Heart Like Mine A Novel - By Amy Hatvany Page 0,55
me, and it was my mom who taught me how to tie my shoes and ride my bike. He was the kind of dad who seemed bewildered that he was married with two kids—that he’d somehow stumbled into a life he never wanted to live. His body was there, but his mind was not; I’d always sensed that he would have preferred to be anywhere but with our family.
But however rocky our parents’ marriage was, the end of it had shocked both my brother and me. I guess we assumed that after so many years of putting up with Dad, Mom had grown too weary and accustomed to his bad behavior to change anything between them. So even when she called me and said, “That’s it. I’m done. Your great-aunt Rowena died and left me enough to retire on, and I’m not going to let your father piss it away on the poker table,” there was a part of me that didn’t believe her. She’d stayed with him through so much. But then she hired a lawyer, and Dad didn’t know what hit him. He left the marriage quietly, as though he had expected the end would happen all along. He used the small payout from the inheritance Mom had received to immediately move to Las Vegas, where he eventually suffered a stroke and died a few years ago. Since I barely spoke with him, when he died the sense of loss was vague, like the misplacement of a pair of earrings you liked but had rarely pulled out of your jewelry box to wear.
Melody’s car was already parked in front of Kelli’s house when I pulled up. She sat on the front porch, clad in Levi’s, a snug-fitting tie-dyed T-shirt, and running shoes. Her long blond hair was pulled into an I Dream of Jeannie ponytail on top of her head. She trotted down the steps and hugged me when I approached, and I found myself tearing up again.
Melody pulled back and searched my face with kindness in her brown eyes. “How are you?”
I shrugged. “Sad. Confused. A little pissed off.”
She smiled. “Sounds about right. I was up baking all night,” she said. “I had to do something. I was so worried about you. And the kids. I made two pound cakes and six dozen cookies. Oh, and three lasagnas.”
“Good lord. What are you going to do with all that?”
“Send it home with you so you can put them in your freezer. You’ll need something to feed the kids over the next couple of weeks. Victor’s going to have too much going on and lord knows you’re not going to cook.”
I stuck my tongue out at her, grateful for her ability to make me smile. She glanced down at my left hand and immediately squealed. “Oh my god, let me see!” She snatched my hand and pulled it close to her face so she could admire the ring. I’d put it on in the car after talking with my mom, wanting to show it to my best friend. “Wow. Totally impressive rock, Mr. Hansen. I love the baguettes framing the center stone like that. It’s gorgeous.”
I allowed myself to feel a moment of giddiness in seeing my friend’s reaction to my engagement. “It is gorgeous, isn’t it? I love it.”
“As well you should. That, my friend, is a ring from a man who obviously adores you. I will attempt to not be wickedly jealous.” Melody was single but determined to get married and have at least two kids before she turned forty. She read countless how-to-find-your-soul-mate self-help books and tirelessly revised her online dating profile to try to attract the man who would make her rampant desire for motherhood come true. She scoured What to Expect When You’re Expecting and parenting magazines so she would be prepared to immediately launch herself into the job when the right man came along. And yet, she didn’t find him. She prepared for first dates the way athletes train for the Olympics, but those dates rarely blossomed into anything more than a temporary fling. I knew she was happy for me when I met Victor, but a little envious, too, the same way a friend who is trying to lose weight is happy when her best friend drops twenty pounds while still quietly bemoaning the wide span of her own hips. We were good enough friends that we could talk about how she felt and not let it become a problem between us,