Morning Glory(76)

Dex rubs his forehead nervously and stumbles to his left, losing his balance. “Honey,” I say. “Sit down.”

“Penny,” he begins, “I’ve decided something. I’m not going to keep things from you anymore. From now on, it’s you and me.”

I don’t know if it’s the alcohol talking or if this sentiment is genuine, but I gulp, and listen. I nod expectantly.

“I want you to know that I haven’t been honest with you, about . . .”

I think of Lana Turner, then remember the woman who answered the phone at the studio. Do I really want to know what he’s about to divulge? Do I want to hear it? Collin might sail up in an hour, in a day, in a month, and maybe it would be better to leave things as they are. Dex with his secrets, I with mine.

But Dex continues, and I am forced to hear his confession whether I’m ready for it or not. “There’s someone I need you to meet.”

I shake my head. “Who?”

“Her name is Roxanne. She’s eighteen years old.”

Eighteen.

“She’s my daughter, Penny.”

I gasp. “Your daughter?”

“Yes. She’s not much younger than you. I worried what you might think. Also I . . . listen, I made a lot of mistakes in my last marriage, and I’m not proud of myself. You’ve talked about us having children, Penny, and the truth is, I’d make a terrible father.”

I open my mouth to speak and extend my hand to his arm, but he continues before I can say anything.

“I abandoned my first family for reasons that were entirely selfish,” he goes on. “You can see why I decided never to have children again.”

“Dex, please, I—”

“It isn’t in my genetic makeup to be a good father,” he continues with a firm nod. “My father, my grandfather—both were lousy at the gig. So imagine my surprise when Roxanne appeared at the studio. She forgave me.” He wipes a tear from his cheek. “She actually forgave me and gave me a chance to know her. I don’t deserve it, but God, do you know how I have longed for that?”

I stare ahead. I don’t know what to say.

“When I was with Lana, she—”

“Please,” I say. “I can’t bear to hear of your affair.”

“My affair?”

I shake my head in disbelief. “Dexter, you’re telling me that you didn’t . . . ?”

He takes my hands in his. “Penny, my darling, would you actually think that I would do that to you?”

My tears are hard to stop now. I can see the look of shock on Dex’s face, the honesty in his eyes. I’ve misjudged him. I’ve misjudged us.

“All this time,” I say, my voice faltering, “I thought you were having an affair.” I feel overcome with guilt and regret.

“I haven’t been perfect,” he says honestly. “There was a—”

“I don’t want to know.” For some reason the hint of his indiscretion, any indiscretion, makes my guilt more palpable.

He looks down at his feet, then back up at me. “Well, you’d love Roxanne, Penny. She’s been staying at the studio until she starts at the University of Washington in the fall.”

I listen to him talk for the next few minutes. We’ll go to California this fall for a new installation. Lana Turner’s hosting the after-party. New York in the spring for a new art gallery opening. Maybe Roxanne and her new boyfriend can join us. A foursome. I look out at the lake, empty except for a pair of ducks gliding by close to the dock. Collin is gone. I feel slightly dizzy, then overcome with a wave of nausea. I run to the bathroom and throw up.



“You OK in there?” Dex is standing outside the bathroom door. He sounds sweet, attentive, the way he used to in the early days of our marriage. I stand up, dab tissue to the corners of my mouth, and look at myself in the mirror. I’ve lost weight. My cheeks are hollow and colorless. I place my hand on my belly. It’s plausible that the baby is Dex’s, of course.

I walk out to the living room, where I can see the lake. Dex sits beside me on the sofa and nestles his head into the crook of my neck, then reaches for my hand. He holds it up and kisses each finger as if he’s reuniting with every inch of me.

I wonder what I’d do if Collin appeared by the dock now. There he’d be, standing at the front of his sailboat, like a gallant sailor in the night, coming for me. Would I stand up and go to him or stay here with Dex? I feel a panicky flutter in my stomach as Dex stands and pulls me up toward him. “Sleep Walk” has just come on the radio. I first heard the haunting instrumental in California in the lounge at the hotel. It holds new meaning now. Its melody, so sad and dreamlike, lulls me into a trancelike state. Dex holds me strong and sure.