Chapter Fifteen

Mark returned to New York on Monday as planned, and her parents stayed for two more days before they left as well. She sent some of the things she had managed to pack with them, hoping to reduce the load when she and Libby actually moved. Then, before she knew it, the tumult of work began anew, overwhelming as ever. She was taking it in a stride, handling it all without having to think about it – a laundry malfunction, a seamstress that messed up four costumes by half a size, a rebellious leading actress who refused to wear the gown assigned to her because it was a different color than the one originally agreed upon. As she stormed from one crisis to the next, he was following close behind her – Kevin Forester, who would step into her role in less than two months' time and would have to manage the problem-solving all by himself.

"I hope you know what you're getting yourself into," she told him as they stepped out of Leanne Chapman's dressing room. There was a smile in her voice as she told him that – she didn't want to scare him away, but at the same time, she couldn't be more serious. Some aspects of her job she absolutely hated, like having to sweet talk a self-centered actress who thought she knew better than pretty much anyone else.

Kevin shook his head, unperturbed. "I've known actresses with worse attitude," he assured her. She honestly doubted it were possible. She and Leanne had bumped heads from the very first time they had been introduced. A drama queen through and through, Leanne was every director's nightmare. After their first meeting, head still buzzing, negative energy slowly waning, she wondered in horror if this was what it was like for Mark, for all of them, back in the day, having to keep up with her. The thought that she could be like Leanne, even unbeknownst to her, unnerved her.

Then again, despite her skepticism, Kevin's attitude comforted her. Throughout the time she'd been guiding him he seemed to absorb her instructions, clearly wanting to do well and make a good impression. She liked that he was taking this so seriously, without acting nonchalant or trying to show off too much about his background in theater. He was evidently brilliant by his own right – she hardly ever had to repeat herself, and within a few days found herself delegating some of her responsibilities to him. That in itself was a relief, because she was so tired these past few days.

At first she thought she'd caught Mark's cold, which shouldn't come as a big surprise, really. It was her own fault. He was an utter mess during his visit, but it was so difficult for her to keep away from him. She missed him so much. But when a week passed, and then another, and she was still feeling off, it didn't seem as likely this had anything to do with Mark. She dismissed it, though, telling herself things had been hectic recently what with work and packing and Libby. She would rest when they arrived at Manhattan. Until then she would just have to suck it up and do her best.

"Right, I think we're done for the day," she told Kevin, certain relief sneaking into her voice. They were in her office, and she was leaving early – or early enough – in order to pack what's left of her living room. It was going to be a long night. She shook her head, sending the daunting thought away. "Any questions?"

"Only one," he replied, flashing a smile at her. She nodded absentmindedly, distracted by the paperwork on her desk. "Can I buy you a drink tonight?"

She looked up with a start; she did not see this one coming. He'd been the source of never-ending gossip and speculation from the moment he had joined the team, and Kathleen, her assistant, tried to push him her way in a not-so-subtle-way on more than one occasion, but he was always cool and businesslike around her, keeping a professional distance, which she appreciated. Besides, she heard he had a boyfriend!

"Oh," she said, feeling a little dumb. She could feel herself blushing, hated herself for it. And all the while, she was beating herself up. She used to be quite good at spotting the flirty ones, and had her refusal at the ready long before they managed to ask the question. "I..." she stammered, still a bit shocked, then forced herself to get a grip. "I'm sorry, I can't."

He maintained a tight smile, but she noticed him flinch ever so slightly. She knew the type; she was the type. He wasn't used to not getting his way. "Have you got a good excuse?"

"Actually, I do," she replied softly, unconsciously reaching for her engagement ring. "Quite a few of them. I need to get home and pack, I haven't seen my daughter all day, but mostly... there's someone else."

"Oh." It was his turn to appear flustered. It didn't make the exchange less awkward. "Sorry, I had no idea..."

"I didn't exactly go public about this over here." She didn't really see the need to. In a few weeks she would be gone anyway. She would probably have to share the fact of her engagement with her new colleagues in Manhattan, with her superiors at the very least, but here she didn't see how any of it was anyone's business. It had taken years for the speculations about the whereabouts of Libby's father to abate. She didn't feel like being in the center of another major gossip yet again.

Kevin nodded. She knew she could trust him to keep this new information to himself. If anything, he wouldn't want anyone to know of his failure. He smiled sheepishly at her. "Well, it was worth a shot." Then, a bit more seriously, "He's a lucky guy."

She nodded meekly and stood up, only to sit back down when a sudden wave of dizziness washed over her. She sank into her chair with her head between her palms. She could feel her pulse increasing, her heart hammering in her chest. There was this ringing in her ears. She closed her eyes and tried to take deep breaths, waiting it out. In the past few days she had learned how to control those dizzy spells.

"Hey, are you okay?" asked Kevin. His voice sounded as if it was coming from miles away; there was a hint of panic in it.

