, hollow and anxious, the full weight of our conversation pressing on me until I can almost feel the slats of the box spring on my spine.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

MAD ABOUT THE DOG

S
orry we’re late,” I say to Lakshmi as I join her on the blanket spread under the tree. I wanted to cancel our standing play date but felt it wasn’t fair to Toby. The boys head off toward the slide and I turn away, not allowing myself the opportunity to notice what version of the game they will play today.

“So, I want to hear! What did Eric say?”

It feels like I’ve aged twenty years since Vaughn Redford asked me about my dead dog.

“He didn’t believe me . . .” my voice trails off.

“Are you okay? You don’t sound like yourself.”

I smile but feel my eyes rim red. She squeezes my hand and waits.

“We had a horrible fight last night. Somehow we got from Thud, which I thought would make him feel better, to my mom, to talking about his accident, and the next thing I know—”

“He tells you you’re crazy.” Lakshmi finishes for me. “That’s his default position, you know, when you don’t agree with him.”

In the past, I’ve felt I could tell Lakshmi anything, but I’ve never needed to tell her that my husband left my bed, that he loves me less today than yesterday, that the connection with my soul mate might be less eternal than I want to believe possible. If I fix it, I don’t actually have to say that out loud to anyone. And maybe it won’t be true.

“Why is he so defensive about this?” she asks.

I rub my eyes in an attempt to camouflage my involuntary tears. If I start crying out here in the park, I may never stop. “Gawd! I just want John Robberson to go away.”

“You know what to do. It’s a puzzle with only one missing piece.” She twists her hair into a ponytail, a gesture as familiar as her tone. “John Robberson wants Toby to go see Kay. Obviously, he’s using Toby to get a message to her. I know you don’t like it, but that’s all he’s wanted for weeks.”

“I know.”

“Then give him what he wants! Have you ever thought of this from his perspective? Put the pieces together. You’ve got an Air Force fighter pilot who survived a plane crash in Vietnam. Voluntarily or not, he leaves the military and becomes a fire chief. This man spent his life with a front-row seat to trauma. He’s seen and done worse things than you can imagine. I’m willing to bet he’s no rank-and-file follower, Shelly. He’s used to taking risks, and he’s used to getting his way. He’s a spirit with unfinished business with his wife. If you help him with his marriage, maybe it will help you with yours.”

Or destroy mine. The involuntary tears again. I dig in my bag until I find something to throw away.

On the way to the trash can, I look over at the boys and see they’ve added a new twist to the fireman game. Sanjay is on all fours, barking like a dog, inside the plastic cube at the top of the connecting slides.

“I’m coming in to get you!”

Toby climbs up the ladder of the closest set of monkey bars, fighting off imaginary flames on the way. It comes to me like an echo in my head: Kay gets mad when you go back for the dog.

I turn my back and walk over to Lakshmi, so I don’t see Toby jump or fall or trip or get shoved by an angry spirit or whatever happens next. All I hear is a dull whack, a splay of gravel—and silence.

Sanjay calls out, “Mommy!” and points to Toby lying facedown under the monkey bars.

We both turn. In an adrenaline sprint, I reach him while he’s still inhaling his scream. His face shudders, trying to find a recognizable place for the pain to land, but he’s in unchartered water here. He’s moving. He’s conscious. I see him curl up, roll onto his back. With one hand clamped to his mouth, his eyes search me for an explanation.

“Let me see, baby.”

I pry his hand away from his mouth. Through the bloody drool running down his chin, I see a gooey gap where his baby teeth used to be. Before I can tell him not to look, he sees, for the first time, his own bright red blood, mixed with dirt and slobber, a shocking gory mess, dripping from his fingers down his wrist. He thrusts his sticky hand in my face, shaking it, saying, “Bwud! Bwud!”

I cover his hand with mine and bring it to my lips. I kiss his palm and say, “It’s okay, baby. Breathe.”

He collapses into me. Lakshmi offers a package of moistened baby wipes and a makeshift ice pack.

Keeping my voice calm, I inspect him systematically; I test his pupils, his bones, his skull. He’s surprised that even though his hand has blood on it, it does not actually hurt. His lip is starting to swell. His tooth is gone. A baby tooth.

I know it was going to fall out anyway, but just for today, I need for John Robberson to give me a fucking break. More than anything, I wish I could believe this was a harmless accident. Against my will, my eyes once again fill to capacity with tears. I blink them away.

“Did you see what happened, Sanjay?”

“I was the dog, and he was saving me from the fire.”

Toby says, “Don’t be mad, Mommy.”

I hug him and shake my head.

Lakshmi says, “Don’t be silly. Why would she be mad, Toby?”

“Kay gets mad about the dog.”

Lakshmi raises her eyebrows and lowers her voice. “See what I mean? It’s time to get him to say that to Kay. Whether he wants to or not.”

She has no idea what that would cost.