{"id":3699,"date":"2020-06-18T13:56:47","date_gmt":"2020-06-18T20:56:47","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/underthetablebooks.com\/blog\/?p=3699"},"modified":"2020-06-18T13:56:47","modified_gmt":"2020-06-18T20:56:47","slug":"the-same-woman-luisa","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/underthetablebooks.com\/blog\/archives\/3699","title":{"rendered":"The Same Woman (Luisa)"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

Over and over again in the course of his life, Andrew meets a woman he recognizes as someone he has known before. He met her in elementary school in 1955<\/a>, fell in love with her briefly in 1962<\/a>, had a relationship with her in 1966<\/a>, and lived with her in British Columbia from 1970 to 1973<\/a>. The last time was in 1978<\/a> when they became pen pals for six years until she broke off all communication with him. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2206<\/p>\n\n\n\n

1986. Andrew is thirty-eight and his wife Kiki is\nforty. They celebrate their sixth wedding anniversary, their four-year-old son Owen\nbegins attending pre-school, both Kiki and Andrew get their first personal\ncomputers, and Andrew becomes Owen\u2019s sole parent for long stretches of days and\nweeks so Kiki can pursue her burgeoning career as a modern dance choreographer.\n<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Owen and Andrew are unhappy about Kiki spending so\nmuch time away from their home on the outskirts of Vancouver, and Andrew wishes\nKiki was content to work with dance companies nearer at hand, but she is not\nand has signed contracts to create dances for companies in Montreal, London,\nNew York, and Los Angeles over the next two years.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They had hoped Andrew\u2019s success with his writing\nwould continue and they could afford for Andrew and Owen to accompany Kiki on her\nvarious choreography adventures, but when a giant corporation took over the\npublishing house that had done so well with Andrew\u2019s first two collections of\nshort stories, his run of good fortune ended. His third collection was taken\nout-of-print a few days after the book was published, and then the corporation\ncancelled the publication of his fourth collection, after which his sales figures\nbranded him an author who doesn\u2019t sell. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Having spent the considerable profits from his\nearlier successes on doubling the size of their kitchen and building a spectacular\ndance studio for Kiki adjacent to their house, Andrew has taken up carpentry\nwork again to pay the bills.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Kiki is unhappy about the situation, too, but creating\ndances for the best modern dance companies in the world has long been her dream\nand she doesn\u2019t want to miss her chance. Knowing how quickly Andrew\u2019s fortunes\nchanged, Kiki is determined to strike while her iron is hot.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2206<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Andrew\u2019s best friend Cal and Cal\u2019s wife Terry and\ntheir children Felicia and Scott live a mile away from Andrew and Kiki and Owen.\nFelicia is ten and Scott is five and they are Owen\u2019s best friends and idols. Their\ndaily presence in Owen\u2019s life, along with Terry as a willing mother substitute,\nmakes Kiki\u2019s long absences easier for the little boy to handle. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2206<\/p>\n\n\n\n

On a rainy Wednesday afternoon in April\u2014Kiki in\nNew York after a brief stint at home following seven weeks in Los Angeles\u2014Andrew\nis sitting at the counter in the magnificent kitchen he built especially for\nKiki, overseeing Owen and Scott and Felicia making oatmeal raisin cookies, when\nthe phone rings.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Before he picks up the phone, Andrew prays the\ncaller is his literary agent Penelope Goldstein calling from Montreal with good\nnews, though he hasn\u2019t heard a peep from Penelope in three years. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHello,\u201d he says, imagining Penelope sitting at\nher desk piled high with manuscripts, her glasses perched on the tip of her\nnose. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHi,\u201d says a woman with a musical voice. \u201cMay I\nspeak to Andrew Ross, please?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

