His Other Wife (6 page)

“Mom, you know how things are. It’s got to stay quiet. Somebody might call the police or something.”

Silence.

“It’s just one night. You know nothing’s going to happen.”

“No, I don’t know that.”

“Dad’s standing there, isn’t he? You’re not going to let him have anything to say about this, are you? He isn’t even a part
of our lives anymore.”

“Oh,” Hilary said, smiling at Eric, who had stopped beside her. “I’d say he’s very much a part of our lives right now.”

Hilary had a disappointed little boy sitting on her couch spinning a basketball with small, dusty hands, and a campout seemed
like such a fleeting, small detail. She had a woman waiting in her living room with her two perfectly behaved children, a
woman who probably waxed her floors weekly. “Seth. Are you coming home now, or not?”

“I’m on my way.”

“That’s better.”

“Okay.”

“Yeah.”

“Love you, Mom.”

Lily had started spinning again, her tiny feet crossing one over the other, toes barely touching the floor. And when Hilary
hung up the phone, all she could see was the child her husband had given his new wife. The little girl turned dizzily, laughing,
her arms splayed, spinning, spinning. Hilary couldn’t take her eyes off Eric’s daughter. And she couldn’t help feeling that
she was just like the little girl, slowly spinning out of control.

E
mily waited at the end of the driveway, gripping her bike handlebars. Seth shoved his cell into his pocket and turned to her.
“Guess I’d better get home. My dad’s here.”

“Is he?” Emily watched her boyfriend, trying to read his eyes.

“Dad wants to take me to dinner tonight. You want me to ask if you can come with us?”

“I can’t,” she said. “Mom wants me here to do stuff with Gran.”

Seth shrugged. “So I won’t see you until graduation tomorrow?”

“Guess not.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Got to keep the relatives happy, huh?”

She’d thought he would go to his car then, only he didn’t. He didn’t move for a minute. She wondered if it had something to
do with his dad. Whenever Seth’s dad came, Seth got quiet. He never liked to talk about their time together. “Seth? Are you
freaking out or something? About your dad being here?”

“That’s stupid. Why would I do that? He’s my dad.”

“You know,” she said. Sometimes when she and Seth had been out together and alone, when the stars had cloaked them and the
rest of the world had seemed far away, she had sensed that he was still mad at his dad for leaving them.

“Give me your bike.”

“Seth. You said you had to get home.”

“Come on. Just let me ride it.”

“Why?”

“I’m not going to take it or anything, silly. I just want to try out the brakes before I take off.”

“But you tried them in the garage.”

“We need a road test.”

She walked it to him and he swung his leg over the seat. “Get on,” he said, motioning for her to hop on the handlebars in
front of him.

At first Emily was able to balance in front of him. She fell against Seth’s chest when he took the corner. As he steered up
Walnut Street, she could feel the slow, steady drum of his heart behind her shoulder. She closed her eyes and lifted her face
to the dappled sunlight as they passed beneath the trees. She held on for dear life as they turned onto a four lane and Seth
shot to the middle, cars whizzing past on both sides. They veered into the 7-Eleven parking lot, hung a U, and headed toward
her house again.

“You haven’t tried the brakes yet!” she shouted.

“I will when it’s time. Not yet.”

So this was how it felt to be alive and young. She couldn’t believe high school was over! Tomorrow they would graduate! And,
after that, so many other things would happen. During the next years of their lives, so many things would change. They would
leave home, pick careers, fall in love, get married, maybe have their own children. They’d make big plans. Maybe they’d make
big mistakes like some of their parents had done.

Who knew where any of them would end up a few years from now?

Today was the start of everything they had waited for.

Behind her, Seth pedaled hard. His heart felt like it might hammer out of his chest behind her. He didn’t throw on the brakes
until they’d hopped the curb, careened up the sidewalk, and bumped halfway across her front lawn. That’s when they finally
jerked to a stop.

“Brakes work fine,” Seth growled as he helped her off and then dropped the bike on its side in the grass. Right in front of
the house where everyone could see, he hugged her against him longer than he had before, kissed her hair, and whispered, “I’ll
miss you until I see you tomorrow, Em.”

