Two by Two(13)

"She's okay, but she's feeling the pressure, too. I just want her to be happy with me."

"Hmmm."

"That's it?"

"What else am I supposed to say?'

"I don't know. Challenge me? Give me advice?"

"Why would I do that?"

"Because, among other things, you're trained as a counselor."

"You're not my patient. But even then, I'm not sure I could help."

"Why not?"

"Because counseling isn't about changing someone else. It's about trying to change yourself."





On our way to the car, I held London's hand.

"Don't tell Mommy I had two cupcakes, okay?"

"Why?

"Because it's not good for me and I don't want her to be sad."

"Okay," she said. "I won't. I promise."

"Thanks, sweetie."





London and I returned at six to an empty house with a batch of vanilla cupcakes.

When I texted Vivian, asking where she was, she replied Still have a  couple of things to do-will be home in a little while. It felt  annoyingly cryptic, but before I could text again, London was tugging on  my sleeve and leading me toward the pink three-story Barbie Dreamhouse  she'd stationed in the corner of the living room.

London adored Barbie, was over the moon for Barbie. She had seven of  them, two pink Barbie convertibles, and a plastic tub filled with more  outfits than a fully stocked department store. That every doll had the  same name seemed not to matter to London at all; what fascinated me even  more was that every time Barbie moved from one room in the pink  three-story Dreamhouse to another or changed activities, London believed  that a wardrobe change was imperative. This occurred roughly every  thirty-five seconds, and it went without saying was that the only thing  that London enjoyed more than changing Barbie's wardrobe was having Dad  do it for her.

For the next hour and a half, I spent four full days changing Barbie's outfits, one right after the other.

If that doesn't make sense, I have to admit that it didn't make much  sense to me either. It probably has something to do with the theory of  relativity-time being relative and all that-but London didn't seem to  care whether I was bored or not as long as I kept the outfits  a-changing. Nor did she seem to care whether I understood her reasoning  as to the particular outfit she wanted. Somewhere around the three-day  mark on that late afternoon, I remember reaching for a green pair of  pants when London shook her head.

"No, Daddy! I told you that she needs to wear yellow pants when she's in the kitchen."

"Why?"

"Because she's in the kitchen."

Oh.

Eventually, I heard Vivian's SUV pull into the drive. Unlike my Prius,  it got horrible gas mileage, but it was large, safe, and Vivian had  insisted she'd never drive a minivan, even though it was far more  economical.         

     



 

"Your mom is home, sweetheart," I offered, expelling a sigh of relief as  London raced for the door. As soon as she opened it, I heard her call  out "Mommy!" I straightened up the play area before following her. By  the time I reached the front steps, Vivian was already holding London,  the rear hatch open, and I did a quick double take. Her hair, I saw, was  noticeably shorter, now shoulder length and closer in style to what it  had been when I'd first met her.

She smiled up at me, squinting in the waning summer sunlight. "Hey hon!"  she called out. "Would you mind grabbing some of the bags?"

I descended the steps, listening as London chattered away, telling  Vivian about her day. When I was close, Vivian lowered London to the  ground. By her expression, I knew she was waiting for a reaction.

"Wow," I said, offering her a quick kiss. "This brings back memories."

"You like?" she asked.

"You look beautiful. But how you did you pull this off on Sunday? Where on earth would even be open?"

"There's a salon downtown that offers Sunday appointments. I've heard  great things about one of the hairdressers there and I decided to give  her a try."

Why she hadn't mentioned it that morning, I had no idea. She'd also, I  noticed, gotten a manicure, and hadn't mentioned that either.

"I love it, too, Mommy," London said, breaking into my thoughts.

"Thanks, sweetie," she said.

"I made cupcakes at Nana's today."

"You did, huh?"

"And they're so good, Daddy had two of them."

"Really?"

My daughter nodded, obviously forgetting all about her promise to me. "And Papa had four!"

"They must be delicious." Vivian smiled. She reached into the car,  pulling out a couple of the lighter bags. "Would you mind being a helper  with the groceries?"

"Okay," London said, reaching for them. While London made her way toward  the steps, I noted in Vivian a hint of mischievousness, her good mood  evident.

"Two cupcakes, huh?"

"What can I say?" I shrugged. "They were tasty."

She began reaching for more bags, handing four to me. "It sounds like the two of you had a good time today."

"It was fun," I agreed.

"How are your parents?"

"They're all right. Mom's worried about Dad having the cancer again. She said he had trouble catching his breath the other day."

"That doesn't sound good."

"There's more to the story, but I'm pretty sure it's nothing to worry  about. He seemed fine to me. Mom's right, though. He does need to get a  checkup."

"Let me know when you round up the team of wild horses you'll need to  drag him in there. I want to get a photo." She winked before glancing at  the front door, her way of flirting. "Would you mind bringing in the  rest of it?" she asked. "I want to visit with London."

"Of course," I said.

She kissed me again and I felt the flicker of her tongue against my  lips. Definitely flirting. "There are some more bags in the backseat,  too."

"No worries."

I began reaching for the bags of groceries as she walked away. Absently  glancing toward the backseat, I expected to see more of the same.

But it wasn't groceries. Instead, the backseat was stacked with bags  from various high-end department stores and I felt my stomach lurch. No  wonder my wife was in such a good mood.

Trying my best to ignore the sensation in my gut, it took me three trips  to unload the SUV. I set the department store bags on the dining room  table and I was just about finished putting away the groceries when  Vivian wandered into the kitchen. Opening the cupboard, she pulled out a  couple of glasses and retrieved a bottle from the wine refrigerator  below the cabinet.

"I assume you need a glass even more than I do," she said while pouring. "London told me you played Barbies with her."

"She played. I was in charge of wardrobes."

"I feel your pain. I was there yesterday." She handed me a glass and took a sip from her own. "How are Marge and Liz?"

Though the shift in tone was subtle, I nonetheless detected a lack of  interest in her question. Vivian's feelings for Marge mirrored Marge's  for Vivian, which was one of the reasons why Vivian tended to get along  better with Liz. That being said, although Vivian and Liz were civil and  polite to one another, they weren't exactly close either.

"They're fine. London really enjoys spending time with them."

"I know she does."         

     



 

I nodded toward the dining room table. "I see you went shopping."

"London needed some summer dresses."

My daughter, like my wife, would leave the house dressed as though she'd  strolled out of a catalog. "I thought you already bought her summer  clothes."

She sighed. "Please don't."

"Don't what?"

"Fuss at me about shopping again. I'm so tired of hearing it."

"I haven't fussed at you."

"Are you kidding?" she asked, a hint of frustration surfacing. "That's  all you ever do, even when I take advantage of a sale. And besides, I  also had to buy a couple of new suits for my interviews this week."

For a second I wasn't sure I'd heard her right. "You have interviews this week?"

"Why do you think I've been running around like crazy all day?" She  shook her head, seemingly amazed I hadn't figured it out. "And that  reminds me-you'll be able to watch London, right? On Tuesday afternoon  and Wednesday morning? For maybe three hours each day or so? I'm  supposed to interview with a slew of different executives at the  company."

"Um …  yeah, I guess," I said, still trying to wrap my head around the word "interviews." "When did this happen?"

"I found out today."

"On a Sunday? On a holiday weekend?"

"Believe me, I was as surprised as you are. They weren't even in the  office on Friday. I was on my way to my hair appointment when they let  me know."

"Why didn't you call me?"

"Because after that, I was rushing from here to there and I could barely  believe it myself. Isn't it incredible? I think we should celebrate  tonight, but first how about I show you what I bought?"