Despite these efforts, the place still felt like someone else’s home, with Nina as a temporary guest. Maybe when she added plants, or had pictures hanging in the hallway, maybe when all her things were in place, it would feel like home. Or maybe she should buy new furniture, new everything, because the old stuff might serve only as a reminder of all she had lost.
With so much to do, Nina focused on tackling the laundry, because at least it was a task she could manage to completion. She was folding a basket of clothes while her endless to-do list tumbled disjointedly through her mind, just like the dryer itself.
Dog food … shopping … Maggie’s dentist appointment … mend the hole in Connor’s jersey … forms for fall lacrosse … order team sweatshirts … pick up prescriptions at CVS … enroll Maggie in CCD classes at St. Francis … the kids’ physicals … nut-free ingredients for the football team bake sale (Maggie was deathly allergic) … and on … and on.
Moving didn’t erase Nina’s responsibilities, but rather added to them.
From down the hall, Nina heard an echoing “Hello?” and rose on achy knees to greet Ginny and Susanna, who had let themselves in. They were carrying two bottles of red wine, a foil-covered baking dish, and a cake box with WHOLE FOODS printed on the side.
“Happy birthday!” they shouted in unison, beaming at Nina as she approached.
“It’s not my birthday,” Nina said with a crooked smile.
“Well, the cake was on sale, so it’s somebody’s birthday—and it might as well be yours,” said Ginny as she sauntered inside, delicately balancing the bottles as she stooped to give Daisy a scratch hello. Ginny dressed like a J.Crew model, but despite the coastal palette of her cardigans and pleated pants, she still looked like a tired mom of three who lived in woodsy New Hampshire. She had a tousled nest of blond hair cut well above her shoulders, and a round, friendly face that was always quick with a smile.
“Where are the kids?” Susanna asked.
“Out,” said Nina. “With friends. They can’t take the chaos. Neither can I.”
“And Simon?” Nina caught the slight hesitation in Ginny’s voice, though she wasn’t surprised. Not long ago both her friends had been trying to talk Nina out of making this move. They didn’t have anything against Simon, per se, but each had reservations about the speed at which the relationship had evolved. They weren’t the only ones.
Nina’s parents hadn’t embraced her choice to move in with Simon either. Her mother liked Simon well enough, but thought Nina was setting a bad example for the children to be living with him before they were married. It was an argument that didn’t quite adhere to her mother’s views on personal choice, but Nina saw it for what it was—a poorly disguised way of masking her hope that her only daughter would move back home to live with them. Her father, who had loved Glen like the son he’d never had, worried Simon was taking advantage of a vulnerable woman in a very tricky situation, concerns that Nina herself understood.
Before her life had taken a U-turn, Nina had scoffed at those dolled-up reality show contestants who professed their undying love for each other after a few staged dates. Now she knew there were more than a few kernels of truth to their mawkish sentiments—and that a TV show wasn’t the only way to accelerate romance. Trauma, true bone-jarring trauma, did the job just as well, if not better.
“Love what you’ve done with the place…” Ginny said, spinning around in a circle as she surveyed the disordered kitchen. Susanna sent Nina a sympathetic look. This was the third time since move-in day they’d showed up to help unpack, and the place still looked like it had been ransacked by raccoons. Nina had wondered if her lack of progress was a subconscious reaction from a part of her that wasn’t wholly embracing the move. It wasn’t only her daughter she worried about. As much as she loved Simon, Nina harbored a mostly unspoken fear of opening herself up to being hurt again.
After uncorking the wine, Nina cut three big pieces of vanilla buttercream cake. The lasagna could wait. Susanna went to the fridge after announcing her intention to whip up a quick salad, took one look inside, and had to think again.
“Someone’s vying for the Mother Hubbard of the Year Award,” she said.
Nina laughed. She might have lost her mind in the mess, but not her sense of humor.
“The children aren’t starving, I swear. I just haven’t made it to the supermarket.”
“Like, since you moved in?” said Ginny, after checking the pantry.
“It’s been hard,” Nina said, slumping down on a metal stool at the kitchen island.
“A toast then,” Susanna proposed, raising her glass. “To a happy, healthy home.”
“Cheers to that,” Nina said as all three clinked glasses.
Susanna took a sip of wine and then went to work emptying the box closest to her, aptly labeled KITCHEN. Nina felt supremely grateful to have such good friends in her life, and couldn’t imagine where she’d be without them. Back when everything had first exploded, when her ordered world had become unmanageably disordered, Susanna had functioned as the family spokesperson. She was the perfect choice, already experienced with handling the media from her years as a reporter. An attractive woman with long chestnut hair and kind brown eyes, Susanna was a natural on TV. But now the cameras were long gone, and Nina’s great ordeal was nothing but a tabloid footnote.
When Ginny went to help Susanna unpack the box, the first thing she pulled out was an old issue of Real Simple magazine. “Thank goodness you brought this,” she said with a laugh.
But Nina wasn’t laughing. She hadn’t even realized she’d put that magazine in the box, but of course she had. She couldn’t have thrown it away. It was a reminder, a memento from the day that everything had changed.
* * *
NINA HAD been in her living room—her old living room—ready to decompress during a rare moment of downtime. A cup of chamomile tea waited on the coffee table, and that Real Simple magazine sat on her lap. She was interested in the cover story about—of all things—making life simpler. The issue also featured an article on four summer recipes to make outdoor entertaining easier than ever, which she found annoying because it was only the first week of spring.
She got cozy beneath a soft fleece blanket, sinking deeply into the faded beige cushions of her couch. She flipped to the desired article and read a page until her eyes glazed over. She remembered thinking she should have been working on the PTA newsletter, or even getting an early jump on the live auction, but no—she had been cocooned, supposedly guilt-free, beneath a fuzzy blanket, preparing to relax.
Even when she worked at it, Nina could not quite get a handle on how to unwind. It simply wasn’t in her DNA to turn off and do nothing. There was a time, years ago, when her entire life had been her career as a social worker. Then came Glen, who was work-obsessed even during their honeymoon phase, and admittedly Nina was too, at least until the kids were born. Then they became her whole world, until they didn’t need her as they once had. To fill the void, Nina found herself unable to say no to whatever favor, obligation, committee, or volunteer effort came her way. In this respect, she didn’t stop working—she just stopped getting a paycheck.