A Life That Fits (11 page)

Since everyone in my life had known Alex and
I were together, I'd never received such attention before. To the
guys we knew, I was off-limits. I didn't know if any of them had
ever wished I wasn't, but I doubted it had crossed their minds. I
was Alex's girlfriend and therefore not worth thinking about as
anything but Alex's girlfriend.

The men on the subway, though, and the man
who winked at me as we passed on the street, didn't know me as
anything but 'girl in short pink skirt'. To them there was no
reason for me to be off-limits.

I couldn't imagine starting to date, though.
Not yet, and maybe not even for the seven years Tina had said it
would take me to get over Alex. Seven years sounded like forever
but also made sense. After all, every element of my life had his
fingerprints on it.

So did all of Elaine's friends.

Thinking about Alex and his sudden stud
status hurt. He hadn't waited seven years. He hadn't even waited
seven days between some of those women.

I gave a sigh, then made myself let the
thought drift away as I rode up in the elevator. Far better to
think about my own life than Alex's new one. I'd been wrong, a
moment ago: there
were
things in my life now with no
connection to him. Wendy and Tina and my crocheting and Harrison,
who'd spent his first night in my apartment snoring away on my
pillow and allowing me only a tiny corner for myself. He was
spoiled rotten already and I already loved him. I'd come a long way
since Alex left. I might, and did, have a long way to go, but I was
making progress in building a new life.

I left the elevator, feeling proud of my
accomplishments, and my heart stopped beating then smashed hard
against my ribs.

Alex. Here, in my building.

I stood frozen, staring at his back, my mind
gone utterly blank.

As the initial shock wore off, though, doubt
crept in, then the guy turned around and relief flooded me so hard
my knees actually knocked together. Not even close. Right height,
and wearing a jacket like one of Alex's, but not him. A courier,
from the bag he carried.

He walked toward me, and his eyes swept over
my body then returned to my face. "Good morning."

"Hi," I managed, feeling too shaky to say
anything else. Not the after-effects of relief, but because I'd
been
wrong
. I'd spent half my life with the guy and I could
mistake someone else for him? I would never have thought that could
have happened.

The guy passed me, flashing a smile as he
did, and pressed the elevator button, and I made my way toward my
makeshift office feeling like I'd borrowed the legs of someone a
completely different size from me. They wouldn't move right.

I collapsed into my chair and cupped my
shaking hands over my mouth. If seeing not-Alex messed me up this
much, what was I going to do
when
I ran into him? I could
hope I wouldn't, but he didn't work that far away, and probably
still had meetings in his old building, so the odds were against
me.

I took several long deep breaths, picturing
Harrison's cute wildly furry face and imagining his purrs, until my
body began to feel like it belonged to me again, then flipped open
my laptop. Work would soothe me, or at least distract me.

It might have, but I'd barely logged in when
Tina appeared at my door. "You're late for the meeting."

I grimaced. "I forgot all about it."

I got to my feet, and she said, "Hubba hubba!
Nice skirt."

I tugged it down. "Too short?"

She smiled. "I think it's just right."

So did Gary, from the way his eyes widened as
I entered the conference room.

I sat down as far from him as I could,
pretending not to see he'd pushed out the chair next to him for me,
and tried not to shudder. I did like being looked at, being
admired, but not like this. Every man I'd seen today had been
sizing me up for sex, and I hated it. If my inner teenager needed
this skirt to make her appearance, then I wouldn't be seeing
her.

I made it through the day and the stares on
the subway, then changed into jeans and hung the skirt in the very
back of my closet. So cute. So not for me.

Not every reversal is a good thing.

Though I knew I should, I didn't pick up the
clarinet for days. It sat on the floor near the couch, and every
time I walked by it I glanced at it then averted my eyes as if it
had exposed itself. I didn't know why I couldn't bring myself to
play, but I couldn't.

Then, after lunch on Thursday afternoon, the
Canada Day holiday, which I was spending grumping around the
apartment and picking the endless clumps of Harrison's fur off my
clothes and resolutely avoiding the clarinet, I received an
email.

