I Take You (35 page)

The screen goes dark. Urs is gone.

We pack up and get ready to go. Gran hands me my phone. I have eighteen texts.

Freddy: pls call i hve no limbz!

Will: I never meant to hurt you.

I drive Gran home and park in front of the house. She turns to me. “I’m proud of you, honey.”

“I just followed your advice and played to my strengths. Acting stupid and enraging people.”

“I’m not proud because you won. I’m proud because you showed up. A lot of people would have abandoned ship. You saw it through to the very end, and you did your best for your client, even though it deserves to rot in hell.” She puts her hand on my shoulder and squeezes. “You’re a damn fine lawyer.”

Nobody’s praise could mean more to me. Jesus, my eyes are welling. “Thank you, Gran.”

“Now,” she continues, “you also made a shitload of mistakes. Let’s start with your manner of addressing the court.”

She proceeds to spend the next forty-five minutes critiquing everything from my voice to my body language to my knowledge of the rules of evidence.

“All in all,” she concludes, “I’d give you a B. Maybe a B-minus, considering the blatant ethical improprieties.”

“Gee, Gran. Thanks for the positive reinforcement.”

She pats my knee. “You’re welcome. Now come inside and I’ll make you a sandwich.”

“God, no!” I say quickly. “I mean, I’m exhausted. I’m going to head back to the hotel and crash.”

She gives me a look full of love and sympathy. “What’s your plan after that?”

“Pack up, I guess. Go back to New York.”

She gathers Rhode Island from the floor of the car. “Will you come by and see me before you leave?”

“Of course.”

She gives me a big hug. “Thanks for the referral, hon. I feel like myself again. Take it from me—retirement’s a bitch.”

She hops out. I pull away, watching her in the rearview as she waves good-bye.

I am bone tired.
My mind is still whirling from the deposition, not to mention my back-and-forth with Will. His last text was hours ago. I wonder where he is.

I park the car at the hotel and sit there for a long time. If nothing else, the last few hours have been a welcome distraction from the complete fiasco that is my personal life. I’m not angry at Will anymore. Not even irritated. But I can’t think about it anymore. I’ll have plenty of time to sift through the wreckage tomorrow. Maybe Freddy and I can honeymoon together. That would give Will time to pack and move out. We wouldn’t have to see each other again.

I finally get out of the car and head inside. I walk through the doors and stop short. Teddy is sitting on a sofa. He sees me and stands up.

“Hey,” he says. “Can we talk?”

I am so goddamn tired of talking. But he looks anxious, and when he sits back down, gesturing to me to join him, I do.

“I wanted to apologize for yesterday afternoon,” he says. “I was a dick to you. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I deserved it.”

He reaches out and takes my hand. “You didn’t. I’ve spent a lot of time over the years blaming you for things. Too much time. I thought I’d stopped. I thought I’d accepted what had happened to Lee and to … to us. It was so long ago, and we were so young. But then you came back, and everything got stirred up again. I felt ridiculous for being upset, and that made me even angrier. I took it out on you.” He releases my hand but is still gazing at me intently. “I’m sorry.”

“There’s something you need to know,” I say. “I thought about you
constantly. I missed you every single day. I was lost without you, Teddy. But giving you up was my punishment to myself. I thought I deserved it for what I did.”

He nods.

“I didn’t mean to punish you, too,” I add. “I should have told you.”

“It’s okay. It’s all in the past.”

“I’m leaving tomorrow.”

“What about the wedding?”

I just shake my head. He looks surprised but says nothing. He feels sorry for me. And I am suddenly struck by how different everything might have been. My life and his. If I hadn’t stolen the dynamite. If we hadn’t built the bomb. If I hadn’t gone to Lee’s house. If I’d written Teddy back, and kept writing and writing and writing.

Would we have calmed down? Would we have straightened out? Could we be sitting together right now, here or in some other place, together in a completely different way?

I stand up at last. So does he. “I’m thirteen years too late,” I say, “but can I write to you now?”

He smiles. “Sure.”

I suddenly feel awkward. Should we hug? Shake hands? Teddy solves the problem, like he always did. He steps forward, leans down and kisses me full on the mouth, gently, sweetly. I put my hands on his shoulders and pull him close. His body feels the same, he tastes the same, his lips move the same way.

One last time I’m fourteen again, and I’m in the only place I ever wanted to be.

It’s magical.

And then it’s over.

He steps back and smiles at me. “Good-bye, Lily.”

I raise a hand. “Good-bye, Teddy.”

He turns. He’s walking away, he’s pushing through the door. He’s gone.

I hear the elevator ding. I turn and see Freddy walking unsteadily across the lobby toward the bar. I follow her. She picks a stool and climbs aboard. I take the next one. The bartender comes over.

“Vodka,” Freddy says thickly.

“And?” he asks.

“More vodka.”

I clutch Freddy’s arm. “Oh God. What’s wrong?”

She looks at me all wide-eyed. I’m not sure she recognizes me.

“Little-known fact,” she says, slowly and distinctly. “Little. Known. Fact. It is
surprisingly easy
to hypnotize a chicken.”

“She’s already three sheets,” the bartender remarks.

Freddy raises a finger. “Step one. You press its little beak to the ground. Step two. You draw an X in the dirt in front of it.” She draws an X on the bar with her finger. “You do that over and over again, and the chicken follows the motion with its beady little bird eyes, until …
voilà!
You have yourself one goddamned hypnotized chicken.”

The bartender places drinks in front of us. Freddy downs hers in one gulp. Then she takes mine and downs it too.

“I have spent the day,” she announces, way too loudly, “dealing with your wedding planner.”

“Was it bad?”

She waves the question away, but the motion throws her off balance and she starts sliding off her stool. I haul her upright again.

