The Glass Wives Read online

  “I’m sorry, I truly am, I don’t think I could be any sorrier—but I can’t take care of you and Luca.” I don’t even know how I’m going to take care of us. Evie took Nicole’s coat and scarf and laid them over the arm of the bench in the foyer, the same bench the kids had waited on for Richard to pick them up on Wednesdays, and every other Friday. Anything or anyone on the bench did not stay for long.

  “I don’t want you to take care of us. I want us to take care of each other.” Nicole’s eyes filled with tears. “I just figured—us being family and all—it would make things easier.”

  The tears were not going to work on Evie. She wanted to morph into Laney and say there was no room at the inn, but she channeled Beth and threw out a blanket of kindness instead. A thin blanket. “If you want to stay for an hour to visit, that’s fine.”

  Evie patted Nicole’s upper arm, the one with the tattoo. Nicole wore short sleeves that covered it, even in summer, but one humid day at a soccer match she’d tucked those sleeves above her shoulders for just a moment. “Nice tattoo” had been all Evie could think to say. It had been three and a half years and a lifetime ago, and Evie had been close enough to discern that the tattoo was a rose. She could see a name or a word or letters surrounding the rose, but couldn’t quite make them out. And she didn’t want to. Evie did not want to see her ex-husband’s name seared into human skin.

  So, not only were Nicole’s jeans riding extra-low on her hips; she had a tattoo. Nice Jewish girls didn’t get tattoos. You can’t be buried in a Jewish cemetery with one, and nice Jewish girls were always worried about where they’d be buried. So Nicole only arrived in Sam’s and Sophie’s lives bearing a tattoo, not to mention chocolate Santas and Easter baskets. The cultural sway still made Evie seasick.

  She touched Nicole’s arm and left her hand just a second too long. Nicole looked down and Evie retracted it as quickly as if she’d burnt her fingers on a hot pan. It sent a mixed message of advance and retreat.

  As if someone had pressed fast-forward, Luca was out of his baby seat and lying on an activity quilt in the middle of the living room. Teethers and rattles surrounded him, and Sophie and Isabel were on their hands and knees, their faces over his, making him laugh. Evie sat with Sophie. Nicole plopped on the floor next to her and wiggled into position with her legs crossed. She looked comfortable. The kids on the blanket served as a mini-Switzerland.

  Luca smiled when Evie scrunched up her nose at him. He wiggled in place the way six-month-olds do. Evie’s phone rang.

  At least she knew it wasn’t Nicole. Was it Scott? She glanced down.

  “It’s my sister,” Evie said without really owing an explanation. Last week Nicole probably didn’t know Evie had a sister. Evie walked into the hall bathroom, flipped on the fan she always thought was too noisy (until now), and shut the door.

  “Great timing, Sis. Nicole’s here.”

  “She’s at your house?” Lisa said as if English were not her first language.

  “Yes, and I don’t know how to get rid of her without being mean.”

  “Be mean.”

  “I can’t be mean, her husband just died.”

  “You and I both know it wasn’t such a big loss. She just hasn’t had time to figure it out.”

  “Stop!” Evie said. “Please, don’t make this harder for me. I’ll call you later.”

  “Yes, you go back to being the hostess with the mostess,” Lisa said as she hung up.

  By all accounts, being a good hostess was at the top of Evie’s list.

  * * *

  “Sorry about that,” Evie said, stepping back into the living room. The kids were gone. Beth sat on the floor, and Laney sat on the couch, as if they’d been there the whole time.

  “When did you two get here?” Evie asked.

  “When you were hiding in the bathroom,” Laney said.

  “Do you want us to go?” Beth said, her voice whispery and apologetic. She motioned between herself and Laney, who crossed her legs the way tall people do, at the knees with her left leg bouncing against the right. Evie knew Laney wasn’t leaving.

  Nicole hugged her legs against her chest and rested her chin atop her knees. At least she was humble enough to know she was under scrutiny. Could Evie even get into that position now? Could she ever? Luca stuck a teething toy in his hand, his mouth, his hand, his mouth.

