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no frills
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He's surprised she knows where his doorstep is, more so to find her standing on it.
She's rattled. That used to turn him on.
"I've come from Molly's."
Andy and Molly have lunch once a month. Toby is jealous, anxious and wondering how to get her inside to have this conversation. She hops from one foot to the other. It still amazes him a little that he fathered children with this woman.
Huck has his mother's flame hair, his father's weak chin and good humour bestowed by a benevolent deity in which he loudly disbelieves. He carelessly put an ocean between them when he chose Oxford, where he took up rowing. He prefers beer to tea and chooses either before studying: he’s taking a year to work in a bar and compete in boat races. He is often pictured with his shirt off.
Molly stopped communicating when she was a teenager and has yet to start again. She's in environmental science and is dragging her feet with a major journal that wants to publish her thesis. Her weight fluctuates with how many she's smoking. She only smiles when caught unawares. CJ says she looks like him, but Toby thinks she's beautiful anyway.
He never knows what to give them on birthdays.
"She's okay?"
"I think so. She's engaged."
He sags against the door.
"Have you met the guy?"
She shakes her head, lips pressed together. There are moments, still, when they feel exactly the same.
"Thank you," he says, "for telling me."
He can't see her face as she kisses his cheek.
"I love them too," she says.
*
Toby sits at home with curtains drawn, re-reading Huck's exuberant, abominably punctuated emails. They go to everybody in his address book, a few personal notes clustered at the end. He promises his mother he's eating properly and thanks his sister for the photos from the engagement party. He can't wait for the wedding. There's nothing for his dad, but then Toby never writes back more than a couple of lines.
The Irish roommate answers the phone and engages Toby in conversation for half an hour before confirming that Huck is at band practice. Molly had violin lessons for a few noisy years. Toby can't imagine what Huck plays. No doubt mp3s will be attached to the next email.
Molly never answers her phone, but she calls back when she needs someone to growl at.
"What do you want?"
"Congratulations."
It sounds like an accusation, but she doesn't bite.
"I got the card."
"Am I invited to the wedding?"
She sighs heavily, as if the question is an unreasonable burden. "It won't be any time soon. I'm not wearing white with a stomach like the President's."
"You kicked the cigarettes again?"
"No... for God's sake!"
It takes a moment to click, and then he has absolutely no idea what to do with this.
"Don't tell Mom yet," she insists.
"Are you serious?"
She bursts out laughing. "I don't know."
He strokes the phone cord as if it's her hair.
Molly pulls it together first. "Do you want to see me?"
"Of course."
"Sometimes it's easier to talk to a stranger."
Sometimes his daughter hits on a moment of truth.
*
They meet in a rundown park, populated by European au pairs and deadbeat dads cluelessly entertaining the children they won't see again for weeks or months.
Molly's waiting on a bench, wrapped up in a coat that makes her look small. She wears her clothes a size too big, but Toby wonders if she's hiding the curve of her belly. He's itching to see if he can detect a change.
"I've always wondered why you stay in this city," he greets her.
"Just because it isn't happy doesn't mean it isn't home."
She stands up and they walk the path around the fake lake. Litter skims the surface. There used to be rowboats, years ago. Toby tries to remember Huck showing an early interest.
His chest heaves from matching her pace.
"When are we going to meet this guy?"
She shrugs, irritated. "That's what he keeps asking."
"Well?"
"Mom will like him. Huck likes everybody. You'll think he's too slick."
"Will I be right?"
She hesitates too long. Recognition punches him in the stomach.
"Molly."
She looks at him, eyes wide open for once.
"You don't want this, do you?"
She pulls out a pack of menthols and offers him one. "Right now all I want is a real cigarette."
He knows better than to tell her what's good for her.
"Is that how you felt when Mom told you the treatment had actually worked?"
"Don't pull that crap. This is your life." Reason has never been his loudest voice. "Is it the one you want?"
She flinches before she frowns.
"I don't doubt you'll be devoted to this baby. That doesn't mean you'll be happy. Or that you'll know how to make your kid happy." He rubs his head, wishing he'd had a chance to write this down. "And if you don't do that, well, there's no chance for you." He needs a term of endearment but can think of none that doesn't sound overly familiar. "Molly."
She has stopped walking. She turns her head down, hands deep in her pockets, and he can see how she restrains herself from saying something sarcastic.
She says, "I'm not as sad as you think I am."
Toby feels his face crack and open into a smile.
"Don't hold your breath for a wedding invite."
"Yeah. Give your mom a heads up if the same applies to the groom, huh?"
She pulls a face that reminds him of trying to feed her peas. "She has a hunch."
Molly strides on. He can't keep up.
love/hate to: lunatic.lover.poet at ntlworld.com --- AIM: havingthemdreams