A Woman Lost (23 page)

“Sarah gave it to me as a gift. It’s great. She put music and audiobooks on it. And she even put the ‘Monster Mash’ on it. I love it.”

“The ‘Monster Mash’?” He stared at me as if termites were swarming out of my skull. “You know that’s a Halloween song, right? When was the last time you dressed up on Halloween? Did you even go trick-or-treating as a child?”

“Yes, you numbskull. I know it’s a Halloween song and I think I went trick-or-treating once or twice in my life. I like the song. Why does everyone question why I like the song? It’s fun, light-hearted.”

“Okay, besides the ‘Monster Mash,’” he shook his head in disbelief and curled up the corner of his moustache. “Have you listened to all of the music?”

“No. There are hundreds of songs on it.”

Ethan picked my iPod up and started to scroll through playlists and artists. I sipped my chai and tried to fathom the mess I was in. A wedding?

He chuckled. Then he placed the iPod on the aluminum-topped table in front of me. I looked at the screen, at a mix labeled “Our love songs.”

“How did you find that?”

“I’ve been married a lot longer than you, Lizzie. I know how love-starved women act. I bet those are the songs she’s considering for the big day.”

I was flabbergasted. “But we haven’t even set a date yet.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

I sighed, rose, and went into the bathroom. Staring at the mirror, I splashed cold water on my face. Then I went out and sat down again.

“Feel better?”

“No.”

“Oh, you got your shirt all wet.” He indicated my collar. “I haven’t seen you this messed up since you started grad school. You going to be okay?” Ethan’s face wore his “Cheer up, tiger” look, but I could tell he was enjoying my misery.

I shrugged.

“Do you think she wants kids?”

“Oh, God.” I put my head in my hands. “I think I’m going to puke.”

“Do you remember when you puked minutes before your orals after your first year of grad school?”

I could tell Ethan was really enjoying himself now.

“I bet you puke before you walk down the aisle. Or better yet, I hope you puke right when they ask you to say your vows. Will she make you write your own vows? I bet she does.”

I pushed back my chair with a screech and ran to the bathroom. When I returned, a bottle of Sprite sat bubbling away on the table. I sipped it slowly, the bubbles and sugar nice and sweet in my mouth. “Thanks.”

“Anytime, puker. So when should we start writing your vows? I wrote mine. Maybe you could just borrow mine but change the name.”

I ran back to the bathroom again to the sound of Ethan’s chuckling.

* * *

By the time Sarah had returned from her shopping excursion, I was recovering on the couch and watching a Cary Grant movie. I had vomited non-stop for several hours and I was struggling to keep my eyes open, let alone to follow what was going on. Hank was curled up next to me.

“Hi, honey. I thought for sure you would be riding your bike. It’s such a beautiful spring day.” Sarah bubbled with perkiness. She pulled a candle out of one of the bags and placed it on the coffee table.

I grunted.

“Uh-oh … is someone crabby today.” She sat down next to me. The movement of the couch made me ill.

I bolted to the bathroom, and Sarah followed.

“Jesus, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you were sick.”

When I finished vomiting, I leaned against the bathroom wall while Sarah wiped my pale face with a wet cloth. I closed my eyes to stop from puking again.

She sat with me for several minutes. Finally, she said, “You ready for bed?” Her voice was so sweet. I wanted to crawl into her arms, but I was too weak.

“Yes. Thanks.”

She helped me out of my clothes and tucked me in. Then she went into the front room, where I heard her rustling through bags. She returned to set a new clock on the nightstand.

“I got us an iHome, so we can listen to your iPod at night. What do you want to listen to?”

“You decide, honey. I’ll fall asleep pretty quickly.”

I prayed she wouldn’t play the love songs. Luckily, she chose jazz. Then she crawled into bed with me until I fell asleep.

Chapter Thirty-Three

As soon as I heard the familiar “ping” on my computer, I knew Maddie couldn’t sleep as well. It was well past midnight, and Sarah had gone to bed hours ago. After she had fallen asleep, I had crawled out of bed in an attempt to get some work done. Instead, I ended up surfing the web, looking for places in Boston. Pipe dream or not, I still looked. It relaxed me.

