His Other Wife (7 page)

The rest of the ceremony went by quickly. The students stood row-by-row. They stepped forward when their names were called.
Seth swung his tassel from one side of his cap to the other after he received his diploma from the superintendent of schools.
Seth gave a high five to Remy and Ian and T.J., he hugged Emily, and the beach balls started to fly.

The senior video played on a gigantic screen. Hilary cheered for almost every frame, baby pictures and sports videos, the
mud-wrestling birthday party that Seth had warned her about, the funny pictures of Laura. When the football segment began,
Hilary leaped from her seat. She knew where the ball was going, who was going to catch it, who was going to score. “It’s Seth’s
touchdown catch. This is it.” She grabbed Eric’s sleeve (he’d draped his jacket over the chair because of the heat) and tugged
like a child trying to get an adult’s attention. “I’m so glad you’re getting to see this!”

The next thing they all knew, Mr. Schuster was announcing, “Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the graduating class of
2011.”

Mortarboards flew. The band played a raucous, off-key song. The crowd went wild.

As the graduates tried to march down the steps the way they’d practiced, families converged on them from every direction.
Hilary realized she should have made plans to meet Seth in the crowd.

“I see Seth!” Ben shouted. “He’s over there.”

Eric’s parents appeared at her side. “Can you find Seth? Oh, that speech was wonderful!” Ruth gushed. “Oh, honey, it’s so
good to see you again. We’ve missed you so much.”

“I’ve missed you, too,” Hilary told Eric’s mother. Which was an understatement. Ruth had raised the man with whom Hilary had
fallen in love. She had taught Hilary how to reupholster her dining-room chairs and how to grow aloe in her garden and how
to phone the insurance company repeatedly to get a reimbursement.

“I’ve wanted to talk to you,” Ruth said, “but I didn’t know what to say. We’re sorry things turned out this way.”

Yes
, Hilary wanted to say.
I’m sorry, too.

Thankfully, Hilary was saved from having to answer. The crowd swept them up and propelled them forward. “Seth’s over there!”
Ben shouted. “Let’s go.”

During the graduation ceremony, Hilary had discovered something she’d somehow known deep down for a long time: Her joy, her
esteem, her self-image were all tied together, bound up with her child. She had no thought for anything else. “You lead the
way,” Hilary told Ben, forgetting everything else except finding her son in the chaos. “We’re right behind you.”

Suddenly the whole group of them, half sister and stepmom, grandparents and parents, formed an excited tangle around their
newest high-school graduate. The Wynns and Myerses took photos of every imaginable combo of family: Seth and Hilary. Seth
and Hilary and Eric. Eric and Pam and Seth with the kids. Eric surrounded by grandparents.

They filtered from the stadium into the parking lot to find that the traditional picnic had already been laid, with leaning
towers of paper plates, orange coolers of lemonade, mountains of chicken. As Hilary helped her mother fill a plate, Seth’s
classmates weren’t standing too far from them. Cameras flashed from every direction. Friends hugged. About half of the boys
had kept on their gowns for pictures. Seth had lost his gown but was still marching around in his cap, the black dress pants
Hilary had practically had to pay him to wear, his tie, which was loosened clear past the third button of his shirt, and his
flip-flop sandals.

Even as Hilary shook her head at her son’s attire, she admired how he interacted with his peers. The way he drew Emily close,
a possessive gesture that made Emily stand taller and smile. The way he cuffed Remy on the shoulder. The way Seth greeted
his principal and shook his proffered hand.

Emily whirled away once more, caught in a new round of hugs and laughter, each of the girls so fresh-faced and beautiful that
she made Hilary’s heart ache. Suddenly Hilary saw Lily, a flash of white skirt and hot pink Crocs darting among a forest
of lanky teenager legs. Lily yanked Seth’s tie to get his attention. Once Seth spotted his sister, he didn’t hesitate. He
swept her into his arms.

By the rapt expression on her face, she had been swept into the arms of a prince. As the two talked eye-to-eye, Lily’s nose
almost touching Seth’s, Lily draped her small hand, no larger than a maple leaf, over Seth’s shoulder.

