And at five-thirty, he ran out of excuses. He put on his coat, and went downstairs, and walked a few blocks before taking a cab home. He was home before six, and Alex looked up at him in surprise when she saw him. She had been playing with Annabelle and reading her a story. Carmen was making dinner for them, and she had insisted that she wanted to stay for the weekend.
“Hi. How was your day?” She tried to sound casual, but he looked awkward with her, and when he answered, he sounded like a stranger.
“Fine. Sorry I'm late, it was a crazy afternoon.”
“No problem. I kept busy with Annabelle. We had a great time.”
They all had dinner at the table in the kitchen, and Annabelle talked more than either of them. And much to Alex's surprise, she didn't seem to sense the tension between her parents. She was so happy to have her mother home, she was flying high and full of funny stories and jokes and new songs, and unintelligible tales about her friends. It was a lively dinner. And then they put her to bed, and Carmen cleaned up the kitchen. But when Alex and Sam went to their own room, suddenly the conversation ran dry and she didn't know what to say to him, and he seemed to have nothing at all to say to her. He looked tired and distracted.
“Everything okay at work?” she asked, wondering why he was so nervous.
“Fine.” But he couldn't ask her the same thing. She hadn't been to her office all week. Everything she knew was about her illness.
He turned on the television, and sought refuge in it, and eventually he fell asleep, as Alex watched him. She was drained from the emotions of coming home to them, but she was glad she was here. She just didn't know what to do with Sam. But Liz had reassured her again, when she called her that afternoon, and told her to be patient. She said she'd had the same problems with her husband at first too, the awkwardness, the fears about her illness, the resentment too, but eventually he had adjusted.
Sam woke up after the late news, stirred, and looked up at her, as though surprised to see her there next to him, and then, without a word, he went to change into his pajamas. She had already bathed as best she could, and changed her nightgown again, and then she'd put on a bed jacket so the dressing wouldn't upset him. But when he came back to her after he'd showered, which seemed an eternity to her, he seemed to hesitate before coming back to bed again.
He was suddenly afraid of her, as though she might taint him with her problem. She wanted so much from him, and he just didn't know how much he had to give her. His own inadequacy frightened him more than anything. It was easier not to be around her.
“Is something wrong?” She looked at him, confused. It was as though he wasn't sure if he should sleep with her. But with Carmen in the guest room, there were no other options.
“I …would it be …will I hurt you if I sleep here?” Suddenly she couldn't help smiling at him. He looked so uncomfortable in his own skin, and so ill at ease with her. It was tragic in a way, except that it had made her feel both sad and angry. And yet she felt for him too. He looked so awkward.
”You won't hurt me unless you hit me over the head with your shoe. Why?” She tried to pretend that everything was normal, but they both knew it wasn't.
“I just thought maybe …if I rolled over … or touched you …” He was treating her like a piece of glass instead of a woman, and he seemed to go from one extreme to the other. One minute he wanted to pretend there was no problem at all, and the next he wanted to go to the ends of the earth to avoid her. It was more than a little distressing.
“You won't hurt me, Sam,” she said quietly, trying to reassure him. But he slipped into bed as though there were a land mine on her side of it and he was afraid to set it off. He lay there stiffly on the edge of the bed, keeping as far away from her as he could. And doing that made her feel like a pariah.
“Are you all right?” he asked her nervously before he turned out the light. “Do you want anything?”
“I'm fine.” Or at least she wished she were, and she was certainly fine enough to sleep beside him. But it was obvious that he didn't want to. Eventually, he fell asleep clinging to the edge of the bed, as Alex watched him. It was as though, with the absence of one breast, overnight they had become strangers. And once he was asleep, she lay in bed and cried, pining for her husband.
He woke up on Saturday long before she stirred, and by the time she got up, and changed her bed jacket for the dressing gown again, he and Annabelle were dressed and tailing about going to Central Park to fly a new kite he had bought her.
“Want to come?” he asked hesitantly, but she shook her head. She was still very tired, and it would be easier to wait for them at the apartment.
“I'll wait here. Maybe Annabelle and I can make cookies when you come home,” she said, trying to be entertaining.
“Yum!” Annabelle announced. She liked both plans. The cookies and the kite. And she and Sam went out half an hour later, with their kite, in high spirits. He had hardly spoken to Alex since she got up, it was as though now that she was back in the apartment, she was a real threat to him. He was even less communicative than he had been when she was in the hospital. It was very unnerving.
They came home for lunch, and Alex made them soup and sandwiches. Carmen had gone home for a few hours, and Alex insisted she didn't need her, but she said she'd come back anyway. She wanted to be there to help Alex.
Annabelle explained excitedly that they had flown the kite really high for a while, near the model-boat pond, and then it had flown into a tree, and Daddy had to climb way up to get it.
“Well, not as ‘way up' as all that,” he confessed, looking amused. They'd had a good time. And they'd bought chestnuts and pretzels.
Alex had done her hair while they were gone, and she had dressed. She was wearing a full sweater and jeans, and you almost couldn't see anything of what had happened to her. You barely saw the swell of either breast in the oversized sweater. But Annabelle noticed it later when she was sitting on Alex's lap and leaning against her.
“Your hurt boobie has gotten smaller, Mommy,” she said, staring at her chest as though she was surprised. “Did it fall off when you got bumped?”
“Kind of.” She smiled, trying to retain her composure. It had to be discussed eventually and now was as good a time as any. Better sooner than later. Sam was in the other room, and he looked a little startled when he came back and heard what they were saying.
“Will it look different when you take the bandage off? Is it all gone?” Annabelle looked amazed that a part of her mother had actually disappeared. She looked more than puzzled.
“Maybe. I haven't looked yet.”
“Could it just fall off?”
She didn't want to frighten her or mislead her. “No, it couldn't. But it got pretty hurt. That's why they gave me the big bandage.”
“How did it happen?” Annabelle looked surprised at what had happened to her mother on her trip, but Sam looked annoyed at her. Fortunately, Annabelle left the room to get a game, and forgot to listen to the answer to her question, for which Alex was very grateful, because she didn't have one. “How did it happen?” was one question she didn't want to answer.
But Sam had been listening and he didn't like the subject of their conversation.
“Why did you have to explain it to her? Why does this have to be a topic of conversation with her? She's three and a half years old for chrissake. She doesn't need this.” Neither did he, and he was almost fifty.
“Neither do I, Sam, but we're stuck with it anyway. And she asked me. She was sitting on my lap, and she felt the difference.”
“Don't sit her on your lap then. There are plenty of ways around it.”
“So I've noticed. You seem to be finding all of them.” He was avoiding her at every turn, and later that afternoon, he said that he had to go to the office, which surprised Alex. He rarely ever went there on the weekend. But she knew why he was doing it now. He just couldn't stand being near her.