doorway and came to sit beside him. “But as far as you’re concerned, I was thinking that you don’t have to be any crazier than you want to be … that whoever, whatever the red-haired woman reminded you of, it doesn’t make any difference. It’s in the past, her and that person TJ. Maybe they had something to do with you once, but they’re gone now.” She moved closer to him. Her lips were brushing his shoulder as she said: “Can’t you just decide to put them away, put them back wherever they’ve been all these years? Can’t you just go back tobeing my Justin? A guy who’s willing to spend a week on Maui making his wife really happy?”
Justin wanted nothing more than to make Amy happy. But on the day he had returned to the house on Lima Street, something changed in him, and it was making him increasingly intolerant of the silver spoon that Don Heitmann had jammed down his throat.
“I’m sorry, Ames,” he said. “I’m not going. No Maui.”
“Why?” Amy looked genuinely puzzled. “Why is my father’s generosity such a problem for you?”
Justin realized that if someone sitting next to him at a ball game or an airport had asked him that question, he would have no problem saying: “I have a rich father-in-law who treats me and my wife and child like we’re a wholly owned subsidiary. I went along with it because I wanted my wife to be happy. But now for some reason, I can’t do it anymore. I need to find my own place in the world. And I’ll never be able to do that if I’m always letting another man buy me out of it.”
It was a simple truth he could have told to any stranger. But he couldn’t tell it to Amy, because he knew every inch of her, every curve, every smooth plane, every secret place from which silky blond hairs sprang. Because they shared a child, and a home, and a bed. Because she was his woman. Because she was the love of his life.
To tell Amy the truth would be to risk losing her, and Justin knew he couldn’t survive that. So he pulled her closer and said: “We got off the subject. Tell me about being in the shower and the connection you made between World Craziness and what’s going on with your crazy husband.”
Amy didn’t cuddle against him as she usually did; she stayed sitting upright, leaving a little distance between them. “I was just thinking,” she said. “You know, about the bad things in life. And Irealized that from the very beginning there’s been a map. Starting with the Bible, the Old Testament. There was the flood, then Noah and the rainbow. And the whole story of Christ, the Crucifixion and then the Resurrection. Then all through history, the same thing. The Dark Ages and the Renaissance. Hitler and the Holocaust, then D-day. Communism, then the Berlin Wall comes down. Segregation, then Martin Luther King and the first black person ever to be secretary of state. It’s always been there, the map to the way life works out. There’s always evil but it never actually wins. It has its moment, but it always gets pushed back by something good.” Amy stopped and looked at Justin. “I wanted to tell you about that. I thought maybe it would help.”
Justin was watching flickering shadows from the firelight play across the ceiling. “Amy. Before the rainbow, the flood wiped out everything and there are still a hell of a lot more black guys in the slammer than in the White House.”
“Well, you know what?” Amy got up from the sofa and angrily hit the wall switch, blasting the room with light. “You’re not a black guy and you’re not in the slammer and you haven’t been wiped out by a flood. You’re a guy with a great life and a few odd memories, and there’s no reason we can’t go to Hawaii and make my father happy. What good is it doing for you to sit around here being tormented? I’ve got news for you, Justin … you’re wallowing. And it’s getting old. I’m tired of it.”
To Justin, Amy’s statement sounded petulant and spoiled, as if
Justin wanted nothing more than to make Amy happy. But on the day he had returned to the house on Lima Street, something changed in him, and it was making him increasingly intolerant of the silver spoon that Don Heitmann had jammed down his throat.
“I’m sorry, Ames,” he said. “I’m not going. No Maui.”
“Why?” Amy looked genuinely puzzled. “Why is my father’s generosity such a problem for you?”
Justin realized that if someone sitting next to him at a ball game or an airport had asked him that question, he would have no problem saying: “I have a rich father-in-law who treats me and my wife and child like we’re a wholly owned subsidiary. I went along with it because I wanted my wife to be happy. But now for some reason, I can’t do it anymore. I need to find my own place in the world. And I’ll never be able to do that if I’m always letting another man buy me out of it.”
It was a simple truth he could have told to any stranger. But he couldn’t tell it to Amy, because he knew every inch of her, every curve, every smooth plane, every secret place from which silky blond hairs sprang. Because they shared a child, and a home, and a bed. Because she was his woman. Because she was the love of his life.
To tell Amy the truth would be to risk losing her, and Justin knew he couldn’t survive that. So he pulled her closer and said: “We got off the subject. Tell me about being in the shower and the connection you made between World Craziness and what’s going on with your crazy husband.”
Amy didn’t cuddle against him as she usually did; she stayed sitting upright, leaving a little distance between them. “I was just thinking,” she said. “You know, about the bad things in life. And Irealized that from the very beginning there’s been a map. Starting with the Bible, the Old Testament. There was the flood, then Noah and the rainbow. And the whole story of Christ, the Crucifixion and then the Resurrection. Then all through history, the same thing. The Dark Ages and the Renaissance. Hitler and the Holocaust, then D-day. Communism, then the Berlin Wall comes down. Segregation, then Martin Luther King and the first black person ever to be secretary of state. It’s always been there, the map to the way life works out. There’s always evil but it never actually wins. It has its moment, but it always gets pushed back by something good.” Amy stopped and looked at Justin. “I wanted to tell you about that. I thought maybe it would help.”
Justin was watching flickering shadows from the firelight play across the ceiling. “Amy. Before the rainbow, the flood wiped out everything and there are still a hell of a lot more black guys in the slammer than in the White House.”
“Well, you know what?” Amy got up from the sofa and angrily hit the wall switch, blasting the room with light. “You’re not a black guy and you’re not in the slammer and you haven’t been wiped out by a flood. You’re a guy with a great life and a few odd memories, and there’s no reason we can’t go to Hawaii and make my father happy. What good is it doing for you to sit around here being tormented? I’ve got news for you, Justin … you’re wallowing. And it’s getting old. I’m tired of it.”
To Justin, Amy’s statement sounded petulant and spoiled, as if
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