  Luca would not know the pain of losing Richard, but he would share the experience with his siblings of growing up without a father. Were Evie’s kids better off because they’d have their own memories of Richard, documented by mountains of photos, videos, and corroborated and even enhanced—perhaps embellished—stories told by Evie? Who would tell Luca stories about his dad? In the long run it would be Sam and Sophie, but for now it would be Nicole. And if Evie allowed it, it would be her as well.

  “So, Nicole,” Laney said.

  “Yes?” Nicole cocked her head to one side.

  “What are you going to do now? Move back near your parents? To Idaho, right?”

  “Iowa.” Nicole looked at Evie. “But I want Luca to grow up near Sophie and Sam.”

  “They’re moving,” Laney said.

  A look of panic befell Nicole.

  “I’m not moving!” Evie barked. Laney’s impertinence was exhausting.

  “Okay, maybe you’re moving. Maybe to another house, maybe to another state, I’m just saying…”

  “Of course, we want her to stay right here.” Beth to the rescue. “And luckily that’s what you want too, right, Ev?”

  Evie glowered at Laney. “Yes. I’m staying here, because it’s my home.” Evie played with Luca in lieu of strangling her best friend. Babies—the great equalizer. Mothers could unite over spit-up and night terrors or cherub cheeks and teething woes, no matter the situation.

  Except for Laney, who checked her Rolex. “I promised Jordyn and Jocelyn we’d go out for a sushi lunch. Anybody want to come?” Laney stood and looked at Beth and then Evie. Laney did not look at Nicole.

  “What’s Herb doing?” Evie asked.

  “He has patients until one, and then he’s meeting us.” Laney smiled the oft-whitened smile of a dentist’s wife, the same way she did when she discussed her chi, her yoga, or her newest vintage piece of jewelry. In her faded jeans and oversize sweater she was still put together, which is easy when your casual clothes come from Neiman’s, not a big-box store.

  “That’s great,” Beth said. “But I’m just going to hang out here for a bit if that’s okay.” She looked to Evie and Nicole. They nodded.

  Evie walked Laney to the back door. “Chill,” Evie said as she hugged Laney through her coat.

  “It’s a good thing Beth and I are next door.” Laney pulled back, but held Evie’s arms. “I saw her bring that suitcase inside. She’s cozying up to you because she has no one. I’m suspicious of people who have no one.”

  Laney could be suspicious of people with a vowel in their name.

  “Thanks, Lane. I appreciate your looking out for me, but I’m okay.”

  With Laney gone, Evie stood under the arch that separated the kitchen from the living room. Nicole was still on the floor with Luca. Beth sat within the parameters of their personal mother-baby space.

  Nicole looked up at Evie. “I thought the kids would want to play with Luca more. I don’t know why they didn’t stay.”

  “They’re with their friends. You know … being kids. It’s not Sam or Sophie’s job to take care of Luca,” Evie said.

  “I didn’t say it was their job.” Nicole’s voice rose. “I just thought—”

  “It’s nothing against Luca.” Evie did not add or you.

  In truth, the twins’ attention span with Luca was sincere but short-lived. They were just getting used to having a sibling, and now things were different. Again. During the day the twins wanted to be busy, they needed to be busy. Busy distracted them. Their friends distracted them. On the floor cootchie-cooing with a baby and their father’s widow wasn’t busy. It was a rem
inder.

  “I don’t think your other friend likes me very much.” Nicole pointed her chin in the direction of Laney’s former position.

  Evie ignored Nicole’s complaint. If it is so bad, why does she want to spend more time here? Evie attributed the negativity to Nicole’s grief, new motherhood, and an absentee family.

  “Don’t mind Laney,” Beth said. “She’s just very protective of Evie. Like I told you, just give it time. Laney will come around.”

  Like I told you?

  Nicole’s mouth twisted. “I’m not going to do anything to Evie.” Her tone matched that of a kid caught lying—a cross between guilt and belligerence, with a twinge of adolescent I’m not stupid.

  “No one said you would do anything to her.” Beth stared at Nicole until Nicole looked down between her knees. Was Beth defending Nicole or taunting her? Was Beth defending Evie or disregarding her?

  Evie reached across their circle of three to help Nicole unload the diaper bag, sending another mixed message.

