Authors: Holly Chamberlin
Living Single (31 page)
Chapter Fifty-seven
E—business venture fell thru. lost abt $1,000. cld have been worse. how is yr job? still no man? M
I needed to see Doug. I’d made up my mind. The formal note to Jack Nugent was already written, signed, and sealed, waiting to be mailed. I wanted Doug to know first. I thought he had the right.
I asked that we meet at Radius. That first lunch, back in March, had gone well for us. Maybe there was still some good fortune in the air.
Doug was agitated.
“I don’t want to talk about work,” he said, before even saying hello. “It’s been a hell of a morning.”
That did not bode well for the success of my planned topic.
I kept my mouth shut until our entrées were served. But then I had to get on with things.
“Doug,” I said, “I know you don’t want to talk about work. But I really need to talk about Trident’s offer.”
Doug looked up as if he were stunned I’d broken his command.
“I’m eating. And you heard what I said. Do we need to discuss this now?”
“If not now, when?”
“How about never? Is never okay with you?”
Blood rushed to my face. “Stop quoting
New Yorker
cartoons at me. Come on, we need to talk about this.”
New Yorker
cartoons at me. Come on, we need to talk about this.”
Doug sighed and made a production of putting down his fork. “Okay, so talk.”
“I’m not taking the job at Trident.”
The look on his face frightened me. For a moment I thought of retracting madly. But I didn’t.
“What?”
“I’ve decided to stay at EastWind. I know what you’re going to say ...”
“Oh, you have no idea.” Doug pushed his plate away and took a gulp of his water with ice.
“It was a really hard decision to make, Doug, and I’m sorry it took me so long ...”
“You’re making a big mistake.” Doug’s voice was cold. And angry.
Oh, yes, I’ve been making a big mistake for a long time now, I answered silently. But not for much longer.
“Why can’t you support me on this?” I asked uselessly.
Doug didn’t answer my question. “You’re not going to be happy, Erin.”
Oh, yes. I was. If it killed me, I was going to get happy.
I laughed nervously. In the privacy of my own head I felt brave. The hard part was translating that feeling to words and actions.
“I hope ... I hope you’re wrong,” I said.
It was Maggie and Jan’s housewarming, a celebration of their having moved in together and making the big commitment.
Abby and I stood alone by one of the many bookshelves stuffed with books of all sizes and knicknacks of all kinds.
“Are we ...” Abby began and then stopped with a look of confusion. Or was it surprise?
“Oh, yeah, I’d say so.”
JoAnne joined us with a small plate of goodies. “You’d say what?”
I gave a quick and hopefully unnoticed glance around the room. “The three of us are—I think—the only straight people here.”
“I’m not sure we should say ‘straight,’ ” JoAnne said nonchalantly. “It implies that homosexuals are crooked and wrong.”
“Whatever, fine.”
“It’s kind of—weird,” Abby whispered. She took a miniquiche from JoAnne’s plate and popped it into her mouth whole.
“Being the minority?” I said and Abby nodded. “I know. It gives you a teeny glimpse into what, say, Jan or Damion, must feel almost all the time.”
JoAnne rolled her eyes in the direction of a particularly fierce, macho-looking woman in a black leather jacket. “Scared. Like you’re about to get your butt kicked.”
“Looks are deceiving.” It was Maggie, joining us with a coffeepot. “Sally’s a kindergarten teacher, one of the best. She’s a total softy.”
“Sorry, Maggie,” I said.
She shrugged. “Why? Sally scared the life out of me the first time I met her. Refill, anyone?”
Abby held out her cup.
“Why don’t you guys mingle?” Maggie suggested as she poured. “You kind of—um, stand out—huddled over here by yourselves.”
“Like we don’t belong?”
“You belong, JoAnne,” Maggie said. “You’re my friends.”
Maggie moved off to serve others. JoAnne went right and Abby went left. I went for more food.
Just as I popped a mini-quiche in my mouth ...
“Hi, Erin.”
