An Ex to Grind (28 page)

Just my luck, Leah was still hanging around the apartment when I arrived, and the scent of
her
body wash—a heady blend of lavender, rose, hibiscus, and every flower ever created—made my vanilla stuff smell like skunk oil in comparison. And then, of course, there was Buster. As soon as we walked in the door, he made a mad dash for her. As if he couldn't get away from me fast enough.

"Here you are, Busty boy," she said, folding him into her arms. "I missed you so much that I waited for you this morning instead of going straight to work. Yes, Busty. Yes, poochie poo. You are my really, really good boy."

My eyes bugged out when I heard/saw that one. And no. It wasn't the "really, really." It wasn't even the "poochie poo." It was the "my." I mean, come on. Buster wasn't hers. Dan wasn't hers either. Not really. She wouldn't be in the picture at all if I hadn't put her in it.

Okay, you can see where this was going.

"Hello, Leah," I said. Dan had greeted me, but she'd been too involved with
my
dog to acknowledge me.

"Morning, Melanie," she chirped. "It's a beautiful day, isn't it?"

It was February in New York. It wasn't snowing, granted, but how beautiful could it be? "Yes," I said. "It's brisk and invigorating." She was sweet? I'd be sweet.

She grabbed her briefcase. "I'd love to stay and chat, but I've got a waiting room full of animals." She started to move toward the door, then stopped and gestured at the living room. "Oh. I forgot to ask: how do you like our new color?"

Our new color. Oh. I'd been so distracted by Buster's defection that I hadn't noticed the paint job.

"You went with yellow," I said. During my occupancy, the room had been robin's egg blue.

"It's actually mustard," she said.

"Gulden's or French's?" I said.

"It's yellow," said Dan, laughing. "Leah thought it would be warmer than the blue, and I have to agree."

"It's very warm," I said, feeling the heat of resentment rising up into my neck and face. "Are you planning to do the whole apartment in it?"

"Variations of it," said Leah. "I think it's nice when there's a flow, as opposed to each room being a starkly different color."

Fine, I thought. Trash the blue in the living room and the green in the dining room and the burgundy in the master. Just remember, you're a temporary girlfriend and the second you're gone, your piss-color paint will be gone too. "Sounds lovely," I said with a broad grin.

She put her hand on my shoulder. "I'm really, really glad you approve."

And off she went. I turned to Dan to ask him how the job hunt was going, but he spoke first.

"Didn't I say she was great?"

"Who?" I said, as if I didn't know.

"Leah," he said. "Always so up. You couldn't be depressed around her if you wanted to be."

Ricardo would have been happy to hear that. "Yes," I said. "She's very up. But then she has a lot to be up about. Obviously, you and she aren't just dating anymore. You're actually living together, planning your future."

"She's been staying here, yeah," he admitted. Part of me wished I'd had his statement on tape. The other part wasn't as jubilant, the part that was causing this sudden conflict within me. "But it's still early. We aren't making anything permanent. I told you that, Mel. When my marital status is about to change, you and your lawyer will be among the first to know."

I nodded, feeling another stab of guilt about what I had perpetrated. What in the world was going on with me? Why was I wavering even the slightest bit?

I was so uncomfortable thinking about Desiree and the other cast of characters with whom I was colluding that I changed the subject. "Any news from the colleges?"

He pouted. "Columbia and Rutgers both passed."

"Oh, Dan. I'm sorry," I said.

His face exploded into a smile. "But L.I.U. called me back for a second meeting!"

Before I could demonstrate my excitement, he demonstrated his own. He took me in his arms and danced me around in a circle, and instead of recoiling or even pulling away diplomatically, I went with it. Just went with his joy and his eagerness to share it with me. In that moment, as he held me and I held him and we were magnets again, it was as if no time had passed since we were in Minco the night he'd proposed. There was no bitterness, no bad history. I was right back on his family's porch where he was proclaiming his love and telling me how our life would be easy and assuring me I'd never have to worry about money again.

When the dancing stopped, I stood there and wondered if I had lost my mind. I wasn't in Minco and Dan wasn't proclaiming his love. Not for me, anyway. It was Monday morning, and I had to get to the office.

"Want some coffee to celebrate?" he asked with such an imploring look I could hardly resist.

Making the excuse to myself that it wasn't every day that Dan was on somebody's short list for a job, I ended up staying for coffee. I ended up being late for work. I ended up calling Weezie during my lunch hour and telling her I had to see her as soon as possible. When she asked what was so urgent, I said, "I need an intervention."

"Are we talking about drugs?"

"No!" That again.

"You barely drink, so it's not alcohol," she mused. "Is it food? Gambling? Internet porn?"

"It's Dan, Weezie. I'm—well—thinking about him differently, more positively."

"Is that all?" She sounded relieved.

"You don't understand. I'm starting to wonder if I can go through with the whole Desiree project."

"Come on. You've been counting the days until you take away the boy's allowance."

