The Weight of Small Things (25 page)

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Authors: Sherri Wood Emmons

Tags: #Fiction, #Contemporary Women, #General, #Psychological

BOOK: The Weight of Small Things
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48
O
n a snowy day in February, Corrie pulled into the driveway of the house she’d shared with Mark. The F
OR
S
ALE
sign was now topped with a bright red bar, proclaiming, SOLD!
She sat in her car for a few minutes, then got out and pulled her key from her purse. The back door creaked open, the way it always had. The kitchen was clean and bare. The blue and white stripes she loved so much brought tears to her eyes.
“Hey,” Mark called from the front of the house. “Is that you?”
“It’s me.” Corrie set her purse on the breakfast bar and walked slowly into the living room, where Mark leaned against the mantle.
“How are you?” he asked, staring at her slightly rounded belly.
“I’m good.”
They stood awkwardly for a moment, then he said, “There are a few things upstairs I thought you might want.”
She nodded and followed him up the stairs, stopping at the top to stare into the nursery, still decorated in Beatrix Potter. She squeezed her eyes tight, willing herself not to cry.
“Here,” Mark called from the bedroom they’d shared.
She walked into the nearly empty room and concentrated hard on not crying.
“I think this was your dad’s, right?” Mark pointed to a globe on a stand in the corner of the room.
“Yeah,” she said softly. She put her hand on the globe and set it spinning, just the way her father had done when she was small. He would spin the world and let her stop it with her finger, then tell her all about the place her finger had landed.
“And there are a few things in the closet I wasn’t sure about.”
She sorted through clothes, putting some into a bag and piling the rest on the floor.
“Goodwill is coming tomorrow,” Mark said. “You can just leave what you don’t want there.”
In the guest room, she pulled a few books from the pile on the floor and dropped them into the bag, too.
“Are you sure you don’t want anything from the nursery?” Mark stopped in front of the room and looked around. “I know you loved this stuff.”
Corrie walked past him, shaking her head, blinking back tears.
“Okay,” he said, following her down the stairs. “Well, somebody will love it.”
In the kitchen, Corrie added three cookbooks to her bag.
“I guess that’s it,” she said. She pulled the house key from her key chain and set it on the counter.
“I guess so.” Mark stood in the middle of the room, staring at the floor.
“Are you going to look for a house?” Corrie asked, unwilling to leave just yet.
“No, I’m okay in the apartment. I don’t need all this space.”
They stood quietly, then Mark asked, “How do you like your new place?”
“It’s okay.” Corrie shrugged. “We’re having a hard time trying to find space for everything. Are you sure you don’t want the sideboard?”
He smiled and shook his head. “I’ve got nowhere to put it. Maybe you should call Goodwill, too.”
“Maybe.”
Corrie looked around the kitchen one more time, then picked up her bag.
“I guess that’s it,” she said again.
She walked to the back door.
“Corrie?” Mark’s voice was soft, hesitant.
She turned to look at him.
“Take care of yourself, okay?” He didn’t meet her eyes.
“I will. You too.”
She carried the bag of clothes and books to the car, then returned for the globe. Mark watched as she closed the trunk and got in the car. He was still watching when she pulled away.
 