  It was the only kind of message there was.

  “Let’s eat,” Evie said.

  They sat quietly around the kitchen table, but arms flying for turkey and rye, corned beef, coleslaw, potato salad, and leftover kugel. Evie found the contained bedlam soothing.

  Nicole’s plate held one piece of white bread and a golf-ball-size blob of potato salad.

  “Aren’t you hungry?” Evie needed to temper the maternal inclinations but the words had already escaped.

  “I haven’t eaten much since…”

  “You have to eat,” Beth said. “You have to keep up your strength for Luca. Remember what I said earlier.”

  Nicole nodded, said nothing, and fumbled with plastic keys on the high-chair tray.

  “She’s right, you know,” Evie said. “Try the kugel.”

  * * *

  Evie couldn’t wait to slip under the covers and feel the warm flannel sheets. She shut off the living-room lights and double-checked the locks on the front door.

  Nicole’s scarf still hung on the bench.

  Evie whipped her head around. The suitcase was gone from the corner. Then she felt a niggling sensation and opened the front door.

  Women’s intuition was a bitch.

  Nicole’s car idled in the driveway, lights on. It wasn’t more than ten degrees outside. Nicole ran to the door. Evie opened the storm door but didn’t invite Nicole inside. She rubbed her arms and bounced, and Evie wondered if she’d had the heat on in the car.

  “Luca couldn’t sleep, so I was driving him around. I saw the light on and thought maybe you were awake and would know what to do.”

  “Why can’t he sleep?” Evie felt an unexpected stomach twist.

  “I don’t know, but he won’t stop crying. Driving him around usually settles him, but tonight it’s not working. I’ve been out with him for over an hour.”

  “You should probably keep driving, then, right?”

  Nicole shrugged, pulled her hood onto her head, and ran to her car without a word. Evie watched Nicole wiggle into the driver’s seat and buckle. Evie shut the door but didn’t move. She leaned back to make it extra tight. And she waited. She waited for the motor, the bump of the tires over the uneven driveway. She counted to twenty, then opened the door again. Nicole was still there.

  Evie grabbed her coat from the hall closet and slipped on shoes by the heating vent, a momentary source of warmth and comfort.

  Before Evie reached the car, Nicole’s window whizzed down. Luca was crying. Screaming. No, that particular sound was wailing. That was not a normal I-need-to-cruise-around-the-neighborhood fussiness.

  “Does he have a fever?” Evie asked.

  “No.”

  “Is he teething?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Bring him inside.”

  Swabbed gums and a bottle of water put Luca to sleep.

  “Take this,” Evie said, handing Nicole the tube of Baby Anbesol. Evie hoped it had not expired. “You should probably stock up.”

  “I can’t believe I forgot about teething. I could have avoided this whole thing. I’m so sorry. I’m not good at doing this alone.”

  “Mothers have been doing this alone for centuries.” Evie raised one eyebrow and smiled in a flash of maternal bonding. “I bet you won’t forget about teething again.” She put on her tight-lipped, no-nonsense face, tucked a blanket in around Luca, and pushed his blond wisps off his sweaty face as if it were baby-business as usual. Luca resembled Sam. Evie’s heart tugged—but for just a second.

  “Richard was always home to help me. And now the house is empty all day long too. If he wakes up again tonight … I don’t think I can do this.” Nicole touched Evie’s forearm as if trying to find a pulse.

  Thoughts of what Laney and her sister would say flipped through Evie’s head like an old-fashioned Rolodex. She slammed the imaginary lid.

  “It’ll wake Luca if you try to take him home, so, so … you should stay here.” Evie said it fast before she could suck back the words, but then she slowed her pace and said, “Just this once.”

  * * *

  “I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Evie said as she piled blankets and pillows on the couch for Nicole to arrange herself, “where are your parents?”

  “My mom couldn’t make it. But I’ve talked to her, of course.” Nicole’s lips pressed together as if blotting lipstick.

  “Of course,” Evie said, knowing the conversation wasn’t over. “Is she sick?” Every person you’re related to couldn’t make it? To your husband’s funeral and three days of shiva? They’ve all got what? Shiva flu?