Seth swept off his cap and set it sideways on Lily’s head.

What happened next was instantaneous, so unexpected and sweet that Hilary felt like she was privy to something she almost
wasn’t supposed to see. She watched as Seth carried Lily to a parked car and showed Lily her reflection in the window. Seth
righted the hat on the little girl’s head. Lily’s bottom lip protruded as she pondered her reflection.

“How cute is
that
?” Hilary heard Eric ask.

Hilary admitted that she was one of those Christians who forgot about God sometimes. She’d roll along with her morning, steeping
her hot tea, watching the clock, hollering at Seth to get moving or he wouldn’t have time to take his shower. She’d check
phone messages, pitch a load of clothes into the washer, follow her own plans. Then something would come along that reminded
her of the bigness of things, God’s nearness, her own helplessness, a sharp, stunning revelation. This became one of those
moments, something she couldn’t miss. A fist tightened in Hilary’s chest, as she saw how happy Seth was with his sister, when
the girl’s existence brought Hilary so much pain.

H
ilary was standing a few yards past the teeter-totters when a woman approached, extended her hand, and introduced herself
as Abigail Moore, Laura’s mother.

“Oh, hello.” Hilary gripped Abigail’s hand and nodded. “I know Laura.”
Probably more than you do
. Once again, Hilary prided herself on being the parent whom all the boys could talk to. “She’s on the track team, isn’t
she?”

“She runs mid-distance. And the sixteen-hundred relay.”

“I loved the shots of her in the senior video. The boys had such fun putting those in.”

“Is Seth responsible for acquiring that toothless-wonder picture? She’s ready to kill him for that. Those second-grade photos.
They bring back such memories.”

“They do for all of us,” Hilary said.

“My daughter thinks your son and his friends are the best. I’m glad she’s met them through Emily.”

“Seth speaks highly of Laura, too.”
Laura’s hot
, he’d said yesterday.
Remy missed out.
Hilary had no experience, but she decided that girls’ moms must have different sorts of conversations with their offspring
than mothers of sons.

But Laura’s mother was already on to a different subject. “Can you tell me something about that camping party that’s going
on tonight?”

Oh. I see.
Now Hilary realized why the woman had approached her in the first place.

“Laura says your boys are going.”

“Your boys” meaning all of Seth’s friends. Hilary loved them, but she didn’t want to be held responsible for
all
of them. “As far as I know.”

“You’ve given Seth your permission?”

Hilary knew where the woman was going with this; moms all did the same thing. She was checking up, comparing stories. “Yes,
I have. They’re responsible kids. They know how to take care of each other. I asked plenty of questions, believe me.”

“Laura’s been begging me to let her go. I’ve given her a tentative ‘yes,’ but I still have my doubts.”

Hilary reminded her, “These kids will be at college in no time, without any parents around to set rules.”

“Yes, but a big group like that? I’m worried it could get out of hand.”

“Maybe I’m wrong, Abigail, but I trust them. I think it’s better to let them have a little freedom now so they don’t run off
and go wild later.” Abigail was still dubious, Hilary could tell. But this was Hilary’s “raising-Seth” philosophy, and so
far it had worked. “I mean, every kid is different,” Hilary clarified. “It’s important to know what each one of them can handle.
But Seth’s told me about your daughter. Laura sounds like she’s got her head screwed on straight.”

“Yes. Yes, of course she does.” Abigail still sounded like she was trying to convince herself. Hilary couldn’t help but be
proud, handing out advice. Advice was something she would always give freely.

Groups of graduates still posed for pictures, their arms braided across one another’s shoulders. People had gathered beside
their cars after the ceremony, but no one was in a hurry to drive home. Some were still finishing up after the picnic. Others
sat and visited in folding chairs or gathered beneath the shade trees.

On the blacktop beside the football field, Seth and Ben played a pickup game of basketball. The two boys — one big, one small — were
taking it to the rim as Hilary watched. Seth stopped dribbling at one point and coached, “Like this. Here’s what you do. Shoot
your passes chest high.”

