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John!”
    The neighbors are getting a great show for free. They’re slow-walking their dogs, mowing the same patch of grass, staaaaaring out their windows. Good times at the Tyler house. Don’t miss the performance; after tonight, it’s going dark.
    Vivi drops the window, goes looking for Melissa, who hasn’t moved.
    “Dad’s here,” she says.
    Melissa lowers the book. “What's that noise?”
    Vivi leans in the doorway, describes the scene in Technicolor.
    “No kidding?”
    “Would I lie about something like that?” A tiny smile from Melissa. Better than nothing. “So are you coming down to see him?”
    “Nope.”
    What’s a mother to do? The girl is old enough to make up her own mind.
    Still, it doesn’t take a genius to see Melissa is taking this harder than Vivi anticipated. Her attitude toward her father is downright hostile. What is going on her lovely head? Vivi wonders if she should arrange for her daughter to see the school counselor. Maybe she’ll talk to an impartial third party the way she won’t talk to Mom.
    Which sucks.
    It seems like yesterday Melissa used to share every tiny detail about her day. Now they’re adversaries, glaring across the battlefield.
    Vivi doesn’t like it. She wants her girl back – the one with sweet breath and a fuzzy head; the gap-toothed girl with pigtails, the girl who fizzed.
    She loves Melissa so much it hurts.
    What’s she going to do to bring the happy girl back?
----
    J ohn’s in the kitchen brewing espresso in the fancy machine he gave her for Christmas a couple of years ago.
    She leans against the door jamb, watches him go through the familiar routine. Looks like he’s got homicide on his mind.
    “We need to talk,” she says.
    “Where's Mel?”
    “Doing homework.”
    “Go and get her. I'm taking her out.”
    “I told her. She said nope.”
    His face goes mental. “You're poisoning her against me. Just wait until the courts – ”
    “What did you do, John? I only gave her the bare facts about you leaving – which is about all you gave me. You might be a cheating scumbag, but you're the only father she's got. So you must have fucked up somehow.”
    “There's no one else.”
    “Bullshit. I deserve better than that. If you push me to it, I can probably even prove it.”
    “Are you going somewhere with this shit?”
    “We need to talk about money.”
    “My lawyer will be in touch.”
    “Play fair, John. We’ve been together a long time.
    He slumps against the counter. “What do you want? Everything I suppose.”
    She crosses the room, pats his shoulder, gives him the comfort she’s always given.
    “I'm not greedy, I just want what's fair. And I want you to buy out my half of this house, sell it if you have to. I never liked it much, anyway. You picked it out so you can have it. Mel and I will do just fine in something much smaller.”
    “Why didn’t you say something – about the house?”
    “I did, but you were too excited to listen.”
    “Vivi – ”
    “It doesn’t matter. Not now.”
    They go quiet – for a spell.
    “What else?”
    “Full custody and child support.”
    John digests her words while he finishes making coffee. “I can live with that,” he says flatly. “Visitation?”
    “As much as you and Melissa want.”
    “I'll talk to my lawyer.” In his condescending movie-star voice.
    “You do that,” she says. “And soon.”
----
    D id she ever love John ? Now . . . It’s hard to say. And if she did – when did it start, the withering?
    She picks at her memories, pulls strings, searches for that most recent glittering moment of love, that time when his touch burned and turned her thermostat to fever.
    But . . .
    It’s never been that way.
    They were never a romcom or a paperback novel. The tale of Vivi and John started as a Dear Abby letter, and it’s ending in the same, sad column.

6
    Vivi
    V ivi got knocked up same way most girls her age do.
    Vivi loved John. John loved talking about how much he loved Vivi.