For a flickering, Andrew thinks the caller is\nCarol Savard, his great friend and correspondent who two years ago severed all\nties with him because, as she wrote in her final letter to him, \u201cThe intensity\nof my desire to be in a relationship with you makes it impossible for me to sustain\na relationship with anyone else.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThis is Andrew.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMy name is Luisa Morningstar. My daughter Lily is\nat the Montessori school with your son Owen, and she asked me to make a play\ndate with him. Is that something we might arrange?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cProbably,\u201d says Andrew, struck by how much she\nreminds him of Carol Savard, though she sounds nothing like Carol. \u201cCan you\nhold on a sec?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHappy to. Or you can call me back.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGood idea,\u201d says Andrew, flustered by the\nfeelings arising in him. \u201cHe\u2019s currently baking cookies.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2206<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSo O,\u201d says Andrew, speaking to his son at\nbedtime, \u201cI got a call from Lily\u2019s mother today wondering if you\u2019d like to have\na play date with Lily.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m playing with Scott and Felicia after school\ntomorrow,\u201d says Owen, pursing his lips and shaking his head exactly as his\nmother does. \u201cWe already planned it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cRight, but there are lots of days when you don\u2019t\nplay with Scott and Felicia. Maybe you\u2019d like to play with Lily on one of those\ndays?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWould you be with me?\u201d asks Owen with a touch of\nworry in his voice.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIf it\u2019s at our house, of course I\u2019ll be with you,\u201d\nsays Andrew, knowing Owen doesn\u2019t like going new places without Mama or Papa or\nTerry or Cal. \u201cAnd if it\u2019s at Lily\u2019s house I will definitely be with you the whole\ntime for the first few times you go there.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOkay,\u201d says Owen, nodding.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou don\u2019t have to have a play date with her. Only\nif you like her.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI love her,\u201d says Owen, gazing at his father.\n\u201cShe\u2019s so nice and she\u2019s the best dancer you\u2019ve ever seen.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBetter than your mother?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMaybe a little,\u201d says Owen, pouting. \u201cWhen\u2019s Mama\ncoming home?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIn two weeks,\u201d says Andrew, fighting his tears.\n\u201cAnd this time she\u2019ll be home for a good long while.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHow long is a good long while?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cLots of days,\u201d says Andrew, his heart breaking.\n\u201cLots and lots of days.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2206<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The next morning on his way to the beach house\nhe\u2019s building with two other carpenters, Andrew drives Owen to the Montessori kindergarten\nthat occupies a former Methodist church four miles from their house. Owen puts\nhis knapsack and jacket in his cubbyhole and he and Andrew wave to the head\nteacher Mrs. Chandler who is on the phone in her office. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

A sturdy middle-aged woman with short gray hair\nand rosy cheeks, Mrs. Chandler waves back to them and mouths the words, \u201cGood\nmorning Owen. Welcome to school.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWant to introduce me to Lily?\u201d asks Andrew as he\naccompanies Owen out the back door of the schoolhouse and through the children\u2019s\nvegetable garden to the large playground.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOkay,\u201d says Owen, who is usually among the first\nchildren to arrive at school in the morning. \u201cShe\u2019s always on the swings when I\nget here. Unless it\u2019s raining.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And sure enough, on the middle swing of three, the\ntwo other swings not yet taken, is a beautiful four-year-old girl with dark\nolive skin and big brown eyes, her long black hair done in four intricately woven\nbraids, swinging higher than most children dare to go and singing Fr\u00e8re Jacques<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2206<\/p>\n\n\n\n

