But in spite of that, it was a challenging weekend. It was the first time Mark had seen the children since they'd left LA more than a month before. Janet said he should have given them more time to settle in before he came, and she seemed nervous and hostile to him. She was leading a double life, pretending to be unattached when she was with the kids, and continuing her clandestine affair. And Adam wanted to know when he was going to meet her kids. She had promised him it would be soon, but she didn't want them to figure out why she had moved them to New York. She was terrified they'd object to Adam, and start a war with him, out of loyalty to their father, if nothing else. She was looking nervous and strained when Mark saw her, and he wondered what was going wrong. And the kids were unhappy too. But they were thrilled to see their dad.
They stayed at the Plaza with him, and ordered lots of room service. He took them to the theater, and a movie. He went shopping with Jessica, and he and Jason went for a long walk in the rain, trying to make sense of things. And by Sunday afternoon, he felt as though he had only scratched the surface, and hated leaving them again. He was depressed all the way home on the plane. He was really beginning to wonder if he should move to New York. He was still thinking about it the following weekend, as he lay in the sun at the pool on Saturday, and he noticed that someone was moving into the gatehouse finally. He took a stroll over, and saw Jimmy hauling boxes out of a van by himself, and offered to give him a hand.
Jimmy hesitated for a long moment, and then accepted gratefully. He was surprised himself at how much stuff he had. He had sent most of what he had to storage, but had kept a lot of framed photographs, some trophies, his sports equipment, and his clothes. He had a lot of stereo equipment, some of which was Maggie's. There seemed to be a mountain of stuff he had brought with him, and even with Mark helping, it took them two hours to unload the van, and they were both tired when they stopped. All they'd done was introduce themselves to each other at that point, and Jimmy offered him a beer when they finally sat down, and Mark accepted gratefully. It had been a lot of work.
“You sure have a lot of stuff,” Mark said with a grin as he sipped the beer. “Heavy stuff, what's in all that, your collection of bowling balls?” Jimmy smiled and shrugged.
“Damned if I know. We had a two-room apartment and I sent most of it to storage, and I still had all this.” He had a lot of books and papers, and CDs. It seemed endless, but it disappeared easily into the drawers and cupboards and bookcases and closets of the gatehouse. And when he opened the first box, he took out a picture of her and set it on the mantelpiece and stood looking at her. It was one of his favorites. She had just caught a fish in a lake on one of their trips to Ireland, and she looked victorious and pleased, her bright red hair tied in a knot on top of her head, her eyes squinting against the sun. She looked about fourteen years old. It was the summer before she got sick, only about seven months ago. It seemed like a lifetime ago to him, as he turned and saw Mark watching him. Jimmy looked away and didn't say anything.
“Pretty woman. Your girlfriend?” Jimmy shook his head and took a long time to answer, but finally did with a knot in his throat. He was used to it now, it felt like a growth sometimes, the knot that still turned into tears at the drop of a hat, and felt like it always would.
“My wife,” Jimmy said quietly.
“I'm sorry,” Mark said sympathetically, assuming they were divorced, because it seemed like everyone was now. “How long has it been?”
“Seven weeks tomorrow night,” Jimmy said, as he took a breath. He never talked about it, but he knew he had to learn how, and maybe this was as good a time as any to start. Mark looked like a nice guy, and maybe they'd be friends, living on the same property. Jimmy tried to keep his voice steady as he lowered his eyes.
“It's been six for me. I just visited my kids in New York last weekend. I miss them so damn much. My wife left me for another guy,” Mark said in a somber voice.
“I'm sorry,” Jimmy said sympathetically. He could see the pain in Mark's eyes, mirrored and magnified only by the pain in his own. “That's tough. How old are your kids?”
“Fifteen and thirteen, a girl and a boy. Jason and Jessica. They're great kids, and so far they're hating New York. If she was going to fall for someone else, I wish it had been someone out here. The kids don't know about him yet. What about you? Kids?”
“No. We were talking about it. We hadn't gotten around to it yet.” He was amazed at how much he was willing to say to Mark. It was as though they had some strange invisible bond. The bond of heartache and loss and unexpected tragedy. The brutal blows of life that come as a surprise.