Ben caught the ball right in the breadbasket. “Will you teach me how to do a behind-the-back?”

“Only after you tell me you’ve been working on your jump shot,” Seth said.

They hadn’t been playing very long before Eric stopped them. He said something to Seth that Hilary couldn’t hear.

Hilary saw Seth looking around to wave her over. He looked a little sheepish as he called, “They want to give me my graduation
present or something. Dad says they want everyone to see.”

Two days ago, Hilary had given Seth a wristwatch that she’d ordered engraved with this quote adapted from Thoreau:
Live the life you have imagined.
The gift satisfied Hilary in ways that she couldn’t explain. It would last a long time. It was practical; he wouldn’t be
late to class with this on his wrist. (At least, Hilary hoped not. If he
was
, it would be through no fault of his mother’s!)

Pam and Eric hadn’t asked for ideas and Hilary had no clue what they might be giving her son. She couldn’t help but be a little
skeptical of their motives, as they called everyone over and made a big production.

Then Eric dangled a set of keys and placed them in Seth’s hand. That was when Hilary’s heart felt like it was being squeezed
inside a trash compactor.

“Here are the keys to your graduation present.”

“Dad?” Seth’s voice was weak. His confused gaze traveled from the keys in his palm to his father’s face.

“Go ahead.” Eric cuffed his son solidly on the shoulder. “Go get it. It’s in the parking lot.”

Seth didn’t move. “But what
is
it?”

“That black Ford F-one-fifty over there.” Eric cuffed Seth’s shoulder again to fill in the awkwardness. “Not brand-new, of
course, but it’s in great shape. Congratulations, Son. Pam and I are proud of you. We want you to enjoy this truck.”

Hilary hadn’t even been breathing. How could they have done this without even asking her opinion? She felt like she’d been
sucker punched.

“It’s
mine
?” Seth glanced in Hilary’s direction. She rearranged her face but not fast enough. She’d turned away, but she’d seen Seth
catch her displeasure. Which irritated her even more. It wasn’t fair for Seth to get trapped in the middle of this. And that,
she suddenly suspected, was the reason Pam must have encouraged Eric to do it this way, so Hilary couldn’t fight back.

Seth’s friends had erupted. “Totally
chron
!”

“Amazing!”

“Emily, get over here and see this.”

“I call shotgun.”

“Word!”

“Emhurst is a long way off,” Eric said. “And Springfield’s a big place. You’ll be needing something to get around.”

“But it’s too much, Dad.”

“It isn’t too much,” Eric argued. “After all, I’m your father.”

Looking dumbfounded, Seth headed toward the parking lot. “It’s locked,” Pam called after him, the pride evident in her voice.
“Punch the button on the key chain and the taillights flash.” Pam touched Eric’s sleeve. “Honey, go with him. Show him what
he needs to do to get it started.”

Hilary felt like she’d been trapped. “Your dad has a little money to go along with it,” Pam added. “We thought you could use
a little help getting settled into your new place.”

The school grounds were still packed with high-school graduates and their families. Pam and Hilary stood a distance apart
from each other, their arms crossed, their eyes locked on the hoopla in the parking lot. “He’ll have to apply for a parking
permit on campus, of course,” Pam said.

Exhaustion swept over Hilary. She didn’t want to be bitter anymore. She longed to close off her heart and just feel nothing.
But Seth was the only thing she had left of her family. She had only a few precious weeks left with him. A new truck? Offers
of money? What were they doing, trying to buy her son from her? “Why didn’t you and Eric talk to me about this? How could
you do this without discussing it with me?”

“It didn’t seem like anything we needed to discuss.”

“It isn’t? It’s a new
truck
, for heaven’s sake.”

“It isn’t
new
,” Pam reminded Hilary. Pam’s voice sounded as if Hilary were committing some major offense by questioning her.

“You know what I mean,” Hilary said as the fever rose in her voice. “That isn’t the point.”

“It’s just a graduation gift.”

