Forward
1. You look so serious.
It's the morning after a fight-that-wasn't-a-fight, a morning where the light's shining way too bright. He watches her, his wife, the woman he loves, except he doesn't really.
He can't say that, though. She's the mother of his child, and she does love him, really. What else could he have? Brenda and her revolving bedroom door? No, that's no good at all, except he was happier in his most miserable times with her.
"Hey," Lisa says as she wakes. She sleepily offers sex because it's been awhile, and Maya's sleeping, so. They move in a way that's not movement, and this is not sex, not at all, except he's inside her and she's telling him: it's nice.
He comes, pulls out, and she turns to him.
"Nate," she says. "You look so serious." She doesn't ask him if anything's wrong, then the baby's crying, and they forget about themselves.
2. Fortune smiles on some and laughs at others.
When he gets to work, the first person he talks to is Harold Glickman: recent lottery winner, recent widow. He wants as expensive a casket as he can because he loved his wife, really.
Later, Rico asks, "How does that happen, anyway? A guy wins five mill and loses his wife all in one week -- that's fucked-up."
"Life's not fair," Nate replies, in his head he adds: and happiness never, ever lasts, or it's diluted by shit. Happiness is a curse.
At night, Nate dreams of perfection he's never actually had. He dreams that Brenda didn't hurt him, that his family always functioned well, that Lisa was an addendum as opposed to a central force.
He dreams of losing everything he ever wanted, having what he doesn't know what to do with.
When he wakes, he realizes it wasn't really a hallucination.
3. Eighteen inches of personal space.
There are times when Lisa's around him that he feels he can't get far enough away; there are times when he's holding Maya that he can't pull her close enough. If he has nothing else, he has this: his child. He started off not wanting her at all, ending up wanting only her. Holds her, thinking: Please, please, never leave me.
Then, Lisa's hovering over him, and he thinks: Please, please, go away.
4. I can never go back.
He learns that Brenda's back in town by accident. David's seen her, didn't say anything to her, then he says: "I shouldn't have said anything, should I?"
He's not sure what it is about his expression that's making David think a faux pas has been made; he's rarely sure what's written on his own face anymore. "Doesn't matter," Nate says with a shrug. "That's long over." He thinks of the months since the surgery, since their fight, since he last saw her. Brenda's no longer a part of his life.
He's a different man.
He can never, ever go back.