“Well, how is he, what happened?” I asked.
“It was a very small heart attack, and it doesn’t seem like it’s done any permanent damage to the heart. It was all that magic stuff he was messed up in,” she said.
“Magic?” Against my will, I imagined John in a purple wizard’s cloak.
“He was having some ceremony done and he had a heart attack right in the middle of it.” She exhaled through her nose. It turned out I didn’t know who anybody was—secret lovers and magic ceremonies. And my secret, my secret was just that I hadn’t read the paperwork.
“What sort of ceremony?”
“It was, well, I don’t really understand it, but it was to have the spirit of a beaver put into him, I think. He thought it would heal his colon.”
“I see,” I said. I didn’t, really, but I didn’t want to ask. “But he’s going to be alright?”
“It seems that way. Mainly now it’s that he might have another one. It’s a whole new health crisis to deal with. I’m just so—” She paused and started crying. It took me a moment before I realized I was supposed to hug her, and in that moment I just stared at her. It seemed totally unfair that after everything I was expected to comfort this woman, this young thing, the lover of my husband. But it looked like that was what I was supposed to do, and so I did.
When she had recovered herself, I asked, “How long—have you been together?”
“A little over a year,” she said.
“Do you live together?”
She nodded. “I really—I can’t believe he didn’t tell you.”
“I know,” I said. And it came home to me that I wasn’t really wanted there. That he hadn’t needed me— he’d needed Thora. I wasn’t even a woman anymore, just the guardian of his child.
When we went back in the room Thora and John were talking in low whispers and we remained in the entryway, as though we were waiting for a signal to enter.
“I guess that beaver was just too big for me,” John said.
“I’m so sorry, Daddy,” Thora said, and brought her cheek down to his hand and rested it there. “It’s my fault.”
“No, it’s not. Get that idea out of your head. It’s not your fault at all. You have to promise me to be careful, though,” he said, “I don’t know what those bees were, but you have to think about it and be careful. Be careful with your heart, girl.”
“Okay,” she said.
“What bees?” I said, even though I was aware I was crossing some line, intruding somehow.
“Nothing, Mandy,” he said.
“Alright then, that’s great. So you’ve seen her, now I’ll drive her home again. I hope you heal well. Best wishes,” I said, and grabbed Thora by the wrist.
“Ow, Mom, what are you doing?” She gave me a look—to let me know that I was the worst mother in the world. But honestly, I hardly minded. I hated all of them. I really did.
“It was a very small heart attack, and it doesn’t seem like it’s done any permanent damage to the heart. It was all that magic stuff he was messed up in,” she said.
“Magic?” Against my will, I imagined John in a purple wizard’s cloak.
“He was having some ceremony done and he had a heart attack right in the middle of it.” She exhaled through her nose. It turned out I didn’t know who anybody was—secret lovers and magic ceremonies. And my secret, my secret was just that I hadn’t read the paperwork.
“What sort of ceremony?”
“It was, well, I don’t really understand it, but it was to have the spirit of a beaver put into him, I think. He thought it would heal his colon.”
“I see,” I said. I didn’t, really, but I didn’t want to ask. “But he’s going to be alright?”
“It seems that way. Mainly now it’s that he might have another one. It’s a whole new health crisis to deal with. I’m just so—” She paused and started crying. It took me a moment before I realized I was supposed to hug her, and in that moment I just stared at her. It seemed totally unfair that after everything I was expected to comfort this woman, this young thing, the lover of my husband. But it looked like that was what I was supposed to do, and so I did.
When she had recovered herself, I asked, “How long—have you been together?”
“A little over a year,” she said.
“Do you live together?”
She nodded. “I really—I can’t believe he didn’t tell you.”
“I know,” I said. And it came home to me that I wasn’t really wanted there. That he hadn’t needed me— he’d needed Thora. I wasn’t even a woman anymore, just the guardian of his child.
When we went back in the room Thora and John were talking in low whispers and we remained in the entryway, as though we were waiting for a signal to enter.
“I guess that beaver was just too big for me,” John said.
“I’m so sorry, Daddy,” Thora said, and brought her cheek down to his hand and rested it there. “It’s my fault.”
“No, it’s not. Get that idea out of your head. It’s not your fault at all. You have to promise me to be careful, though,” he said, “I don’t know what those bees were, but you have to think about it and be careful. Be careful with your heart, girl.”
“Okay,” she said.
“What bees?” I said, even though I was aware I was crossing some line, intruding somehow.
“Nothing, Mandy,” he said.
“Alright then, that’s great. So you’ve seen her, now I’ll drive her home again. I hope you heal well. Best wishes,” I said, and grabbed Thora by the wrist.
“Ow, Mom, what are you doing?” She gave me a look—to let me know that I was the worst mother in the world. But honestly, I hardly minded. I hated all of them. I really did.
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