Page 76 of Dirty Diana
“We’re not…” Oliver started.
“We won’t explode,” I finish.
“Can I go play upstairs?”
I’ve spent the past couple weeks scouring her artwork, looking for her distress hidden in her rainbows and caterpillars, but if there is pain there, I can’t find it. I went back to work and she hummed around the house and didn’t seem to notice whether Oliver joined us for dinner or not. In the early evenings, I take Emmy on long walks around the neighborhood. One night, after dinner, I watched her play alone in the backyard catching fireflies. “Don’t forget to let them go!” I called through the screen door.
“So what’s the game plan here?” L’Wren waves Eric down and orders some chicken lettuce wraps. “If you want a divorce, I’ll get you the best woman in Dallas, she’s a beast. Or if you want Oliver back, I’ll literally drug him and lock him out on my catio with a litter of hungry kittens until he comes to his senses.”
What do I want? I stare at the drink in front of me. It goes blurrythrough my tears. But even through watery eyes, my thoughts crystallize and I know one thing to be true: I have only ever known what I want in opposition to what I never had. I built something safe and steady. I chose Oliver and this town and our house and my job as a way to erect the most impenetrable foundation I could. No moving from one crappy apartment to the next, outrunning angry landlords and bill collectors. Emmy would never have to hold her breath when she flicked a light switch, hoping for power, or dance around a parent’s capricious moods.
“I don’t want a divorce,” I say. “I want my life back.”
“Okay. Okay.” L’Wren processes this, as if running it through some kind of plan-hatching filter. “You need to go to him. It needs to come from you and you need to put yourself out there. You need to swallow your pride and go to his apartment and tell him you want him back. You need him back. Use the word ‘need’ a few times because men get total boners for it.”
I’m stuck on the wordapartment.Oliver’s been living in a hotel. Day-to-day. Temporarily. “What apartment?”
“Oh shit. Oh shit, shit. I’m such an idiot. I’m so sorry, Diana. I assumed you knew about the apartment?”
“What apartment?” I ask again.
“Kev and Oliver went out for a drink. He said Oliver rented a loft downtown because the hotel was costing a fortune. I can’t believe he didn’t tell you!”
Breathe,I tell myself.
“I’m sure it’s one of those sad divorced-dad apartments that’ll make him miss y’all even more. So, show up to his shitty, midlife crisis apartment with a trench coat on and nothing else. He won’t know what hit him and he’ll be back home in no time. If that’s what you want, of course.”
I watch as L’Wren texts Kevin for Oliver’s new address, pretending she wants to drop off a housewarming plant. The truth is I don’tknow what I want. The only thing I know for certain is that this middle place we are in is horrible. I keep thinking of ghosts trapped in the middle—not allowed into heaven or hell because of unfinished business on Earth. Maybe this is my unfinished business. I need to know that I have tried everything to save my marriage before I can accept that it’s gone.
I tell L’Wren I want to go there now, to tell Oliver how I feel tonight. She offers to give me a ride and on the way there, I realize just how drunk I am. I’m grateful to L’Wren for the lift. My body feels fuzzy with too much vodka and not enough food. To calm my nerves, I imagine this all playing out the right way: Oliver’s initial confusion at seeing me will give way to excitement. I won’t even need to speak. He’ll see me standing on his threshold and he’ll take me in his arms. He’ll slip my shirt off and let it fall to the floor. The fact that I’m wearing no bra will seem planned and not the reality of a depressed person who barely got dressed to go out.
I imagine Oliver undressing himself quickly so we can stand naked in front of each other, lovingly drinking the other in. Then after we have sex, I’ll tell him how sorry I am that I pushed him away and ever suggested the break in the first place. And he’ll tell me he’s ready to come home, that he never meant to leave like this. We can fix this.
Can’t we?
—
When we pull up, I immediately sense the flaws in my vision. Even his apartment isn’t what I imagined. I pictured his building would have some kind of brick facade, maybe with units overlooking a neglected swimming pool that residents, mainly divorced men, would try to coax their kids to swim in every other weekend.
This building looks brand-new. It has five stories that rise up at all different angles to showcase each apartment’s enormous teak deck. Even at night I can see how beautiful the surrounding gardens are,bursting with flowers manicured to look just wild enough without being messy. The outside is lit with fairy lights that illuminate a stone path that leads to the glassed-in lobby.
“Let’s go home,” I tell L’Wren. “This is a horrible idea.”I’d rather land in hell,I think to myself.
L’Wren takes in every detail of the building. “Who the heck does Oliver think he is? Don Draper? Mr. Cool McCool guy? We’re not giving up now. You’re going in.”
A young couple is exiting the building, and L’Wren shoves me out the door so I can slip into the lobby without having to be buzzed in. L’Wren shouts at me as the door closes. “You got this! Call me tomorrow, postcoital!”
I take the elevator to the sixth floor and knock on Oliver’s door. I wait for what feels like a long time. I knock again. It’s only nine-thirty, but maybe he’s already asleep. Then I hear footsteps. Oliver opens the door wearing a slim-fitting T-shirt and dark jeans, neither of which I recognize.
I smile up at him. I’d glossed my lips in the car and run my fingers through my hair, hoping to look tousled, in a sexy way, instead of spun out.
Oliver squints as if I’m backlit by the sun. “Diana? What are you doing here? Where’s Emmy?”
“At L’Wren’s. Kevin took the girls to the movies.”
“Oh. I…” Oliver glances over his shoulder.
“Can I come in?” I slide past him, purposely grazing his biceps with my chest.
