The Virtues of Oxygen (25 page)

“Vivian is giving us a place to stay,” she said slowly, opening another tote bag to avoid seeing the siste
rs’ faces.

“Oh, that’s marvelous,” one of them said. “She’ll love the company. I do think she gets a little tired of seeing the same faces on rotation. A little more activity in her house will do her a world
of good.”

Holly nodded, hoping the sisters were right. She tried to imagine the boys and their friends detouring around the iron lung on their way to play video games in the basement. It didn’t fe
el right.

“Well, we must be off,” the sisters said in unison, laughing again. Darla suddenly appeared again as they made their way toward the door. Once they were gone, she came back into Holly
’s office.

“Black buzzards,” she said. “That’s all I can think of when I see them. They’re always on the trail of death and des
truction.”

“Come on,” Holly said. “They’re lovely people. Did you know one of them wanted to be an
actress?”

“Which one? Oh, forget it. I can’t tell them apart anyway . . . So you’re packing up
already?”

Holly looked around the room. She couldn’t imagine it empty, soulless. She wondered what these offices would become. A yoga studio? Another coffee shop? An orthodontist’s office? She pictured a tween in a glitter slogan shirt sitting in a dental chair getting metal brackets glued onto
her teeth.

“It’s going to take a while, so I thought I’d get started,” she said. “Did you schedule the photo with the high school robot
ics team?”

“I did. I’m headed over there now. Then I’m talking to the drugstore manager about picking up some mo
re hours.”

“Ask him if he needs anyo
ne else.”

“Are you
serious?”

“Dead serious. I can’t stay with Vivian forever, and I’ve got to find s
omething.”

“I’ll ask him,” Darla said, pausing as if she couldn’t decide whether to say something. “You’re not alone, you know. We all want
to help.”

“Thank you, Darla,” Holly said, welling up again. “That means more to me than
you know.”

When she left the office that night, Holly instinctively took a left turn at Main Street instead of the right she should have taken to drive to Vivian’s. She found herself in front of her ho
use before she realized that she didn’t live there anymore. In the few days they had been gone, the house had taken on an air of abandonment. A light snow had fallen the day before, and no one had shoveled the path to the front door or the
sidewalk. In the falling darkness, the spray-painted patches glowed—a whiter whiteness
on white.

She turned off the engine, took off her gloves, threw them on the passenger seat, and rested her head on the cool plastic of the steering wheel. It wasn’t just the house that she had to let go, it was Chris. It was the whole story of the life they had expected to have. Saying good-bye to the stone foundation and the Dutch colonial roof meant finally accepting that she had a different life now, one that had veered down a dark, winding road. She had been living as if she could keep everything intact, as though Chris could walk in the door any minute and spruce the place back up in no time. But that wasn’t going to happen. Now she could only see as far ahead as her headlights wou
ld allow.

She felt as though she were in a Frank Capra movie, about to either jump off a bridge or meet an angel. But neither happened. She put her gloves back on and restarted the car, driving back to Vivian’s in silence, feeling the slip of her balding car tires on
the snow.

CHAPTER 30

I
t was after seven when Holly finally made it back to Vivian’s and found the boys eating pizza from TV trays in the living room. They were all watching a James Bond movie on the flat screen above Vivian’s head. Marveen came out of the kitchen with a two-liter bottle of Coke as Holly put her tote bags and a small grocery
bag down.

“Hi, Mom,” Connor said through a mouth crammed with pizza. Marshall nodded at her and ke
pt eating.

“Hi, guys,” Holly said, turning to Vivian. “What’s
all this?”

“There’s a James Bond marathon on,” Vivian said. “I told Marveen to order some pizza so we could make it a litt
le party.”

Holly had stopped at the grocery store on her way back to Vivian’s. She had chicken breasts, broccoli, and brown rice in the bag. Her plan had been to make, retroactively, the meal she had told Connor to lie about on his Health questionnaire. Without the mortgage to worry about, she felt she could actually afford better food now. And here they were eat
ing pizza.

“It’s from Luigi’s,” Marshall said, pulling off another slice. “Not that cheap stuff from Village Pizza. Look, this one’s got ham and pineapp
le on it.”

Holly smiled and put the groceries away, then pulled up a chair. “You really don’t have to feed them,” she said, though Vivian was intently watching
the movie.

“I know,” she said. “I just thought it would be a nice treat. I want them to feel
at home.”

Marveen nodded toward the kitchen, and Holly followed her, grabbing a slice of the ham and pineapple pizza to bring
with her.

“Something’s wrong with her,” Marveen said in a low voice. “She’s completely bipolar all of a sudden. One minute she’s wailing about the injustice of humanity, and the next she’s ordering new curtains for the boys’ room
from QVC.”

