Page 75 of Canadian Boyfriend

“What doesthatmean?” I was peevish today. The nice thing about talking to a shrink as opposed to a friend was that you were allowed to be peevish without anyone taking it personally.

“Part of your rationale for sleeping with Aurora was that she wasn’t the nanny; she was your friend. Yet when I challenged you just now, she was the nanny.”

“Point taken, but I still don’t know why you’re pointing to my sleeping with Aurora like it’s relevant. You’re going to need to dumb it down.”

“I merely meant that you found intimacy with someone else. Your dream of a baby isn’t an impossible one.”

“Yeah, OK, we had sex, but I’m notemotionallyintimate with Aurora.”

But was that true? The image of her having that panic attack in the studio popped into my head. Of my looking at her reflection in the mirror and knowing what was happening withouther having to say anything. That had been so long ago. Before we slept together. Before we even kissed.

“You told me you trusted Aurora to take care of Olivia. You told me she didn’t care about your job or your money, that she cared about you. You told me—”

“OK, OK. But we’re not emotionally intimate in acoupleyway. We’re friends. We’re emotionally intimate friends… who also used to be physically intimate.”

Wait.

“I’m not trying to trick you. I’m not saying have a baby with Aurora, or date her. I’m merely holding up your relationship with her as an example of how life goes on. You thought you and Sarah were going to have a baby. That turned out not to be true. Then you thought you’d never have another child. Perhapsthatwill turn out not to be true. Life is long. That’s all I’m saying.”

“OK,” I said, though in my heart I knew she was wrong. I got what she was saying, hypothetically. Like, if I was some other guy, maybe. But I was me. I knew somehow that I was only going to get one shot at the whole marriage-and-kids thing. I couldn’t evendateanyone until Olivia was much older. I appreciated Dr. Mursal’s optimism, but that ship had sailed.

“Well, don’t you clean up nicely?” Aurora came down the stairs, stuck her hands on her hips, and eyed me as I stood in the entryway on a Friday night in early June waiting for Olivia. It was finally time for the big dance. Olivia was going with Sophia and some other friends after pizza at Sophia’s, and I—God help me—was chaperoning.

“Thanks.” We had to wear suits coming into and out ofgames, so Aurora had seen me dressed up plenty of times, but her compliment in this context was making my face heat. “Olivia almost ready?”

“Yep. I finished with her hair, but she’s having second thoughts about the tights, so she’s switching them up.” Her eyes danced.

Thank God for Aurora, who knew how to do the French braids Olivia wanted to wear to the dance.

“She’s sulky about your chaperoning, though,” she added.

“I don’t know why. Sarah chaperoned all kinds of stuff—though I guess nothing like this dance.” It was weird to think that Olivia was aging into doing things that Sarah had never experienced.

Myattendance at the dance was another of those “Sarah always did it” situations. A PTA mother who somehow didn’t realize Sarah had died had called asking for her, wanting to know if she’d chaperone. Awkwardness had ensued when I’d informed her that Sarah was, in fact, dead—and for some reason I’d decided to smooth over that awkwardness by volunteering myself? I was not looking forward to it, but now that Sarah was gone and I was having to confront how much I had not been around—mentally, I mean, in addition to my more obvious physical absences—I had to man up and do my job.

Olivia came down the stairs, and she looked so old all of a sudden, in her swingy purple dress. It came to her knees in the front and was longer in back and was studded with sparkles. It was very her—and it had not cost two hundred dollars. “You look great.”

“I decided not to wear tights at all. I was already getting hot in them, and I think the gym will probably be stuffy.” She glanced at Aurora like she was looking for reassurance.

“Good move.”

“I like your shoes,” I said. She was wearing her runners, which were also purple—a perfect match for the dress.

“Dad,” she said, and although the word was laden with annoyance, I was pretty sure it was fond annoyance. I’d take it regardless since it wasn’t Mike. “I’m only wearing these till I get there. I have my real shoes in my bag. I’m going to change at the last minute since they hurt my feet.”

“Or you could wear shoes that don’t hurt your feet?”

She rolled her eyes. I glanced at Aurora, who was trying not to laugh. I had the sudden, absurd wish that she were coming with me.

At the dance, I helped set up tables around the edge of the gym, then went to mind my drinks station.

“Dad!”

“Hey, Liv!” I was pleasantly surprised she was even acknowledging me, much less trotting up to my side.

“I forgot my shoes!”

I looked at her feet, and sure enough, she was wearing the purple runners.

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