On the following Saturday at ten in the morning,\nthe sky full of dark gray clouds, Luisa brings Lily to Andrew and Owen\u2019s house\nfor a play date. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Luisa\u2019s exquisite face and her dark olive skin\nremind Andrew of the famous bust of Nefertiti. She is exactly Andrew\u2019s height,\nfive-eleven, and exactly his age, thirty-eight, and she wears her glossy black\nhair in a ponytail\u2014her movements and gestures full of grace.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Following a quick tour of the house, during which Owen\nand Lily stay in Owen\u2019s room to look at his stuffed animals and books, Andrew\nand Luisa sit at the kitchen counter and share a pot of tea.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou have my dream kitchen,\u201d she says, gazing\naround the splendid room. \u201cThis is bigger than the kitchen at the restaurant\nwhere I cook.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhich restaurant?\u201d asks Andrew, mystified by how\nmuch she reminds him of his former friend Carol Savard, though she looks\nnothing like Carol and sounds nothing like Carol, and yet\u2026<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThe\nCrossroads<\/em>,\u201d she says, looking at her watch. \u201cI\u2019ve been the breakfast and\nlunch chef there for nine years now. I drop Lily off at Montessori at 6:15 and\npick her up at 3:30. I have a special arrangement with Mrs. Chandler.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019ve eaten your delicious food many times,\u201d says\nAndrew, who usually drops Owen at school a few minutes after seven, which is\nofficially the earliest a child is supposed to arrive. \u201cDo you pay Mrs.\nChandler?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes,\u201d she says, nodding. \u201cOnly way I can manage.\u201d\nShe looks at her watch again. \u201cSpeaking of which, would it be okay with you if\nI left now and came back at two? I know I said I\u2019d stick around for the first\ndate, but I am so far behind on so many things at home, a few hours alone would\nbe a godsend.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSure,\u201d says Andrew, disappointed not to have a\nlonger visit with her. \u201cIf Lily\u2019s okay being here without you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOh she\u2019s used to me leaving her with people she\nhardly knows,\u201d says Luisa, getting up. \u201cBut I\u2019ll check with her to make sure.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Andrew accompanies Luisa to Owen\u2019s room where they\nfind Lily and Owen sitting side-by-side on Owen\u2019s bed looking through a big picture\nbook of Australian marsupials.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m going now, honey,\u201d says Luisa, smiling at the sight of her daughter with Owen. \u201cI\u2019ll be back at two.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOkay,\u201d says Lily, looking up from the picture of\na mother koala and her two babies. \u201cSee you later.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGood luck with your catching up,\u201d says Andrew,\nescorting Luisa to her little old Toyota station wagon. \u201cWe\u2019ll see you at two. Or\nthereabouts.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019re a prince,\u201d she says, beaming at him as she\ngets into her car. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2206<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At three-thirty, while Owen and Lily are giving\neach other impromptu concerts on the piano in the living room, Andrew calls Luisa\nand gets her answering machine. He is more than a little peeved she took thereabouts<\/em> to mean an hour and a half late<\/em>, but when he hears her answering machine message,\nhe\u2019s glad he felt the need to call her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She sings in her gorgeous voice, \u201cDon\u2019t know why\nthere\u2019s no sun up in the sky, stormy weather,\u201d and follows those words by\nsaying, \u201cbut I do<\/em> know I want to talk\nto you, so please leave a message and I\u2019ll call you back.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Andrew saunters into the living room, waits for Owen\nto finish his improvised piano piece, joins Lily in applauding and asks, \u201cIs\nyour mom a singer, Lily?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYeah,\u201d she says, taking Owen\u2019s place at the\npiano. \u201cI am, too.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2206<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When Luisa finally shows up at 4:15, Andrew is too\nangry to accept her apology and she bursts into tears as she leaves with Lily. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPapa?\u201d asks Owen, watching the little station\nwagon drive away. \u201cWhy was Lily\u2019s mother crying?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know,\u201d says Andrew, still seething.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cCan we go to Cookie\u2019s<\/em>\nfor pizza?\u201d asks Owen, smiling hopefully at his father. \u201cWith Lily and her\nmother?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI think you\u2019ve seen enough of Lily for one day,\u201d\nsays Andrew, fixing himself against the idea of asking Lily and Luisa to join\nthem for pizza.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d says Owen, frowning. \u201cWe weren\u2019t\ntired of each other.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Andrew closes his eyes and breathes deeply to calm\nhimself.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPlease Papa?\u201d says Owen, taking Andrew\u2019s hand.\n\u201cCan we ask them to come with us?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOkay,\u201d says Andrew, opening his eyes. \u201cI\u2019ll call\nand see.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He leaves a message on Luisa\u2019s machine and she\ncalls back fifteen minutes later. \u201cWe\u2019d love to meet you at Cookie\u2019s<\/em>,\u201d she says breathlessly. \u201cAt six?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSix,\u201d he says, resisting his impulse to add and don\u2019t be late<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2206<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Andrew and Owen arrive at Cookie\u2019s<\/em> at ten minutes past six, the place jammed as always on a\nSaturday night, the din fantastic. Luisa and Lily are already there, Lily\nwearing a pretty white dress with red polka dots, Luisa wearing a beautiful\nturquoise shirt and a long black skirt and looking fabulous.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe\u2019re under-dressed,\u201d says Andrew, sitting beside\nLuisa in the booth\u2014Owen and Lily on booster seats across from them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou look fine,\u201d says Luisa, watching his face. \u201cAre\nyou still mad at me?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAbout what?\u201d says Andrew, studying the menu.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOh good,\u201d she says, smiling. \u201cI\u2019m dying for a\nbeer. Want to split a pitcher?\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2206<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Along with their extra large deluxe vegetable pizza\nwith extra mushrooms, the children have lemonade and the grownups enjoy their\nbeer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