“I’ll miss you, too.”

So happy. So full of promise. It was a moment as fragile as glass. Emily stood on her front porch after he’d left, remembering
the feel of his lips where they’d touched her, not wanting to go inside.

The Jefferson High School football field stretched before Hilary like an oval emerald. Hilary caught her mother’s arm and
led her toward the folding chairs. Above them, in the stands, the benches were filling. Thank heavens they’d reserved seats
on the grass for family, Hilary thought. Every time her mother came to visit, it was harder for her to get around.

Pam walked ahead of them, wearing a dress Hilary envied, a brilliant navy Dior with a white belt that made her waist look
about as big around as a twig. Ben and Lily skipped ahead of their mother, sidling into one chair after another, glancing
back at Pam for her approval.

“No,” she kept calling to them. “A little farther. We want to be close to the podium.”

Eric strode along in front of them, too, although he was lagging behind Pam. The folds in his suit changed color in the light,
from brown to gray then brown again. He walked with his hand shoved inside one pocket, which wrinkled his sleeve, revealed
his gold watch on his wrist, hefted the hem of his jacket. The whole effect made him appear altogether too relaxed and amiable.
But Hilary knew better. He was as uncomfortable as the rest of them.

She saw him wanting to hurry, wanting to catch up with Pam, but he was slowing down to keep tabs on Hilary’s mother and his
own parents, George and Ruth. “That’s okay, Eric,” Ruth called to him. “Save us seats. We’ll get there. We’re right behind
you.”

Hilary watched Eric’s steps shorten. The next thing she knew, he was offering his elbow to her mother. Hilary knew her mother
had missed Eric. Alva had always loved and relied on him, ever since the day Hilary brought him around so Alva could meet
him. She had told Hilary she thought he looked like Harrison Ford. Since he ate the entire bowl of Alva’s banana pudding,
the one with the recipe on the vanilla wafers box, in one sitting that day, Hilary’s mother had nothing but praise. Eric
and Alva walked along in front of Hilary with their heads together, and her mother stood a little straighter and moved a little
faster now that Eric was at her side. His lips were lowered to her ear. He told her something that made her pat his arm.

So much for me
, Hilary was thinking.
So much for loyalty.

Pam and the kids were waving at George and Ruth from way up the aisle. At last they’d found a row of seats that were acceptable.
When the rest of them finally got there, Eric allowed Alva to enter the row first, which seated her beside Pam and the children,
himself beside Hilary, and George and Ruth Wynn on Hilary’s other side. Pam didn’t like the arrangement, Hilary could tell.
She kept glancing in their direction. Hilary thought about suggesting that Eric trade places with her mother, but she didn’t.
She wasn’t sure whether she let it go because it would take so much effort for her mother to rearrange herself or because
she was feeling spiteful. Hilary didn’t have time to analyze her motivations, though, because in that instant she was surrounded
by friends and other families from the high school. Gina adjusted the zoom on her camera. Kim hung her purse on the back of
a chair and sat beside her husband.

Each hug that came Hilary’s way was accompanied by knowing smiles, melancholy glances. Seth’s third-grade teacher asked about
his plans for the future and Hilary listed them with pride: the substantial scholarship to Emhurst, the liberal-arts college
in Springfield, and a writing class he’d enrolled in.

“Where has the time gone?” the teacher asked as she shook her head.

Some in this group had known Hilary long enough to recognize Eric. Others hadn’t. Hilary was caught in an endless round of
introductions: “These are Seth’s grandparents. This is Seth’s father, Eric…his wife, Pam…their children,” Hilary said, and
pointed toward the kids, and they replied, “Nice to meet you. Nice to meet you,” under the scrutinizing eye of their mother.
“Eric. Pam. Kids. This is Julie.” Or “Donna” or “Fay” or “Kim.” Others crossed the aisle, too, the MacCleods and Remy’s father
and Emily’s parents and grandmother. The small talk continued until the women’s choir filed onto the bleachers and sang “Graduation
(Friends Forever),” a song from the band Vitamin C.

