Tapestry of Fortunes A Novel - By Elizabeth Berg Page 0,123

know. For now. It is nice. Thank you.”

I go into Travis’s room to say good-bye. He is lying on the top bunk, listening to his Walkman. “What’s wrong?” he asks, when he sees me. He takes off his headphones.

“Nothing! I just wanted to say good-bye.”

“Were you crying?”

“No! I’m just tired, you know? I’m going to go home and take a long soak in the tub and then read a big fat book and eat a big fat candy bar. I’m actually pretty excited.”

“What kind of candy bar?”

“I thought I’d stop at CVS and scope it out.”

“Yeah. They have a good selection.”

“I think I’ll get the killer-size Snickers.”

“Boring.”

“Well.” I kiss his forehead. “I like them. And if I were eating one right now, you would want a bite.”

“I know. But they’re still boring.”

“I’ll see you. Eat a lot of turkey. Put gravy all over everything, even the cranberry sauce.”

“I will. Mom? Are you making pumpkin pie?”

“Well, of course I’m making pumpkin pie. I’ll save some for you.”

“Okay. Shut my door on your way out?”

I shut his door, head slowly down the hallway. Travis has never had a Thanksgiving without me. But he seems all right. He does. He seems all right. I don’t know whether to be relieved or depressed.

David accompanies me to the front door. “Take care of yourself,” he says.

“I will.” No one else to do it. I start to open the door, then turn back suddenly. “You know what, David? I still don’t know what you wanted. I just don’t know what you wanted.”

“I … We’re just different,” he says softly.

I swallow hugely.

“Look, I want you to know that I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you, Sam. But the way we lived together, it wasn’t what I wanted. Sometimes I feel like there’s this fire in my belly that I need to feed all the time. And it wasn’t being fed.”

Fire in his belly? Fire in his belly? That needs to be fed? Oh, I can’t wait to tell Rita that he actually said such a thing. This is great. A white couch, and a sudden transformation into Robert Bly. This must be his girlfriend’s influence. Probably they’re taking a New Age communication class together, holding hands every night and checking in with each other before they fly off to the land of dreams, which they record in their journals and share with each other over breakfast.

As though sensing my thoughts, David shifts his shoulders, his old, familiar sign of discomfort. “That sounded stupid, I know. But I don’t know how else to say it. What I mean is I feel like I was always … yearning, whereas you were so happy with everything the way it was. And it started making me crazy. I don’t accuse you, Sam. I don’t fault you. We just never really connected. I mean, you don’t think we did, do you?”

“No!”

He smiles. “Well. So.”

“Tell Travis to call anytime he wants to. Happy Thanksgiving.”

“Same,” he says, and closes the door softly after me.

I walk down the hall, smell something with curry cooking. (A neighbor, sticking her head out of her door and into the hall, a wave of blond hair over one eye: Oh, David! Hello! I thought I heard you out there! Want to share a little something with me tonight? Again?) I push the button for the elevator, wait a second, then head quickly for the stairs. It is too big, what I’m feeling. I have to keep moving. I still … what is it? Love him? Is that it? Need him? Want him?

I miss him; I love how he looks, how he dresses, how he smells.

I get into the car, look into the rearview mirror and see, for one split second, Veronica. This is all her fault. At the heart of things, I am my mother’s daughter, always making too much out of too little, really liking the scent of country-fresh furniture polish and the sight of a clean bathroom. I am a prisoner of genes wearing aprons.

But it was enough for me, the way our family lived. Maybe that was wrong; maybe I should have wanted more. But I didn’t. I knew things were far from perfect, but I was content sitting outside with my coffee on spring mornings, admiring the daffodils Travis and I planted, thinking about what to make for dinner that night. I liked attending school conferences with David and listening to dressed-up teachers talk about our son. I liked going to the hardware store