Last night, Dean and I went to Lydia and Pete’s apartment for dinner. It was our first night out since Andrew was born, and Dean was both excited and adorably worried. He spent about an hour installing nanny cams around the apartment.
Well, the nanny cams may have been partially my idea.
“There’s a blind spot right here,” I told Dean as I stood in the corner between the kitchen and the living room, inspecting the multiple views of the apartment popping up on my phone.
“Right, I’m on it.” He whipped out yet another camera from the box we purchased a few weeks ago. He concealed the camera partially behind a picture frame.
The cameras were well-hidden. But I was concerned that the babysitter might discover one of them, just based on the sheer number of them.
“Better?” he asked, once the new camera was positioned.
I continued walking around, scrolling through the multiple views on my phone. I stopped near the doorway. “Another blind spot.”
Dean frowned at me. “We’re out of cameras. And do we really need one near the front door?”
“Of course we do,” I said. “What about Donna?”
Donna is our neighbor who lives down the hall. She’s in her forties, married but without children, and every time she sees me go out with Andrew in his stroller, she looks as though she might scoop him up and take off with him.
“Uh…” A crease formed between my husband’s eyebrows. That dimple was nowhere to be seen. “I honestly don’t think we need to worry about Donna. And we’ve got all the other cameras.”
It did take a little convincing and some shifting of cameras, but I finally agreed the visualization of the apartment was good enough. If it were just me, I would have stayed home until we had more cameras. But Dean really wanted to get out of the house. “We haven’t been out together just the two of us since the baby came,” he said as he pulled me close to him. “I miss it.”
“I miss it too,” I said as I tilted my head up for him to kiss me. He grinned and leaned in immediately, pulling me close to him. Dean and I still have the best kisses. It hasn’t changed at all in the last two years. Of all the choices I’ve made in my life, he’s the best one.
Unfortunately, as soon as we got to Lydia and Pete’s apartment, it was obvious this wasn’t going to be the fun, relaxing evening with friends we’d hoped it would be. I had thought Lydia and Pete might be doing better, but clearly not. I could tell they’d been recently fighting by the red that rimmed Lydia’s eyes when she accepted the bottle of white wine I handed to her.
“Bonterra Vineyards,” Lydia said, crinkling up her nose instead of thanking me.
“I love Bonterra Vineyards,” Dean said, because even though he’s a cardiologist, he’s not the slightest bit pretentious. “Nothing wrong with it.”
“Yes…” Lydia held it out as if it was contaminated and she needed to stay a safe distance away. She would serve it to us, but never drink it herself.
Pete came out then, a beer in his right hand. His tie looked like it had once been cinched tight, but now was hanging loose around his neck. His eyes were bloodshot and I sensed it wasn’t his first drink of the evening. The last time we saw the two of them, Dean murmured to me that he was worried about how much Pete had been drinking lately. He was worried about how Pete was performing in the ER and worried about their daughter, Violet.
“Con! Anna!” Pete held out his arms, as if to wrap us both in an embrace. “Lydia, you’re being rude, making them both stand in the doorway. Invite them in!”
Lydia shot her husband a look, then marched off to the kitchen with our wine. Pete rolled his eyes. “Don’t mind her. She’s in a mood. You know.”
Pete’s comment prompted Dean to put his arm around my shoulders and pull me tighter to him. That will never be us, his eyes told me.
Dean eventually ended up in the living room, watching some sort of sports game with Pete. I wanted to stay close to my husband, but I felt obligated to check on Lydia in the kitchen. It was the polite thing to do, given she was cooking dinner for all of us. I may not be a professional chef like Francesca, but I’m very handy in the kitchen.
But when I got into the kitchen, Lydia was just standing there. Staring at the stove. A blank expression on her face. The smell of something burning assaulted my nostrils.
“Lydia.” I reached past her to shut off the stove. I didn’t know what she was making in there, but it was too late to save it. “Are you all right?”
“No.” Her eyes were glassy and bloodshot. “I’ve barely slept in a week.”
“Oh…”
She looked away from me. “The doctor gave me some pills but they do nothing.”
“Do…” I bit my lip. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“I don’t want to burden you,” Lydia murmured. “I’m sure you’re overwhelmed with the baby.”
“Lydia…” I shut down the stovetop as well before the fire alarm went off. “I’m sure it’s not that bad…”
“Marriage counseling isn’t working,” Lydia practically spat at me. “We’ve been going for three months. What a joke. It’s forty-five minutes of Peter telling the therapist what a witch I am. And the therapist always takes his side.” She lifted her red-rimmed eyes to look at me. “It’s all my fault. Did you know that?”
I winced and handed her a tissue from a box on the counter. “I’m sorry, Lydia.”
“And Violet…” Lydia dabbed at her right eye with the tissue. “I’ll probably only see her on weekends. Peter will make up some argument about how I work too much on the weekdays so he should get her. I can’t imagine not being able to come home to my baby…”
This time, she couldn’t stop the tears. They flowed freely from her eyes, soaking the tissue in her hand. I imagined someone taking Andrew from me. I’ve only known him for months, but I can’t even fathom it. They’d have to kill me first. I was about to tell Lydia I understood, but then she blurted out:
“I wish I could talk to Francesca about this.” Ouch.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I don’t mean to hurt your feelings, but Francesca… she was like my sister. It’s all Joel’s fault that she’s gone. I’ll never forgive him for that.”
I couldn’t blame her for wishing Francesca was there to talk to. I still remember how isolated I felt when my relationship with Joel fell apart. It was horrible.
“The most important decision a woman makes in her life is who she chooses for her husband.” Lydia dabbed at her right eye with the tissue. “I know that sounds sexist but it’s true. Your husband is your partner in everything you do. A bad husband can wreck your career. He can affect your parenting. Peter was the wrong choice for me… he’s made me into… into…”
I frowned at her. “Lydia?”
She dropped the tissue on the counter, her eyes suddenly wild. “I took it out on the wrong person. I… was so goddamn angry at Joel for what he did to her. I couldn’t stand to see him moving on, especially when my life had gone to shit. And that girl. Cassie. God, she’s so young.”
“Yes,” I murmured.
She squeezed her eyes shut. “I shouldn’t have. I was so angry though. You have no idea the things I’ve done, Anna.”
And then she told me everything.
