Five for Forever (27 page)

“Rick, you have to let go one day, really.” Another Skype conversation between the Oxnard living room and the wide world.
Too many of those.

“I’m not letting go now. We’ve been over this many times. Dana will turn four around Christmas; she is still so young and her mother’s death is still fresh for her. Agnes will leave the house next year, and I want to spend time with her while she’s still at home,” Rick said.

Louise kept silent; they had covered this ground before. Rick had explained the rank of priorities before they started dating, but living the code and accepting it in practice was hard.

“You are mad,” Rick stated.

“Not mad. Frustrated. Frustrated that we can’t find a way to live our relationship, stay happy, and be the perfect parents.”

“There is neither perfect parenthood nor a perfect relationship. Nor a perfect job.”

“You might see it that way, but from my perspective, you guys are the perfect family. You are broken, but you are perfect. I think our relationship is far from perfect. Look at us; I am gone for weeks in a row now.”

“I think you are cranky because you are on the other side of the globe.

“And that. I miss you guys.”

“We miss you, too. Night, Lou.”

Louise got up from her bed, put the iPad aside, and put her face in her hands. This
was
frustrating. It appeared to her as if they were having these meaningful conversations about their relationship solely over the phone and never in person. When they were home in Oxnard, there were always kids around or they were busy coordinating domestic things like what to cook for dinner or who was picking up whom. Or they were simply together. The only time seriously talking about things that mattered was a few minutes before they fell asleep or when they were thousands of miles apart in front of their Skype cameras.
Is this how real life goes?
Louise thought.
Moving through your life, accepting it, not too much need for serious topics? Did I make a mistake throwing my career away for the domestic life? Rick, you were right. It was a ledge we stepped off. You were faster to call it by its name.

Her phone rang. It was the producer of the movie they were out to promote, to hit the markets in late October. “There are some of us going out. Want to come?”

“Yeah, why not? I’ll be right down,” Louise said.

Which city am I in, by the way? Stockholm? Munich? Something like that.

The nights without Louise were the hardest. Not only did it feel as if something was fundamentally missing, but even worse, it felt as if she had never been there. Rick couldn’t really put a finger on it, and he hadn’t brought up the topic with Louise, either. They rarely spoke about the serious side of their relationship, their plans, the long-term development of their relationship. Was marriage in the stars for them? Rick had a flash image of a double wedding with Agnes and some faceless suitor, and Louise and he were standing in front of some altar on the Malibu beach. But in reality he had not yet planned that far. First were the hurdles of their early relationship, some painful, some hilarious. But the second big obstacle was indeed Louise’s continuing work commitments—the shoots, the trips, the promotions. It took a while, but finally he fell asleep.

Something was up. Rick could feel it in the air when he came into the kitchen. His four kids all said their good-mornings, some bright, some sleepy, but didn’t look at him. He poured himself a bowl of cereal and sat down. “Spill it—what did you break?” He gave Agnes a glance; she had taken the car last night for a trip to the mall with her girlfriends, but she kept herself busy with buttering bread.

“Nothing, Dad,” Charles said with stoic ignorance.

“Guys, you know that I know that you know something. And you also know that eventually I will know what you know that I shouldn’t know now. And the best way to resolve this is to tell me what you are afraid to tell me now,” Rick said.

“Daddy talks funny,” Dana stated.

“But it was a correct statement, Dieter,” Charles said.

“Agnes, what is it?” Rick got impatient, but the butter trumped the father.

“Don’t read the news on the web today, Dad,” Britta suggested.

“Concerning one of you? Indecent pictures, petty crime, drugs?”

Britta shook her head again. “My lips are sealed. Don’t you think the police would have already rung, otherwise?”

Rick’s heart sank. He hated it when Louise appeared in the news with these presumed or made-up scandals or overexposed issues that bore no relation to what really had transpired. But usually Louise would give him a heads-up, like the time when she and Josh had done the Bahamas beach photo shoot to stir up some fire for
Sell! Sell! Sell!

