Page 119 of Dear Mr. Brody

“I don’t know,” I said and rubbed the bridge of my nose.

I hadn’t spoken to Parker since he walked away from me on Saturday. He’d said what we had together wasn’t worth it. He and Marcos hadn’t shown up for class on Monday. Those facts alone led me to think maybe we had broken up. That wasn’t true either. He’d told me I had to figure out what I wanted, but I’d known what I wanted for a while now. Him. It was an easy choice. All it would take was a phone call and I could fix this, fix this fucking crack in my chest that pinched and split every time I took a breath. But I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t call him because it would turn into another argument about who should sacrifice what. He’d say I’d resent him, and I’d say he’d resent me, and round and fucking round we’d go. No. I had to fix this another way.

Anne didn’t say anything more, but her watchful gaze never wavered as I moved through the motions of making dinner. Tuesdays she usually stayed with me, but she had a dentist appointment in the morning. I had an early meeting, or I would’ve taken her myself. Lanie would be here to pick her up in an hour, and I didn’t want to be a broody asshole for the rest of the night. My time with my daughter was limited enough already. I put the pot on the stove to boil and plastered on a smile.

“You know… Mom saidThe Day After Tomorrowis playing at the old dollar theater we used to go to.”

“No way.” She practically bounced off her stool. “Can we go?”

“I don’t see why not. Maybe Friday.”

“Yes.” She pumped her fist, all traces of worry gone from her eyes. “Yes, yes, yes.”

I laughed as I opened up the box of penne pasta. “I’ll even let you put butter on the popcorn.”

She cracked up, her head falling forward. “And salt.”

“All the salt,” I said, and for the moment it didn’t hurt to breathe.

With Anne here, eagerly chatting away about snowstorms and ice ages, it was easier to forget how shitty the last three days had been. It was easier to forget about the choices I had to make. But once dinner had been cooked, and cleaned up, and the doorbell rang, an old but familiar loneliness had begun to settle in for the night.

“Sorry I’m late,” Lanie said as she walked into the kitchen. “I had to drop Matt at work.” She mussed her fingers through Anne’s hair and bent down to kiss her cheek. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah.” Anne slid off her stool, and I laughed at the dejected glare she sent in her mother’s direction. “I have to go to the bathroom first.”

Lanie stared at her as she walked away. “She’s grumpy.”

“She hates it when you mess up her hair.”

“She does?”

“Oh yeah,” I said and set the pot I’d finished washing onto the rack next to the sink to dry.

“Well, shit.” Lanie plopped down onto one of the stools. “How was your day?”

“Like every other day.”

“Uh-oh.”

“What?”

“Something happen at work?” she asked.

The pinch returned, deeper this time with everything I wasn’t sure how to say.

“Van.” She reached across the counter and covered my hand with hers. “You can talk to me. We’re divorced, but you were my best friend once too.”

“We were.” I lowered my head. “I miss that.”

“Then, talk to me.”

“I’ve been seeing someone,” I admitted, but kept my eyes on the counter. “It’s getting serious… and I think…” I swallowed through my hesitation. “I love him, Lanie. And I don’t know what to do. I messed up.”

“Him?”

“His name is Parker.” I lifted my head and was met with glassy eyes and wet lashes. “Lanie, I—”

She wiped at her eyes, her smile trembling as she said, “I’m happy for you, Van. Truly. I just wish… You could have told me. I would have understood. I should be shocked, but I’m not… you’ve always been, I don’t know. Like maybe, not all there? But you found it.” She squeezed my hand before letting go. “The thing you were missing.”

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