Two or three things I know about Nino

.

Dance scene from Bande a part by Godard (1964)

When Z was young, I overheard Nino saying he doesn’t like playing Candy Land. And Z said, “Dad, I’m the kid and you’re the dad, so you have to play games that are boring to you because you’re not the kid.”

When the kids were little, they’d ask Nino why he left us, and he’d always say it was because of me: “Your mom is impossible to get along with.” But now that the kids are grown up, Nino spends almost all his free time with me.

Now Nino and I are at the art museum which I used to go to with the kids and now I only go to with Nino. I’m not sure if this is because the kids are not interested. The gift shop is my favorite part of any museum because it’s a way to spend money to make life better. I tell Nino we should pick out a puzzle to do with Natalie.

“Why?”

”Because she doesn’t like watching movies with us but she will do a puzzle.”

“If she doesn’t want to be with us, just let her. It’s her decision."

I buy the puzzle. But I know I won’t be able to get Nino to do it tonight. He has his heart set on Godard.

We are watching the 100 most influential films according to 200 directors. Nino wanted the critics' list — he went to film school with too many of the directors to trust them. I like the directors' list because they vote for films that influenced their process.

Nino gives in when he sees that a bunch of Godard films made it to the top of both lists. But after three movies, including my favorite dance scene, I feel like Godard’s idea of exploring women was mostly finding stylish ways to brutalize them.

Nino is crushed by my disdain for Godard, so I watch more. Then I need a break and we walk through the Boston Common. My new apartment is three blocks from the Common and one block from Nino. Z says we're doing a slow-motion return to marriage and in a few years we'll be living in the same apartment.

The hardest part about being close to Nino is his inability to be close to the kids. I should have pushed harder when the stakes were board games. Then maybe he’d have practice making compromises as an act of love.

On our walk I bring up the latest version of this conflict because all conflict goes so slowly with Nino that I can’t sit still. I tell Nino he has to go to Peru with Z because Z is paying for the trip, and it’s a heritage thing.

Nino says, “Uh huh.”

“Is that a yes? Can you add tone of voice so I can understand?”

He says,“Let’s just keep walking,”

I interrupt his thinking. “This is not a question of is it fair to not go with him. It’s a question of do you want to experience life with your kids.”

I am stupid for pushing because now he’s in question mode. “How will Z plan a trip? How will he pay for it? When will we figure out the date because I have to use vacation time.”

“So you’re worried the trip will be a hard for you? I mean, what about when we took two toddlers across country and we had no money and no place to stay? Are you worried a trip to Peru will be harder than the hardest family trip we ever had?”

He thinks. Then he says, “Emotionally hard. I would have to call my family and figure out how to connect with them.”

We turn back to walk home. I am so pissed. “Let’s just admit that I have done all your emotional connecting for your whole life and the problem is I’m not going to Peru.”

Nino says, “That’s not fair. And it’s not helping.”

Actually, debating him does help me. But only in the short term. So I say, “Let’s go home and finish the movie.”

“But you don’t like the movie.”

“I like that I don't have to mediate the relationship between you and Godard.”