 \u201cSo tell me\nhow you came to be the renowned chef of The\nCrossroads,\u201d <\/em>says Andrew, enjoying Luisa\u2019s company. \u201cSpare no details.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI thought you might ask me something like that,\u201d\nsays Luisa, smiling shyly. \u201cSo I rehearsed my answer. The first part of it\nanyway.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHow prescient of you,\u201d he says, giving her his\nfull attention after confirming that Owen is happily devouring his third piece\nof pizza. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI was born in Toronto,\u201d she says, exchanging\nsmiles with her daughter. \u201cMy mother, who died seven years ago, was part-Chippewa,\npart-French Quebecois, and she was a fantastic cook. She worked in a hotel\nkitchen and had a brief liaison with a man from Cuba. He was an engineer\nworking on a dam north of the city and was staying in the hotel where my mother\nworked. He was unaware he had conceived a child with her until she wrote to him\nin Cuba, and once he knew, he sent her money every few months for as long as I\nlived at home, which was until I was sixteen.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPapa?\u201d says Owen, politely interrupting. \u201cCan we\ngo look at the fish?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cCan we, Mama?\u201d asks Lily, nodding hopefully.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When the children are safely stationed at the big\naquarium and gazing in wonder at the neon tetras and swordtails and goldfish,\nLuisa continues her story.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI started working in restaurants when I was thirteen,\u201d\nshe says, nodding in thanks as Andrew pours her a second glass of beer, \u201cand\nI\u2019d been playing piano and singing since I was a little kid, so\u2026 to make a very\nlong story short, my life until I had Lily was always some combination of\nsinging and working in restaurants. And now my life is entirely restaurant work\nand taking care of Lily, though we do sing together and I\u2019m teaching her to\nplay the piano.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAnd Lily\u2019s father? Where is he?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHe was a guitarist I used to perform with,\u201d she\nsays softly. \u201cAnd after a few years of successfully resisting his advances, one\nnight I didn\u2019t resist and Lily was made, though I didn\u2019t want to believe I was\npregnant until I was almost three months along, and by then her father had moved\nto Seattle.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDid you tell him you were pregnant?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo, because I was planning to get an abortion. But\nthen I had a vivid dream in which my mother came to me and begged me to keep\nthe child, so I did and named her Lily after my mother. And then when Lily was\ntwo, I decided to contact her father and tell him, partly because I needed\nmoney and partly because I thought he should know, and that\u2019s when I found out\nhe had committed suicide after a lifelong struggle with depression.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2206<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The children return from watching the fish, ice\ncream is ordered, and Luisa asks Andrew, \u201cSo your wife is a choreographer and\nyou are a carpenter. How did you meet?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAt a party in Montreal,\u201d says Andrew, remembering\nthe moment he met Kiki\u2014love at first sight\u2014at the height of his success.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWere you living in Montreal?\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo, but Kiki was. She grew up there.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSo what were you<\/em>\ndoing there?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOh\u2026 visiting friends,\u201d he says, in no mood to\nrehash the rise and fall of his writing career.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She arches her eyebrow. \u201cWhy don\u2019t I believe you?\u201d\n<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know,\u201d he says, caught off guard. \u201cWhy\ndon\u2019t you?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBecause you looked away when you answered. As if\nyou were ashamed to tell me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAshamed,\u201d says Andrew, considering that as he finishes\nhis third glass of beer. \u201cYeah maybe I am a little, though not about why I was\nin Montreal.\u201d He makes a disparaging face. \u201cIt\u2019s a long boring story.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m sure it\u2019s not boring,\u201d she says, splitting the\nlast of the beer with him. \u201cMaybe next time you\u2019ll tell me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNext play date?\u201d he says, liking her very much. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYeah,\u201d she says, liking him very much, too. \u201cNext\nplay date.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2206<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That night, after Owen falls asleep during the\nbedtime story, Andrew sits at the kitchen table with the intention of writing a\nletter to Jason Moreau, the director of the Montreal production of Extremely Silly Ariel Gets Wise<\/em>, a play\nbased on two of Andrew\u2019s short stories that was a resounding success nine years\nago and helped launch Andrew\u2019s writing career. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

But instead of a letter to Jason, out comes a\nstory about a man and his young son who spend a week at the beach one summer in\nan old falling down house, and the fascinating people and animals and birds and\ncurious conundrums they encounter there.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He writes for five hours without stopping, uses up\ntwo Bic pens and most of the ink in a third, and finishes the seventy-page opus\nat one in the morning barely aware of what he has written. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2206<\/p>\n\n\n\n