The kids got up and got themselves ready, and Rick helped Dana with brushing her teeth and getting dressed.

He opened the front door to check the front lawn and immediately closed it again. “Britta Flint, what’s the circus doing out there?” he shouted angrily upstairs.

“We’re the messengers, Dad,” Britta shouted back from upstairs. “And we’re not leaving for school while the mob’s out there.”

Rick glanced from behind the curtains at the mob of journalists that had set up camp on the opposite side of the street, being catered by Mrs. Johnston, who sold them canned soda and pancakes. He got the iPad from the den and surfed to TMZ, which was usually best informed about things. He stared at the screen, closed his eyes and scrolled down; he then switched to E! online and saw the same pictures. He sat down, his head spinning. What time was it in Europe? Nine hours earlier? Or later? He couldn’t think.

He called Louise’s phone, but it went straight to voicemail. He then tried Izzy’s number; no one picked up. Same with Arielle. Then the phone rang in his hand.

“Hal, not a good timing.”

“Should I run them over?”

“Who? Louise and her . . . ?”

“No, the media hounds in front of your house.”

“Yes! No, you might hit Mrs. Johnston and her pancakes, though. Where are you?”

“Idling at the curb.”

“Can you take the kids to school? I’ll send them through Mr. Gertner’s yard. They’ll come out at 45 Picking Drive.”

“No problem.” Hal hung up.

Rick stared at the iPad pictures again.

“She loves you, Dad,” Agnes said from the door. He hadn’t heard her coming up behind him. “Just like I do,” she added, the officer choice still unresolved between them.

“She has a strange way of showing it. Hell, both of you have a strange way of showing it.” Rick looked at his daughter, who was almost a grown woman and now talked like a grown-up. His little Agnes, who he had held in his arms as a baby and carried piggyback when she had a tired spell in the shopping mall. In that second, Rick suddenly understood the circle of life, kids growing up to become adults themselves, taking care of their parents more and more, reversing the roles. That sudden realization that they were for the first time looking truly eye-to-eye over a serious matter, the child in her gone forever, only existing in memory. This impact plus the disappointment in Louise sank into Rick, and he suddenly felt the earth giving away below him. It was as if he had lost Bella all over again. Now he had a second huge Atlas-size stone on his shoulders. A stone called Louise, dragging him to the ground.

“Give me a minute, dear,” he said and put his head on his arms on the desk.

Agnes felt this shift in their relationship, too, as if an invisible torch had been passed to her, but she was still too inexperienced to know what to do, too confused to see her father cry. So Officer-to-be Flint took point, went to collect her siblings, and phoned over to Mr. Gertner to announce their secret escape.

Louise was in shock and had the blanket over her head, ignoring her mobile and the nightstand phone that were ringing constantly. What would Rick think of this? And the kids? Another hour before she was leaving for LAX; it was the first flight out she had been able to get. Time crept in slow motion, and Louise stuck to her plan—not discussing such a thing over the phone but only in person. She owed Rick that much.

Then she got moving, and even in the first-class lounge she felt as if everyone was staring at her:
did she or didn’t she?
Behind her big black glasses, no one could see her desperation. Floris kept his distance, but even ten yards away his towering presence discouraged any selfie hunters.

The car was ready and brought them directly from LAX to Oxnard, Louise in her limo and Floris in the car behind. The trampled-down grass of Mrs. Johnston’s front yard showed that Rick’s house had been news earlier. A cruiser stood in front of the house, and two paparazzi got out of their cars when they saw Louise’s limo arriving. She put on her big black glasses and got out of the car. Both officers left the car and held back the photographers, with Officer Randolph nodding at her.

A text exchange with Agnes had told her that Rick was alone at home, and she opened the door with her key.

“Rick?”

“The den!”

She found him getting up from his desk, where he had been working on some plans on the computer, work to distract him, the coarse Vera photos blown up and some perspective hand drawings beside them.

They stood in front of each other. Louise hugged herself, and Rick had his hands in his jeans.

“Hi,” Louise said.