“No, Pam. It’s a little more than that. You should have warned me.”

“Can’t you just relax and enjoy the moment?” Pam asked.

Hilary had no practice at this. She was stepping into uncharted territory. Pam might as well be saying,
Can’t you see that I’m better at this than you?
“I’m sorry if we’ve put you on the spot,” Pam murmured in an undertone, as if she were confiding something Hilary couldn’t
have known, something Hilary would rather other people didn’t hear. “We knew you couldn’t afford to do anything like this.
Seth needed something dependable.”

Dependable.
The thought pounced on her like a cougar. She didn’t see it coming in time to push it away.
Like the father he would have had if you hadn’t stolen him.

Seth had climbed into the front seat of his new truck, his fingers gripping the steering wheel. Hilary saw Remy cupping his
hands against the glass, trying to look in through the tinted window on the other side. Seth’s friends were drooling all over
themselves!

The dashboard sloped around Seth like the instrument panel on some sci-fi starship. As Hilary and Pam talked, Hilary saw him
marveling over his gift, fingering the gearshift knob, feeling it smooth and commanding beneath his hand. One press of the
clutch, one flick of the key, and her son would be rolling forward. As they talked, the engine roared to life and then shut
off again. The lights switched on and off; the windshield wipers arced across the glass. As Hilary watched her son’s profile
through the glare on the windshield, she expected him to be memorizing the intricacies of his new dashboard. Only he wasn’t.

Hilary watched her son get out of the truck, slam the door, and check to make sure it was locked before he left it. Emily
followed him, creases of worry between her brows. Hilary realized what Seth was going to do, and she was heartsick.
Seth. Don’t. Not for my sake.
But it was too late. Seth shoved the keys toward his dad.

“Dad,” he said. “This means a lot. But I don’t want it.” There were so many things he could have said; Hilary knew it. He
could have given so many excuses. He could have said he didn’t want to worry about parking on campus. He could have said that
he didn’t feel right taking it or,
It looks like a gas guzzler and I can’t afford to pay for the insurance and neither can Mom
. Or he could have said he couldn’t afford the registration. But Seth didn’t bother. “Maybe this isn’t the best idea.”

“What’s this?” Eric asked. “You don’t want the truck?”

“You should have talked to Mom,” Seth said. “You shouldn’t have done this without her.”

A muscle bulged in Eric’s jaw. His mouth tightened in quiet anger.

Ben, who was too young to understand the friction among everyone, appeared at Seth’s side, the basketball tucked against his
hip. “Do we have to leave yet? Can’t we shoot some more?”

“Come on, kid.” Seth held out both hands, splayed as if he already held the ball in the tips of his fingers. “Let’s do it.”

“Yeah!” Ben grabbed Seth’s hand.

After the boys headed toward the blacktop, Eric turned to Hilary, furious. “This is your fault. Seth knows you disapprove.
He turned me down to satisfy you.”

“He made his own choice,” Hilary said in her own defense, her voice weak. But deep down she knew that wasn’t true. She’d gone
for years thinking she’d healed, that she’d moved forward, that she’d mastered her grief. Then here came Eric surprising everyone
with a truck and Hilary felt like he’d found a deep wound in her, something that made her wince with pain. “You and Pam can’t
just spend money on him and expect everything to be all right between you.”

Later, when Hilary was alone, she would examine this moment, draw the hurt out of her pocket the way she would draw out an
apple, and she would examine it. She would pray,
What is
this, Lord? Why did this one episode make me react this way? Why do I feel like Eric and Pam poked a sore spot?
She would wait then, listening for some answer. Maybe she’d robbed them of a lovely moment between father and son. For now,
she could only salvage what little respect she and Eric had between them. “He turned a
truck
down, Eric, not you.”

Pam stood with her feet apart and her arms crossed over her chest like a general ready to reprimand an army. “We’re trying
our best to be a healthy blended family for him.” Pam’s mouth had thinned to a grim line; her spine stood straight as the
trunk of a box elder. “Everything we try to do for him, you undermine us.”