After\nbreakfast the next day, Andrew walks with Owen to Scott and Felicia\u2019s house,\nand while Owen and Scott build towers of wooden blocks in the living room,\nAndrew has coffee with Cal and Terry in the kitchen\u2014Cal a strapping fellow with\ncurly black hair who has known Andrew since they were in high school together\nin California, Terry a pretty redhead who fell in love with Cal the day after\nhe got to Canada seventeen years ago.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat\nnews of Kiki?\u201d asks Cal, who is a professor of Philosophy at Simon Fraser\nUniversity, his specialties Ethics, Skepticism, and Socrates.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cShe\u2019ll\nbe home in a couple weeks,\u201d says Andrew, weary from his long night of writing.\n\u201cWe spoke a few days ago and she said everything was going gangbusters and she\nloves New York and misses us, but she\u2019s glad she\u2019s doing this, and\u2026 like that.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHow\nlong will she be home for?\u201d asks Terry, a fine art photographer who makes most\nof her money shooting weddings.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cLittle\nless than three weeks,\u201d says Andrew, smiling bravely. \u201cAnd then she\u2019s off to LA\nfor seven weeks.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\ngonna take some time off while she\u2019s home?\u201d asks Cal, who dearly loves Andrew\nand worries about him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo.\nShe\u2019ll be working seven days a week on the new dances for LA, so there\u2019s no\npoint in my taking time off.\u201d He bounces his eyebrows. \u201cBut guess what?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\nstarted writing again,\u201d says Terry, nodding excitedly. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHow\ndid you know?\u201d asks Andrew, laughing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI can\nhear it in your voice,\u201d she says, getting up to make a fresh pot of coffee.\n\u201cWhat are you writing? A play?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cA\nstory,\u201d says Andrew, having yet to read what he wrote last night. \u201cFirst thing\nI\u2019ve written in\u2026 God\u2026 three years.\u201d He frowns at Terry. \u201cWhat about my voice is\nso different?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\nseem calmer,\u201d says Cal, nodding assuredly. \u201cHappier.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\nsound like you again,\u201d says Terry, smiling fondly at him. \u201cThe old sweet you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2206<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Leaving\nOwen to play with Scott for the day, Andrew returns home and sits on the living\nroom sofa reading the seventy pages he wrote last night. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

When he\nfinishes, he takes a deep breath and reads the whole thing again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Now he\ngets up and goes out into the garden and lifts his arms to the sky and says,\n\u201cThank you. Thank you for coming back to me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2206<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That\nnight Andrew writes for another four hours and produces another fifty pages.\nAgain he has only a vague notion of what he\u2019s writing, but he is filled with\njoy to be the conduit for whatever so urgently wants to come through.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2206<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Monday night, after a long day of roofing the beach house, Andrew reads the pages he wrote last night, and is again filled with gratitude for the story he has wrought.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Now he takes up his pen and writes for another three hours.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2206<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Tuesday night, pleased with the previous night\u2019s creation, he finds the flow of words has ceased, so he takes up his guitar and plays a lovely pattern of chords he has never played before, and after playing the pattern a dozen times, he sets down his guitar and writes a chorus and four verses as if copying them from a page hanging in the air before him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Now he\nplays the pattern of chords and sings the words, and loves the song more than\nany song he\u2019s ever written.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2206<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Wednesday night, no words come, nor music, so he wanders into the kitchen to put a kettle on for tea and thinks I should call Luisa and set up a play date for Saturday or Sunday<\/em> and the phone rings and it\u2019s Luisa.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI was just thinking of calling you,\u201d he says, sitting down at the counter. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cReally?\u201d she says, smiling into the phone. \u201cWhy were you thinking of calling me?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWell\u2026 to set up a play date for Owen and Lily.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSaturday or Sunday?\u201d she says, her voice a salve for his lonely heart. \u201cEither or both work for us.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThen Saturday,\u201d he says, picking up a pen and writing on the notepad he keeps by the phone they called each other simultaneously and each got a busy signal. <\/em>\u201cYou want to come here again or\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYeah we like your place much better than ours. And this time I\u2019ll stick around and we can have a visit.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOh good, and I can tell you what I was doing in Montreal when I met my wife.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAnd I can tell you my<\/em> Montreal story,\u201d she says, her kettle whistling in the background. \u201cWhen I was singing with a band from hell. Shall we do ten o\u2019clock again?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPerfect,\u201d he says, his kettle whistling, too.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The date made, Andrew brews a cup of chamomile tea, fetches his notebook, takes up his pen, and writes like a madman until well after midnight.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2206<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Saturday is a marvelous and scary day for Andrew, his five hours with Luisa confirming what he already knew but dared not admit: she is undoubtedly the inspiration for the best stories he\u2019s ever written and the best song he\u2019s ever composed, and most terrifying of all, he\u2019s in love with her and she with him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Yet neither of them makes the slightest attempt to seduce the other, and at visit\u2019s end they both honestly express how happy they are to have found a new friend.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2206<\/p>\n\n\n\n

