everything,” Cathy went on.
“Not recently,” I admitted. “He’s spent more time on the computer and at the yoga center than with me.”
“That’s what you wrote to that guy about his wife’s e-relationship with that friend of hers in Austin. You wrote that the proportions of time should be exactly reversed, that intellectual infidelity was just as dangerous as the other kind, that confidences in the secrecy of cyberspace were just as potent and perhaps even more so, than confidences between the desks….”
“That’s what you told me to write. Intellectual infidelity,” I reminded her.
“It is a nice phrase,” Cathy said with a sigh. “Well, we’re not sure that’s what happened here. All we know is we have a guy—”
“Who turned forty-nine and figured out he was going to die someday,” Gabe called from the family room. “If I hear that one more time, I’m gonna puke. Why didn’t Luke’s dad do this? Or Justine’s?”
“Justine’s dad is kind of a scum,” Caroline said.
“ But Dad is a clean-living, miso-eating saint, Caroline!” Gabe yelled back. “So what’s your point, roundhead? His not being a scum should have kept him from doing this, not the opposite.”
“I think Dad thought about life more,” Caro whispered.
“Thinking about life too much is not necessarily a good thing,” Hannah told her. “Some things you do; some things you think about. Some things you think about you’re better off if you never do.”
“Amen,” said Gabe Senior. “I have to lie down for an hour or so, Julieanne. Do you mind? Will you keep your feet up and keep those ice packs on?” I nodded dutifully. Like all Jewish men of a certain age, even those who’d spent their lives selling marbles and kite string, Gabe Senior had, for me, the authoritative quality of a physician.
“I’ll be here, Mister Steiner,” Cathy said. “I’ll look after her.”
“I’m going to try to make some dinner,” Hannah told both of us, “with what scraps of food I can find in this refrigerator.”
“There are a whole bunch of mushrooms and some boxes of tofu in the pantry, Hannah,” I told her.
“Tofu,” she said dourly. “Gabe! I need some chicken, skinless, four breasts, some rosemary, French bread, some rice, normal, and a dozen eggs….”
“I’m going to nap, Hannah,” Gabe Senior explained.
“Nap later. I need to cook now,” his wife told him. “And Caroline, you don’t need to sit there looking pretty, although you do look very pretty. I want you to straighten this place up. I want you to get all your dirty laundry out of your room and your brother’s—”
Outraged, Caroline cried, “My brother’s…! I’m not going to do his laundry!”
“So he can take Aurora to the park in the bike holder, which I know you wouldn’t be caught dead doing, and play with her while we straighten this place up.”
“Abby’s asleep,” Cathy said. “I’ll do the laundry if Caroline dusts and picks up, because then I can talk to Julie.”
Cathy didn’t know about the night I’d spent on Friday. I was yearning to tell her, but I wanted it to be face-to-face, and everything had happened so fast. I’d spent the evening pleading with Leo as he tried to sleep, begging him to at least talk things over with Cathy—I wouldn’t need to be present—before he decided to leave. Though he’d held me gently, and kept nodding as if to say he understood my panic, though he’d even tried to make love to me, nothing I could do or say would budge him. “What if I sell the house while you’re gone, Leo? What if I decide to move to New York… City ? Not some burg on the Hudson River?”
“You can’t do that, Jules; it’s a community-property state,” he’d reminded me.
“I could forge your signature,” I threatened him.
“If you need to do that, go ahead,” Leo said. “I don’t think it will accomplish what you want.”
“Who the hell are you, the Dalai Lama?” I asked, jumping out
“Not recently,” I admitted. “He’s spent more time on the computer and at the yoga center than with me.”
“That’s what you wrote to that guy about his wife’s e-relationship with that friend of hers in Austin. You wrote that the proportions of time should be exactly reversed, that intellectual infidelity was just as dangerous as the other kind, that confidences in the secrecy of cyberspace were just as potent and perhaps even more so, than confidences between the desks….”
“That’s what you told me to write. Intellectual infidelity,” I reminded her.
“It is a nice phrase,” Cathy said with a sigh. “Well, we’re not sure that’s what happened here. All we know is we have a guy—”
“Who turned forty-nine and figured out he was going to die someday,” Gabe called from the family room. “If I hear that one more time, I’m gonna puke. Why didn’t Luke’s dad do this? Or Justine’s?”
“Justine’s dad is kind of a scum,” Caroline said.
“ But Dad is a clean-living, miso-eating saint, Caroline!” Gabe yelled back. “So what’s your point, roundhead? His not being a scum should have kept him from doing this, not the opposite.”
“I think Dad thought about life more,” Caro whispered.
“Thinking about life too much is not necessarily a good thing,” Hannah told her. “Some things you do; some things you think about. Some things you think about you’re better off if you never do.”
“Amen,” said Gabe Senior. “I have to lie down for an hour or so, Julieanne. Do you mind? Will you keep your feet up and keep those ice packs on?” I nodded dutifully. Like all Jewish men of a certain age, even those who’d spent their lives selling marbles and kite string, Gabe Senior had, for me, the authoritative quality of a physician.
“I’ll be here, Mister Steiner,” Cathy said. “I’ll look after her.”
“I’m going to try to make some dinner,” Hannah told both of us, “with what scraps of food I can find in this refrigerator.”
“There are a whole bunch of mushrooms and some boxes of tofu in the pantry, Hannah,” I told her.
“Tofu,” she said dourly. “Gabe! I need some chicken, skinless, four breasts, some rosemary, French bread, some rice, normal, and a dozen eggs….”
“I’m going to nap, Hannah,” Gabe Senior explained.
“Nap later. I need to cook now,” his wife told him. “And Caroline, you don’t need to sit there looking pretty, although you do look very pretty. I want you to straighten this place up. I want you to get all your dirty laundry out of your room and your brother’s—”
Outraged, Caroline cried, “My brother’s…! I’m not going to do his laundry!”
“So he can take Aurora to the park in the bike holder, which I know you wouldn’t be caught dead doing, and play with her while we straighten this place up.”
“Abby’s asleep,” Cathy said. “I’ll do the laundry if Caroline dusts and picks up, because then I can talk to Julie.”
Cathy didn’t know about the night I’d spent on Friday. I was yearning to tell her, but I wanted it to be face-to-face, and everything had happened so fast. I’d spent the evening pleading with Leo as he tried to sleep, begging him to at least talk things over with Cathy—I wouldn’t need to be present—before he decided to leave. Though he’d held me gently, and kept nodding as if to say he understood my panic, though he’d even tried to make love to me, nothing I could do or say would budge him. “What if I sell the house while you’re gone, Leo? What if I decide to move to New York… City ? Not some burg on the Hudson River?”
“You can’t do that, Jules; it’s a community-property state,” he’d reminded me.
“I could forge your signature,” I threatened him.
“If you need to do that, go ahead,” Leo said. “I don’t think it will accomplish what you want.”
“Who the hell are you, the Dalai Lama?” I asked, jumping out
Similar Books
