The Apple of My Eye

Ain't No Sunshine

As the elevator approached my floor, the unmistakable sound of my daughter laughing penetrated my ears and made me a little less miserable about my untimely homecoming of sorts. All day I had been feeling conquered, beaten, incapable of fending for myself, and mortified to be accepting defeat in such a seemingly shameless manner. I didn't blame it on anyone but myself. I most certainly didn't blame it on Chloe, who months before had been scheming with all her strength to make my life very difficult, impracticable, to make me have to give up my plans and go back home devoid of all resources. Now that she had finally had her way, I didn't blame it on her. After all, that was exactly what was to be expected from a woman in her position, wasn't it? A pregnant woman, feeling duped and abandoned by her husband, a woman who saw him investing all his money, his time, and his energy in a new relationship.

But whatever. What I'm trying to say is that, for a brief moment there, all these thoughts gave room to the kind of comfort only the sound of my daughter's laughter could deliver. Victoria was waiting for me in the doorway—her mother a few steps behind, unsure of how to act—and jumped in my arms the second she saw me, shouting, "Daddy's home! Daddy's home!" I just stood there and let her celebrate the moment all around me, sort of on her own. Except for the bear hug and a shy smile, my contributions to the context were nil. I let Victoria do all the work. You couldn't exactly say I was happy to be back, and I was aware of the vibe I might be giving out.

Chloe was smiling shyly, her eyes slightly watering, but she kept her cool façade in check. She knew I wasn't coming back out of my own choice, but rather forced by the circumstances, even if I didn't act like those circumstances had been brought upon me by her. She, in turn, didn't have a triumphant look in her eyes, either. Neither did she appear to be the least bit proud, which was a good thing. The fact that we both looked like losers in this game made my uneasiness gradually settle and disintegrate. We hugged briefly in acknowledgement of my return, and not because we were happy to be living together again. I speak for myself, at least. I knew she wanted me back, and I knew she wanted me back badly, but she now looked intent on earning it, on making me want to be there.

I found it reassuring that Victoria was so excited to see me. I let her stay up late and monopolize all my time by telling me stories about this and that and whatnot. By doing that, I made sure I didn't have to sit through any uncomfortable silences with Chloe. I was feeling like shit—the cold diarrhea type of shit, not the hot shit variety—and it showed, so Chloe knew better than to try any funny business with me tonight. I'm sure she must have thought there would be plenty of opportunities, so why rush things? And while I was dedicating all my attention to Victoria, it wasn't like I was giving Chloe the cold shoulder or treating her unkindly. It's just that we didn't have anything to say to each other. We both knew how we felt about how things had turned out, and we acted accordingly.

Later that night, I got to read Star's long email detailing her final moments in our apartment, her trip back home, and her arrival. We had spoken on the phone several times that day, but only briefly, as the cost of long distance cell phone calls was ridiculous. Now I could finally sit down and just read and read as she went on and on about how her folks were happy to see her, and how, although she too was happy to see them, she was feeling like part of herself was gone. Much the same sensation I had experienced moments earlier when I had inadvertently directed the taxi driver to the wrong address.

I read her email twice and immediately started working on my reply, which I knew would contain the same kind of pour-my-heart-out material, plus a good amount of I-miss-you and I-can't-wait-to-see-you-again, but would judiciously leave out any accounts of my association with Rachel earlier that day.

Chloe had cooked dinner and seemed nervous about interrupting my computer activities to ask me if I was hungry after such a long hard day. She eventually found a noninvasive way to do it, and, let's face it, since she was treading so carefully around me, I didn't see any reason why I shouldn't return her kindness.