Daddy

Their friends called and invited him out, word had gotten around slowly, once Aggie started driving Sarah's car pool. But he didn't want to see anyone. They were curious, and gossipy, and just too damn nosy. And in the midst of it all, George seemed to be calling night and day, with horrifying reports of Ollie's mother's backward progress. She was even more forgetful now, a danger to herself in some ways, and George was distraught and clinging to his son for comfort. But Ollie could barely keep his own life afloat. It was hard enough coping with the children. He thought of taking all of them to a shrink, but when he called Sam's teacher to talk about it, she insisted that everything they were feeling was normal. It was understandable that Sam was difficult and argumentative and whiny, his grades were suffering in school, and so were Mel's. And it was obvious that she still blamed her father for her mother's absence. The school psychologist said that was healthy too. She needed someone to blame it on, other than herself, and he was a convenient scapegoat. And it was equally normal that Benjamin would seek refuge with his friends, to escape the home that was now so different without her. It would all blow over in time, the experts said, they'd all adjust, but there were times when Ollie wondered if he would survive it.

He came home exhausted every night, drained by the day at work, to find the house disrupted, the children unhappy and fighting. His dinners were no longer edible, wrapped in tinfoil and kept in the oven too long. And when Sarah called, he wanted to throw the phone at the wall and scream. He didn't want to hear about her classes or why she wasn't coming home again this weekend. He wanted her to come back and sleep with him, love him, cook for him, and take charge of their children. Aggie was great, but what she could offer them fell far short of all the little special things provided by their mother.

He was sitting in his office one afternoon, staring out the window, at the rain and sleet that were typical of late January in New York, and wondering if she ever would come back. Right then, he'd have settled for a weekend. She'd been gone a month by then, and he was so lonely, he almost thought he couldn't stand it.

“There's a happy face … can I come in?” It was Daphne Hutchinson, an assistant vice-president of the firm, he'd known her for four years, and they were currently working together on a presentation for a new client. She was a good-looking woman with dark hair she wore pulled back tightly in a bun. She was well-dressed in a chic, European way, everything was very spare and neat about her. And she always wore a great scarf, an expensive pair of shoes, or a piece of discreet but handsome jewelry. He liked her, she was quick and smart, discreet, hardworking, and for whatever reason she had never been married. She was thirty-eight years old, and her interest in striking up a friendship with Oliver over the years had never been more than platonic. She had made it clear to everyone at the firm, from the first, that office romances weren't her style, and through thick and thin and some serious attempts, she had stuck by what she said at the beginning. Oliver respected her for that, and it made her easy to work with. “I've got some of the mock-ups for next week,” she was carrying a large portfolio, but she looked hesitant, “but you don't look much in the mood. Should I come back?” She had heard a rumor that Sarah had left, and she had seen the strain in his face for weeks, but they had never discussed it.

“That's okay, Daph, come on in. I guess now's as good a time as any.”

She was worried about him as she walked in. He seemed to have lost weight, his face was pale, and he looked desperately unhappy. She sat down and showed him the work, but he seemed unable to concentrate, and finally she suggested they forget it and offered him a cup of coffee. “Anything I can do? I may not look like much,” she said, grinning amiably, “but I've got tremendous shoulders.”

He smiled at her. She had great stature in many ways, and lots of style, and he almost forgot how tiny she was. She was a terrific woman, and once again he found himself wondering why she had never married. Too busy perhaps, or too wrapped up in her work. It happened to a lot of them, and then suddenly at forty they panicked. But she didn't look as though she was panicking. She seemed content and self-possessed, and her eyes were kind as he sat back in his chair with a sigh and shook his head. “I don't know, Daph … I guess you've heard …” His eyes bore into hers like two pools of green pain and she had to resist an urge to put her arms around him. “Sarah left last month to go back to school … in Boston …”

“That's not the end of the world, you know. I thought it was worse than that.” She had heard they were getting a divorce, but she didn't say that to Ollie.