Twenty-nine

I WENT TO WENDY’S ROOM after I’d put the boys to bed, trying to explain to them that Kate was going away for a while, but no, it wasn’t like when Meddy’s daddy went away. She and the Trips were going on an adventure and we’d hear from them soon. I said it with conviction—as if I believed it. Every time I looked at any of my lovers, I felt their incriminating judgment. I’d driven Kate away. I’d let her drift, hidden what I was painting, held back some portion of my trust. It was my fault that Kate was gone and I felt like shit.

Wendy wasn’t in her room. Part of me hoped she’d caught up with Kate so at least the two of them could be together and part of me was afraid I’d lost her, too. But she’d chosen. She’d chosen to stay with me as a master instead of going with Kate, whom she loved. Not that Wendy didn’t love me, or that I didn’t love her. But something special was lost for her when Kate walked out the door. If it was anything like the hole I felt in my heart, I had to find Wendy and comfort her.

I ran to our bedroom upstairs in near panic to tell Melody and Lissa that I had to go find Wendy. All three girls were cuddled together in the middle of the big bed, crying quietly. They heard me come in and before I could turn to go, all three held out their arms to me.

That was it. There was no more restraint. We cried. We cried most of the night, crying ourselves to sleep and waking still in tears.

If it weren’t for the boys getting up Wednesday morning, we would have stayed in bed crying all day. When you have children, you have responsibilities. No. You have young lives you love and would do anything to protect and care for. When they came into the bedroom, I scooped them up in my arms and took them to the big chair to read. A few minutes later, Wendy brought me coffee and curled up on the arm of the chair to listen to our story. Then it was a scramble to get them fed and ready for school. It was late May and their school didn’t get out until mid-June. Lissa and Melody were up and dressed by the time the boys had been fed and headed out to the car to take them to school. Wendy still had classes, too, and quietly said she needed to get ready. I offered to drive her, but she said she wanted to walk and catch a bus so she could clear her head before class. She was just three weeks from graduation and didn’t want to blow anything at this stage.

That left me alone. I finished my coffee and sent another text message to Kate just to say “I love you.” I’d sent nearly a dozen after she left yesterday, but got no replies. I knew everyone else had sent her messages, too. I wanted her to know that we wanted her to come back, but it was beginning to feel like I was harassing her. I stuck my phone in my pocket. My Wednesday morning schedule called for Parkour with Coach Fredericks. I put on my running shoes and headed for campus.

Usually I ran the course for sheer joy of running. This time I ran out of frustration and pain and despair. They didn’t make me fast.

“Get moving or you’ll be chasing me,” Coach said.

“Sorry, Coach. I’m just not up to it today,” I said turning for home at a slow jog.

“Too tired from your match in California? We watched the live broadcast at Coach Jacobson’s house. We thought it would never end.”

“Yeah. I guess so.”

“You were both so in the zone...” Coach stopped his narrative. “Tony, this isn’t about the match or being tired. You need someone to talk to?” I stopped running and looked at him. We’d been chasing each other around for over two years now. We’d talked now and then, but never on an intimate level.

“Thanks, Coach,” I said. “You’ve been a great support for my training and I haven’t been as appreciative as I should. But I can’t just talk about this right now. I need to go paint.”

“You know what you need better than I do. Just know I’m here.”

I wasn’t sure I wanted to open the door of the studio when got there. I hadn’t been in since we carried Kate out. I unlocked the door and pushed my way through the clothes. In the middle of the studio, our accountant, Penny, was sitting on the floor neatly stacking Kate’s torn sketches. Tears were running down her cheeks as she worked methodically, examining each piece and matching up torn portions before she put them in the stack. She looked up at me.

“I tried to reach Kate to tell her, but there was no answer,” Penny said. “I called Lissa and she said to save what I could.”

“Yes,” I said. I sat with her to explain what had happened. She nodded her head.

“We should put all this in the vault for when she comes back. She’ll want it.” I nodded. It was the sensible thing to do and I helped Penny gather up the pieces and prepared them for crating. We had all the supplies we needed to pack them and I went through the canvases in the rack to pull Kate’s paintings. She’d focused her anger on her drawings and sketches and hadn’t reached the rack of paintings and pastels yet. I shuddered to think of her destroying that artwork as well.

When we had everything crated, I wrote a large note and hung it from the shelf. “Darling Kate, all your beautiful works are in the vault under your name. We wanted them safe for you. Love, Tony.”

“Do you want me to crate your new painting, too, like I did the other one?”

“What?” I asked.

“This new painting. It’s so like the one you did before Christmas. When you left for so long, I wanted to make sure it was properly cared for, so I called your professor ... Doctor Henredon? ... and he came over to show me how to crate it and send it to the vault.”

“Doc saw it?”

“Yes. He told me I should never mention it to anyone, so I just kept my mouth shut. He showed me the process so I could crate paintings and send them to the vault.”

“No.” I whimpered. “No. I’m so sorry, Kate. Please forgive me.” All this time, I’d been sure that Kate had taken the painting—that she was the only one who had seen it. All this time I’d let it fester and hadn’t said anything. I’d let it influence how I felt about her—how I acted toward her. “Crate it,” I said. Then I fled the building.

Thursday, Melody, Lissa, and I finally went to the lower level to clear the Trips’ room and return it to a guest room or possible rental. I couldn’t imagine putting someone else in that room. We’d fixed it up for Kate to rent, then when the Trips came, Kate moved into our room. I hadn’t been in the room more than once or twice in the whole year the Trips had lived with us. What we found stopped us short.