"I know, but now I'm having second thoughts. You should see how he's changed. It's like Leah waved a magic wand over him.
The changes are all good, don't get me wrong, but I'm uncomfortable about how much influence she seems to exert."

"Wait. Now you're feeling protective of him?"

"I guess I am."

"Why? He's not your responsibility anymore." She paused. "I'm not getting this. Your problem is with Leah?"

"Yes! That's it. She's taken over everything—Dan, Buster, the apartment. She's painting it yellow, by the way."

"So you want her out of Dan's life?"

Was that what I wanted? Or did it just feel that way? It was all so bewildering.

"Or do you want Dan back in your life?" she said. "Is that what we're really talking about?"

"No," I said. Then, after a pause: "Maybe."

"Oh, Mel. This is crazy," she said. "You've been hating him for a long time."

"That's why I need the intervention," I said. "Right now, I'm not hating him nearly enough."

I met Weezie halfway between Manhattan and Westport at the upscale restaurant of a Hilton hotel in Westchester County.

It was one of those jackets-required places that attracts corporate types on weeknights and families on weekends and serves food that tries to be sophisticated but is merely overpriced.

"So Nards didn't mind being left out tonight?" I said while Weezie took the first sip of her martini.

"Not at all. He's working late anyway."

"I didn't know ENT guys worked late. Do people have emergency ear surgery?"

"He's not seeing patients," she said. "It's all the paperwork that's keeping him in the office."

"I thought bringing that new doctor into the practice was supposed to lighten his load."

"It was. But she's only created more paperwork."

"She?"

"Yeah. Her name's Molly Corbett. Great credentials. Very smart. Extremely dedicated." She took a bite of her thirty-dollar chicken, a similar version of which was six dollars at Boston Market. "Tell me about this Dan business. We didn't come to talk about boring old Nards and me."

I told her about the changes in my ex—the job interviews, the volunteer work, the conversations about our marriage, the new self-awareness, the rejuvenated cover-boy looks. "If he'd been like this a year ago, I might have stayed. I'll tell you one thing: the old chemistry between us isn't dead. When he touched me the other day, I actually wanted to jump him."

"That's because it's been forever since you've jumped anyone. You just need to get laid."

"I guess," I said with a sigh. I thought of Evan then, of the near-kiss we'd almost shared, of how much I enjoyed being with him, from walking around the neighborhood to stirring mashed potatoes at his stove. But no sooner did the image of his face appear before my eyes than it was displaced by Dan's. "I think I'm losing it, Weezie. I used to be so sure about my feelings about myself, men, work. But now?" I shrugged.

"It's Leah who's the cause of all this," she insisted. "Before she came along, you had Dan all to yourself—to love, to leave, to begrudge, whatever you wanted. Now that he's with her, your role in his life has diminished, and you're threatened. It's a normal reaction, and it'll pass."

I considered this possibility as I ate a fork full of my thirty-five-dollar shrimp, a similar version of which was ten dollars at Red Lobster. "I do feel muscled around by her," I admitted. "I don't like it that she found a way to pull him out of his funk when I couldn't. And I don't like that Buster adores her and that she has better hair than I do."

She laughed. "You asked Desiree for an Alister. That means A-list hair."

"Desiree." I made a face. "You and your big ideas."

"Come on, Mel. You needed a way out of the alimony, and she hit the jackpot with Leah, who came to your rescue, in case you forgot. But by coming to your rescue, she also made Dan more attractive to you. Yes, he's trying to get his act together. Yes, he's looking great again. Yes, he's saying the things you've been waiting to hear. But your feelings for him aren't love, if that's what you're thinking. This is about her and how she's taken your place with him. We all want what we can't have."

I drank some of my five-dollar Evian, a similar version of which was free from my tap at home. "I'm sure you're right," I said.

"I am right," she said. "You hired Desiree to find someone for Dan and she did. She's a brilliant matchmaker."

No sooner were the words out of her mouth than I spotted Nards waltzing into the restaurant with a redhead. I did a double take, then watched openmouthed as he held her arm and pulled out a chair for her and sat down next to her at a cozy corner table-for-two.

I froze, not knowing what to do. It had never occurred to me that Nards was anything but a devoted and loving husband, but there he was, caught red-handed with a redhead.

"Mel? What's wrong?" said Weezie. "You look sick."

I had to tell her, didn't I? What choice did I have? I mean, all she had to do was get up to go to the ladies' room and she would have seen them herself.

"Maybe Desiree isn't such a hot matchmaker," was how I began. You can't just blurt these things out.

"Why do you say that? Consider how she brought Nards and me together and how happy we—"

"Nards isn't at the office." Oh, God. My heart was breaking for her. My poor, poor pal.

"He is so," she said, as if I were just being obstinate.

"No, he's here, Weezie. Over your left shoulder and to the right."

She whipped her head around, spotted the twosome in mid-embrace and turned back to me, her eyes as huge as our bread plates. "He's with Dr. Corbett!" And then she gulped down her entire martini, plus the olive and onion.