Destined (40 page)

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Authors: Gail Cleare

BOOK: Destined
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Then my lover told me that he wasn’t
sure about us anymore, that he wasn’t sure I really loved him. If I had, he
said, he would have instantly whisked us both away to another town where we
could start a new life together. He said, it would happen so fast it would make
my heart spin. He said I seemed ambivalent about him.

I searched my soul and found that
indeed, I was still worried about the fact that he hadn’t told me the whole
story when we first got together. I wanted to trust him as much as I loved him,
but I just couldn’t do it. A voice in the back of my mind kept telling me that
something was wrong, that something didn’t add up. I admitted to him that he
was right, I was uncertain, though I longed to be convinced. I hoped he would
take it as a challenge to show me that he really loved me, but instead, he
abruptly broke it off.

He twisted things around so it was me
breaking it off with him, it was my fault and I had toyed with his affections.
The last time I ever saw him, he was leaving for the airport to fly away with
another woman, who it turned out had been his lover right before me, the girl
who was really responsible for breaking up his marriage, the girl he had really
been in love with, all along. I wondered what color her favorite roses were. He
said goodbye to me cheerfully, full of excitement about his new life adventure.

I felt stupid, inconsequential, and I
was utterly devastated. I kept thinking that he would change his mind, he would
come back. I hallucinated seeing him for years afterwards, in a crowd, in the
grocery store, passing in a car on the highway. But he never returned, and I
never found out what happened to him. It was a long time before I opened up to
anyone again.

Until now, until Tony. Somehow, Henry
seemed to know about this. Maybe he didn’t know the details, he didn’t know the
man’s name, but he knew how it had affected me and he was warning me not to
jump to conclusions about Tony because of it. However, that was definitely
going to be a whole lot easier said, than done.

I
hugged my painful secret close to my chest all day, trying to act as if nothing
unusual had happened that morning. Siri looked at me long and thoughtfully,
with those warm sensitive liquid brown eyes, but she didn’t confront me with a
question about what was the matter. I know my eyes were puffy when I came back
downstairs from crying. She brought me tea and a kiss, then quietly went about her
work, finding an excuse to touch me briefly, every so often throughout the day.

Tony called at about four o’clock. The
store was loud and busy when I answered the phone and perched on the stool
behind the jewelry counter for a minute to talk to him. The two adorable
bird-watching sisters were back again, and we had been having
cappuccino
and brownies together. Several other
customers were in the store as well.

“Hello, this is Paradise!” I said, our
usual shop phone greeting.

“Hello yourself, I am missing you
already, “ he said in a low, intimate voice.

I cringed, then my uncontrollable
hopeful heart opened reflexively, like the eyes of a deer caught in the
headlights of an oncoming truck.

“Me too,” I said, smiling. It was
noisy in the background where he was too. I heard people talking and horns
honking. I guessed he was walking down the sidewalk between appointments.

“How is everything going? How is
Henry? How is my cat?” he said.

“They’re fine. Tree is up there
sitting on Henry’s lap, right now.”

“Perfect! And how are you?”

“I’m OK. It’s pretty busy today.”

“Things are going well here too.”
Tires squealed in the background, and I heard someone yelling, then horns
blared again. “I’ll call you later then, OK?” He sounded distracted, busy.

“OK.”

“Bye-bye, sweetheart.”

And he hung up. He used her word, “sweetheart.”
 
Had he ever called me that before? Not
that I could recall. I wanted to shout disgusting curses across the room. I
wanted to rip the telephone out of the wall and throw it out the door. But then
I noticed the two perky sets of eyes observing me avidly from across the room.
I went back over to the table where the sisters awaited.

“Everything all right, dear?” said
Irene.

“Yes, was it bad news, dear?” echoed
Rose, in her wavering voice.

Today they were dressed for a fall
day, in wool suits and sturdy brogues for walking. They had stopped in after
getting their hair done at the beauty parlor down the street. Their heads were
adorned with matching caps of perfectly arranged bluish-gray curls. Their hair
did not move when they turned their heads, and looked like it was molded out of
plastic. Siri and I had complimented them immediately when we saw them come in
the door. They blushed and lowered their eyes, glad of the attention.

“No, of course not!” I said, sitting
down and taking up my cup. “Just my boyfriend, saying hello.”

They exchanged glances and looked back
at me curiously.

“Tell us about your boyfriend, dear,”
suggested Irene. She nibbled delicately on a piece of brownie, which she had
cut up with her knife and was eating with a fork.

“Yes, tell us about him!” said Rose. “Have
you known him long?”

They both looked at me eagerly, like
children waiting for a bedtime story.

“We met at the grand opening of the
store,” I told them. They both made O’s of their lips and nodded their heads,
their eyes wide.

“Oh, and, that was just last spring,
wasn’t it dear?” inquired Irene.

I nodded too, and said, “Yes. Then,
over the summer he moved here.”

This set off another round of nodding
and exchanged glances.

“Oh, well, that sounds lovely, dear!”
said Rose. “Is he living nearby?”

