The back door opened and I turned to see Rusty sauntering, which is what Rusty does, across the lawn. I waved and smiled.

“Dad’s home,” I said to Lil. “I’ll call you tomorrow. Gotta go … .”

“Tell Dad hey,” she said.

Rusty kissed the top of my sun-warm hair. “Hey, darling. What’s for dinner?”

I cringed. “I didn’t cook tonight. I spent the day with Dad. He was in a bad way.”

He came around and sat at the end of the lounge chair, squeezing my ankle. “Are you okay?”

Rusty had been asking me this same question every day since Mother died, as if he were checking to make sure I wouldn’t disintegrate and disappear, as if there were a bubble on the edge of my tire and it might blow while I drive.

“I’m not sure what ‘okay’ is, but yes, I’m fine.”

“Who were you talking to?”

“Lil.”

He pouted. “She didn’t want to talk to me?”

“You can call her anytime, Rusty. She was on her way out to some study session.”

“Okay,” he said, and stared off across the lawn. “We need to call the lawn service and tell them that the back hedges are getting too high and the fence is separating at the corner.”

I didn’t answer, and he looked back to me. “Ellie, did you hear me?”

I nodded.

“Seriously, are you okay?”

I stood up and looked down at him. “What do mean by okay?”

He stood and faced me. “I mean I’m worried about you. I mean I know this is hard, but why won’t you talk to me about it? All you say is, ‘I’m fine.’ That’s what I mean, Ellie.” Anger was sprinkled on the circumference of his words.

“I don’t know what to say. It hurts. It’s a terrible relief, and I feel guilty about that. It’s sad and it’s sudden and it feels as if the earth has shifted beneath my feet, but I can’t see what that changes. Maybe it doesn’t change anything, but maybe it changes everything. I have no idea. I feel foggy and disconnected, but I’m okay. You ask if I’m okay and I’m okay.”

He hugged me, holding me against his chest and running his fingers through my hair. “Let’s go out to dinner. Okay?” he asked.

I leaned into his chest, relaxed. “Perfect.”

Marriages, I thought at that moment, are made of these moments, as if they are the stitches that form a long hem at the bottom of a garment, holding it together just when it appears as if the frayed edges will unravel.

Four

Four