Nicholas Sparks - Two by Two

“What?”

“The zoo. Miss Emily and Bodhi are going. She invited us, but I don’t want to go if you’d rather not.”

“A real zoo?”

“With lions and tigers and bears. Oh my.”

She furrowed her little brow.

“Why did you say ‘Oh my’?” she finally asked.

“It’s from a movie called The Wizard of Oz .”

“Have I seen it?”

“No,” I said.

“What’s it about?”

“It’s about a girl named Dorothy. Her house gets picked up by a tornado and she lands in a place called Oz. She meets a lion and a tin man and a scarecrow, and they try to find the wizard so she can go back home.”

“Is there a bear and a tiger in the movie, too?”

“Not that I can recall.”

“Then why does the girl say it?”

That’s a good question. “I don’t know. Maybe because she was afraid she might run into them.”

“I’m not afraid of bears. But tigers are scary. They can be really mean.”

“Yeah?”

“I learned that when I watched The Jungle Book .”

“Ah,” I said.

“Is Mommy going to come to the zoo, too?”

“No,” I said. “She’s working.”

She seemed to consider that. “Okay,” she said. “Since Bodhi’s going, we can go, too.”

When Vivian FaceTimed later that evening, I noticed she was dressed as though she were about to go out to dinner, no doubt with Spannerman. I said nothing to her about it, but as she visited with London, the thought stewed in the back of my mind.

Eventually London wandered back to me, holding out the phone. “Mommy needs to talk to you.”

“Okay, sweetie,” I said, taking it. I waited until she was gone before raising the screen.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“I wanted to let you know that I’m going to be out of town this weekend and it might be hard to reach me.”

Every part of me wanted the details, but I forced myself not to ask. “Okay.”

She had apparently expected me to press for more information, as my single-word answer seemed to throw her off. “All right,” she went on after an awkward pause. “Anyway, I’ll definitely be in Charlotte to see her next weekend, and I’d like to stay in the house again.”

“Without me,” I said. I tried hard not to appear wounded.

“I’m thinking about London here, so yes, without you. And, of course, her birthday is two weekends after that, and I’d like to do the same thing. Stay in the house, I mean. Her birthday’s on a Friday, but I want to put together a birthday party with her friends on Saturday. You should obviously come to her party, but after that, it would probably be best if you let us have the rest of the weekend to ourselves.”

“It’s her birthday weekend,” I protested. “I’d like to spend time with her, too.”

“You’re with her all the time, Russ,” she said, raising her chin.

“She’s in school. And at her activities. You might think I get a lot of downtime with her, but I don’t.”

She gave an annoyed sigh. “You get to see her every night. You get to read to her. You get to see her every single morning. I don’t.”

“Because you left,” I said, enunciating slowly. “Because you moved to Atlanta.”

“So you’d keep me from seeing my daughter? What kind of father are you? And on that subject, you shouldn’t have let her miss dance class today.”

“She has a cold,” I said. “She was tired.”

“How is she supposed to improve if you keep letting her miss class?”

The accusatory tone made my back stiffen.

“This is first one she missed. It’s not the end of the world. Besides, I don’t think she even likes dance class.”

“You’re missing the point,” Vivian said, narrowing her eyes at me. “If she wants a bigger role the next time they have a show, she can’t miss classes. You’re setting her up to be disappointed again.”

“And my point was, I don’t think she’ll care, since she doesn’t like dance in the first place.”

I could see her chest rise and fall, a flush creeping up past the neckline of her black cocktail dress. “Why are you doing this?”

“What am I doing now?”

“What you always do! Finding fault, trying to pick a fight.”

“Why is it that when I tell you what I think or offer an opinion that’s different than yours, you accuse me of trying to pick a fight?”

“Oh, for God’s sake. I’m just so sick and tired of your crap, I can’t even tell you.”

With that, she disconnected the call. It bothered me more than it should have, but I noted with grim satisfaction that it bothered me less than it would have had we still been together. In fact, it bothered me less than it would have yesterday. Perhaps that was progress.

At work for the next two days, I hopped from one project to the next, just like earlier in the week. I touched base with the patients that the plastic surgeon had recommended, and scheduled times on October sixth to get them on camera-that was going to be a long day.

On Friday I filmed the third commercial, making sure to place the camera below desk level so we could shoot the young actress from below. This way, her age was emphasized to comic effect.

The takes were so good that even members of the camera crew laughed. Perfect.

That evening, I brought London to dance class as usual.

Despite a clear lack of enthusiasm, she’d come downstairs dressed in her outfit and reminded me that we shouldn’t be late.

I didn’t ask again whether it was something she wanted to do; I’m sure that Vivian had rebuked London just as she had me, and I had no desire to put London in an awkward position. I, more than anyone, knew how guilty Vivian could make someone feel.

Seeing her sitting on the couch in the family room with her shoulders slightly caved in, I took a seat beside her.

“What would you like to do after dance?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” she mumbled.

“Because I was thinking that maybe, just maybe, you and I could…”

I stopped. A couple of seconds passed before she looked over at me. “What could we do?”

“It’s nothing,” I said. “Never mind.”

“What is it?”

“Well, the thing is, you might not want to do it…” I pretended to lose interest.

“Tell me!” she pressed.

I forced out a long exhale. “I was thinking that since Mommy isn’t here, maybe you and I could have a date night.”

London knew all about our date nights, even if she wasn’t aware of all that transpired between Vivian and me.

Her expression was one of wonder. “A date night? Just you and me?”

“That’s what I was thinking. After dance, we can get dressed up, and cook dinner together, and then after that, we could either color or do some finger painting or maybe even watch a movie. But only if you want to,” I said.

“I want to.”

“You do, huh? What do you want to eat?”

She brought a finger to her chin. “I think I want chicken,” she said, and I nodded.

“That sounds delicious. That’s just what I wanted, too.”

“But I don’t want to finger paint. It might get on my dress.”

“How about coloring? I’m not very good, but I can try.”

She beamed. “It’s okay that you’re not very good, Daddy. You can practice.”

“That sounds like a great idea.”

For the first time since I’d started ferrying London to and from her activities, she was in a good mood on the way to dance, though the class had nothing to do with it. Instead, I listened to a constant stream of ideas about what she could wear that evening. She debated which dress to wear, and whether to pair it with a sparkly hairclip or bow, and what shoes would match best.