Page 52 of Look on the Bright Side

Yes, this woman Gerald was married to was a workaholic. Long days, very prestigious in the community, always trying to improve and move up. She gave her all to being successful, not leaving much left over for time together.

It was a punch in the stomach. No time together? They did everything together! Every dinner, every weekend, every family event…together. The only time she went away was a sleepover at Grace’s house when she was visiting their parents. Not much time together. Bullshit.

“He told Camille how much he wanted to travel, especially to South America so he could do some mountain climbing. Joy, he has never once said anything like that to me! He’s in love with the Andes,” she said, making air quotes. “News to me! And how could we afford that kind of a vacation?”

Joy shook her head. “Okay, cut to the chase. Did they have sex?”

Ellie looked out the window. “I…I don’t think so. Not according to this.” She handed the iPad back over to Joy, not able to look at it anymore. “But I think he…well. You read it.” She practically had it memorized by now, anyway.

Camille and Gerald had met for lunch in Boston’s North End at the end of October. I just wish they hadn’t kicked us out! Camille said. I could’ve listened to you for days. Can’t remember the last time I laughed so hard.

Me too. So great seeing you. You haven’t changed one bit.

You’re too sweet. The years look great on you!! I always knew you’d get more handsome as you got older. We have to get together again soon.

Definitely! I’ll check my schedule.

Lunch with an old high school crush would’ve been…well, not great. But not the worst thing, either. It was the way he talked about her. His wife of thirty-eight years. How he painted her as tense and preoccupied. He admired her, he said, but it was hard, being married to an artist. Always in her head, being creative and thinking about what’s next. Doesn’t have much time for boring old me. Can’t blame her.

The obvious fishing for compliments worked like a charm on stupid Camille.

Boring??? The opposite, I think! Seriously, I LOVE talking to you. You have the best sense of humor, Gerry! And I don’t know, I feel closer to you than I do with most people. Probably because we go back so far. Anyway, have a sparkling day! Xox

A sparkling day. Gack.

Gerald had replied, You too! And…

Yes?

I really like talking to you, too. I feel like my old self again.

A day or two later, he was telling Camille about how excited he was, because his (not “their”) grandson would be visiting for a long weekend over Christmas.

More cute little exchanges, more flirting, more personal things about their family. He missed his mom. She’d been a saint, an “old-fashioned wife.” Ellie felt those words like a knife in her chest. Louisa had been a substitute teacher once Gerald started first grade, then later opened the bookstore Harlow now ran. But back then, it had been more of a hobby. Louisa hadn’t needed to make money to pay off their debt, because they didn’t have debt. Robert made a very healthy salary as an attorney.

A lot of Wellfleet families were wealthy, even before the Cape had become quite so expensive. Ellie had never yearned to open a gallery, not with five school-age children. She’d had to. And Gerald had been so supportive of it. Only now, talking to this slutty, wealthy Camille, suddenly he carried the burden of raising the kids.

“ ‘Since Elsbeth is so caught up with work, I do most of the grandparenting myself,’ ” Joy read. “That’s not true, is it? I mean, it doesn’t seem to be, from what I’ve seen.”

“No! It’s not true! Not at all. God, Joy! I want to stab him. I loved him yesterday, and I hate him today.”

“ ‘Same with the house and property,’ ” Joy read. “All on my shoulders, but I’m pretty handy and enjoy the work.’ ”

“I wish he took care of the house and property!” Ellie said. “He’s been promising to paint the downstairs bathroom for twenty years!”

“ ‘She sounds high maintenance. Do you have any time just to do your things?’ Oh, wow. That’s nervy.”

“Tell me about it.”

That line had made her screech when she’d read it this morning, rage-sipping coffee in her office. “He has all day, Camille!” she’d yelped. “All fucking day. He has no things. He putters. He moves shit from one place to another. He starts things and doesn’t finish them, and he texts women he knew fifty years ago.”

“Everything good, Boss?” came Meeko’s voice.

“I’m on the phone!” she barked. “Don’t disturb me, please.” Then she felt guilty, so she stood up and opened the door. “I appreciate you holding down the fort today, Meeko.”

“Is nothing.”

It’s your job, she thought, closing the door again. Back to the iPad to learn about this neglected, noble, underappreciated man named Gerry. Then…

---