Another Piece of My Heart (12 page)

Who is this gorgeous, sexy creature staring back at her with a spark in her eye? Andi feels, suddenly, sexy in a way she hasn’t in years.
Alive.
And it shows. She loves Ethan, but the toll of marriage, of raising children, the stress of dealing with Emily, the stress of accepting that she cannot have a child, all have led to her putting her sexuality to bed.

They still have sex, of course, but it is hardly the wild, passionate lovemaking that was the signature of their early time together. It is quick, and … pleasant. It fuels their intimacy but could never be described as sexy.

It happens in bed, with Ethan pulling her nightgown up. Or occasionally in the bathroom, as she drops her flesh-colored underwear in the laundry basket before getting into bed, Ethan will walk in and grin. At times she will be thrilled—when she is ovulating, when this presents another possibility for her child. Other times her heart will sink as she eyes her warm, cozy nightgown, but when he moves behind her and wraps his arms around her, leaning down to kiss her neck, she will acquiesce. And it will be quick, and … pleasant.

When did I stop feeling sexy?
Andi wonders, unable to tear her eyes away from this new, improved Andi staring back at her in the mirror. When did sex with my husband become so dull?

Perimenopause, Dr. Kurrish had explained, could lead to a loss of sexual desire.
Could,
Andi remembers thinking. It won’t happen to
me.

Her libido, however, had different ideas. In the beginning, when they were first married, she was still attached to the possibility of getting pregnant, still excited by the prospect of creating a new life, still delighting in the prospect of being a wife, having a husband, sharing the intimacy of making love.

There are no babies now. Nor will there be. Andi walks on eggshells in her own house, a house in which chaos and drama reign. The nights when Emily throws tantrums, when Ethan spends hours trying to calm her down, leave Andi empty and cold.

And Dr. Kurrish was right. “Sexual desire”? She can barely remember what those words mean. She no longer thinks of herself as sexual, or desirable.

Until now.

This man is so different from her world. He makes her feel like she did before all of this, before drama and chaos, and the gradual acceptance of her infertility made her feel middle-aged and sad. He made her sexy, and that brings with it possibility.

Does it mean anything that this thirtysomething man is making her feel like this? Is this something more than recreational flirting? If it is merely recreational flirting, why is it making her feel so damn special?

Stop!
She turns away, guilty.
It’s who he is. It’s what he does. It isn’t about you. He’s no more interested in you than he is in Drew: a potential client, and this, clearly, is what he does.
He knows how to get the bored housewives interested by flirting, by looking deep in their eyes, by promising them an excitement their husbands aren’t giving them.

But Ethan … Ethan. Ethan is everything she had never dared hope or dream she’d find. Her relationship with Ethan is the kind of relationship she thought existed only in the movies, in books. It was always loving, warm, companionable, and since their wedding, had settled into something peaceful, comfortable, easy.

She is content, she realizes. She has found contentment. Has loved saying good-bye to the excitement, the drama, the constant ups and downs of the dating world. So why, so suddenly, when she is so happy, is she beset by this craving for excitement that had appeared in the form of a young, flirtatious trainer?

*   *   *

There are those who say that in order for someone to stray, in order for an affair to take place, there has to be something wrong in the marriage.

But isn’t there something wrong in everyone’s marriage? They may be happy, in love, settled, but isn’t there always the slightest of fissures through which a view of the road not taken can be glimpsed?

I am not the sort of person who would have an affair,
Andi tells herself, sipping from an ice-cold margarita and trying to focus her attention on Deanna, who is telling them a story as they sit around a low round table in a corner of the club.

Is
anyone
the sort of person who would have an affair? Who likes to think of themselves as the sort of person who would commit adultery? Who likes to think of themselves as the sort of person who could,
would
betray and lie, smash their wedding vows into meaningless pieces?

What if I could be happier with Pe— someone like Pete?
Andi drifts off, imagining a life without Emily, a life with no drama, a life in which she and Pete, or someone much like him, hung out, saw friends, threw parties, made love.

She shivers at how cold she is being, brings her thoughts back to Ethan.
I love him,
she thinks, picturing his sweet smile, his strong, capable hands that can fix anything in the house, that have redesigned the garden, that have brought her hours and hours of pleasure.

