to Gina at the time, but it wasn’t going great. No one knew that, only Gina and I. I sat there in hospice, holding the old man’s hand, and he opened his eyes and he looked at me. He said, ‘You know something, Nicky . . .’ He hadn’t called me Nicky since I was about six.”
“Cute.”
“Don’t get any ideas.” I felt sad at the memory of my dad. His hand in mine, his big, strong hand, the life fading away. “He said, ‘You know how you can tell if you’re meant to be with someone? If you don’t know anyone better than the person you’re with. Or if you can’t even imagine anyone better than the person you’re with.’ Then he closed his eyes again. He and I never talked about marriage or women or love. We had never talked about anything personal. Never. He just came out with that out of the blue.”
“It was on his mind,” Laurel said.
“Yeah. It’s funny. I never really thought my parents were in love, but I do know one thing. They know us better than we realize they do.”
“True,” Laurel said. “So how did you answer your dad’s question? Who did you imagine?”
I didn’t hesitate. “Marissa every time. Even when I was married to Gina. Even now.”
“So there you go,” Laurel said. “Maybe you can know when you’re twenty. I met Tony when I was twenty-five. That’s not much older, and I knew right away. Your dad was a wise man.”
“He was.”
“Look, you’ve been through a divorce,” she said. “You’re middle-aged. You’ve found yourself in the middle of your life, lost in a dark forest.”
“You’re really quoting Dante to me?” I asked.
“That’s what college taught us. The humanities, remember?”
“Is this supposed to make me feel better?” I asked.
“It happens,” she said. “We all lose our way sometimes.”
“You don’t seem to,” I said. “Ever.”
“Do you remember sophomore year of college when I had that perm?”
I pictured it. Laurel’s hair had looked ridiculous, even though beneath the artificial curls she had remained pretty. We all were beautiful then. We were young. “Okay,” I said. “Fair enough.”
“And you’ve lost that kid,” she said. “Andrew. He was like a son to you. Hell, forget that. He was your son, right? You felt like he was your own?”
“I did. I don’t know any other way to think of it.”
“So you have this one chance encounter in a grocery store, and it brings all these memories back up. Beautiful memories. Painful memories. What if I were with Marissa? What if we’d had a kid together? It’s brutal to think about it, Nick.”
“This is turning into therapy,” I said.
“Wait until you get my bill.” Laurel looked at her watch. “Try to do something else with your life. Get outside yourself. Volunteer more. Try Internet dating. Get a dog.”
“I have a dog.”
“That’s right,” she said. “I forgot.”
“He’s kind of quiet, so that happens.”
“You’re still young,” Laurel said. “You can still have a great future. You can even get married and have a family.”
“You think?”
“Of course.”
“That’s nice to hear. You know, I do still want to get married again. And I’d love to have a kid with the right person. I guess I’d like to think that if it can happen once, maybe . . .” I scooted forward in my chair. “Thanks. I know you have work to do.”
“I’m sure you do, too.”
“I do.” But I didn’t stand up. I sat on the edge of the chair, leaning forward just a bit. “I do want to know something else, though. Why did Marissa do it? Why did she break up with me out of the blue and leave school? I went and talked to Heather Aubrey about this, and do you know what she said to me?” I took a deep breath. I didn’t know if I could give it voice.
“What did she say?” Laurel asked. She sounded skeptical.
“She said that on the night Marissa died people saw her out at a bar, Razer’s, and she was with another man. An older man. Heather
“Cute.”
“Don’t get any ideas.” I felt sad at the memory of my dad. His hand in mine, his big, strong hand, the life fading away. “He said, ‘You know how you can tell if you’re meant to be with someone? If you don’t know anyone better than the person you’re with. Or if you can’t even imagine anyone better than the person you’re with.’ Then he closed his eyes again. He and I never talked about marriage or women or love. We had never talked about anything personal. Never. He just came out with that out of the blue.”
“It was on his mind,” Laurel said.
“Yeah. It’s funny. I never really thought my parents were in love, but I do know one thing. They know us better than we realize they do.”
“True,” Laurel said. “So how did you answer your dad’s question? Who did you imagine?”
I didn’t hesitate. “Marissa every time. Even when I was married to Gina. Even now.”
“So there you go,” Laurel said. “Maybe you can know when you’re twenty. I met Tony when I was twenty-five. That’s not much older, and I knew right away. Your dad was a wise man.”
“He was.”
“Look, you’ve been through a divorce,” she said. “You’re middle-aged. You’ve found yourself in the middle of your life, lost in a dark forest.”
“You’re really quoting Dante to me?” I asked.
“That’s what college taught us. The humanities, remember?”
“Is this supposed to make me feel better?” I asked.
“It happens,” she said. “We all lose our way sometimes.”
“You don’t seem to,” I said. “Ever.”
“Do you remember sophomore year of college when I had that perm?”
I pictured it. Laurel’s hair had looked ridiculous, even though beneath the artificial curls she had remained pretty. We all were beautiful then. We were young. “Okay,” I said. “Fair enough.”
“And you’ve lost that kid,” she said. “Andrew. He was like a son to you. Hell, forget that. He was your son, right? You felt like he was your own?”
“I did. I don’t know any other way to think of it.”
“So you have this one chance encounter in a grocery store, and it brings all these memories back up. Beautiful memories. Painful memories. What if I were with Marissa? What if we’d had a kid together? It’s brutal to think about it, Nick.”
“This is turning into therapy,” I said.
“Wait until you get my bill.” Laurel looked at her watch. “Try to do something else with your life. Get outside yourself. Volunteer more. Try Internet dating. Get a dog.”
“I have a dog.”
“That’s right,” she said. “I forgot.”
“He’s kind of quiet, so that happens.”
“You’re still young,” Laurel said. “You can still have a great future. You can even get married and have a family.”
“You think?”
“Of course.”
“That’s nice to hear. You know, I do still want to get married again. And I’d love to have a kid with the right person. I guess I’d like to think that if it can happen once, maybe . . .” I scooted forward in my chair. “Thanks. I know you have work to do.”
“I’m sure you do, too.”
“I do.” But I didn’t stand up. I sat on the edge of the chair, leaning forward just a bit. “I do want to know something else, though. Why did Marissa do it? Why did she break up with me out of the blue and leave school? I went and talked to Heather Aubrey about this, and do you know what she said to me?” I took a deep breath. I didn’t know if I could give it voice.
“What did she say?” Laurel asked. She sounded skeptical.
“She said that on the night Marissa died people saw her out at a bar, Razer’s, and she was with another man. An older man. Heather
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