Heart of the Matter - Emily Giffin [85]
She flashes me a small, grateful smile, and says, “Grayson’s having a rough time at school,” she says. “He’s still going through post-traumatic stress syndrome and I think seeing Charlie again has brought back a lot of bad memories.”
“That must be hard,” I say, feeling genuinely sympathetic. “And on top of that,” Romy says. “Charlie’s not being very nice to Grayson.”
“Really?” I say, surprised to hear this—and still a bit skeptical of the source.
“Well, it’s not that he’s being mean, per se. He’s just. . . ignoring him. They aren’t nearly as close as they once were . . .”
I nod, thinking of Ruby’s class, how the mean-girl syndrome has already begun, the popularity dynamic shifting on a weekly basis as the girls recast their silent votes for four-year-old queen bee status and realign accordingly. So far Ruby has managed to dwell somewhere in the middle—not a victim, not the predator. It is where I always managed to linger, and where I hope she stays, too. “Maybe he’s just shy?” I say. “Or self-conscious.”
“Maybe,” Romy says. “He is wearing a mask—as I’m sure you know.”
I shake my head and say, “No. Nick and I really haven’t talked about the case.”
Romy says, “Well, in any event, I think Charlie being back just makes Grayson feel worse . . . Maybe even a little guilty since it happened at his party.”
“He shouldn’t feel guilty,” I say, which is clearly the truth.
“And neither should you,” April says to Romy.
I nod, although I’m not sure I’m willing to go this far in the analysis.
“Have you run into her again? Valerie Anderson?” MC asks. “Since that day at the hospital?”
“No. Fortunately,” Romy says, biting her lower lip, appearing lost in thought. She shakes her head. “I just don’t understand that woman.”
“I don’t, either,” April says.
Romy’s face brightens as she turns to me. “Did April tell you we saw your cute husband at the hospital? What a doll.”
I nod and smile, relieved that I don’t have to weigh in on the issue of Romy’s accountability and corresponding guilt.
“I love a man in scrubs,” she says.
“Yeah. I used to feel that way,” I say, cynicism creeping into my voice.
“What happened?” Romy asks, smiling.
“I married him,” I say, laughing, but only half kidding.
“Yeah, right,” April says, then turns to Romy. “Tessa has the perfect marriage. They never fight. And he’s watching the kids all weekend so she can go to New York and play.”
“He can handle the kids alone?” Romy asks, amazed.
I start to tell her that I have Carolyn lined up to bridge the gap between my departure tomorrow afternoon and his return from work, as well as giving him a break over the weekend, but April answers for me, gushing, “He’s great with the kids. The best father. I’m telling you—they have the perfect marriage.”
I give her a look, wondering why she’s trying to pitch me so hard—my children, my tennis game, now my marriage. I appreciate it, but have the sense she’s overcompensating for something, perhaps for the fact that I don’t pull off that instant, cool first impression. Although it’s good to know that Nick does. In his scrubs.
Romy and MC give me a wistful look that makes me feel like a June Cleaver imposter as I consider what the past few weeks have looked like in my house.
“Nobody has the perfect marriage,” I say.
MC vigorously shakes her head. “Nobody,” she says, as if speaking from a wealth of experience.
We all fall silent as if contemplating our relationships until Romy says, “Speaking of . . . did you hear about Tina and Todd?”
“Don’t even tell me,” April says, covering her ears. Romy pauses dramatically, then whispers, “With a call girl,”
“Omigod. You’re kidding me,” April says. “He seems like such a nice guy. He’s an usher at our church, for God’s sake!”
“Yeah. Well. Maybe he’s stealing from the collection plate, too.”
MC asks if it was a one-time thing and Romy turns to her and snaps, “Does that make a difference?”
“I guess not,” MC says, finishing her shake with a final, long slurp.
“But for the record, no. It was not a one-time thing. Turns out he’s been doing it for years. Just like