By the\ntime Kiki arrives home from New York in early May, Andrew has completed and\nrewritten eleven long short stories, composed four new songs, and written two\ndrafts of a play based on the longest of the new stories entitled Their Summer Holiday<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

After a\nweekend of family fun, Kiki gets to work on her new dances, Andrew resumes his\ncarpentry gig, Owen goes to preschool for six hours every day, and everything\nseems to be fine.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A\nSaturday play date is arranged for Lily and Owen, Luisa brings Lily over for\nthe day, and Kiki and Luisa immediately hit it off, though a few minutes into\nthe play date Kiki has to take a call from her producer in Los Angeles and Luisa\nhas to hurry away to The Crossroads<\/em> to\nfill in for the weekend lunch chef, and Andrew is left to supervise the\nchildren.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Walking\nwith Owen and Lily in the nearby woods, Andrew thinks about Kiki leaving again\nin two weeks, and he is overcome with sorrow.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2206<\/p>\n\n\n\n

On a\nSaturday night two days before Kiki departs for Los Angeles, Andrew and Kiki\nthrow a small party. Cal and Terry bring Felicia and Scott, and Luisa comes\nwith Lily. The five dancers Kiki has been employing to help refine her new\ndances come with their partners, and Andrew\u2019s old pal Joe Ganz and his wife\nMelinda come\u2014Joe the editor and Melinda the art director of the free weekly The Weekly Blitz<\/em> in which Andrew first\npublished the seventeen short stories that eventually became his first and most\nsuccessful book The Draft Dodger and\nother fables<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

After\nmuch eating and drinking, the party goers move en masse to Kiki\u2019s studio where\nKiki and her five dancers perform several minutes of the two dances destined\nfor the stage in Los Angeles\u2014a thrilling display of strong limber people doing\namazing things with their bodies in time to thunderous polyrhythmic music.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Following\nthe dance show, everyone returns to the house where Joe Ganz requests Andrew read\none of his new stories. Andrew is reluctant to comply until Kiki nods\nencouragingly, and Andrew says to the assembled host, \u201cWell\u2026 the new stories\nI\u2019ve been writing are all quite long, but I think the first ten pages of one of\nthem makes a good little story within the larger story, so\u2026 I\u2019ll fetch those\npages.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Everyone\nfinds a seat and Andrew stands on the hearth and says, \u201cSo this is the first\npart of a story I\u2019m calling Their Summer\nHoliday<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Now for\nthe first time since the collapse of his writing career, he reads to an\naudience and feels again the thrill of deeply connecting with others through\nhis words, his final sentence eliciting loud applause and shouts of Bravo<\/em> and Joe Ganz saying, \u201cOh please\nlet me run that, Andrew. It\u2019s so fucking good.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2206<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Two\ndays later, Kiki flies to Los Angeles, and this time her going barely disturbs Owen,\nperhaps because he has adjusted to the new reality of her coming and going, and\nno longer fears she might never return.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But for\nAndrew this is the hardest time yet because he knows that after seven long\nweeks without her, she will return for a scant few days before flying to London\nwhere she will stay for two months before returning for a few weeks before\ngoing to Montreal for seven weeks, and then to Los Angeles again, and New York\nagain\u2026 on and on for another year and a half.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2206<\/p>\n\n\n\n

