The last secret_ a novel - Mary McGarry Morris [83]
“Oh!” Nora gasps, this eruption of grief, like a violent seizure. She alternates between crying and apologizing to Alice, who keeps apologizing back and trying to console her.
“I didn't mean to make you feel so bad,” Alice says, coming quickly to sit beside her. Her arm over Nora's shoulder exudes the harsh smell of days' old sweat, which not only repulses her, but seems to stimulate some primitive gland, making everything more intense, and clear. No matter what Ken's been, he's never been a bad father, never harmed or abandoned his children. And may still be with her only because of them. She cries harder.
“It's not you. It's everything. It's all … all so hard,” she sobs into her hands.
“I know.” Alice leans her head into Nora's. “And you're nice to listen, to even care. Most people don't want to know. Pretending's easier. That way, no one has to do anything, including me.” Her voice drops. “And then maybe next Christmas'll be better because I'd never make that mistake again. You know, real maple syrup. Or pancakes even, putting that kind of pressure on him, that's the way your thinking goes. Or maybe we wouldn't have presents; well, just his, anyway. Because that's what always happened. I didn't even know it, but, after a while, everything was about him. Trying to keep him from getting upset.”
Nora looks up, ashamed. She meant herself, her own problems. “How're the children doing?” she asks, blowing her nose.
“Better. You know kids, they never stop loving Mommy and Daddy, no matter what happens,” Alice says, wearily.
Nora nods. That's right, they don't. And for that she must be glad, relieved her own still have that security, at least. And Ken was always a great dad, especially when they were younger, going to all their games and coaching their soccer teams. Sometimes he'd be the only father with all the mothers on class trips. She remembers the huge tent he set up in the backyard so he and the kids could “camp out” on Saturday nights, and all the hours he spent in the basement teaching Drew to play pool when he didn't make the majors in Little League, a far bigger disappointment for Ken than for Drew. She smiles a little, remembering the white super-stretch limo Ken hired to take Chloe and her friends and their dads to the middle school father-daughter dance.
“But that's the difference now,” Alice is saying, “having it all out in the open. No more secrets. No more lies.”
“What do you mean?” Nora asks, and Alice shrugs. “You're not going back, are you?”
Alice's eyes dart away. “I need to give it one more chance.” Her voice falls flat again, emotionless. “I owe them that much, my kids, I mean.”
“But what about you, what do you owe yourself?”
Alice merely looks at her, with probably the same impenetrable blankness that meets her husband's anger. “You don't understand,” she begins, then pauses. Whatever she wants to say is too difficult. “I don't mean this the way it's gonna sound, but it's not the same for me. I don't have choices. Not if I want to be home taking care of my kids, anyway.” She smiles but with pinched resolve.
Nora asks when she's leaving Sojourn House. Luke is picking them up tomorrow, Alice says, then asks her not to say anything to Father Grewley She plans on telling him tonight. “Here, then.” Nora takes a business card from her purse and writes on the back. “That's my number at home. You call me, it doesn't matter when or about what. I'd like us to … to stay in touch.” To be friends, she wishes she had said.
“Okay.” Alice nods, reading the card. “That'll be nice.”
he cold, windy night glows with moonlight. Every space in the parking lot is taken; even the side streets are lined with cars. Their brisk, two-block walk to the school makes Nora realize how long it's been since they have walked anywhere together. Ken is telling her about Oliver. Another two or three