I opened up the email and read:
Congratulations, you rat! I ran into Sarah and saw the rock! Nice job with the ring. I guess you decided to take the plunge after all. Why didn’t you tell me?!

I sighed. I couldn’t write back that it was all a horrible misunderstanding. What kind of impression would that make? I was positive Sarah hadn’t disclosed all of the details as to why the ring had been purchased. I wrote back:
Howdy, my fellow night owl. To be honest, I can’t take much credit for the ring. Sarah picked it out. What’s new with you?

She fired a response right back:
Don’t try to change the subject. Seriously, we need to have a party to celebrate your engagement. We can call it the “Plunge Party” and everyone can bring you a plunger.

I tried to think of a stalling tactic, and wrote:
Hey now, you have enough on your plate. We can think of a party after your wedding. Besides, Sarah and I haven’t worked out all of the details.

Her response:
Details … what do you mean details? You’re getting married, right?

Goddammit! Why did she insist on cornering me on the subject? I replied:
I guess I mean we haven’t set up a timeline for the event.

I felt better writing “event” than wedding; it seemed like that gave me a way out.

Several minutes passed before I received her response:
LOL … timeline … you are such a historian. I’m off to bed. I’ll discuss the party with Sarah the next time I see her. Sweet dreams!

I shut down my computer and went into the bedroom. Sarah had kicked off all of the covers. My eyes lingered on her naked body for several minutes.

Was our relationship what she wanted? Was it satisfying for her? Was it what she dreamed of when she started falling in love with me? Did reality ever fulfill our dreams? Or do dreams just continually set us up for failure and disappointment?

Our engagement was clumsy at best. I hadn’t really whisked her off to New York City to propose. In fact, I still wasn’t convinced our engagement was even official. Sure, a ring was exchanged, but is that all it takes to seal the deal?

I heard a mournful train whistle off in the distance.

Finally, I got undressed, crawled into bed with her, and embraced her. She smelled of lavender, sweet lavender. I never liked the smell until I smelled it on her. I kissed the back of her head and drifted off to sleep.

* * *

“What if she thinks you’re having an affair with Maddie, or with anyone else for that matter?” Ethan rubbed the stubble on his chin.

“Wouldn’t that be a good thing?”

“How in the
world
would that be a good thing?”

“Wouldn’t it be better for her to despise me? I’m no good for her. I can’t be what she wants me to be.”

“And what does she want you to be?”

“Oh, I don’t know … a character in a Jane Austen novel, or something.”

Ethan frowned. “I seriously doubt Sarah wants you to be like Mr. Darcy. She doesn’t seem to be putting that pressure on you. I think, my friend, you are putting that pressure on yourself. Stop watching Hugh Grant films. They aren’t real. And when have you read any Austen?”

“All I’m trying to say is that I don’t think I am good enough for her. I’m not romantic. I don’t rush home every day with flowers and such. I like to work long hours. I like being by myself.”

“Name any couple you know who does that‌—‌and Valentine’s Day doesn’t count.”

“Not my parents, that’s for sure.”

“So, because your parents have a bad relationship, you are doomed, as well. That’s a good theory to live by. That way you never have to try and you avoid any type of failure. Have your history studies warped your personal life that much? Let me guess: if you don’t know your past, you’re doomed to repeat it. So, since Lizzie’s parents have a bad marriage, Lizzie should avoid marriage or it will be a horrible union that will ruin everyone. Grow up, Lizzie, and take responsibility for your own life.”

“Ethan, there are days when I think I should fake depression. Just imagine. I could mope around all of the time and she’d be too afraid to press me on the house thing, or anything for that matter.”

He fidgeted in his chair. “Wow. I thought I was an asshole, but you take the cake on this one. That plan sounds awful.”

“I didn’t say I was going to do it. Sometimes I just think about it, that’s all.”

“Lizzie, you’re right. It would be much better to fake suicidal thoughts and torture the poor girl over a long period of time instead of just being honest with her.”

“Why can’t she be the one who leaves?”

“Are you serious? God, you are the most self-indulgent person I’ve ever met. We meet here every week and all we do is talk about your problems. Every fucking week. Oh, every once in a while, you poke fun at my life, but you don’t really care. Not everything is about you, Lizzie.”

“Me? I’ve been talking about Sarah this whole time.” I barked.

