Nicholas Sparks - Two by Two

“What do you mean?”

“It’s hard to describe, but Marguerite and Grace always knew how to say the right thing at the right time, in just the right way. Jess and Dianne didn’t. Sometimes, they offered advice I didn’t want to hear, or they questioned whether I was doing the right thing when what I really needed was reassurance.”

Considering this, I wondered who I would lean on. Marge and Liz, obviously, but they sort of counted as one person. I already knew my mom would get too emotional, and my dad wouldn’t know what to say. As for friends, it dawned on me that I didn’t really have any. Between work and my family, I’d let most of my friendships wilt on the vine in the years since London was born.

“Marge and Liz have been great,” I said.

“I figured they would be. I always liked Marge.”

The feeling is mutual, I thought.

The waiter delivered two glasses of wine. Emily reached for her glass. “We should make a toast,” she said. “To Marge, Liz, Marguerite, Grace, Bodhi, and London.”

“The kids, too?”

“Bodhi was the real reason I didn’t fall apart. Because of him, I couldn’t. It’ll be the same with London.”

I knew she was right as soon as she said it. “All right. But then, I feel like I have to put you in there, too. You’ve been pretty supportive so far.”

“And you can always call me any time.”

We fell into small talk then. I told her about London, while she spoke about Bodhi; she told me about some of the places she’d traveled in the years since we’d last seen each other. Perhaps because we’d already spoken exhaustively about Vivian and David, their names didn’t come up, and for the first time since Vivian had walked out the door, the anxiety I’d been feeling seemed to dissipate entirely.

The burgers eventually arrived and we each ordered a second glass of wine. The burger, as she’d predicted, was among the best I’d ever had. It was stuffed with cheese and topped with a fried egg, but because my recent lack of appetite had made my stomach shrink, I couldn’t eat more than half.

Our plates were cleared, but we lingered at the table, finishing our wine. She told me a story about Bodhi giving himself a haircut, laughing aloud when she showed me the picture on her cell phone. He’d lopped off, nearly down to the roots, an inch-wide chunk of hair in what used to be his bangs. His forehead shown through like a gap between teeth, but what made the photo priceless was his grin.

“That’s great,” I laughed. “How were you?”

“Initially I was upset, not only about his hair but that he’d gotten hold of the scissors in the first place. When I saw how proud of himself he was, though, I started to laugh. The next thing I knew, we were laughing together. Then I grabbed my phone. Now, this photo is framed and sits on my bedside table.”

“I’m not sure how I would have reacted if London had done that. And one thing I can say for sure: Vivian would not have laughed.”

“No?”

“She wasn’t a big laugher.” In fact, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d heard her laugh.

“Even with Marge? Marge used to crack me up all the time.”

“Especially with Marge. They don’t really get along that well.”

“How is that possible? Does she still tease you?”

“Mercilessly.”

Emily laughed again and I was reminded of how much I had always liked the sound of her laugh, melodic and genuine at the same time.

“You know what?” she said. “This day turned out a lot better than I thought it would. If you hadn’t come along, I don’t know what I’d be doing. Probably staring at my paintings in frustration. Or cleaning the house.”

“I’d probably be working.”

“This is way better.”

“Agreed. Would you like another glass?”

“Of course,” she said. “But I won’t. I have to drive. But go ahead if you want one.”

“I’m fine, too. What are you doing tonight?”

“Like you, I’ll be hanging out with my sister. You remember Jess? She and Brian invited me to dinner.”

“That sounds fun.”

“Mmm… not so sure. I sometimes wonder if Brian thinks I’m putting ideas in Jess’s head. Like about getting divorced.”

“Are they having troubles?”

“All married couples have troubles now and then. It kind of goes with the institution itself.”

“Why is marriage so hard?”

“Who knows? I think it’s probably because people get married without knowing who they really are in the first place. Or how they’re crazy.”

“Are you crazy?”

“Of course. And I don’t mean crazy-crazy. I mean, in the way that everyone is. One person might be too sensitive to perceived slights, or another might get really angry when they don’t get their way. Another shuts down or holds grudges for weeks. That’s what I’m talking about. We all do things that are unhealthy in relationships, but I’m not sure people recognize that unless they’re really self-aware. And when you consider that each partner brings his or her own set of issues, it’s a miracle that any marriages last the duration.”

“That’s a little pessimistic, don’t you think? Your parents have been married forever. Mine have, too.”

“But are they happy with each other? Or are they together out of habit? Or because they’re afraid to be alone? In the coffee shop earlier, I was watching this older couple a few tables over. They may have been together for fifty years, but I don’t think they said a single word to each other.”

I thought about my parents, remembering that Marge and I had wondered the same thing.

“Do you think you’ll ever get married again?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “Sometimes I think I want to, but other times, I think I’m happy being alone, too. And with Bodhi, it’s not as though I have a lot of energy to devote to finding a new life partner. What I can say is that I’m a lot clearer on the kind of person that I want if it ever comes to that. I’ve decided to be very picky.”

I was quiet, suddenly returning to Vivian, bringing with her an almost physical weight. “I don’t know what’s going to happen with Vivian. And I still don’t know why she was so unhappy with me.”

“Maybe she was just unhappy. And maybe she just thinks she’s happier with someone new, but sustained happiness isn’t something someone else can deliver. It comes from within. That’s why there are antidepressants; that’s what people hopefully learn in therapy.”

“That’s very Zen.”

“It took me a while to finally accept that David’s philandering wasn’t about me, or whether I was pretty enough, or affectionate enough. It was about David’s need to prove to himself that he was desirable and powerful-and the way he did that was by sleeping with other women. In the end, I know I did my best to make our marriage work, and I know that’s all I can ask of myself.” She reached across the table and put her hand on my arm. “The same goes for you, too, Russ.”

When she removed her hand, the warmth and comfort of her touch lingered, a physical affirmation of her words.

“Thank you,” I managed to say.

“You’re welcome. And I mean it. You’re a good guy.”

“You don’t know me that well anymore.”

“Actually, I think I do. You’re pretty much the same guy you always were.”

“And I blew it with you.”

“You made a mistake. I know you didn’t do it to hurt me. And again, I’ve forgiven you. You still need to forgive yourself.”

“I’m working on it. But you’re kind of making it hard, since you’re being so nice about it.”

“Would you rather I be cruel and vindictive?”

“If you were, I’d probably crumble.”