“Pomp and Circumstance” began and then came the graduates, two by two, the boys in black and the girls in white, their caps
angled in every direction, their tassels dangling. A small uproar began each time a new face appeared in the aisle. Cheers
and flashbulbs erupted simultaneously. Everything moved in slow motion until Hilary found her son. Suddenly here came Seth,
moving toward them with Emily at his side, tilting his head to make sure Hilary knew he’d found his family in the crowd. How
proud she was of him; he’d been waiting so long for this moment! Hilary found herself shouting his name with all the others,
standing on tiptoe to see as much of him as she could, as the music played and he mounted the steps to the stage.

The student-body president spoke and an orchestra ensemble played something that made Hilary and Eric glance at each other
because it was a little out of tune. The jokes from T. J. Williams, the class clown, seemed ridiculously funny. He talked
a lot about picturing all of them in their underwear — which was an overused topic — but he spoke with such a great throbbing
Roman-speech voice and talked about envisioning everyone’s grandma in diapers so that he almost toppled everyone off their
seats. Hilary glanced at her mother, halfway worried that she’d be offended by the irreverence. But Alva chuckled right along
with the rest of them.

Next came Seth’s speech, which Hilary hadn’t warned Eric about. Better to let him find things out as they came along. Hilary
sat forward on the bench, so close to the edge that the seat bit into the back of her legs. Seth told a couple of stories
about his friends; he reminded his audience how it felt to own a new box of crayons on the first day of kindergarten. He reminded
them of the smell of the glue. He challenged them to look and see how far they had come, how far they had yet to go. He thanked
Eric and Hilary for being his parents. He thanked his grandparents for coming to graduation. He thanked Hilary for always
being there for him, Hilary only. He didn’t thank Eric for this.

Hilary swallowed and her throat felt full of needles. She hadn’t realized she’d be so nervous for her son. He’d done an amazing
job up there behind the microphone. Still, she felt Eric sitting stiffly at her side. She spoke quickly to cover the obvious
omission in Seth’s speech: “Good job, huh? He did great, didn’t he?”

If she hadn’t felt self-conscious about Seth’s speech, she might have reached for Eric’s hand. How good it might have felt
to hold on to something of their past while they celebrated their son’s future. She couldn’t erase those years between them
when they had a son standing there, no matter how hard she tried, no matter if it was awkward because they weren’t together
anymore.

Not until the Teacher of the Year began speaking did Hilary realize that she’d forgotten Pam. Mr. Schuster addressed the kids
first, told them how much they’d meant to him, what a challenge and a source of pleasure it had been to instruct them. He
encouraged them to do their best in the future, to work hard and play hard, to seek happiness, to be kind to others and to
themselves. Then the honored gentleman finally turned his attention to the audience.

“I don’t care what else might be going on in your life,” Mr. Schuster said. “I don’t care what else you’re proud of, or what
else you’re fighting for, or what else you might be thinking about at the moment.” He gestured toward the young adults onstage.
“I want you to know that, when you look up here, you are looking at your greatest accomplishment.”

The speaker had Hilary from the beginning. Everything he said gave credibility to the grief and pride she’d been juggling.
She glanced across at her mother, feeling a surprising kinship with Alva.
I wonder if she grieved when I left home. If she did, I never knew it.
Hilary made a note to ask about it later in the day.

Mother did it with such grace, her letting go of me.

Mr. Schuster was telling the parents how proud they ought to be. Then he said, “Anyone who has participated in raising these
young people onstage, please stand so we can give you what you deserve. A round of applause.”

Eric and Hilary stood together as an ovation filled the gym. Hilary realized this was why she hadn’t wanted Eric to trade
chairs with her mother.
I wanted to sit by Eric. I wanted this to happen.
Pam was watching them together, and, for one horrible moment Hilary thought Pam might stand and try to take some credit for
raising Seth, too. Hilary knew it was her pride speaking, but she felt a lovely sense of justice that Pam could not join
them.
She may have Eric now
, Hilary thought as she looked down at her husband’s new wife,
but she will never have this position in his life. She will never be the mother of his firstborn son.