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With more energy than moments ago, I walk into the middle of the floor and turn on the spot. I see Izzy running on a treadmill, looking out on the view of the Hudson. I see her pummeling a punch bag, her music playing in her ears, or in the stretch-out area maybe humming her own songs as she winds down.
‘I’m in,’ I say.
Drew throws an arm around my shoulder. ‘Let’s make this happen, buddy.’
Out on the sidewalk, after exchanging details and agreeing on a time to talk through next steps, I have a thought. ‘Gloria, do you also deal with residential apartments? I’m in the market for a new two bedroom. My only stipulation is a view.’
* * *
Stopping the car in the usual spot I would pick up Cady – on the edge of the cul-de-sac – I give myself a pep talk.This is Alice. Just Alice. Sweet, beautiful Alice. She can’t hurt you any more. You have to do this for Cady.
Putting the car in gear, I drive down the road, following Cady’s instructions. In front of a large, detached house, I see the black Range Rover she told me would be in the driveway.
Come on, dude, keep your cool.
Cady is already out of the house when I shut the door of the truck behind me. As she walks into my arms, I see Alice over her shoulder, standing in the doorway. She’s older. She doesn’t look exactly like my Alice. Her hair is a darker shade of blonde. There are a few different colors, not one light shade, not likeAlice in Wonderland. And her hair is short, just below her chin. But her big, blue eyes are just the same. And she’s glowing, like she did when she was pregnant with Cady.
‘She won’t bite,’ Cady whispers into my ear.
For the first time, as I meet the stare of my Alice, I know she won’t bite. I also know she is no longer mine. The strange thing is, it doesn’t upset me, or bring me to anger. The relief I feel carries me to the door.
Cady steps inside ahead of me and disappears down a long corridor, leaving just the two of us. Up close, Alice’s eyes are different. There are fine lines at the corners. Her once pale, clear skin has makeup partially covering freckles.
Her lips curve into a smile. That I recognize. The way her skin folds at the corners of her mouth. She’s the same Alice and yet so different.
‘Hi, Brooks.’
‘Hi, Alice.’
It’s hard to say which of us makes the first move. We end up locked in an embrace, squeezing each other hard. Holding the past and letting it go at the same time.
‘Can we eat? I’m starving!’ Cady shouts from somewhere, presumably the kitchen.
Alice and I pull apart, still smiling at each other. ‘You always did look beautiful pregnant.’
‘You always said that and I always felt dreadful.’
‘I guess I missed that.’
‘It’s good to see you, Brooks.’
‘It’s good to see you too, Alice.’
I follow her along to the kitchen, walking over the high-polished wood flooring, passing white walls filled with pictures of countryside and beaches. Cady is already perched at the farmhouse-style table.
‘Richard, this is Brooks. Brooks, Richard,’ Alice says.
Richard is around five ten in height and thinning around the crown. He turns from where he’s putting bacon onto four plates, wiping his hands down an apron as he does. He holds out his hand and I shake it. Firm, but not aggressive.
It turns out Richard isn’t the alpha douche I expected, ordering Alice around while he sits with his feet up in checked slippers, smoking a pipe all day. Go figure.
We eat bacon, eggs, and French toast. All cooked by Richard. It’s not the nightmare I have thought about for years. It’s… nice. Alice and I share a few glances and tell Cady and Richard a few stories of when we were kids. It’s surreal but fine.
Eventually, we get on to Cady’s drop-off day at college. We agree to all go with her. College fees are never mentioned. It was agreed a long time ago that I wanted to, and would be, paying those. But Richard does ask my permission to buy a few niceties to make Cady feel more at home in the dorm. I respect the guy for asking and I have no problem with it.
It’s hard to describe the weightlessness I feel as I drive back into the city. It’s like Alice, or the thought of her, has been a concrete block crushing my chest for so long, and now, everything feels easier, lighter somehow.
As I roll to a stop at a red light, my hand braced on the top of the steering wheel, I also realize for sure that what I felt, feel, for Izzy is nothing like what I have been feeling for Alice all these years. Alice was a sense of loss. Any happiness was nostalgia.
