Thought I Knew You(96)

They would fight in the evening, screaming hateful words at each other, words I didn’t even know they knew, and it scared me. I began taking Hannah back to the child psychologist once a week, then arranged for Leah to go, too. The psychologist assured me that both responses were natural and gave me ideas on how to navigate my new waters. At her instruction, I tried to keep all developments with Greg transparent, telling them in detail about my trips to Toronto and taking them whenever I could.

When the doctors decided on the date Greg would transfer to New Jersey, I had to tell the girls that Greg wouldn’t be living with us. I used his therapy as an out, though it conflicted with my self-imposed honesty rule. Some things are mine, I justified. They reacted as expected: scared, frustrated, but still happy he would be coming home and they’d see him more.



“You’ll see him all the time,” I promised. For better or worse, Greg was a permanent fixture in our lives.

Greg reacted with mixed emotions when I told him about the group home I’d found. “I think it’s a good thing,” he said, but it sounded forced.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“I am, Claire. I will be. I miss us as a family, I guess. I don’t know what I thought would happen when it came time for me to come back. It’s not realistic for us to live together. But still…” He gave me a sad smile. “I miss it. That’s all. I wish things were different. I’ll miss them so much. And you, I’ll miss you.”

I nodded because I, too, wished things were different. “You’ll see more of me now than you have for the last few months. You’ll get sick of me, you’ll see.”

He shook his head. “I don’t think that could ever happen.” He pulled me into an unexpected hug. Since the day I had told him of our divorce, he’d been distant, careful to not cross any lines.

I hugged him back, resting my cheek on his shoulder. He was filling out some, although nowhere near his old stature. His arms felt reassuring around my waist, and we stayed locked in a hug. For a brief moment, I wished he had been this man years ago. Would I have loved him differently? I didn’t know. I pulled away, not wanting to mislead him. Was I doing the right thing? Could I love him again? Maybe. But logically, was I willing to walk away from what I’d found with Drew?

My heart hammered as we pulled up in front of Toronto rehab for the last time, I felt. Drew helped me get Leah out of the car, then hung back, deliberately fading into the background.

When we met Greg in the lobby, he carried only a duffel bag. He greeted the girls, hugging them, then kissed my cheek. He turned to Drew, and I held my breath. Greg extended his hand, almost grudgingly, and Drew shook it. Greg said, “Drew,” and they nodded at each other.



Greg then turned his attention to Leah. “Your hair has gotten so long, Leah!” Leah laughed in delight, as she wanted a “ponytail that goes down my back.” I expelled a breath and caught Drew’s eye. He winked discreetly at me. Maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay.





We made the trip home, stopping for dinner and to stretch our legs. Drew and Greg made casual conversation, but Drew stayed at arm’s length, careful not to be overly present, not to overshadow Greg’s big day home.

The next day, we had a welcome home party at the house, which was as strange as it was happy. My parents tried to put on cheerful faces. They were happy to see Greg again, but at the same time, the room felt tight with tension. We all laughed a little too loud and talked over each other, trying to make it feel normal. Greg was alternately withdrawn and excited, surely remembering his home and a time when he had a place in it.

Drew said later he’d never felt so uncomfortable in his life and that any progress toward making our house feel like his home was erased. I knew then that moving was going to be in our near future. I dreaded the impact that would have on the girls, but could foresee no other option.

As the evening wound to a close, Mom and Dad left, and I could see Greg fading. Life took its toll on him so easily. I drove him home, and the moment felt surreal. I remembered his memorial service, and the sensation of watching events unfold through Plexiglas returned. As I pulled into the parking lot of Greg’s new house, we turned to face each other.



He reached out and thumbed my cheek. “I still love you, Claire.”



“I know, Greg. I love you, too. I’m always here for you. But things are different now. Do you understand that?”

“Yeah. Thank you,” he said. “For all you’ve done for me.”

Guilt pierced my heart, tailed closely by ever-present anger that never seemed to abate, following me like a sinister shadow since I’d left that small, dark kitchen weeks ago. Thank me for leaving you? “You don’t have to thank me,” I replied. “We’re still a family. You’re Hannah and Leah’s father.”