This Is Where I Leave You

wordlessly wraps her fingers around my elbow as we walk, and when I look at her she looks right back at me, daring me. There has been no time in your life that you wouldn’t have killed for a girl like this to look at you like that. Then she does, and something in you doesn’t respond and you realize that you don’t understand yourself any better than you understand anyone else.
    There’s a local rock band playing loud covers at the bandstand. We find a bench and buy some cotton candy. Ryan nods off on the bench, his head on Penny’s lap. I sit next to her, watching the band while she feeds me wisps of cotton candy. I lean over and kiss her sticky lips. She rests her head on my shoulder. “Can we stay until it gets dark?” she says. Penny is beautiful. Not smoldering, like Jen, but pretty and sexy and witty and fun. And she has the added distinction of seeming to genuinely like me. Sometimes, contentment is a matter of will. You have to look at what you have right in front of you, at what it could be, and stop measuring it against what you’ve lost. I know this to be wise and true, just as I know that pretty much no one can do it. A few minutes later my cell phone rings and it’s Jen. “Something’s wrong,” she says.
    “What?”
    “The baby. Judd ...I’m bleeding.”
    “What, spotting?”
    “More than that.”
    “Did you call an ambulance?”
    “I called you. Judd, I’m going to lose this one too, aren’t I?”
    “Just try to take it easy. Are you still at the hotel?”
    “Yes.”
    “Okay. Lie down. I’m calling an ambulance.”
    I hang up and dial 911. I’m conscious of Penny listening to me as I give them the salient details. The lady on the other end sounds fat and bored, but I appreciate her gruff efficiency. When I hang up, I look at Penny, still beside me, looking pretty and lost. “I’m sorry. We have to go.”
    “So I gathered,” she says, not quite looking at me. I stand up and fuss with Cole’s stroller while Penny softly wakes up Ryan and stands him up.
    “So, your wife is pregnant. It’s yours?”
    “Yeah.”
    “That seems like a pretty important piece of information to have shared, maybe.”
    “I know. I’m sorry. I’m still processing it myself.” I turn to head toward the park exit, but Penny stays where she is.
    “I think I’ll stay,” she says.
    “What?”
    She shrugs. “Unless you need my help getting them to the car.”
    “What? No. That’s fine, but I mean, how will you get home?”
    “I’ll call a car service later. It’s fi ne.”
    “Are you sure?”
    “Yes. There’s nowhere I need to be.”
    “Okay. I’ll call you later.”
    She shakes her head and smiles sadly. “I don’t think you will, Judd Foxman.” She steps forward and kisses my cheek. “I hope everything turns out okay.”
    I look at her, wondering what it is about her that makes me want to simultaneously devote my life to her and get as far away from her as I can possibly get.
    “Penny.”
    “You have to go.”
    Ryan grabs on to the side of the stroller and we start making our way down the wide fairway toward the exit. When I turn around, Penny’s back on the bench, listening to the band, tapping her foot to the beat and looking off toward the bandstand, or maybe past it. I look back every so often to watch her fade into the distance, which, I realize now, is what I’d been doing all along.

Chapter 38
    4:10 p.m.
    Idrop the kids back at Knob’s End, and then Phillip drives me over to the hospital in the Porsche. He drops me off at the emergency room and then goes to find parking. Jen is lying on a gurney behind some curtains, while a resident runs a probe over her belly. I remember this like it was yesterday, the last one to arrive, the tears in Jen’s eyes, her gelcoated stomach bloated with our dead baby. Not again. Please.
    “There’s no heartbeat,” she says, and starts to cry.
    “The baby’s in a tough spot to get a read,” the resident says. She is a rotund woman with bulging eyes and no discernible lips. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
    “I’m sorry, Judd,” Jen sobs, reaching out for me. She grabs my hand before I can avoid her and pulls it over her mouth, crying onto it. “I’m so sorry.”
    “It’s okay. Just try to relax.” I find myself stroking her hair with my free hand. I go to this place where I’m totally present, but I’m also thinking that forty minutes ago I was walking through an amusement park with Penny, holding her hand,