“She ordered them new curtains? They’re boys. They don’t even know that curtai
ns exist.”

“That’s the least of it. I have never seen her so
erratic.”

“Maybe it’s just the disruption of having us come to live with her. She’s not used to having so many peopl
e around.”

“That’s not it. She’s thrilled to have you here. She told me she loves feeling like she’s living in the middle of a busy family. She never had that growing up. It was just her lying there and her parents hovering ar
ound her.”

Holly hadn’t really thought about what the arrangement would do for Vivian. It pleased her to think she wasn’t the only one benefiting from it. She poured herself a glass of Coke, but it tasted too sweet. Her inability to afford soda for the last few years had probably been a
blessing.

“What do you think I should do?” Holly asked. She took an apron from a kitchen drawer, tied it around her waist, and started washing the few dishes and cups in
the sink.

“I don’t know,” Marveen said as Holly scrubbed a dish that already looked clean. “But I’d love to leave at eight, and Darla can’t get here until ten. Do you mind
covering?”

“Of course not,” Holly said, even as she realized that this would happen more and more frequently. Vivian’s volunteers would come to think of her as backup every time they wanted to trade or skip a shift. “I’m her
e anyway.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” Marveen said. “The tile guy is coming in the morning, and I still need to choose the final pattern for the backsplash. Arthur has been working such long hours that we haven’t had a chance to talk about it, and he cannot keep his eyes open past nin
e thirty.”

Holly had a sudden revelation that money didn’t alleviate worry, it simply transferred it to a different class of consumer goods. If you didn’t have to worry about whether you could afford Luigi’s versus Village Pizza, you worried about your tile backsplash and your pool lining. And if you didn’t have to worry about your tile backsplash and your pool lining, you worried about your private plane and the exchange rate
in euros.

Marveen dried the last of the dishes and put
them away.

“And now you’re going to tell me about Racine,” she said. “What’s happening? I heard that he wasn’t in town
anymore.”

Holly walked to the doorway to check on Vivian and the boys. All were glued to the TV screen. “It’s complicated,” she said. “He did leave town, but he came back. But then he left again. Maybe he’s lost interest. I really don’t know what
to think.”

“Why? Because he hasn’t called in a few days?” Marveen said. “You’re past the games, so it’s okay to call him now. Have a little fun in y
our life.”

Holly looked down at her shoes, black ballet flats that were so worn and scuffed she couldn’t have put them in a Goodwill bag without being embarrassed. “I can’t do that. I’m just not one of those women who can sleep with someone
for fun.”

“For God’s sake, Holly. Life is too short to insist on t
rue love.”

Holly knew Marveen had a point, but she couldn’t acknowledge it without betraying what she had felt with Racine. She had taken to remembering their evening in New York in minute detail. Something had happened—whether it was inside her head or not—that had raised sex to a different plane. They had had some spiritual connection, maybe touching upon the holy, and she couldn’t pretend that she only wanted to sleep with him before he left again. She would rather have their one time together as the clean and perfect union it had become in he
r memory.

“You go home and work on your tile,” Holly said. “We’ll be f
ine here.”

Holly thought Vivian might be dozing when she came back into the living room, but Vivian opened her eyes as the credits for the James Bond movi
e rolled.

“Can I get you anything?” Holly asked. As Vivian shook her head, the boys took their cue and grabbed the empty pizza boxes to bring into the
kitchen.

“Thanks for the pizza, Vivian,” Marshall said on his way to the room he shared wit
h Connor.

“Yeah, thanks,” Co
nnor said.

“You’re very welcome, boys,” Vivian said, smiling at them, her chin suddenly
quivering.

“Is anything wrong?” Holly said, putting a hand on Vivian’s forehead as if she might have a fever. It worried her to see Vivian’s emotions so close to the surface. “You se
em upset.”

“I’m not upset. Could you get me
a tissue?”

Holly grabbed the box on Vivian’s tray and dabbed the corners of her eyes. “Do you need
to blow?”

“A
little.”

Holly held the tissue firmly under Vivian’s nose as Vivian weakly pushed air through her nasal passages. When Holly took the tissue away, Vivian sniff
ed loudly.

“They’re such nice boys,” Vivian said. “When Connor came home from school, he told me all about his science project, and Marshall played me a little song on his trumpet just before we got t
he pizza.”

“That’s so nice to hear,” Holly said. “They’re not always so polite, so it’s nice to know they can behave when I’m no
t around.”

“You have so much,” Vivian said, sniffing again. “You think you don’t, but you do. I hope you real
ize that.”