She raised her head slowly, then opened her eyes. The room swam into focus as she met his gaze. "I'm fine. A little dizzy."

He didn't seem convinced. "You look pale, Maureen. Shall I get you some water?"

"Really, it's nothing..." But he wasn't having it. He dashed out of her office despite her protest and returned a few moments later with a paper cup, handing it to her. "Thanks." She sipped the water slowly. It was freezing cold, but the sensation was soothing.

"Better?"

"Yeah," she was almost reluctant to admit it. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it. My boyfriend always says there's nothing a glass of water can't cure."

She should have enquired what would said boyfriend think about him just asking her out, but couldn't find the energy to utter the words. She took a few more breaths.

"How are you getting home?"

"My car is downstairs. Honestly, I'm fine."

"If you're sure," he said, not sounding so sure himself. She nodded adamantly. Although he didn't seem bitter over her rejection, the last thing she needed was an awkward ride to her place. And she was better, steadier. He gave her another hesitant look before he got up. "I'll be off then. See you tomorrow. Get some rest."

"Will do. Thanks, Kevin."

She knew she should take it easy. And eat, which was an easy thing to forget. She'd always made sure Libby had a proper breakfast, but most days she couldn't bring herself to join her. Something always needed to be done in their hectic morning routine, especially these days with the contents of their apartment mostly in boxes. During work hours she usually had time just for coffee, some fruit or a snack every now and again, a tasteless salad Kathleen had picked up for her, the occasional business lunch. She couldn't remember when was the last time she had a decent dinner. Could it be during her parents' visit? But that was weeks ago; it couldn't be that long, she couldn't...

"Maureen?" Her eyes snapped open; she didn't even realize she'd closed them. She straightened up, blinking in the dimness of her office. Kathleen was standing in the doorway, looking at her with concern. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes, everything is fine," she replied firmly.

"I thought you were leaving early today?"

"I am, I was just..." She clicked on her phone to check the time, and her jaw nearly dropped. It had been about an hour since Kevin had left. Did she fall asleep?

Kathleen hesitated for a moment, then walked in and sat across from her. "Kevin stopped by my desk before he left," she said hesitantly. "He seemed worried."

She waved her hand dismissively as she stuffed a few folders into her tote bag. "I was just a little dizzy. There's nothing to worry about. Honestly."

"Okay. Because I didn't want to say anything earlier, but you do seem paler these days."

"I'm fine," she insisted, then stood up. "I have to get home. I'll see you tomorrow."

"No one will be upset with you if you show up later, you know; if you need a few hours to yourself. Think about it," added Kathleen with a friendly smile.

"Alright," she sighed, wishing to be on her way already. She knew that not only that she would not arrive later the following day; she would also be one of the first in, as had often been the case. And waving goodbye at Kathleen on her way out, it was obvious the younger woman knew it as well.

It was almost six when she eventually pulled into a parking space in front of her building, and dashed inside. Lillian, her next door neighbor, picked up Libby from school. Nate, her son, was Libby's age, and so she could sometimes help her out when she got stuck at work. She was waiting by the door, trying to think what to make for dinner, when Libby pounced at her from the hallway.

"Mommy!" she squealed in delight.

"Hey, Munchkin," she said softly, fighting the dizziness that grew stronger again. She could barely keep her balance, kneeling on the floor with Libby's arms around her neck. She looked up to smile at Lillian. "Thanks for having her. I'm so sorry I'm late."

"It's no trouble. We stopped at the library on our way home for Story Time. We had a nice time. Do you want to join us for dinner?"

Warmth was emanating from the inside of the apartment, and something in the kitchen smelt like home. It was tempting, but she didn't feel like being social. She just wanted to get home. "Thanks, Lillian, some other time."

Lillian nodded, then did a double take. "Are you okay?"

"A little tired." Repeating herself was even more tiring than the exhaustion itself.

"Libby, honey, you forgot your library books in Nate's room. Run along and get them." Lillian waited for Libby to disappear down the hallway, then directed a sly grin back at her. "So I'm hearing you're dating someone."

"I'm sorry?" she asked, flustered.

"Libby mentioned someone in Manhattan. Said he came to visit you guys a few weeks ago. And after she said it I remembered Pete from down the hall mentioning he saw someone waiting outside your door about that same time. Is that why you're running off to the East Coast all of a sudden?"

"Oh, I'm not... it's not..." She was too disoriented to have this conversation right now. "He's just an old friend; we got back in touch during Christmas."

Lillian seemed miffed, but didn't have a chance to question her further, because Libby stormed back into the room, all but dragging her book bag behind her.

"Ready to go, Munchkin?"

"Wait, I've got something for you." Lillian rushed back inside, and returned shortly afterwards with a rectangular package. "A customer stood me up. It's an apple pie. At least you'll have dessert covered," she added, winking.

"You're an angel," she said, meaning every word. Lillian baked the best pies. Whatever resentment she was beginning to feel as a result of Lillian's sudden investigation, it was quickly dissipating. Her gums ached with sudden longing. "Thanks, Lillian. Good night."