“I found myself facing an improssible choice,” she says. “Either destroy myself with drugs and alcohol or murder the crazy bitch.” She gestures to the bartender for another round. “I chose the latter.”

“You killed Mattie?”

“Oops!” she cries. “I mean ‘the former.’ I get those mixed up. Former, latter. Left, right. Up, down.” She picks up her new drink. “Me, the rest of the world.”

“I’m sorry I put you through all that.”

“Heyyyyyyy.” She throws an arm around me and hugs me, a little too tightly. “Imma maida honor. ‘Swhy I’m here, right? To help plan wedding, help unplan wedding. Whatevs, babyloves. I’m here for you.”

“Guess what?” I say. “I think I saved my job.”

“Praise Jesus!” She slaps the bar. “I was worried we were gonna have one less lawyer in the world.”

She downs another drink, which, oddly, seems to sober her up a little. She turns to me with serious eyes. “He’s waiting for you upstairs.”

I set my glass down carefully. “He’s still here?”

She nods. “What are you going to do?”

“No idea. What do you think I should do?”

“I don’t know, honey.”

This is unprecedented. “You have no advice?”

“Champagne!” she cries.

The bartender places a flute in front of me.

I shake my head. “Thanks, Lloyd, but I don’t think she meant to order it.”

“No, but he did,” the bartender says, pointing behind me.

Freddy and I turn. My father is sitting at a table in the corner. He raises his glass to us.

“Well whup me with a hickory stick!” Freddy cries, touching her hair. “How do I look?”

I slip off my stool. “I’ll be right back.”

Dad looks wonderful, as usual. Fresh and well rested, although maybe a bit melancholy.

He kicks out a chair for me. “Have a drink with your old father.”

I sit down. “How was your day, Dad?”

He gazes into his champagne. “To be honest, little one? It’s been a bit of a trial.”

“Last I checked you were doing fine.”

“Oh, you mean the business with your mother and Ana and Jane? That’s all been sorted out. But I’m afraid Trina has asked me for a divorce.”

“What? She adores you!”

“She did.” He tops off our glasses, shaking his head gravely. “But it seems I recently e-mailed her a snapshot that was rather …” He hesitates. “Unfortunate.”

“Oh, Dad.”

“I know, darling, I know.” He pauses. “I’m afraid this one is going to be expensive.”

“No prenup?”

He glances away.

“You’re a true romantic, Henry.”

“It has always been my weakness.” He gestures to the bartender, who brings another bottle of champagne. My father pops it open and pours. We raise our glasses, clink and drink.

“Well, enough about me!” I say. “What’s going on with you, Dad?”

He puts his glass down and leans forward, taking my hands in his. “I’m sorry, little one. You’ve been having a hell of a time, haven’t you? Is there anything I can do?”

I look into his beautiful green eyes. Should I ask his advice? This is usually a terrible idea, but maybe in this case it’s the right thing to do. After all, I’m basically sitting across from my future self here.

What the hell? It’s worth a shot.

“There’s so much I don’t know, Dad. Can a person change?
Should
a person change? Can a solid relationship be built on a foundation of lies? Am I doomed to repeat your mistakes, only backwards and in high heels? Is the purpose of sex to make each other miserable? Can marriage ease that misery? Can one person ever be enough? Are we all just animals? If you want to help me, answer these questions. It’s pearls of wisdom time, Henry. Give me everything you’ve got.”

My father looks totally befuddled.

“Let me simplify,” I say. “Should Will and I get married, or should we go our separate ways?”

Henry fills his glass again and waits for the foam to settle. He sips thoughtfully. “Do you love him?”

“Yes. But it’s more complicated than that.”

“I’m not sure it is, little one. You met someone, and you fell in love. Will it last forever? That question, like the others you posed, is interesting but ultimately unhelpful. I think you said it best yourself, last night. We need a new commitment to honesty. I was never truthful with any of my wives. And if you can’t be honest with the person you chose to be closest to in the entire world, why did you choose them? How real can that closeness be?” He takes another sip. “If, on the other hand, you
can
be honest, if you can show Will your true self, which must be a very, very difficult thing to do, you have a real chance. But only you can know if any of that is possible.”

Henry actually said something meaningful. I can’t believe it. “Dad!” I cry. “You nailed it! Thank you!”

“You’re welcome, darling.” He pats my hand. “Regardless, whatever decision you come to, I’m sure it will be the wrong one.”

“What?”

“Sorry, sorry!” he laughs. “I misspoke. The
right
one, I meant to say. Whatever decision you make will be the
right
one. I apologize, darling. I’m a bit …” His hand flutters to his temple.

I put my head down on the table.

“Is that your little friend from university?” he says.

I look up. He’s staring at Freddy, who’s pretending not to notice.

Dad smiles at her. “She’s grown rather attractive, hasn’t she?”

I finish my drink and set the glass on the table. I stand up and pat him on the shoulder. “Henry? I don’t know what I’d do without you.” But I’ve already lost him—he’s gesturing to the bartender. “Same here, darling,” he murmurs. “Same here.”

I walk back to Freddy and put my arms around her.

“I need a favor,” I whisper.

“Anything,” Freddy whispers back, gazing over her shoulder at my father.

“Whatever happens tonight? I never,
ever
want to know about it.”

She nods. The bartender sets a flute in front of her and pops open a dusty bottle. I kiss her cheek and walk out of the bar.

Inside the room,
a couple of votive candles are burning on the desk. The doors to the balcony are open. Through the sheer curtains I see Will. He’s sitting with his feet propped on the railing. Holding a drink, looking out at the water.

The door slams shut behind me. He stands and comes into the room, stopping a few feet away. He hasn’t shaved. He’s wearing jeans and a t-shirt. His feet are bare.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi.”

“How was your day?” he asks.

“Fine. What have you been up to?”