  “Well, if you must know, my mother never wanted me to marry Richard, and my brother is stationed in Afghanistan.”

  Evie chose to ignore Nicole’s brother, the hero. She was getting her dander up. The mystery mother didn’t think Evie’s ex was good enough for her daughter? Evie knew that, even eighteen years Nicole’s senior, Richard was the quintessential catch if someone ignored that he was married, which Nicole obviously had. Evie banished the conflicting feelings and watched Nicole fiddle with her fingers and scrape at her clear nail polish, pulling it off in small bits. “Why didn’t your mother want you to marry Richard? Because he was so much older than you?”

  “No. She didn’t care about his age.” Nicole rubbed her arms as if warming from a chill.

  “Why then?” Prying was now essential, and Beth was not there to stop Evie. She knew Richard’s faults inside out and sideways, but that was after years together and years apart. What could someone who’d never met him have against Dr. Richard Glass, the Jewish college math professor? His title alone had mothers lining up to give him their daughters’ numbers, even when she and Richard were married. Plus, criticizing Richard was Evie’s turf. She never bad-mouthed him in front of the twins, would never undermine him as their dad. She tolerated it and even reveled in it when Lisa and Laney slammed him. But when a stranger disparaged the father of her children it defied the convoluted, unspoken Evie Glass Code of Good Divorce.

  Nicole looked at the floor and drew lines in the carpet with her bare left foot. Evie couldn’t help but think of her as a scared teenager who’d just gotten caught slipping in after curfew. “She thought I married him for the wrong reasons, that’s all,” Nicole said, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. She punctuated reasons with an audible sniff. “She didn’t like that he was Jewish either. I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Oh.” There wasn’t a lot of anti-Semitism around Evie, or not any that was thrust in her face. But Nicole wasn’t from a suburb like Lakewood or a city like Chicago. “But it didn’t bother you. The Jewish part.” Evie didn’t know, or care to know, about the wrong-reasons part.

  Nicole wrung her hands and shook her head.

  “How about your father?” Evie said, still organizing the couch.

  “He left when I was three.”

  Evie stepped away and motioned for Nicole to sit. “What do you mean, ‘he left’?�
� Evie wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answer.

  “He moved out. I don’t know the details. I never asked because I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.”

  “You never saw him again?” Evie said it before she could stop herself.

  Nicole sighed and shook her head. “Do you mind if we drop it?”

  Evie resisted the urge to push Nicole’s hair off her forehead, to tell her she’d be okay. Nicole had no father. Like mother like son. Nicole had no father. Like Sam and like Sophie.

  Evie wished this unforeseen bond wasn’t there, for so many reasons. It was the time for loosening ties, not strengthening them—although Evie seemed to be doing that despite herself.

  “Where in Iowa are you from?” Evie asked, as if she knew one Iowa town or city from another. “Do you think you’ll go back?”

  “I’m from Green Ferry, but my mom lives in Iowa City now.” Nicole shoved her hands into the pockets of her robe. “And no, I’m not moving back to either place. I can’t.”

  A trailer park sitting off the edge of a lonely highway flashed in Evie’s mind, then was replaced by a subdivision full of postwar tract houses. She preferred the trailer-park vision and switched back. “You don’t have any family here. Wouldn’t it make sense to go back?” Evie wiggled herself straighter, but kept her gaze transfixed on Nicole.

  Nicole’s eyes opened wide and she stood, removing her hands from her pockets. “We have Sam and Sophie,” she said, her voice rising until Evie put a hushing finger to her own lips. Nicole unfurled the blankets and bunched them up at her feet. She untied her robe to reveal fleece pajamas, a step above Evie’s sweats, for sure. No holes. Cotton-candy pink.

  “You’re our family too,” Nicole said.

  Evie pretended she hadn’t heard that last part. “Let’s go to sleep. I’m sure Luca wakes up early.”

  “Yes, he does. Babies always wake up early, don’t they? Good night,” Nicole said, a touch of hesitancy to her voice, as if she had something else to say but thought better of it.

  “See you in the morning.” Evie almost reached to smooth the blanket, tuck it in tight. She clasped her hands behind her back and walked toward the stairs.