With\nher every success\u2014and Kiki\u2019s dances are most successful\u2014more offers come, and when\nKiki returns in mid-September after her two months in London she proposes they\nexpand the two-year plan to a four-year plan.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAre\nyou serious?\u201d says Andrew, aghast at what she\u2019s suggesting. \u201cWhat about Owen?\nWhat about me? We\u2019re in the prime of our lives. Our child is about to turn five.\nIs this what you want? To live apart from us for another three years?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat I\nwant,\u201d she says, taking a deep breath, \u201cis a divorce. And for you to have\ncustody of Owen.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They\nare standing in the kitchen when she says this to him\u2014Owen and Scott in the\ndriveway racing around on scooters. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDivorce?\u201d\nhe says, stunned. \u201cWhat are you talking about?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI met\nsomeone, Andrew,\u201d she says, trying not to cry. \u201cI never in a million years thought\nsomething like this would happen. I never ever wanted to hurt you. But it\nhappened. And now I need to go this other way. I\u2019m so sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\nneed to go this other way,\u201d he says, sitting down to keep from falling over. \u201cIs\nthat what you\u2019re gonna say to Owen?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI will\nexplain it to him,\u201d she says, her eyes brimming with tears. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOh good for you, Kiki,\u201d he says bitterly. \u201cAnd of course he\u2019ll understand because he\u2019s four-years-old and a four-year-old can easily understand why his mother would abandon him because she needs to go this other way.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Kiki\nleaves the kitchen.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Andrew bows his head and closes his eyes and hopes to wake from this terrible dream.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2206<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At the\nend of September, two weeks after Kiki asked for a divorce, she oversees the\nloading of her belongings into a moving truck to be driven to her new partner\u2019s\nhouse in Los Angeles while she flies to Montreal. Her new partner, a composer\nof music for movies and television, is in his early sixties and has five grown children\nfrom his three previous marriages.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2206<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In the\nwake of Kiki\u2019s going, Andrew takes a month off from carpentry work to be\navailable to Owen all day every day, and during this break from work he has the\nidea to convert Kiki\u2019s dance studio into a two-bedroom rental unit. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

To pay\nfor the conversion, he takes out a fifty-thousand-dollar loan on his house and\nhires two excellent carpenters to help him do the work, which involves adding a\nkitchen, expanding the bathroom, and putting up internal walls to make two\nbedrooms and a living room out of the big open space.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2206<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A month\ninto the transformation of the dance studio, a few days after Thanksgiving, Andrew\ncomes within a tiny fraction of an inch of cutting off his thumb with a\ncircular saw, and this terrifying brush with disaster makes him realize he\nneeds to take time off from carpentry and get some therapy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In\norder to afford this, he does something he has never done before. He calls his\nparents and asks them for a loan of five thousand dollars. They are happy to\noblige and do him one better by volunteering to drive up from California and\nstay with him and Owen for a month or two.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMakes\nsense to me,\u201d says his father Zeke, seventy-four and recently retired after\nfifty years of landscaping. \u201cWhy else did I stop working?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2206<\/p>\n\n\n\n

On a\nrainy afternoon, two days before Christmas, his parents having arrived in early\nDecember, Andrew gets home from a revelation-filled three-hour session with his\npsychotherapist and finds his mother Gloria in the kitchen making supper with\nLuisa: spaghetti with a seafood sauce, saut\u00e9ed vegetables, and a big green salad.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWho\nknew she was a gourmet cook?\u201d says Gloria, pointing at Luisa. \u201cI invite her to\nstay for dinner and she turns out to be Julia Child.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDid we\nhave a play date today?\u201d says Andrew, sitting down at the counter and gazing at\nLuisa. \u201cI completely forgot. I\u2019m so sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe\ndidn\u2019t have a play date,\u201d says Luisa, filling a glass with cold beer and\nsetting it before Andrew. \u201cBut your mother called and said Owen was pining for\nLily, so we came over and\u2026 is this okay we\u2019re here?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOf\ncourse,\u201d says Andrew, downing the beer in a single gulp. \u201cI\u2019m delighted to see\nyou. I never get to see you enough. And how did you know I was pining for a\nbeer?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMaybe\nshe\u2019s clairvoyant,\u201d says Gloria, stirring the noodles in a big bubbling pot. \u201cAnd\nmaybe you don\u2019t see her enough because you don\u2019t call her enough. Not that it\u2019s\nany of my business.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\nwould have called her enough, Mom,\u201d says Andrew, taking on his mother\u2019s New\nYork Jewish accent, \u201cbut I\u2019ve been very busy having a nervous breakdown. So sue\nme.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2206<\/p>\n\n\n\n