Dear Andrea,

Thanks so much for your interest in joining the
Ninja Star Players. We've been looking for another clarinet player
forever and I'm thrilled you've decided to audition.

You're scheduled for next Friday, July ninth, at
7:30pm. Map is attached. If that's not good for you, please let me
know right away. Be ready to play the piece I've attached to this
email, and expect to do some sight-reading.

Please drop me a note to let me know you got
this.

Thanks, and I look forward to meeting you on the
ninth.

David, Ninja Star Players Music Director

I opened the music file with shaking fingers
and studied the score. Presumably at some point I'd known how to
play all those notes, but now they might as well have been written
in Swahili. And sight-reading? I'd been bad at that at the best of
times and now I couldn't imagine how I'd do it.

The music was from 'The Jungle Book', which
was at least one point in my favor since I'd loved that movie. But
would that be anywhere close to enough to get me through?

I doubted it. I'd just left it too long.

I sighed and began to send a reply of "sorry,
I've changed my mind", but before I had it half-written I pulled my
fingers away from the keyboard and sat staring at my screen.
Without even trying? Maybe I
had
left it too long, but maybe
not. And I'd never know unless I tried.

I had briefly considered a professional music
career back in high school, before deciding Alex mattered more to
me, but I didn't want one any more and couldn't get one even if I
did.
That
I had certainly left too long. But this would have
some of the same elements. Auditioning, meeting all the other
musicians if I were accepted, being part of a group...

It was 'part of a group' that made me delete
my response then type a quick "Got it, see you on the ninth" and
send it off. I didn't feel like I belonged anywhere, and I wanted
to.

Does anyone truly feel that they belong?
Maybe not, but my lack of connection seemed especially strong at
the moment. Back in high school, I'd always been the type to have
one or two close friends and then a large group of acquaintances.
Over time Alex had wound up being my only real close friend, and
now I didn't have one at all, and almost no acquaintances other
than at work. Monday's knit night had been fun, but I was the only
crocheter there and some of the knitters kept a wary eye on me as
if afraid I'd suddenly stab them with my hook. Maybe the musical
theater group, everyone working toward making the show terrific,
was the place for me.

Could I be a Ninja Star?

Despite the group's cheesy name, I hoped I
could, so I printed the music sheet, and a clarinet fingering chart
I found online to help me remember how to play, and opened the
clarinet's case. Inside, I found a bunch of broken clarinet reeds
but fortunately a few that looked intact. I also found a pencil, a
pack of ancient chewing gum, and a silver bracelet set with three
tiny diamonds.

I held the thin silver chain in my hand and
had to blink back tears. I'd bought the bracelet on the European
tour my high school band had taken in my last year, after saving
for months to buy myself something special on that trip, and had
been certain I'd lost it. Why I hadn't checked the clarinet case I
couldn't remember, but finding it in there now felt like a sign,
like a gift to myself, a confirmation I was on the right track.

Fastening the bracelet around my wrist, I
felt my courage rising. What was the worst that could happen? I
could bomb the audition and they wouldn't let me join. I'd survive
that.

My first few notes bore little resemblance to
anything musical, but I kept trying, playing quietly in case my
neighbors could hear me through the apartment walls. Harrison
didn't wake up, though, so they probably couldn't. I needed the
fingering chart a lot at first but then the old skills started to
come back, and I played until my lips and fingers were too tired to
continue then cleaned the clarinet and gently tucked it away,
promising it I'd play again tomorrow.

My whole day seemed brighter afterward. I'd
felt miserable about being at home alone on Canada Day, on a day I
would usually have been off at some cottage or other with Alex, but
now I felt like I'd
chosen
to be here.

Which I had: Wendy had invited me to spend
the day with her but I'd decided I'd prefer a relaxing day at
home.

I'd chosen it, and then spent half the day
whining to myself about it.

No more.

