give her time to breathe. Liz had suggested it would be a good idea. The trauma had been severe for Coco.
“Thank you,” she said, as she took the turnoff to Pacific Heights, wishing they were back at Jane's house again, back at the beginning, instead of at the end. “I love you,” she whispered, but she could no longer see any way to make it work, unless she wanted to live the same crazy existence he did, and she didn't. But she couldn't bring herself to say it to him. He knew.
“I love you too” was all Leslie said.
She went to pick up Sallie then, before she picked up the other dogs. Jane came to the door and told her she was sorry about her wrist. Coco smiled when she saw her. She was huge.
“You're getting bigger,” she commented, and Jane rubbed her hands over her round stomach. She was wearing tights and a sweater, and she looked prettier than ever. There was something slightly softer about her face.
“Three more months,” Jane said, looking apprehensive. “It's hard to believe.” They were commuting to L.A. by then, doing post-production on their film. Liz had said they'd be finished by Thanksgiving, which was a good thing. It would give Jane two months to take it easy and get ready for motherhood. “Are you and Leslie coming to Mom's for Thanksgiving?” she asked offhandedly, and Coco shook her head.
“I am, but he'll be in New York with his daughter.” Coco didn't want to get into it with her and quickly changed the subject. “How was Gabriel, by the way?” She remembered that Jane had met him in L.A. and she hadn't talked to her since. Jane laughed at the question.
“Young. Jesus, is he young. And Mom looks like she feels sixteen. It's a little unnerving, to say the least. He's a decent guy, I guess. I don't know what he's doing with a woman her age. It can't last, but at least she's having fun.” Coco was shocked to see that Jane had relaxed about it. She had expected her to be on a mission of destruction, and instead she didn't seem to care. “Whatever works. I guess we all have our crazy moments, and the right to make decisions about our own lives, whatever everyone else thinks. How was Italy, by the way?” Coco almost shuddered at the question, but she had steeled herself for it.
“It was great,” she said with a broad smile and prayed her all-seeing sister didn't see through it. “Except for my wrist.”
“That was shit luck, but at least it was your left wrist.” Jane didn't say a word about Leslie, and as Sallie followed her to the van a few minutes later, Coco wondered if Jane had relaxed about him too. The whole time they were talking, she'd been rubbing her belly, the way pregnant women did. Coco was wondering if something had changed. They were going back to L.A. until Thanksgiving, and Coco hoped that by then she wouldn't feel as though her own life had come to an end. She had lived through it when Ian died, and survived it. She could go through it again now, after Leslie, and knew she'd survive this too.
She went to pick up the big dogs, and the ones in Cow Hollow after. She followed her usual route, and did everything she had to do. She went through the motions, and went back to Bolinas every afternoon, but she felt as though everything inside her had died. Leslie didn't call her for the next three weeks, and she didn't call him. He didn't want to push her, and she was trying to get over him and the best way to do it, she knew, was not to talk to him at all. She didn't want to hear his voice and fall in love with him all over again, and she knew she would. And then the same thing would happen again. She couldn't. It was too scary.
Coco didn't talk to anyone until she left for L.A. on Thanksgiving, three weeks after Venice. She left Sallie with Erin, and she was only planning to go down for two days. Liz had invited her to stay at their rented house. And Gabriel was going to join them for Thanksgiving dinner. It was the first time she was going to meet him, although she had caught a glimpse of him that night at the Bel-Air when she saw her mother with him.
Liz