Page 37 of Chasing the Horizon

When Victor was halfway up the stairs, he heard Esme interrupt a woman’s diatribe, saying, “Excuse me, could you tell me what’s going on?” She was feigning confusion, pretending to be older and less right than she was. In that way, she could get information and maybe halt the growing fire and animosity.

Victor was grateful to find Valerie upstairs. She was far down the hallway, on the other side of the pregnant woman’s mother, with her arms crossed. Valerie’s eyes found his, and Victor was suddenly dropped back into a beautiful memory from long ago, wherein Valerie had had a panic attack at a birthday party, and Victor had had to go pick her up. He’d found her so lost, so sad, so alone, sitting in the corner of a children’s birthday party. Nobody had been paying attention to her.

In many respects, it was remarkable to see that his forty-two-year-old daughter was just the same as she’d been at eight. It was remarkable to know that he could still help her.

The mother of the pregnant woman was harshly whispering, “You and Max can get through this, honey. Plenty of men cheat. It’s who they are.”

Victor felt this like a knife through his gut. He stalled.

Plenty of men cheat. But why did they? Was it because they were weak? Was it because they were bad people? Was it because they didn’t know how to find happiness in the people who accepted them for who they were?

Victor stepped around the mother to reach Valerie, who pulled him into a side room and closed the door. The room seemed to be the future nursery, and it was decorated like a sad, beige Scandinavian nightmare. Victor guessed this was the trend these days. He picked up a beige blanket and wrinkled his nose.

“Dad,” Valerie said, her voice wavering, “thank you for coming. I didn’t know what to do.”

Victor put the blanket back down and looked at his daughter. “Tell me what happened.”

Valerie explained what she knew—Max had cheated on Catherine with a friend of hers and the wife of his friend. He wasn’t bothering to hide it and hadn’t been seen for a while.

“He abandoned her before Christmas, a couple of months before the baby’s due,” Valerie breathed. “I can’t imagine something more evil.”

What about abandoning your wife and family after the death of your son?

Victor shook the thought out.

“I thought maybe you could talk to her,” Valerie continued. “I thought maybe you could talk her down? I don’t know. I’m worried about her, Dad. And this is sort of your thing. I thought of you immediately. Here in Manhattan. I figured it was a sign.”

Victor looked at her with curiosity and realized he was a sort of superhero to some people. He saved people.

Why had he forgotten that?

Then again, was he still capable of it?

Victor steeled himself and went back into the hallway. When the mother of the pregnant woman raised her hand to slam against the door again, he got closer to her and said, “Excuse me, ma’am. My name is Dr. Victor Sutton. I’m a licensed psychiatrist and—”

But she interrupted him immediately. “I know you! I have three of your books at home!”

Her eyes glinted, and she stepped back to let him pass.

Victor thought,Oh great.But if it worked, it worked. Suddenly, he was at the door, his forehead on the wood, trying to reason with the pregnant woman.

Catherine was her name. He wanted to remember that.

“Catherine? My name is Victor,” he said. “I’m Valerie’s father.”

There was quiet on the other side of the door. No sobbing, at least. Victor took this as a cue to keep going.

“Maybe you heard me already. I’m a licensed psychiatrist and, yeah…” Victor stalled, feeling suddenly nervous. He didn’t want to put on airs in front of this woman, even if he couldn’t see her. “But mostly, I’m here to check on you. I know how hard it is to lose people you love. I know how hard it is to fathom what comes next or who you are within this new context. I know, too, how hard it is to try to continue to ‘be’ someone for your friends and your family.” He glanced back at the mother, who seemed unable to fathom she’d done anything wrong.

“I wonder if you’d let me in?” Victor asked after a long moment of silence.

It took a little while for Catherine to open the door. When she did, Victor found her tear-soaked; eyeliner and mascara streaked down her cheeks. She kept the door open long enough for Victor to enter, then closed it again. She didn’t want her mother anywhere near her.

Despite the beautiful things in her bedroom—the expensive desk and the gorgeous wardrobe—Catherine didn’t currently look like she came from money. She looked tired, bloated, and annoyed. She sat at the edge of her bed and put her hands around her stomach.

Victor knew he needed to calm her down.

But before he could say anything, she spoke to the floor. “My husband left me. He left me, and I’ve spent the past two weeks pretending nothing is wrong.”

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