Keep Me Posted (27 page)

Sid got busy with Lulu’s breakfast, and I kept watch at the window. When I
saw movement in the tent, I ran to pour the cocoa into the four mugs I’d set on the tray and rushed out to the yard before they could come inside.

Leo was unzipping the tent as I stood there inches from the opening, smiling and holding my tray and feeling just a little silly and desperate.

“Hey,” he said sleepily, stepping into his boots.

The sight of him first thing in the morning was not something I’d experienced in almost two weeks, and it filled me with emotion. The tray of steaming-hot beverages prevented it, but I longed to wrap my arms around him and nestle my head into his neck.

“Cocoa?” I said.

The boys stumbled out, and Leo helped them put their shoes on before they stepped onto the dewy grass.

We sat around the fire pit, the boys bundled in their sleeping bags, and sipped from our steaming mugs for only a couple minutes before Joey had to pee. I took him in and then brought him back, trading him for Quinn and bringing Leo a coffee. Soon the boys were cold and wanted breakfast, so I told them to go on in. There were muffins and bananas on the table.

“We’ll be there in a few minutes,” I promised. “Aunt Sid and Lulu are in the kitchen. Go ahead.”

When they were gone I turned to Leo, but he spoke first. “So I told the boys last night. I’m taking the week off of work and getting away for a bit.”

“Getting away?”

“Yeah. Stevie has to drive up to Boston for meetings, so I’m going to keep him company. I’ll be back Friday.”

We were supposed to be out of the house on Saturday morning, and I’d hoped to have some things between us resolved by then, things like,
Where do I go when I leave here?

“And then?”

“I don’t know. I need to think.” Then he said something about needing to get to Midtown by nine thirty and asked if I minded taking down the tent once the condensation dried.

“Sure. Take care, hon.”

“Bye, Cass,” he said, turning and walking toward the house.

O
n Thursday night I sat out back around the fire with Sid, feeling blue that my time with her was coming to an end, that things with Leo were still unresolved, and about the threats and intimidation I’d employed to get the boys to stay in their beds that night. Jill and another Realtor had come to the house with prospective buyers on two separate occasions that week, and while the meeting with the Web people had gone well, it would take some time to integrate advertising and even more time to know if I’d really make any money from it. In other words, it was time to let go of the house.

On the upside, I’d picked up almost four hundred letters from the PO box, and had been so wrapped up in the blog that until now I hadn’t had time to preemptively mourn this house or my marriage, both of which seemed to be slipping away.

“I love it here,” Sid said, sighing.

“Me too. Our little halfway house for upper-middle-class women with broken marriages.”

She giggled.

“Honestly, I’m not sure I’m ready to be rereleased into society,” I said, taking a sip of peppermint tea and adding, “Why are you making me drink tea? I want wine.”

Ignoring this, she said, “So a couple of days ago, I got a settlement from Adrian.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. It was about six times what I thought it would be when he told me he wanted us to ‘be comfortable,’” she said, making air quotes.

“You’re kidding,” I said.

“No. I tried to get him to take some of it back. I don’t want guilt money from him. Plus, we don’t need much—now that River’s college is taken care of . . .”

“Keep the money!” I interrupted. “Think of it as his penalty for treating you so badly.”

“He wouldn’t take it back. So yeah, I’m keeping it.”

“Hold on. We really do need some wine.”

I went to fetch a bottle of red and two glasses from the kitchen and hurried back outside. I was excited for Sid and glad we’d have something else to do other than sit around feeling sad.

I kept trying to get her to tell me exactly how much she had, so we could start allocating it. I wanted to play a version of the game where you say all the things you’d do if you won the lottery. But she was rambling about farmers’ markets and schools and the cool yoga studio in town when it dawned on me:
Oh my God, she’s buying this house
.

I wish I could say my happiness was pure, but frustratingly, it churned up some complicated if-I-can’t-have-it-then-no-one-can type of feelings.

“Cass? Are you listening?”

“You’re buying this house,” I said, hoping my voice relayed only good feelings.

“So what do you think?” She was looking at me expectantly.

“I think it’s great. It’s amazing. I’ll see you all the time.”

“Well, yeah.”

“Yeah.” I nodded. I was shocked, and happy, but also felt an ugly pit growing in my stomach. Having survived high school with nary a boyfriend squabble, here I was fighting back a jealous urge to yell “Mine!” over a piece of real estate.

“Cass, are you hearing me? I want us all to live here together. Your family and Mine. There’s more than enough room, especially with the silo.”

“Sid!”

The mood had gone from subdued to hysterical. We were standing up and screaming at each other. I felt like a guest on
The Oprah Winfrey Show
who had just been given a new car out of the blue. Confused and elated, I asked her to walk me through it once more, hoping I’d missed the part where she’d talked to Leo and convinced him to come back. But even on her second explanation, I was distracted by the sinking feeling that even if Leo were open to reconciliation, he’d balk at the idea of Sid buying us a house.

“We’ll pay rent, of course,” I said.

“Sure. We’ll figure it all out,” she said.

By the time we’d finished the wine, I’d grown more determined than ever to put my family back together. I just hoped that Leo was missing me as much as I missed him. I’d find out soon enough. He was due back from Boston tomorrow.

Lying in my bed later, I checked the blog and my e-mail from my phone, as had become my presleep ritual. Minutes later I shot up and trotted down the hall to Sid’s room, still clutching my phone.

“Sid? Are you sleeping?”

“Cass? What is it?”

“Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Sure—come on in.”

I sat on the edge of her bed. “I don’t want you to buy this house for us. I want to help, too.”

“Of course. Of course you can.”

“No—I mean, I met with a Web marketing consultant the other day. She’s doing a reader survey and site-traffic analysis.”