I didn't do anything more exciting for the
rest of the day than I'd done in the morning, but my attitude made
everything better. I gave Harrison a good brushing and gathered up
his stray fur with amusement instead of annoyance, then we snuggled
together while I howled with laughter at the movie "Airplane!" and
crocheted my scarf. I did only and exactly what I wanted to do, and
it felt like taking a long deep breath after weeks of tiny
gasps.

I ordered pizza for dinner, and was delighted
to see Bob, the original delivery guy.

"I'm doing all right," he said in response to
my inquiry about his health. "Really makes you think, though."

"Definitely."

As I signed the credit card slip, I felt I
had to say, "My boyfriend left me. A few weeks before your heart
attack."

"Wondered why you weren't ordering," he said
with sympathy. "You over him?"

I looked up. "You know what? Not quite yet.
But I will be."

*****

"So you didn't go see any fireworks?"

I sipped my grapefruit juice and gave an
involuntary shudder at the tartness. "This is one reversal that's
not going to survive. Not a fan of this stuff. No, I didn't go
anywhere, but I did see them. I sat on my balcony and watched them
go off all over the city. I had a great day, actually."

Tina said, "Well, I'm glad you had fun. You'd
have had more fun with me, though. That cottage Brent took me to
was amazing."

Far from the half-hour fling Elaine had
envisioned, Tina and her blond god Brent had been spending nearly
every waking moment together. I hadn't found a way to tell her how
annoyed I'd been by her abandoning me at the theater, but since
she'd laughed so much about Elaine's anger over losing Brent I
couldn't imagine she'd care much about my frustration either. I was
coming to the conclusion that Tina thought about Tina first and
foremost, and that as long as I remembered that we'd be fine as
friends. "Cool. What did you do?"

"Lots of drinking, lots of games..." She
nudged me. "And lots of stuff I won't tell you about because I
don't want to make you jealous."

I laughed. "Thanks for sparing me. Oh, and
thanks for trying to help at the meeting this morning."

Anna and Gary had booked a meeting that
morning, unusual since the Monday meeting was now fully part of the
routine and half the staff had taken today off too to make it an
extra long weekend with yesterday's holiday. I'd wondered why, but
once it started I'd only been wondering how I could get out of
it.

They'd seemed strangely focused on me and
what I'd done. They did ask the others for status updates, but they
didn't grill them. When it was my turn, though, they both studied
me like they were investigating some strange new species and didn't
quite know what to expect from it, and they'd asked me endless
questions about who I'd followed up with from the conference and
where everything stood.

I'd answered, increasingly bewildered, until
Tina said, "Andrea obviously has everything under control," then
grinned and added, "So stop stressing her out."

"I'm not stressed," I'd said at once, but
Anna had given me a strained smile and said, "Well, I'm glad to
hear you say that. And it does sound like you've got things under
control."

I was sure Tina had meant to help but making
me seem stressed, especially after I'd essentially gone insane over
Alex's departure, wouldn't make Anna and Gary feel confident about
sending me to the conference in October.

Tina smiled. "Any time. They've been weird
lately, haven't they?"

I nodded. "Like they're extra tense."

"Making us go through all the files and
recheck everything? Have they ever done that before?"

"Nope. And I hope they never do again. It's
completely unnecessary. We've always operated by doing our own
thing and then getting one coworker to check it out, and we've
never had any trouble. I don't know what's possessed them
lately."

"And today they were extra strange. It was
like..."

"Like what?"

"Well, like they don't trust you. But of
course they do. Why wouldn't they?"

I sighed. "I did kind of fall apart after
Alex left."

"Well, of course you did. Who wouldn't? But
you're fine now, right? Everything's back to normal."

"Whatever that means."

She tipped her head to one side. "What does
that
mean?"

"I still think about him a lot," I confessed.
"I'm trying so hard not to but I can't help it. I know he's gone,
and I'm getting more okay with that, but still... when I headed off
for the last conference everything was fine with us, as far as I
knew anyhow, and when I came back we'd fallen apart. It'll feel
weird going to the next one knowing we're already apart."