Lately, she had been so conscious of her own sense of diminution—a husband who didn’t live to see forty, a house she couldn’t afford to keep, a job she loved disappearing out from under her, the sense of sliding down the chute after her parents had climbed the ladder—that she hadn’t been able to appreciate what she still had. “It’s all relative,” her mother us
ed to say.

“I know,” she said, tearing up herself. “I’m a very luc
ky woman.”

Then Holly’s phone rang. It was a number she didn’t expe
ct to see.

“It’s Racine,”
she said.

“Take it,” Vivian said. “I’m fine. You should tal
k to him.”

Holly checked Vivian’s eyes, which were dry, and took the phone, still ringing, to the corner of the room near a window that looked out into Vivian’s side yard. Snow was falling again, and trees were starting to bend and wave in
the wind.

“Hello,” she sai
d quietly.

“Holly? It’
s Racine.”

“I didn’t know if I would hear from you again. When you left my house, you didn’t l
ook back.”

“I thought you needed that time with your family. I felt like I was i
ntruding.”

“You weren’t intruding, Racine. You really
weren’t.”

A silence ensued, and Holly briefly wondered if Racine had put his phone down and walked away. Then she hea
rd a sigh.

“I really need to see you,” Racine said. “Can you meet me at t
he diner?”

Holly looked at her watch. It was clos
e to nine.

“I’m in charge of Vivian,” she said. “I can’t leave the house be
fore ten.”

“I’ll come over there. What’s the
address?”

Holly didn’t want to have a private discussion with Racine in Vivian’s presence and didn’t want to sneak him into her bedroom with the boys in
the house.

“Can it wait until
tomorrow?”

“No, it can’t. I leave in the morning for
New York.”

“But everyon
e’s here.”

“I’ll meet you right outside. The snow’s falling. It’s a beautif
ul night.”

“I can’t talk for more than a few
minutes.”

“I’ll make
it fast.”

Holly gave Racine the address. Vivian had her eyes closed and appeared to be drifting off. Holly walked down the short hallway and knocked softly on the door of the b
oys’ room.

“Marshall,” she said, opening the door. “I need to have you sit with Vivian for a few minutes. I’ll be right outside, and she’s asleep. You just need to make sure she doesn’t choke or
anything.”

Marshall was sitting on his bed surrounded by open books and note cards. He had an old laptop his friend had given him propped on his outstretc
hed legs.

“Mom, I’ve got a history paper due tomorrow, and I’m right in the middle of it. Can’t Conn
or do it?”

Connor was lying on his stomach reading a gaming magazine. He got up reluctantly and followed Holly back to the li
ving room.

“Now, all you have to do is sit here on the couch,” she said. “If Vivian starts to choke or make noises, you run right outside and yel
l for me.”

“Okay,” he said, flipping the magazine open again. “I’ll
find you.”

Racine called again to say he was outside. Holly put on her coat, changed into old snow boots, and added mittens, a wool hat, and a scarf. As she opened the door, she could hear the wind, which sounded like a tin whistle. Racine was a shadow in the distance, the only moving object in her field
of vision.

She walked down Vivian’s front path and met him on the
sidewalk.

“It’s fantastic, isn’t it? All this snow?” he said, winding her scarf once more around her neck. “Are
you cold?”

“It’s the wind,” she said, inexplicably out of breath, struck by how serene his face looked in the moonlight with the snow catching on his eyelashes. “Where’s
your car?”

“I walked over from the diner. It’s just a fe
w blocks.”

“Let’s go sit in the bus shelter. It’s right there on the corner. At least it’s out of
the wind.”

Holly looked back toward the house and in the light from the living-room window saw the outline of Vivian’s iron lung. They walked to the corner and sat on the bench inside the shelter, which was painted on its three sides with murals done by the middle school art students. Holly herself had covered the story of its
creation.

Racine took Holly’s mittened hands in his bare ones. “The thing is,” he started, “I thought I was ready to move on, now that I’m free of the gold business. I thought I’d do what I always do and look for a new town, a new state, maybe even a new country. In my whole adult life I’ve never lived anywhere for more than a yea
r or two.”

Holly reached out with one of her mittens and brushed some snow from Racine’s hair before it could drip onto his face. She nodded for him to
continue.

“But there’s something about this place. I don’t feel that itch to start over again. I feel at home here. People are actually nice to each other. Look at how you all take care of Vivian. You don’t have to do that—she’s not related to you—but you’re committed to her. I find that re
markable.”

The wind had gone from tin whistle to bassoon. Holly saw several porch lights come on as people looked out at the storm from the warmth of their houses. She felt oddly exhilarated to be inside the storm—in the eye, as it were—as the snow and wind blew ar
ound them.