“Just the other side of the park, yes.”

“And what does he do for a living,
dear?” asked Irene.

“He trades in unusual art, furniture,
rare books, that kind of thing. He used to work for Coca Cola in China. He’s an
international businessman.”

The sisters sipped their coffee and
thought about that for a minute.

“How exciting, dear!” Rose said, and
Irene nodded in agreement.

“So, he travels frequently?” asked
Irene.

“Yes, I guess so,” I said in a
depressed tone, picturing endless months of wondering what Tony was really up
to on the other side of the globe. “Not so much recently. He and Mr. Paradis
are great friends. Tony’s been a huge help, taking care of him.” Which was
true, I reminded myself. Tony had a heart of pure gold. Of course, other parts
of his anatomy might not be quite so inclined to nobility.

“Oh, he sounds lovely, dear!” said
Rose.

“Yes, a member of the Jet Set!” said
Irene. “Just like Roman Warchovsky, do you remember, dear?” she asked her
sister, who nodded in agreement knowingly.

“He was a world traveler as well,
dear,” Irene continued, putting down her cup to gesticulate more easily with
her frail, translucent hands. “First in the navy, then as a foreign war
correspondent.”

“Yes,” quavered Rose, “He was always
on the go!”

“Until he met our cousin Margery, that
is!” said Irene, and the two sisters smiled and nodded at each other, then at
me.

“They married and raised five
children,” Rose declared, her eyes twinkling.

“Yes, and one cannot do that while
flying around the world, constantly putting oneself in harm’s way,” Irene
observed wisely.

“So, he gave up his career?” I asked,
curious.

“Well, not really,” Irene answered. “Not
entirely. He took a job near home at the
New York Times
and eventually won a prestigious
award for his writing. Which one was it, dear?” she asked her sister.

“The Pulitzer, I believe, dear. Wasn’t
it?” said Rose, frowning as she tried to remember.

“Perhaps you’re right,” Irene said, “It
involved quite a lot of money, I do remember that.”

“Yes, and just when the eldest
daughter was going off to college. What a blessing!” said Rose. Her cup and
plate were empty now, and she blotted her thin lips fastidiously with her
napkin.

“So, don’t you worry, dear!” said
Irene, patting my hand. “Falling in love can change a man, even one who is used
to a rather unusual lifestyle,” she observed, reaching into her black patent
leather pocketbook to remove a pink lipstick. She applied it without looking in
a mirror, doing a remarkable job, and smacking her lips together a few times.
Then she handed it to Rose, who did the same. They smiled identical pink smiles
at me from across the table.

“I’ll keep it in mind,” I said, “Thank
you for telling me.”

They beamed in pink approval, and
eventually tottered out the front door and off over the crosswalk, chattering
amicably all the way.

That evening, Gupta was scheduled to
stop by and play chess with Henry, so Laurie invited me to come over the Green
Thumb for dinner. The two elderly men had formed a strong bond in the past
couple of weeks, and Gupta had taken to stopping by frequently to sit and talk
with Henry upstairs while they drank tea. Henry had traveled to India years ago
and was familiar with many of the places where Gupta spent his youth. They
enjoyed reminiscing, seemed to have a lot in common, and played backgammon or
chess together for hours. Siri and I were happy that the friendship had formed,
figuring it was very good for both of them.

Laurie said tonight was our chance to
catch up, as we had both been so busy lately and hadn’t had much chance to be
alone together. I had been looking forward to it, and wanted to ask her some
rather pointed questions. I’d been thinking about everything she told me the
night we went to see Starhawk, and I wanted to discuss it without all the other
girls around.

I was feeling melancholic when I
crossed the intersection after work to meet Laurie at the Green Thumb. The
pumpkin-gold sun was just sliding down behind the buildings to the west,
turning the sky blood red and making the air itself seem ruddy, like blush
wine. The earlier rain had moved off to the east, and the world looked clean
and crisp. There were a few early fallen leaves on the sidewalks, and three
crows cawed loudly from the branches of a tall oak tree that grew out of the
sidewalk in front of the patio. It was a stark and lonely sound, and it echoed
through the quiet streets. One of the huge black birds looked at me with a red
glint in its eye, cocked its head, and threw something down on the umbrella of
the table below. An acorn rolled off and dropped to the pavement, bouncing
across my path. A man with two dogs on leashes walked by, a big German shepherd
and a fluffy little white toy poodle. They pranced along contentedly, very much
the odd couple, total opposites unified by a common direction and purpose.

I reached into the pocket of my denim
jacket and took out my cell phone, stopping for a minute on the patio, where
only two of the outside tables were occupied tonight. Looking down at the phone
for a minute, I deliberately turned it off, putting it into my purse. Pushing
open the double doors, I went into the bar, which was bright and steamy and
humming with life. It was a relatively slow night, only about half of the
tables in here were taken. Laurie was waiting for me, straight ahead sitting on
a barstool, and she turned to welcome me when I entered the room.

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