On Sunday after dinner, he’d bring Theresa back to Debbie’s. She’d open her front door expectantly as Will was coming up the front sidewalk, clutching their toddler in his arms for the last time until the next weekend began. Every time he’d fight back tears, but he no longer went home and cried into a few bottles of fizzy juice. He tried to keep busy.
He and Debbie didn’t speak much. If they did it was only regarding schedules or the care of Theresa, so he was a little surprised one Sunday evening, after passing her to her mom, when she asked him how he was doing and if he’d been seeing anybody lately?
In what free time? he responded, after he processed the question.
Debbie scoffed quietly.
Sorry, he amended. No.
Debbie was staring at the sidewalk. He knew she must have something important to say.
So you, and, uh…
Bob.
Bob.
Me and Bob, Debbie began.
Bob and I. Will tried hard to not say it out loud.
Well, we’re going to get married. In the spring. She flashed her engagement ring at him to prove the point.
This wasn’t unexpected news. Without having spoken much in the past year, he’d known that Bob was still in the picture, the ending inevitable if not with Bob than with someone else.
You want me to be happy for you? he snapped.
No, of course not. Debbie shifted Theresa to her other hip, feeling defeated already. I just thought you should know.
Is he moving in with you now? Will tried to keep any hint of fear from his voice. Anger was easier.
No, not yet. We’re discussing when. Work is busy right now.
Good.
Good, Debbie agreed. But it’s going to happen and I want us all to sit down and talk about it before then. You know, like mature adults. She emphasized the word “mature.” And I want you and Bob to meet each other, you know, under different circumstances.
I don’t believe the circumstances have changed, Will said dryly.
Debbie scoffed again.
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poses by A77 and NA