“No you haven’t. You’ve been talking about you disappointing Sarah. She loves you‌—‌you moron. Love isn’t perfect. You have to accept that. Or you’ll have a miserable life. A fucking, miserable, lonely life.”

* * *

Sarah crashed into the apartment, rushed up to me, and kissed me passionately. She was holding a paper bag, which crushed up against my chest when she leaned in. Then she said breathlessly, “Hi beautiful!”

“Well, hello. Boy, you look happy.”

A grin split her face and her eyes danced merrily.

“I am happy.”

“Okay, happy girl, can I pour you a glass of wine?”

“Sounds perfect. I picked up some Chinese for us. Would you like to have a picnic with me in front of the fireplace?”

“I was going to grade some papers tonight,” I said in a teasing voice.

She set the bag on the kitchen counter. Then she took her shirt off and started to kiss me. She smelled wonderful. Orange blossoms? Was that the scent?

“Oh, all right … I guess my students can wait.”

“There’s one rule for this picnic.”

“Really? And what’s that?”

She smiled as she pulled off her bra. “No clothes allowed.” Her fingers flew to the zipper on her jeans. Then, changing her mind, she started to unbutton my shirt instead. As she reached around to undo my bra, I returned her kiss. Sarah tugged at my shirt with urgency, keen to get me in front of the fireplace. Even though she rushed the act, it was not a quick fuck. We went at it repeatedly for several hours; by the time we finished, and lay in front of the fire picking at the Chinese food and sipping wine, I was exhausted. Neither of us spoke. I placed my head on her stomach and she ran her fingers through my hair.

“Come on, Lizzie, dance naked with me.”

“What?” There was no way I was going to dance naked.

Sarah popped up from the carpet and tugged on my arms. “Come on, grandma! Loosen up a little.” Her eyes sparkled; she looked radiant. I couldn’t refuse.

Afterwards, we settled back down on the floor, Sarah said, “Oh I forgot to tell you, Maddie called me today.”

I tried not to react. “Oh, really. How is the troublemaker?”

“She sounded good. She mentioned you two talked a few nights ago about an engagement party. She’s so sweet.”

“She’s very thoughtful.” My heart started to race. So that was why Sarah had planned this romantic fuckfest.

“Oh, she said you were quite formal.” Sarah paused and then put on a southern accent, “We don’t have a timeline yet.” She laughed and continued to run her fingers through my hair.

I didn’t respond, still hoping the whole thing would go away.

“I told her we could wait until after her wedding. There’s enough family drama right now … well, on your side. My mom wants to take us to dinner.”

I licked her nipple, not lingering long; I inched my way down toward her navel. Her soft skin and scent beckoned me. I worked my way down. Down. Down. I didn’t stop until she came again.

Chapter Thirty-Four

It took all of my energy to open the door to the coffee shop. I wasn’t sure if Ethan would be waiting inside. I thought back to our last meeting and couldn’t help feeling that our friendship was teetering on a precipice. Would it survive? Should it?

“Well, look what the cat dragged in?”

“Sorry, Ethan. I was running late.” I fell into the chair opposite him.

“Geez Louise! You look beat.”

I nodded slowly.

“What the hell happened to you? Did someone slip you some Special K or something?”

I laughed mirthlessly. “No, I’ve been burning the candle at both ends. Between teaching and Sarah, I’m exhausted.”

“Okay, I’m following the teaching part. How does Sarah fit in?”

“Ever since New York City she has been a fuck machine. I mean, she wants sex all night, and then again before work. Man, I’m beat.”

“You mean ever since you gave her the ring?” he teased.

“Yeah. And she’s much more assertive about it. Passionate even. It’s pretty hot, but I am tired. I could probably curl up on the floor right here and go to sleep.” I gazed down at the filthy floor. Even that wouldn’t have deterred me right then.

“Oh man, that’s too bad, Lizzie. You sit right there and I’ll get your chai.” He stood up.

“Thanks.”

He paused. “You really are tired. No comeback whatsoever. And you said thanks.” Ethan wandered to the counter and then returned with my chai.

I took a gulp, which burned all the way down.

“So, my tired friend, are you going to go through with this marriage?”

“I don’t see a way out of it.” I fidgeted with my earring.