For the restof the afternoon the five of them sorted through the monthly expenses and set up a budgeting program. Kon and Damien deleted their apps (permanently or temporarily, Fran couldn’t be sure), and Fran set up a wire for the mortgage payment. When they finished, Fran’s mother started dinner and her father invited her outside to look at something in the yard.
For years, Fran’s father had tended to their landscaping like it was the White House lawn and he was hosting the Egg Roll. He cut thegrass obsessively, he trimmed the hedges as if they would be measured with a ruler. He got on his hands and knees to weed between the flagstones, even if he was wearing his nice pants. But as he led her toward the far corner of the lawn Fran saw something new. It was a sort of circular path, lined with little rocks, and what looked alarmingly like wildflowers at the center.
“So, I’ve been listening to this radio program on my phone,” he started. “It’s for men who are trying to be the best versions of themselves.”
Alarm bells rang in Fran’s ears. “Is it a podcast, Dad?”
“Yeah, that’s right. A podcast.”
Christ. If her father was bringing her out in the yard to talk about being red-pilled or the feminist myth of the patriarchy or cryptocurrency, she was going to light the whole house on fire. “Okay…”
“One of my favorites was about meditation. So I studied Zen gardens, and I made this mandala out of pebbles and flowers.”
“Oh, wow.” As they got closer Fran could see that he had mowed a round labyrinth into the grass, creating a sort of path. “So, you walk around it in circles?”
“Yep.” Fran’s father was blushing furiously. “The podcast said that making the mandala would help me connect with nature, and then walking it would help me control some of my impulses.”
“I think that’s awesome, Dad.” Fran leaned over and hugged him. “Can I walk it with you?”
They were justputting dinneron the table when Hale came bursting through the door. “LONDON HAS A NINETY-NINE CHARIZARD FIRST EDITION HOLOGRAM AND IT’S WORTH FOUR MILLION DOLLARS!” He was so excited he was pink in the face and hopping around.
“That’s so great, sweetie.” Fran kissed him. “Do you need to pee? You’re wiggling a lot.”
“AND I GOT AN AUTOGRAPH FROM DR. FUJI!”
“Wow, I can’t wait to see it.” Fran tried to shepherd him toward the bathroom, but London came bounding in.
“Mom! I brought my 1999 Charizard first edition and this guy there said it was worth four hundred dollars!”
Fran’s family was looking at London in amusement. “Well, did you sell it to him?” Kon asked.
“No!” London looked insulted. “I’m keeping it as an investment.”
“Hey!” RJ came in last, carrying the boys’ water bottles, Pokémon binders, and a big envelope. “Did London tell you?”
“About his four-hundred-dollar Pokémon card?” Fran grinned.
“No, babe, four THOUSAND.” RJ kissed her hello.
“Right.”
“I’m serious. They have all these dealers there and London kept saying this card was really valuable, so we went up and showed it to a couple different dealers. They offered us four grand for the card.”
“WHAT? Did you take it?” Fran looked at him in disbelief.
“Nope.” RJ shrugged. “But we bought this sweet plastic case to protect it!” He pulled the thing out of the envelope. It looked like a totally normal card, now encased in an eight-inch sleeve.
“Watch out,” joked Kon. “Fran’s on a tear. She’s probably going to make him sell his whole binder.”
Twenty
Augusta
Three’s A Crowd
Augusta couldn’t stop thinking about the hidden folder on Colin’s phone. Not about the screenshots of passwords, she already knew all those, but what he might have wanted to keep hidden if he weren’t afraid of her seeing. Colin had let go of the corporate apartment in Boston, he had moved back into their house and into her bed, but Augusta still couldn’t shake the feeling that even if she was starting to forgive him, there was a hole in her understanding about her husband, a sexual-shaped lacuna she wanted to uncover.
At dinner, as Colin helped Charlie spear green beans and Beatrix delicately tossed hers on the floor, Augusta watched her husband’s face. He truly was the most handsome man she’d ever kissed. Even as he got older, even as a light splay of creases arrived, a precursor to the wrinkles he would one day have by his eyes, Augusta saw how gorgeous she would always find him. She loved his sturdy jaw, his thick short hair, his bottom lip, slightly fuller than her own. He looked like his parents, a perfect mix of his father’s heavy brow and his mother’s pretty mouth. His parents had to be part of this whole thing, shefigured, the reason Colin had been closeted for so long. They were traditional with a capitalT, the sort of couple who went to church because it was socially required rather than because of their actual faith, the sort of couple who owned pearls and cuff links and wore them regularly. Colin’s father had gone to Princeton for undergrad and then Harvard Law before working his way up to partner at a top Boston firm. Colin’s mother had been a professional wife, keeping their calendar full of dinners and galas and serving on the board of at least five different organizations. Augusta hadn’t known them very well in high school, despite Colin’s friendship with Eben. His parents never came to the pink house for dinner, but Augusta knew they had been as strict as they had been loving.