“Was it pretty gruesome?” Bryn took the bag from Corrie in front of their house.
“Yeah, it was.”
“Well, at least it’s over.”
Corrie nodded, pulling the globe from the trunk.
“Where are you going to put that?” Bryn eyed the globe with suspicion. There was not a single square inch of space available in the living room.
“In the baby’s room,” Corrie said, smiling at the globe. “A little bit of her grandpa.”
She carried the globe into the empty nursery, now painted a pale mint green.
“There,” she said, standing the globe in the corner. “Now she has something in her room.”
Bryn put her hand on Corrie’s shoulder and squeezed.
“You know, Bob said I could use his crib. I’m sure he’d let you use it.”
“No,” Corrie said. “I mean, that’s sweet. But I really am going to buy something.”
“Well, you have a while.”
The doorbell jarred them both.
“Who could that be?” Bryn walked into the living room and peeked out the front door.
“Oh hell,” she breathed.
“Who is it?” Corrie walked into the room.
“Paul.” Bryn backed away from the door, shaking her head.
“Do you want me to tell him you’re not here?”
Bryn stood a moment, then sighed again.
“No,” she said. “I guess I’ll talk to him.”
“Well, I’m right here if you need me. I’ll be in the kitchen. Just yell.”
“Thanks.”
Bryn opened the front door and stared at Paul.
“Hey,” he said, smiling. “How are you?”
“I’m okay,” she said, not stepping aside from the door.
“Can I come in?”
After a long pause, she stepped backward so he could enter the house.
“This is nice,” he said, looking around the room. “Like a real house.”
“What do you want, Paul?”
He took off his coat and draped it over the wing chair, then settled onto the couch.
“I thought we should probably talk,” he said.
She sat across from him in the rocking chair and waited.
“Is Corrie here?” he asked, looking around.
“She’s in the kitchen.”
“Oh . . . okay.” He sat a moment, then said, “Here’s the deal. I didn’t get tenure at the university. But I’ve got a job offer from the University of Kentucky. It’s in Lexington, just a couple hours away.”
“Oh,” she said. “Well, good. I mean good for you. I’m glad you’ve got a job.”
“And I think you should come with me.” Paul leaned forward, his hands on his knees.
“It’s a good job,” he said. “Tenure-track. I think I could do well there. And it’s better money. And . . . and I think you should come with me.”
He sat back, waiting for her response.
Bryn simply watched him.
“Come on, Bryn. I want you to come with me. We can start over—you, me, and the baby. I’ll get us a house with a yard and a studio for you. We can be a family. Don’t you want that?”
Still she said nothing.
“Are you seeing someone else?” he asked finally.
“No,” she said.
He relaxed a bit and smiled. “So, you’re alone. I’m alone. We don’t need to be alone, baby. We can be together. Don’t you want the baby to have a father?”
“Not if that father is a pot-smoking drunk.” Her voice was flat.
“Okay, fair enough.” He leaned forward again. “I’ve stopped smoking weed.”
Her eyes widened.
“I mean it. I haven’t had anything for over a month. I gave my whole stash to Larry.”
“Okay,” she said.
“And I’ve cut back on the drinking. Way back. Like just a beer, maybe two, on the weekend. And I’m trying to quit smoking. That one’s a killer, but I’m trying.”
She sat back, letting that sink in.
“I really am trying, Bryn. I want to be a father to this baby. I want to be with you. I want us to get married, the whole nine yards.”
She shook her head. It was too much to believe.
“I know you have to think about it. I know you probably don’t believe me. Can we just see each other? Just like . . . date, like we were going to before? Can we just give it a try?”
“When are you going to Lexington?”
“In August, when my lease is up.”
She said nothing.
“So, that gives us a while to work things out,” he continued. “That’s, like, six months. You’ll see, I can do this. I can be a family guy.”
She shook her head again.
“Don’t say no.” Paul rose and reached for his coat. “Just think about it, will you? Just think about how good it will be for us to raise this baby together.”
He crossed the room and kissed the top of her head.
“Call me, okay?”
She nodded, not rising as he left.
“Are you all right?” Corrie stood by the chair, her hand on Bryn’s shoulder.
“Yeah.”
“You don’t sound sure about that.”
Corrie sat down where Paul had been moments before, watching Bryn carefully.
“He sounded sincere,” Corrie said, sighing. “I mean, I know he’s been a jerk before, but he did sound sincere.”
Bryn shook her head. “He always sounds sincere when he wants something,” she said. “But he never follows through.”
“What if he does this time?”
Bryn didn’t answer.
“Do you want some tea?” Corrie asked.