“Okay.” She looked confused.

“Well, it’s too soon to really know for sure, but I just read an e-mail from her, and she thinks the blog can generate a few thousand a month—hopefully more. Enough to cover the mortgage payments, right?”

And with that, we had a plan. A plan I felt good about presenting to Leo.

I
woke the next morning to the sound of Joey’s favorite game being played on my phone. “Hey, guys,” I said. “Good morning.”

Joey said nothing but climbed into bed with me, fingers and eyes glued to my phone. I pulled him close and planted several kisses on the top of his head while he continued to play. Quinn was drinking from the water glass on my bedside table. When he finished, he looked at me and said, “Mama, do we live here now?”

I wondered for a moment if he’d been spying on Sid and me last night.

“Well, would you like it if we lived here?”

“Not New York City?” he said.

“We could take the train into the city and visit anytime we want. It’s only forty minutes to our apartment.”

“Can Dad live here, too?”

Gulp. “Yes.”

“Then yes. Come on. Let’s go get Dad.”

There was no note of silliness in his voice. He meant business.

I texted Leo.
Boys eager to see you. When you do get home?

Should be at the apt by 5.

We’ll meet you there for dinner. Cool?

Cool.

Since this was Quinn’s idea and because I was afraid that without the boys, Leo wouldn’t meet me, I didn’t consider going alone.

When we got to the apartment, Quinn and Joey dumped out a basket of dinosaurs and starting playing. I called for pizza and then washed my face and applied some blush and mascara. I went to the bedroom and found a simple black tank dress I knew Leo liked. Not wanting to look like I was trying too hard, I put on a denim shirt over the dress and tied my hair into my signature sloppy half bun, half ponytail. I found an iffy bag of baby carrots in the fridge, pulled the table out from the wall, and added the stepstool as a fourth chair. I was setting the table, considering lighting some candles, when I heard Leo’s keys jingle in the lock. Nervous, I started rearranging the place settings so I’d be busy when he came in. This moment was the most afraid I could remember feeling during those harrowing few months.

Leo barely had the door open when the boys launched themselves at him. I couldn’t see him from where I was hunched over the table, but I heard him say, “Hey, guys! What an awesome surprise. I thought I’d have to wait until tomorrow to see you.”

I made my way over to the entryway and leaned against the doorframe, hoping for some eye contact or maybe even a quick unstilted conversation about how his trip had gone.

“Yay! Dad’s back,” I said, and immediately winced because I worried that Leo would think I meant
back
back, and presumptuous was the last thing I was going for.

“Daddy, we are here to get you,” said Quinn.

I guess Quinn and I should have gone over the game plan ahead of time, because I wasn’t expecting him to just blurt it out like that. I had loosely planned on talking to Leo privately while the boys watched TV after pizza.

“Get me?” said Leo, as he pulled Quinn close for a hair tousle.

Leo looked back and forth between the boys while I tried to figure out how to insert myself into this conversation. With no better ideas, I decided to follow Quinn’s lead.

“That’s right,” I added matter-of-factly. “We’d like you to come back with us. For good.”

There. I’d said it. Leo stood up, looking (understandably) confused. The last he knew, the kids and I were meant to vacate the house and be back in the city—for good—tomorrow, his own place of residence TBD.

Quickly, I told him about the blog’s advertising plan and Sid’s financial windfall. We were technically still renting the house, but if everything went as planned, Sid, Leo, and I would soon own the house together. For the boys’ sake, I made it seem like the big decision here was whether or not to move. But, of course, the bigger question—that I couldn’t ask in front of the kids—was,
Will you come back to
me?

When I finished, Quinn and Leo stood looking at me while Joey retreated to the bedroom. Leo didn’t say anything, but he stared at me, an unreadable expression on his face. I fought my nervous instinct to keep talking, to sell him on the schools, the easy walk to the train station and quick commute, my hope that he’d help me run the blog and get a less demanding job closer to our new home, my openness to selling the apartment if we needed to. None of that mattered if he didn’t want to get back together. I forced myself to look back at him in silence, awaiting his answer to my unasked question.

The stare down continued for a few more seconds, until Leo broke into a slow smile. We hadn’t made real eye contact in quite some time, and it had a thrilling effect.
Say it
, I thought.
Say something that tells me yes.

Joey came back out of the bedroom, dragging a grocery bag filled with a random assortment of Leo’s clothes, and held it out to Leo. “So let’s go,” he said.

“Okay, bud,” Leo said, taking the bag from him. “Let’s go.”

We stood there, looking around at one another, me wondering if Leo’s “Okay, bud,” was my “yes,” when the buzzer rang.

I had forgotten about the pizza. With shaky hands, I paid the delivery guy, then set the pizza on the table and went to the bathroom. When I came out, Leo was helping the boys put their shoes and coats on.

My heart pounded as we walked purposefully up Hudson Street. I wanted to ask Leo,
Are we officially back together, or are you just going along with this for the kids’ sake?
Instead I went with, “Are we really going to let this pizza get cold?”

“Mom’s right, guys,” Leo said. “Let’s grab this bench and eat.”

On the bench outside of Hudson Bagels, with the huge open pizza box covering all four of our laps, I felt happy. When I lifted the cheese off of my slice and slopped it back into the box, I noticed Leo smile and shake his head—my lactose intolerance still a newish development—in what seemed closer to affection than annoyance, which heartened me considerably.

“So how’s the pizza in Westchester?” asked Leo.

This was my signal that it was really happening, my “yes.” Sitting there on that bench, on my way out of the city I thought I’d never leave with the husband I thought I might, I realized I had been wrong about both. The city was easy to leave. The husband’s the one who nearly left me, and whom I learned I wanted to keep more than anything.