“Hi. You’re back.”

“I wanted to tell you in person. Not over the phone. And especially not over Skype.”

“We’ve been doing that too much. Can a software program ruin your life?”

Louise did not answer.

Rick pointed toward the kitchen. “Tired? Tea?”

“We failed the first time with tea. To show you how tired I am and how desperate I am, I’ll agree to the strongest espresso your machine is able to produce.”

“I could use one myself.”

“I saw the damage in Mrs. Johnston’s garden. Do I need to reimburse her?”

“No need. The old bat fed the journalists for the day and has probably made a fortune.”

“The kids?”

“Shaken. They were able to hide it over breakfast, but the facts settled in during the day. They are at a sleepover at Hal’s. You’ll need to explain to them as well.”

“I think I am even more scared about that part than to confront you.” Tears started running down her face, not stopping, Rick making no move to help her out. Her story, her pace. She started to sob, and her nose ran, too.

They settled in the kitchen in the same position as half a year ago when they had decided to become an item.

“I am sorry, Rick. I love you”

Rick nodded. “That’s a good start.”

“Can you believe me when I tell you that it wasn’t what the media tried to make it out to be?”

“There you definitely need to convince me. It looked pretty real.”

Louise closed her eyes, downed the espresso in one gulp. The rush of the caffeine hit her bloodstream like a jackhammer. Enough to get her to the heart of the matter. No more skirting around.

She brushed away the tears and blew her nose. “We had had our conversation, which ended kind of unanswered. I was terribly frustrated . . .”

This was a nightmare, and there was no escape from it. Louise told her story flat and straight, without much emotion.
Is she herself now or is she acting?
Rick thought.
Like the time we had our initial conversation right in this room.

When she came to the part where she had ended up in a hotel room with the French actor, feeling lonely, Rick couldn’t take it anymore.

“Louise, please stop! That is enough!” he pleaded.

“But I want you to hear the full story; I want you to understand!” Louise said.

“There is nothing to hear except embarrassing details for both of us, Louise. You will torture yourself by telling it, and I am tortured by your story already. So, it is true, and you went to bed with him?”

Louise bit her lower lip and nodded.

Rick looked at her. “I can’t do this.”

“What do you mean?”

“I should scream at you, call you names, should hate you for what you did. What you did to our relationship and all. But . . . I can’t feel anger toward you, I can’t feel jealousy, and I don’t want to understand. My heart feels ripped apart.”

“But say something, please, Rick. Tell me anything.”

“I can’t. Louise, I honestly can’t. I can’t help you, because I can’t help myself.” Rick sat down and took his head into his hand. The last time he had felt so desperate and torn apart had been the day he had received the news about Bella’s death. Completely numb, something irrevocably broken. The woman he loved, had thought he loved, was still standing in front of him, tears running down her face. All he had to do was to get up and take her into his arms, like he had done a few days before when she had left for her trip. Take her into his arms, forgive her, and hold her, let their love fill the gap that now was where his heart had been. He couldn’t do it. Too much had been lost.

“Can you go, please?”

“Rick, please!” Louise cried.

“Go!”

Louise gave Rick a long last look. Then she hugged herself, grabbed her stuff, put her glasses back on, and left, the front door clicking silently behind her.

Rick continued to sit until darkness fell, head in his arms.

Louise rang Hal’s doorbell at around seven in the morning, as she knew that the kids were in prep for the school day. Hal lived in the former house of his parents, a small, well-kept bungalow from the early eighties, painted white, with a neat little front garden.
Practical single men seem to have time for chores
, Louise thought as she pressed the bell again.

A unkempt Hal opened the door. He made a face. “Uh-oh. Somehow I had imagined our first date differently.” He tried to lighten the mood but failed.

“You’ve had better lines, Hal,” Louise said. “I wanted to speak to the kids, if possible.”

“Yeah, come in. So it didn’t go well with Rick?”

“He hasn’t called?”

Hal shook his head. “Not a word.”

“Should we worry? He was pretty down when I left him last night.”