“What I want is a whiskey sour!”
Corrie stared at her.
“Don’t worry,” Bryn said. “I didn’t say I was going to have one.”
Corrie smiled at her. “So, tea?”
“Yes.”
They sat at the table in the dining room with mint tea.
“What are you going to do?” Corrie asked.
“I don’t know.” Bryn set her cup on the table and rested her head in her hands.
“I mean, what if he can do it?” she asked, not looking at Corrie. “If he really can grow up and be a dad, am I just crazy to let him go?”
Corrie didn’t answer. After a long minute, she asked, “Do you still love him?”
Bryn shook her head. “I don’t know. I mean, I think I don’t. I know I don’t. And then he shows up and does that ‘I can be different’ routine, and I start wondering. Maybe I do love him. Is that crazy?”
“Love is always crazy,” Corrie said, smiling.
“Do you think I should give him another chance?”
Corrie shook her head. “I don’t know. I think you have to do what you want to do.”
They sat in silence.
“I think what you really want is to go back to Bob’s,” Corrie said softly.
Bryn stared at her, then rose, carrying her cup to the kitchen.
“That’s not going to happen,” she said.
“I didn’t say it would,” Corrie replied. “I just said I think that’s what you really want.”
Bryn walked to the front room and pulled on her parka.
“I’m going for a walk,” she announced.
Corrie watched her cross the street into the park. Then she called Bob.
49
“S
o, what’s up?” Bob smiled when he opened the front door.
“Are the boys here?” Corrie looked past him into the living room.
“They’re with Wendy this weekend. Are you okay?”
She smiled as she took off her coat. “I’m fine. It’s Bryn I’m worried about.”
“What’s up with Bryn?”
“Paul came over today.”
“Great.” Bob sat down on the couch. “Is she upset?”
“I think so. I don’t know. He’s got a tenure-track position at the University of Kentucky. He wants Bryn to go with him.”
“She’s not seriously considering it, is she?” He stared at her, eyes wide.
“I don’t know. I can’t tell.”
Bob sighed heavily. “I guess she still loves him, then.”
“I don’t know that, either.” Corrie paused, then plunged ahead. “She told me what happened, that you kissed her.”
Bob shook his head. “I know, it was a mistake.”
“Maybe,” Corrie agreed. “But I watch you guys together and, honestly, Bob, you just seem to fit. It’s like you’re an old married couple. And I know she loves the boys and I know she misses them . . . and you.”
Bob stared at her again.
“She made it pretty clear she didn’t want me,” he said softly.
“Because she thinks you’re still hung up on Wendy,” Corrie said.
Bob rose and began pacing the living room.
“How do you feel about her?” Corrie asked.
“Who, Wendy?”
“No, Bryn. How do you feel about Bryn?”
Bob stopped pacing and stood for a minute, staring out the window.
“I don’t know,” he said finally. “I mean, I love Bryn. She’s my friend. She has been for a long time. And having her here was great, really great. She’s fun and she’s smart and she’s great with the boys.”
“And?”
“And . . . she’s beautiful and annoying and sexy and frustrating and wonderful. And she’s probably still in love with Paul. And even if I wanted to, I can’t go after her. Not now. I just got divorced. It’s too soon. She thinks she’d just be my transition relationship.”
“Do you think that?”
He sighed heavily. “I don’t know, Corrie. But I am not going to do anything to ruin our friendship. And I don’t want to start a relationship with Bryn and then lose her. I couldn’t take that. And neither could the boys.”
“Okay,” Corrie said softly. “I just had to find out.”
“I hope to God she doesn’t go back to Paul!” Bob’s voice exploded into the room.
“Me too,” Corrie agreed. “Me too.”
 
When Corrie got home, Bryn was in the kitchen making brownies, music blaring from the computer.
“Hey,” she said, looking up from the bowl. “Where have you been?”
“I went in to the office,” Corrie lied. “I had to pick up a file.” She patted her bag.
“You work too much.” Bryn poured batter into the pan.
“So, are you okay?”
“Yeah,” Bryn said.
“Are you mad at me?”
“No.” She put the brownies in the oven. “I mean, I was pissed at first, but I know you just want me to be happy.”
She turned to face Corrie.
“You’re wrong about Bob,” she said. “I’m not pining for him, wishing I could go back. He’s a friend, and that’s that.”
“Okay,” Corrie said. “And what about Paul?”
“Paul is a jerk,” Bryn said firmly. “He can’t change. He’ll never change. I’m glad he’s going to Lexington. Out of sight, out of mind.”
“Okay,” Corrie said again. “Well, good for you.”
Bryn hugged her tightly, then said, “Don’t worry, Mom. I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”

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