This Is Where I Leave You

more.”
    She offers me the pack. I take one and light it with hers. Then we sit there for a little while, staring out over the rooftops.
    “What happened to your mouth?” she says.
    “Someone apologized to me.”
    She grins. “Does it hurt?”
    “Only when I smile.”
    “I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen you smile.”
    “You’re not really catching me at my best.”
    “I know.” She turns to look at me. “Phillip has been sleeping with that girl, Chelsea, hasn’t he?” There’s no anger in her voice, just sad resignation.
    “I don’t know.”
    “But if you had to guess.”
    “He’s my brother, Tracy.”
    “I understand.” She takes a slow, tentative drag on the cigarette. Smoking doesn’t come naturally to her. “I’m all alone here, Judd. I need 292a friend, someone to tell me if I’m crazy or not. Between you and me and the sunrise.” She leans forward and pulls the cigarette from my mouth. She holds it up with hers, watching the wisps of smoke float off of them and mingle, and then crushes them both out on the slate. She is dangerously close to tears. “We’re neither of us smokers,” she says.
    “No.”
    I look at her for a long time. She is older than me, but there’s something of a frightened child in her, some ancient, lingering pain that has never been soothed. “Between you, me, and the sunrise,” I say.
    “Yes.”
    “I don’t know for a fact that he slept with her. But my guess is that he did. And if he didn’t, he will. And if it’s not her, it will be, or has been, someone like her. The Chelseas of the world are drawn to him.”
    The tears slide quietly down her cheeks and she wraps her arms around her knees. “Thank you.”
    “I’m sorry,” I say. “I know how badly it hurts.”
    She wipes her eyes and exhales slowly. “It’s my own damn fault, really. Whatever lies he’s told me, they pale in comparison to the lies I’ve been telling myself.”
    “You deserve better than him. I love him, but that’s the truth.”
    “You know what’s sad?”
    “What?”
    She smiles a little and turns her face up to the sky. “He really does love me. In his heart, he wants to be the man I need. It’s just not in him.”
    “So, what are you going to do?”
    She thinks about it for a moment and then shrugs. “I’ll wait until the shiva ends. That seems only right. Then I’ll gather up the tattered remnants of my dignity and say good-bye.”
    “He’ll be crushed. You know that, right?”
    “I’ll let him keep the Porsche.”
    “Wow,” I say. “Parting gifts.”
    “He meant well. I’m forty-four years old. I don’t have time for anger anymore.”
    “You may be the best person I’ve ever known.”
    She smiles and pats my knee. “I talk a big game.”
    “Where were you when my life was going to shit?”
    “I’m always available.” She fumbles around in her pockets and comes up with an embossed business card. It says her name, followed by a slew of acronyms. Below that it says board-certified psychotherapist, and below that it says life coach. And right below that, in boldfaced type, it says this: have a plan.
    “Have a plan,” I say.
    “Do you?”
    “Whatever the opposite of a plan is, that’s what I’ve got.”
    “Can I offer you a piece of unsolicited advice?”
    “Sure.”
    Tracy turns to face me. “You got married right out of college. You’re terrified of being alone. Anything you do now will be motivated by that fear. You have to stop worrying about finding love again. It will come when it comes. Get comfortable with being alone. It will empower you.”
    “Empower me to do what?”
    “To be the father you want to be, the man you want to be. And then you’ll be ready to make a plan.”
    I nod. I’m picturing Jen, trembling in her empty bed, shredded with regret. She’s alone. I’m alone. I’ve never felt closer to her.
    “Being alone isn’t for everybody,” I say.
    6:55 a.m.
    Tracy’s gone back inside. I’m still sitting on the roof, watching the town come alive, when I see a girl step out the front door of the Callens’
    house. She’s wearing a little black dress and high heels, and her hair is a mess, her face smudged with last night’s makeup. It’s the girl Horry was making out with at the bar last night. She squints in the emerging sunlight and looks around, somewhat disoriented. She’s not sure where she is. But the advantage of a cul-de-sac is that there’s only one direction to go. She heads hurriedly