But is love enough, she wonders, lost in thought as she stares at Deanna, pretending to listen, smiling and shaking her head in all the right places, copying the others. Is love enough to save us? Will we ever be rid of the chaos of Emily?

It is a constant roller coaster. When Emily is lovely, as she can be, Andi tumbles head over heels in love with her. After their trip to Santa Rosa for the wedding, Emily was so
sweet
. She
apologized
—something she has never done before, asking Andi to stay, to look after her. Andi felt, still feels, in those moments, a surge of blinding love for this child, of what might be, of how things still could all work out.

Those moments are fewer than they were. Andi came into this relationship with such high hopes. All Emily needed, she thought, was love and attention. If Andi loved her enough, gave her enough kindnesses, did enough for her, Emily would come around; Emily would love her; all would be well.

Her phone buzzes in her purse. She feels it only because her foot is touching her purse at the time and, leaning down, she pulls it out to find a text from Ethan.

CALL ME NOW.

NEED TO GO TO POLICE STATION. NOW.

SOPHIA ASLEEP.

COME HOME. CALL FIRST.

“What’s going on?”

“Where have you been? I’ve been calling you for hours.” Ethan is furious, his voice a loud attack when Andi gets through.

Andi’s heart jumps. “What is it? What’s the matter?”

“Jesus, Andi. You’d think you might have checked the phone.”

“I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t think to check the phone. It’s loud inside. What is it? What’s going on? Tell me!” Her voice rises with an edge of panic.

Ethan’s voice is shaky when he next speaks. “Emily’s been arrested. She was with other kids. I’m not clear on who was driving, but they were all drunk. I just hope to God Emily was not the driver. Jesus. DUI. Underage. Alcohol in the car. It’s not good.”

“Oh, Christ.” Andi whistles. “That’s … terrible. That affects college, jobs, every…”

“I know! Okay?” Ethan blurts in anger. “I need to get down to the police station, and I can’t leave Sophia. Topher’s out, so you need to come home.”

Andi takes a deep breath. “Why don’t you let Emily spend the night? It’s the obvious natural consequence. She needs to know she’s in deep trouble…”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake!” Ethan explodes down the phone. “She already knows she’s in deep trouble. She’s seventeen years old and she’s just fucked up big-time. She’s terrified. She’s been sobbing on the phone, and she needs someone there. Now is not the time for consequences, okay? We’ll deal with that later.”

Andi recoils at his anger but takes a deep breath, doesn’t react. “I’ll go,” she says.

“What?”

“You stay with Sophia. I’ll leave now, and I’ll go straight to the police station. I’ll go with Drew.”

There is a long pause. “I think I should go,” Ethan says.

“No. Let me. She’s been very sweet with me recently. I think she may want me there as another woman, a mother figure.”

Ethan does not want to agree, but an opportunity for Emily and Andi to bond, even under these terrible circumstances, is not to be missed.

Andi is not offering because she is intent on cementing their newfound bond, although granted, that would be a welcome side benefit. She is offering because the histrionics that will ensue when Ethan walks into the police station do not bear thinking about.

Ethan has already said, again, that Emily is a child, she is already upset, she does not need to be upset further. Ethan is probably already thinking about how he can get her off, what explanation they can come up with that can make it all okay for Emily.

Andi is thinking about the consequences, what could be done to show her how grave this is, although zero tolerance will probably take care of that.

Worst-case scenario? If in fact she was the driver, surely that she will be charged with an underage DUI, and perhaps a regular one. Her license is likely to be suspended for a year. She will attend compulsory safety and alcohol-abuse classes. She will have to list it on all college applications and all job applications.

Andi knows she shouldn’t wish this on Emily, shouldn’t wish this on anyone, but isn’t this what she needs? Couldn’t circumstances as grave as this finally shock Emily into giving up the alcohol and the drugs? Force her to grow up, to follow a different path than her mother?

She thinks of today’s young stars, the celebrities who surround themselves with lawyers able to reduce the severity of any consequences, able to ensure that they will continue their lives, screwing up over and over, because nobody ever holds them accountable.

Doesn’t Emily need someone to say, “No! Enough! We’re watching?” Doesn’t she need an intervention before it’s too late?

