He was patient, kind, always happy to include other children in their plans. He took groups of children camping and fishing with him, and was a major force in organizing the Special Olympics, at which Bjorn excelled, much to everyone's delight, except Dana's. She couldn't relate to any of them, even when she tried. And Bjorn was, in her eyes, the ultimate shame and disappointment. In the end, she was a woman whom no one liked, an angry soul, raging at a fate that others thought wasn't so bad. Her children were wonderful, even Bjorn with his special sweetness. And Trygve was a husband most women envied. But it came as no surprise when Dana began having frequent affairs. She seemed not to care who knew what she did, especially Trygve. In truth, she really wanted him to end it.
When she left him finally, everyone was relieved, except Trygve, who had allowed himself to drift slowly downstream for years, trying to pretend that it wasn't really as bad as it seemed. He told himself lies that only he believed, “…she'll get used to it … it was difficult for her to give up her career …leaving Hollywood had been so hard on her …marriage was harder for her than most, because she was so creative …and of course, Bjorn had been a terrible shock to her….” He had made every possible excuse for her for twenty years, and couldn't believe it when she finally left him. Much to his surprise it was like the end of a constant pain. And even more surprising to him, he had absolutely no desire to try again and risk the same pain with someone else. He realized now just how bad it had been. He couldn't imagine marrying anyone again, or even a serious relationship. At first, he wouldn't even consider dating. All the women he knew in town seemed like vultures, waiting for fresh prey, and he had no intention of becoming their next victim. He was actually very happy alone, with his children, for the moment.
“He hasn't had a girlfriend, not a real one, since Chloe's mom left, and that was over a year ago. He just spends all his time with the kids, or writing about politics, but he does that at night. Chloe says he's writing a book now. But he likes going out with us, Mom. He says so.”
“Lucky for all of you. But one of these days he might find someone a little more …ah …shall we say, mature, to spend his time with?” She smiled, as Allyson shrugged. She couldn't imagine him wanting to do anything else. For most of her life, Trygve Thorensen had made himself totally available to his children. It never occurred to her that he did it, not only because he liked them, and wanted to be with them, but also because he was avoiding the emptiness of a bad marriage.
“Besides, he likes to be with Bjorn. Mr. Thorensen is teaching him to drive.”
“He's a decent guy.” Page finished washing the lettuce and found a bowl to put it in, as Allyson helped herself to the potato chips. “How is Bjorn, by the way?” She hadn't seen him in a long time. He was less severely afflicted with the disease than some, but still he had marked limitations.
“He's great. He plays baseball every Saturday, and now he's gone nuts over bowling.” It was amazing to think about it. How did one even begin to cope with a situation like that? In a way, she could understand Dana Thorensen being overwhelmed by it, but not her subsequent behavior. Although they weren't close friends, she had known Trygve Thorensen for years, and she liked him. He didn't deserve all the troubles he'd had. No one did. And from what she could see, he was a terrific father.
“Are you spending the night at the Thorensens'?” Page asked, as she put the last of the lettuce leaves in a bowl, and wiped her hands. She hadn't seen Brad since she got home, and she wanted to go in and say hello, and check on Andy.
“No.” Allyson shook her head as she stood up, left the potato chips on the counter, and grabbed an apple. Her body had long, lean lines, and she tossed her long blond braid over her shoulder. “They said they'd drop me off after the movies. Chloe has a track meet early tomorrow morning.”
“On Sunday?” Page looked surprised as they left the kitchen.
“Yeah … I don't know …maybe it's practice …something.”
“What time are you going out?”
“I said I'd meet her at seven.” There was a long pause while the huge brown eyes locked into her mother's. There was something there that Page couldn't quite figure out, and then it was gone again, just as quickly. Some secret, some thought, some private moment she didn't want to share with her mother. “Can I borrow your black sweater, Mom?”
“The cashmere one with the beads?” Brad had given it to her for Christmas. It was too hot, too dressy, and much too expensive for a fifteen-year-old girl. Page was not even amused at the suggestion, as Allyson nodded at the description.
“Hardly. That's not exactly appropriate for Lu-igi's, and the Festival, wouldn't you say?”
“Yeah …okay …how about the pink one?”
“Better.”