“What if I'd died?”
“That would have been easier for them. At least it wouldn't have been your choice, and even that apparently makes kids feel rejected.”
“Thanks a lot. So you're telling me that I'm the ultimate bad guy, is that it?” She was angry again. He was trying to beat her with guilt, and she felt guilty enough already.
“Maybe I am telling you that, Sarah. Maybe you are. Maybe you're just a real selfish bitch, and you don't give a damn about any of us. That's possible, isn't it?”
“Maybe. Are you telling me you don't want me back?”
“Don't put words in my mouth.” The trouble was, he did, he always would, no matter what she did to him and the kids, but he hated her now for what she had just done to them. Sam had held on to him like a drowning child, and he was. He was going to hurt for a long, long time, and Oliver meant what he had said. He wondered if all of them would be marked by this for life. Surely Sam would, particularly if she didn't come back to stay, which Oliver realized was entirely possible, even though she denied that now, but things were going to change for her once she was at Harvard again. There were going to be other people in her life, and Oliver and the kids would be far, far from there. There were no guarantees now, for either of them.
“I think I should leave in the next few days. It's too hard on all of us if I stay for the next two weeks.”
“That's up to you.” He walked into the bathroom and got undressed. He suddenly didn't feel close to her anymore. They had made love only the night before, and now she seemed like a stranger to him. A stranger who had walked into his house and emotionally abused his kids. “When do you think you'll go?” he asked when he came back and sat down on the bed.
“Day after tomorrow maybe. I have to get organized.”
“Maybe I should take the kids away so they don't see you leave.”
“That might be a thought.” She looked at him sadly then, there was nothing left to say. They had said it all, the accusations, the regrets, the apologies, the explanations, and now the tears. “I don't know what to say to you anymore.” Especially after tonight, after watching their children cry. And yet she was still going.
“Neither do I.” She looked numb and broken.
They lay in silence in the dark, and at last, at 2:00 A.M., he fell asleep. But Sarah lay wide awake until the dawn, and it was only then that she heard Benjamin come in. But she said nothing to him. He was a good boy, and he'd had a hard time. This was going to be hard for him too. He was still only a boy, or so she thought.
He had become a man that night, and it had been a strange and beautiful experience for him. Sandra's parents had been away, and he had made love to her for the first time. It was as though he had been given a woman of his own in exchange for the one he had lost earlier that evening. It was an odd, bittersweet night for him, and after that they had talked long into the night, about what was happening at home, and how he felt about it. He could talk to Sandra, as he could to no one else, and then they had made love again, and at last he had come home, to his own bed, to think of the new love he had, and what it meant, and the mother he had lost, and suddenly that seemed a little less awesome to him, because of Sandra.
Sarah lay listening to the sounds of the house as they all slept, wishing she was one of them again. But she wasn't anymore. It was as though she were someone else, and the only thing left was to get on with her new life now. She was still excited about that, in spite of what it had cost in hearts and lives. And as they all slept, she got up and began to pack. She packed everything she wanted in three suitcases and when Oliver got up in the morning, she was through. She had showered and dressed, and made a reservation on a plane. She had called a hotel in Cambridge where she had once stayed. And she had made up her mind to leave by that afternoon at the latest.
“Where are you going at this hour?” Oliver looked surprised to see her dressed when he got up, and he sensed that a lot had gone on while he slept.
“Nowhere yet. I'm leaving tonight. Ill tell the kids when they get up. They can't be much more upset than they already are. Why don't you take them away somewhere for a breather?”
“I'll try. I'll see what I can do.” He showered and changed and made some calls. And at breakfast they both told them that Sarah was leaving sooner than she'd planned, and he was taking them skiing in Vermont. He asked Agnes to pack for Sam, and for a moment Benjamin seemed to hold back. He said there were some things he wanted to do for school during the rest of the vacation.
“During Christmas break?” Oliver looked skeptical and wondered if it was a girl.
“How long will we be gone?”
“Three or four days.” Long enough to distract everyone if that was possible, and then back to the pall that would have fallen over the house when she left. It was already there now. They had looked shocked when she said she was leaving that day, but they were already so numb from the pain of the night before that nothing surprised them now, and they just nodded over the breakfasts they barely touched. Benjamin looked tired and didn't say much, he hardly ate, and Mel wasn't speaking to anyone, and Sam looked constantly at his father, as though to be sure he was still there and hadn't left them.
In the end, Benjamin agreed to come to Vermont with them and they managed to leave the house by four, before Sarah left for the airport. The good-byes were terrible, and Sam was crying again when they left her. Agnes stood in the doorway rigid with dismay, and even Benjamin had tears in his eyes this time, Sarah couldn't even speak, and Oliver was crying openly as they drove away. He looked in the mirror only once, and almost felt his heart physically break as he saw her standing there, in front of the house, her arm lifted in a last wave. His whole life was gone, in one moment, the woman he loved, and everything he had built. Vanished, in exchange for the insanity she wanted. And he figured it didn't hurt for his kids to see him cry. He was hurting as badly as they were, and as he looked down at Sam, he smiled through his tears, and pulled the boy closer to him.
“Come on, champ, we're gonna be okay, you know. And so is Mom.” There were still tears in his eyes as he tried to smile at Sam and the other children.
“Will we ever see her again?” It was just what Ollie had feared. Sam trusted nothing and no one now, but Ollie wasn't sure he did himself, who could blame him?
“Of course we will. And one of these days we won't feel quite this bad. It hurts like hell right now though, doesn't it?” His voice choked up again, and in the backseat Benjamin blew his nose. Mel was crying, too, but she was lost in her own thoughts, and said nothing to any of them, and hadn't since that morning.
It was going to be odd being mother and father to them, odd doing the things she had done for them … taking them to the doctor … the orthodontist … buying Sam's shoes … when would he find the time for all of it? How would he manage without her? But more importantly than that, how would he live without the woman he loved, without her hand and her life and her comfort and her laughter? It was a long quiet drive to Vermont, and no one spoke until they were well into Massachusetts and stopped for dinner.
Sarah was in Boston by then, and on her way to Cambridge, to start a new life. The life she had wanted, without them.
Chapter 5
In the end, the skiing was fun, and after the first few days they all started to come to life again, although some of them more slowly than others. Sam had nightmares at night, and he cried easily now, but he laughed, too, and he had a great time skiing with his father. And Benjamin even entered a downhill race before they went home, but whenever he wasn't skiing, he was calling friends, as though they alone held the solution to all his problems. Only Mel remained withdrawn, skiing halfheartedly and avoiding the rest of them. She was the only female in their midst now, and Oliver tried to boost her spirits repeatedly, but she wouldn't even let him get near her. She seemed to have nothing to say to them, the only one she ever spoke to was Sam, and even with him she was painfully quiet.