Thirteen

“We’ve been pouring coffee and water down her,” the officer says, shaking her head. “She should have sobered up by now.”

Andi follows her mutely, noting that the place is enough to sober anyone up. She has been into the police station from time to time, but not back to the cells. This is where the criminals are kept, Andi thinks, reminding herself she is in Mill Valley, where the greatest crimes tend to be, indeed, DUIs.

The officer gestures to the end of a corridor and draws out a key. “Sorry about this. We only put her in here because she wanted to sleep,” she apologizes. “And she was getting hysterical.”

“It’s fine,” Andi reassures her. “Don’t worry.” But she suppresses a gasp at how serious this now feels, Emily behind bars.

“Your mom’s here,” the officer says. Emily, asleep on the bench, groans slightly before opening her eyes, but Andi, staring at Emily’s sleeping form, finds herself frozen in shock.

*   *   *

Emily, in all her goth glory, wears black flowing clothes, the looser the better. In recent months, she has put on weight, wrapping cardigans around her thickening girth, buying skirts with elasticized waists.

Andi does not say anything. Emily is not her daughter, it is not her place to say anything, and even if Emily were her daughter, she would not want to give her a complex about weight, would not dare say anything to Emily other than that she looks lovely, or her makeup is great, or she likes some new outfit.

Emily only criticizes, herself and others. “I’m so fat,” she’ll mutter. “I’m so ugly.” “I hate my thighs.”

Andi corrects her, telling her she’s womanly and pretty, but Emily just rolls her eyes and walks out.

But here, tonight on a bench at the back of a cell in the Mill Valley police station, Emily lies on her back, her body no longer hidden by swathes and drapes of clothing, her stomach sticking out proudly, Emily still half-asleep, unaware that Andi is transfixed by her stomach, her swollen breasts.

She’s not fat, Andi realizes, with mounting horror. She’s pregnant.

*   *   *

“Where’s Dad?” Emily wakes up and coldly stares through Andi.

“He’s at home with Sophia. I was already out, so I came to get you.”

“Great,” Emily mutters witheringly, shaking her head. “Just what I need.”

“Would you rather stay the night here?” Andi is in shock, and suddenly, instead of feeling frightened of Emily, as she so often does, she is angry. “Because I can leave. That’s fine.” And she turns to go.

“No.” Emily mutters. “I’ll come.”

“How about a thank-you?” Andi says as they walk down the corridor.

“Thank you,” Emily parrots, adding, almost under her breath, “It’s all about you.”

Andi stops. “Excuse me?”

“Nothing.” Emily carries on walking.

“Do you have any idea how much trouble you’re in?”

“Yes,” Emily says, dripping with sarcasm. “Thanks for the support.”

“You don’t get it, do you,” Andi says, unable to hold the frustration in any longer. “You have no idea how this is going to affect the rest of your life. College applications, jobs. If you are charged, this is going to be a problem forever.”

“I know!” Emily explodes. “I fucking know, okay, but I wasn’t driving. Get off my fucking back, all right? Jesus. I can’t believe my bitch of a stepmother comes down to get me when all I wanted was my dad. He couldn’t even do that for me. I get the one person in the world I fucking hate. Great.”

Andi feels anger rising as she looks at Emily’s sullen face.
Don’t do it,
she tells herself, but this anger, this raw rage isn’t something that can be contained. Andi does everything with Emily in mind, thinking constantly of what she can do to make Emily happy, and instead of a thank-you, instead of gratitude, she gets insults and criticism. All the time.

Andi has had enough.

“How dare you!” Andi finally,
finally
explodes. “How dare you always be so rude, so surly, so damned
horrible.
Your father does everything for you, and now, heaven forbid, he is staying with your younger sister, who doesn’t deserve the shit you put her through, the shit you put us all through all of the time. I have never in my life come across a girl as ungrateful and unpleasant as you. You’re a spoiled, entitled little brat, and don’t think I don’t know that you have your parents wrapped around your finger. Your mother’s too drunk to give a shit, and your father’s so terrified of upsetting you, of your throwing one of your tantrums, he’ll do whatever you want. But not any longer, young lady. Do you get it? Your father’s had enough. This has pushed him over the edge.”