She cooked dinner on autopilot, struggling to remain engaged as Libby chatted animatedly about the story she heard at the library. It never ceased to amaze her how eloquent her daughter had become in such a short time; for a while it felt as if Libby would never be able to utter complete sentences, and now it was almost impossible to get her to shut up. Not that she wanted her to – she was a bright, imaginative child and listening to her was often fascinating.

After dinner she braved the daunting task of packing the bookcase, with Libby's help. It was surprisingly calming to sit on the floor and sift through the books they had accumulated over the years. Some they would leave behind – books Libby had outgrown, ones Mark had already had copies of, and a few others she wasn't that fond of.

When Libby got bored, she opted for watching TV instead. At some point she glanced over her shoulder to find her daughter fast asleep. She stood up wearily and scooped her off the sofa. Libby's eyes fluttered open. "Shh... I'm just taking you to bed, baby," she whispered, carrying the sleepy child down the hallway and into her bedroom. She tucked her in, dropped a kiss on her forehead, then clicked on the rainbow-shaped night lamp on her bedside.

"Mommy?"

She stopped on the doorway, turning back. "What is it, Munchkin?"

"Will Mark ever leave us?"

She froze, blinking into the darkness. Where the hell did that come from? She took a deep breath, then raised her eyes to meet Libby's. Her daughter was looking back at her pleadingly, her night lamp illuminating her small figure. She walked back into the room, slowly sitting beside her. "Why would you ask that, Libby?" she asked softly, hoping her daughter wouldn't pick on the tremble in her voice.

"Because Daddy left," was Libby's sad reply.

For a moment, she was speechless, unsure how to reply. It was a different feeling than hearing her daughter call Mark Daddy various times during his stay. There was certain helplessness in being caught off-guard. It had been a while since Libby had asked about him. "Munchkin, you know Mark didn't leave, don't you? He had to return home, but he's waiting for us to join him there very soon."

"I know," said Libby, but didn't seem relieved. Her gaze was still urgent. "Daddy isn't coming back, is he?"

Her heart was racing; she could only hope this storm of emotion did not reach her eyes. She had imagined this moment countless times before, had come up with various answers based on the time the question would surface. But now, the only answer she could come up with was the truth. "No, Libby. Daddy is not coming back."

"Didn't he love us?"

"Baby..." He didn't want you. But sometimes a white lie was better than the truth. "Of course he did."

"Then why did he leave?"

"Because sometimes... love isn't enough to keep someone in place." This had nothing to do with her ex-husband; she was mostly projecting on herself, thinking of the friends she had left behind all those years ago. "He has his own life now, and we have ours. Besides, I've known Mark for a very long time. Remember those videos he showed us on New Year?" Libby nodded. "Mark won't leave. Not for a while. I can promise you that."

"And you will never leave too?"

"Baby, of course not. What will I do without my little Munchkin?" She held back her tears as she tickled Libby's sides. Libby squirmed away, giggling. "I'm not going to leave you, ever. I promise. Alright?"

"Alright."

"Now get some sleep, okay?" she whispered, laying a soft kiss on her daughter's forehead before adjusting the covers around her. "Sweet dreams, Baby."

She returned to the living room, but was too troubled to return to her book sorting. She curled on the sofa and wrapped a purple throw around her shoulders. Her dizziness was all gone, replaced by something far more disturbing. She had no idea what brought on Libby's queries. Did something happen at school that day? She made a mental note to look into it the next morning.

She reached for her phone on the coffee table. She and Mark had texted throughout the evening, mostly about books she wasn't sure he'd owned, but following her conversation with Libby, she was desperate for some reassurance herself. Only when he answered her call, it dawned on her it was way after midnight in New York. "Hello?"

"Shit, were you sleeping?"

"Yeah…" he groaned softly, then cleared his throat.

"I didn't realize it was so late, I'm sorry."

"It's okay. What's up?"

"I just... really needed to hear your voice."

"Is something wrong?"

"No... No, I'm just tired." She had initially meant to tell him what just happened with Libby, but now she couldn't find the words. "How's work?"

"Work's great, actually. I had an introductory session for this photography course downtown I told you about. It went well, I've got great students."

"That's good." Should she tell him she wasn't feeling well? "Mark – "

"Yeah?"

This was silly. There was no point making him worried. She'd be fine in a day or two. There was nothing a good night sleep couldn't cure. "Nothing. Just wanted to say good night."

"Good night, Mo. Sweet dreams."

"I'll text you tomorrow, okay?"

"Sure." He held back a yawn. "Night."

She lay there a moment longer with the phone beside her. Then, with difficulty, she pulled herself off the sofa, and trudged heavily around the apartment, turning off lights, making sure the door was locked, checking on Libby one last time. The sheets were crisp, inviting, as she finally crawled into bed.

Before she knew it, it was morning.