After\nsupper, while Gloria and Zeke play Go\nFish<\/em> and Slap Jack<\/em> with Owen and\nLily in the living room, Andrew and Luisa do the dishes together, Andrew\nwashing, Luisa drying.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSo how\nhave you been?\u201d asks Andrew, smiling at Luisa. \u201cYou never stay to visit anymore\nwhen you bring Lily for a play date, so now I\u2019m hopelessly out of touch with\nyou. Have you fallen in love with someone?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYeah,\u201d\nshe says, drying a dish. \u201cI fell in love with a married man.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOh\nLuisa, don\u2019t do that,\u201d he says, wincing. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDon\u2019t\ndo what?\u201d she asks, stopping her drying.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHave\nan affair with a married man. You\u2019re fantastic. You\u2019re beautiful and smart and talented\nand\u2026 there are thousands and millions of un<\/em>married\nmen who would love to be\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWho\nsaid I was having an affair with him? I said I\u2019m in love with him. And until\nrecently I have been studiously avoiding him because he was married and I\ndidn\u2019t want to\u2026 you know\u2026 be a home wrecker.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOh,\u201d\nhe says, dropping the scrubber into the soapy water. \u201cI see.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\ndo?\u201d she asks, setting the plate down.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI do,\u201d\nhe says, opening his arms to her. \u201cNow I see.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2206<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They make love for the first time in the early hours of New Year\u2019s Day 1987, hoping not to wake anyone with their ecstatic communion.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But\nGloria wakes and rejoices her son has found such a lovely partner.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2206<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Luisa\nand Lily move in with Andrew and Owen at the end of February just as Andrew\ncompletes his work on the rental unit and rents it to Chas and Betty Lowenstein,\nretired schoolteachers who become instant grandparents for Lily and Owen.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2206<\/p>\n\n\n\n

On a\nrainy Friday morning in early April, the kids at kindergarten, Luisa cooking at\nThe Crossroads<\/em>, Andrew is sitting at\nthe kitchen table writing a new story when the phone rings. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Feeling\ncertain this is Luisa calling to say she loves him, he picks up the phone and\nsays, \u201cI love you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHow\nsweet of you, Andrew,\u201d says a familiar voice he doesn\u2019t immediately recognize.\n\u201cHow did you know it was me?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPenelope?\u201d\nhe says, wondering if she still thinks of herself as his agent. \u201cHow nice to\nhear from you. I\u2019ve been meaning to call you and see if you got the stories I\nsent. And the play.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI not\nonly got them,\u201d she says, pausing portentously, \u201cwe have an offer from Smith\n& Harte to publish the collection. And Jason has arranged for a staged\nreading of your play at the Ovid and possibly a production if the reading goes\nwell.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe\nhave an offer to publish my book?\u201d says Andrew, trembling. \u201cWhat about the data\nbase that says I don\u2019t sell?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOh\nSmith & Harte don\u2019t care about that,\u201d she says, laughing. \u201cThey\u2019re now the\nplay thing of the wife of some incredibly rich computer person, and she\u2019s desperate\nto publish your stories. They\u2019re offering a ten-thousand-dollar advance, which\nis less than I\u2019d hoped for, but that horrid database is<\/em> a problem with most of the other houses so I think we should\ntake their offer and hope for good reviews and a nice fat paperback sale. Yes?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes,\u201d\nsays Andrew, his tears flowing. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cShe wants to fly you out here to meet you and introduce you to your editor, a young woman named Candace Wollitzer who looks like she\u2019s not yet out of high school, but apparently she\u2019s a huge fan of Draft Dodger<\/em> and says Extremely Silly Ariel <\/em>changed her life. You can stay with us or with Jason. He\u2019s so<\/em> looking forward to seeing you. He\u2019s been terribly depressed since Freddie died, and your new play has revived him. Oh Andrew, I\u2019m so glad you\u2019re getting another chance. I think these new stories are your best yet.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019ll\nbe coming with my new partner Luisa and her daughter Lily and my son Owen,\u201d\nsays Andrew, looking out the window as the sun cracks the overlay of gray\nclouds and sends a heavenly beam to bathe the room in golden light.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

fin<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

song<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Over and over again in the course of his life, Andrew meets a woman he recognizes as someone he has known before. He met her in elementary school in 1955, fell in love with her briefly in 1962, had a relationship with her in 1966, and lived with her in British Columbia from 1970 to […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[858,5960,5956,5954,5959,448,844,51,5953,5951,5958,9,33,5939],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/underthetablebooks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3699"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/underthetablebooks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/underthetablebooks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underthetablebooks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underthetablebooks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=3699"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/underthetablebooks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3699\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":3702,"href":"https:\/\/underthetablebooks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3699\/revisions\/3702"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/underthetablebooks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=3699"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underthetablebooks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=3699"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underthetablebooks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=3699"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}