If You Only Knew
Page 112

“Well, I’ve always missed us. We were never the problem.”
What? Men are so... Natalia is starting to fuss a little, so I turn her toward me, and with a sigh, she settles against my neck.
“What do you mean, we were never the problem?” I say, my voice low because of the baby, and hard—because really! “You didn’t want to be married to me anymore, Owen. That was actually a very big problem.”
He has on his Dr. Wonderful face. Compassionate yet concerned yet reassuring. “I just wonder if Ana and I rushed things.”
“Well, of course you did. That’s hardly news.”
He smiles. “I know. It just... It seemed fated at the time.”
“And now?”
“Not so fated.” I blink. “Things were so perfect at first. It really did seem like it was meant to be. But now...I don’t know. We barely talk anymore. She’s always tired and acting like a martyr because she’s nursing, and I say just bottle-feed—it won’t kill her—and she acts like I suggested throwing the baby in the Hudson. And Natalia doesn’t sleep for more than a couple of hours at a stretch. I actually fell asleep in my office the other day. Me. Can you imagine?”
I’d respond, but I’m too stunned. Owen is whining. Owen. Whining. He of the Perfect Life.
His hair is starting to thin.
“Sometimes I just wish I could go back in time and be with you, that’s all.” He gives me a sad smile.
I put the baby back in her stroller/car seat/cappuccino maker, since I think my glaring would have more effect if it wasn’t over the head of a beautiful sleeping child.
“You don’t get to say shit like that, Owen,” I say.
His eyebrows jump in surprise.
The waitress brings our drinks, and while I’d like to toss mine in his face, I might get the baby wet, and also I’m quite thirsty. I chug it down. “Would you like to order now?” the waitress asks.
Owen smiles at her. “I’ll have the—”
I hold my hand up. “I’m sorry,” I say to the waitress. “We’re in the middle of something. Sorry. Can you come back in ten minutes?”
“I’m really hungry,” he says, and you know, I’ve forgotten that. Owen has to be fed every four hours or he gets a little bitchy. That’s the only word for it.
“Ten minutes,” I tell the waitress.
“I’ll have the salmon Benedi—”
“Owen!”
“I’ll give you ten minutes,” she says and backs away from the table.
“You’re upset,” he says.
“Yes, Owen. I am.” I take a deep breath. “Look. You divorced me. You found me lacking somehow.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Yes. You did.” The words come out from behind clenched teeth. “And then you found your soul mate and you have this perfect baby, but you whine to me? Me? How dare you?”
“Jenny, all I meant was—”
“I don’t think we can be friends anymore.”
The words surprise us both.
But in the nicest way. For me, anyway.
Suddenly, I feel a lot lighter than I have in a long time.
“Look,” I say more gently. “I’m sure that being a new dad is hard. And now that you and Ana-Sofia have been married a little while, reality is setting in. But you don’t get to complain about that to me. You left me. I wanted kids, and you didn’t, and now I don’t have any and you do. So you’re a little tired. So Ana’s boobs are used for something other than your recreation. Grow up.”
He starts to speak, but I don’t let him. I’m kind of on a roll, actually.
“And furthermore, I don’t think it’s healthy for me to stay close with you. I’m tired of pretending it’s all happy and great and the three of us are friends. We’re not. You’re my ex-husband. She’s the woman who took my place. I don’t care if you’re both nice people. I’m tired of soothing your guilty conscience by appearing at dinner parties twice a year and getting a phone call every other day. Okay? You dumped me. It’s fine. I’m fine. But enough already.”
I stand up. So does he. “Jenny,” he says, rubbing his hand over his mouth. “I—I’m so sorry.”
“I accept your apology.” I look down at the baby, this beautiful child I helped into the world. “Keep me on your Christmas card list, okay?”
Then I give him a quick hug and leave, snagging a cheese danish from the pastry counter on the way out. “Put this on his tab,” I tell our waitress.
“You bet, sister.” She winks.
I wander down toward Lincoln Center, where Evander will be auditioning, eating my danish and eavesdropping, dodging the people who are engrossed in their phones, half hoping that Darwinism will take place and they’ll fall down an open manhole. But it’s a beautiful summer day, I’m walking along Central Park West and the pastry is excellent.
I’m happy, I realize.
It’s good that Owen and I broke up, because the truth is, I never fit in that life. I loved it—and I loved him—but I didn’t fit. It was a life meant for someone else—Ana-Sofia, I hope, because I truly do like her and don’t want Owen to end up one of those sad, lonely clichés of a man, with three ex-wives and children he never sees.
And while Leo and I didn’t work out...
I don’t know how to finish that sentence. I’m better off for loving him? So corny. So true.