Nicholas Sparks - Two by Two

“You look great, too, Liz. Are you sure the two of you weren’t secretly at Canyon Ranch the whole time?”

“Thank you. But no,” she said. “It was all just good old-fashioned hiking and sightseeing. And like Marge, I kept my servings of rice and beans to a minimum.”

“I’m jealous. I’ve stopped losing weight, even though I’m still running.”

“How are things?” Marge asked. “When I talked to Mom last night, she said you landed some new clients? Let’s go out back and talk for a while.”

“All right. Let me say hi to Mom and Dad and I’ll meet you outside in a few.”

Visiting with my parents took fifteen minutes-Mom didn’t bring up the cancer , thank goodness-and I found my sister and Liz on the back patio, both of them drinking tall glasses of sweet tea.

For the next hour, we talked about their trip-the zip-lines, Arenal volcano, hikes through the cloud forest and near the coast-and I caught them up on all that had been going on in my world. Just as that part of the conversation was coming to a close, my mom popped her head out and asked Liz if she’d mind giving her a hand in the kitchen.

“So… you were told you had to communicate through attorneys, but then she showed up at the house and acted as if everything were normal?”

I nodded. “Don’t ask me to explain it. I’m just thanking God for small favors.”

“What I still don’t understand is why Vivian got London for both her birthday and on Halloween. You should get London for some of the fun things, too.”

“It’s just the way the weekends are falling.”

Marge didn’t seem satisfied with this explanation, but apparently decided to let it drop. “How do you feel about selling the house?”

“I guess I’m torn. We don’t need a place that big-to be honest, we never really did-but at the same time, there are a lot of memories there. Anyway, I don’t have much of a choice. Even though my business is finally taking off, it’s not like I’ll have enough in the bank to pay Vivian off when we sign the papers.” I paused. “It’s hard for me to believe it’s been almost two months since she walked out the door. In some ways, it seems like yesterday. In other ways, it feels like forever.”

“I can’t imagine,” Marge said. She turned her head and covered her mouth, coughing from somewhere deep in her chest.

“You’re still sick?”

“No,” she answered. “This is just a remnant from the bronchitis. Apparently it can take the lungs months to heal, even when the inflammation is gone. I felt pretty good in Costa Rica, but right now, I need a vacation from my vacation. Liz kept us on the go the whole time-I’m still wiped out. And my knees are killing me from all the hiking.”

“Hiking is good exercise, but it’s rough on the joints,” I conceded.

“Speaking of which, let me know if you and Emily ever want to go hiking with Liz and me. It’ll be like old times.”

“I will,” I said. At my answer, Marge tilted her head.

“Uh-oh. I’m sensing there’s trouble in paradise. Is there anything you’re not telling me?”

“Not really,” I hedged. “I just don’t know where the relationship is going.”

Marge scrutinized me. “Why can’t you just be happy with what you have with her right now? Because it seems to me like she’s been a rock to you these past couple of months.”

“She has.”

“Then just appreciate her for that, and let it be what it’s going to be.”

I hesitated. “Vivian thinks that hanging out Emily and the kids is confusing to London. And she’s right.”

Marge made a skeptical face, but in the end she folded her hands on the table and leaned toward me. “So don’t bring London and Bodhi,” she said pointedly. “Why don’t you just try going out with her?”

“Like on a date?”

“Yes,” Marge said. “Like a date.”

“What about London?”

“Liz and I would be more than happy to babysit. And besides, didn’t you just say that London was going to be in Atlanta in a couple of weeks? Seize the day, little brother.”

On Halloween night, Vivian was unusually warm, even insisting that she take a photo of me with London on her phone, which she then texted to me right away. I handed out candy to the neighborhood kids. There were so many coming by the house, I sat in the rocking chair on the front porch so I wouldn’t have to keep getting up from the couch.

The next morning, I woke to a text from Vivian that said she’d be leaving around six, and could I try to be home by then?

On the way out the door that evening, she pulled me into a hug and whispered to me that I was doing a great job with London.

The first couple of weeks of November blurred together in a string of eighteen-hour days, marked by the routines that had become second nature. I exercised, worked, took care of London-who started back with piano lessons-cooked, cleaned, and made nightly calls to Emily. Thanks to my new clients, I was so busy that I didn’t even have time to swing by my parents the following weekend, nor visit with Marge and Liz even once. A few things from that period do stand out in my memory, however.

The week after Halloween, I had a Realtor come by so I could put the house up for sale. She walked through and asked a lot of questions; toward the end, she suggested that I rearrange the furniture, to show the rooms to better effect. One by one, at her suggestion, the pieces ended up back where Vivian had originally placed them. Before she left, she retrieved a mallet from her car and pounded a bright red realty sign into the yard out front.

The sight of the sign made something sink inside me, and out of instinct, I called Emily. As usual, she brought me back onto solid ground, even encouraging me with the prospect of turning to a fresh page in my life, in a new home. Maybe it was the prospect of Vivian taking London to Atlanta for the weekend, but as the conversation was winding down, I found myself thinking about Marge’s suggestion that I ask Emily out. Before I could gather my courage, however, Emily spoke up.

“Russ, I’ve been meaning to ask you-would you like to accompany me to the opening of the art show I told you about? The one that’s going to include a few of my paintings?”

She sounded a bit nervous, and I could almost picture her smoothing her hair behind her ear, the way she always did when she was anxious. “I mean, it’s fine if you can’t, but since the opening is the weekend when London’s going to be in Atlanta, I thought…”

“I’d love to,” I interrupted. “I’m so glad you asked.”

As the weekend of November thirteenth approached, I helped London prepare for her trip to Atlanta, which took more time than I thought it would. London was excited at the idea of visiting Vivian in her new apartment, and packed and repacked her suitcase four or five times. She fretted for days over what to bring, ultimately packing several different outfits, in addition to Barbies, coloring books, crayons, and the book Two by Two . Vivian had texted that she would pick London up at five, which I interpreted to mean she’d drive both ways. Of course, I’d forgotten about Spannerman’s private jet, but I was reminded of that as soon as the limousine pulled to a stop in front of the house.

I carried London’s bag to the car and handed it to the driver. By then, London had crawled into the limousine and was already exploring the plush interior.

It hurt to see her leaving, even if she was with her mom.