It was Jan. I gestured to my stuffed cheeks and put up my hand to say, Wait just one minute while I finish gulping my food.
“Sorry,” I said and wiped my mouth.
Jan laughed. She had a nice laugh. “My fault. My timing has never been great.”
“This is a wonderful party,” I said. “Did you make all the food?”
Jan looked proud but not smug. “Yeah. I love to cook.”
“So Maggie says. And she loves your cooking.”
“So, she’s talked about me to you guys?”
“Sure. Not a lot—Maggie’s kind of quiet about her personal life. But she feels comfortable talking about you, if that’s what you mean.”
“I guess I do. I ... I wondered what her friends’ reactions would be when she told them about me.”
I considered. “Honestly, I wasn’t totally surprised. I mean, I’d kind of suspected she’d met someone and was just being extremely cautious about the whole thing. I just didn’t think the someone would be a woman.”
“Not that there’s anything wrong with that.”
I laughed. “That’s my line, but yeah. Seriously, Maggie seems really happy. And she looks better than she’s ever looked, since I’ve known her anyway.”
“So, I must be doing something right?”
I liked this woman. “Yeah. I’d say you’re definitely doing something right. And could you invite me to dinner sometime? The spicy shrimp is awesome.”
We left the housewarming a half hour later.
“It’s a little—weird—isn’t it?” Abby said. “Not Maggie and Jan’s being gay but their being together. It’s almost like we’re losing her.”
“I know. I feel the same way,” I admitted. “Like one of us grew up and left home. I’m happy for her and all but ... I’m kind of sad, too.”
“And angry.”
That was a surprise from JoAnne.
“Uh,” I said, “why?”
“I admit it. I’m angry that she’s more mature than I am. The very fact that I’m angry shows just how immature I am. Maggie’s settled into a loving, monogamous relationship—which takes plenty of guts—and where am I? Maggie took the lead. I’ve fallen behind.”
“Think of Maggie’s relationship with Jan as a personal challenge,” I suggested, only half jokingly. JoAnne loved a good competition. “Now you’ve got to prove you can be just as mature as she is.”
Pay attention, Erin. That was Reason. This might just be an opportunity for you, too.
I woke up that night in a cold sweat. I must have been dreaming, caught in a nightmare, but the moment I woke, my mind was blank.
I stared up at the ceiling and took deep, calming breaths. I wondered if I was getting sick. I wondered why I felt so depressed.
Because you are depressed, Reason suggested, not unkindly.
I know, I admitted. Depressed and unhappy and downright miserable.
And whose fault was it?
The truth was ugly. The fault was my own.
It occurred to me as I lay there that maybe there was truth in what Maggie had gently suggested to me once. Maybe I was afraid to find real love, the kind I talked about wanting and yet the kind I was not in the least pursuing by having an affair with a married man.
It occurred to me that I was afraid that what my mother had told me when I was a kid was right, that I wasn’t cut out for marriage after all. Maybe I’d been deceiving myself by thinking otherwise. If I did manage to pull off a wedding I’d soon after ruin the marriage. Should I have continued to listen to my mother?
No. I threw off the covers, disturbing Fuzzer, and sat on the edge of the bed. No. My mother was wrong. I did want to be married and I knew somewhere deep down that I could make it work. It would be hard but—I could do it. I wanted to do it.
But first, I had to get off the going-nowhere path I had taken when I’d started the affair with Doug. And in the dead of night, alone and growing cold, that seemed a Herculean task I just wasn’t up to undertaking.
Chapter Fifty-eight
I
liked my father’s Back Bay apartment. It was cozy in that men’s club sort of way, but without the mournful heads of long-dead elks and the moldy skins of long-dead bears. And here I was about to get thrown out of it for good.
liked my father’s Back Bay apartment. It was cozy in that men’s club sort of way, but without the mournful heads of long-dead elks and the moldy skins of long-dead bears. And here I was about to get thrown out of it for good.
We each settled in a high-backed leather armchair with a glass of wine.
“How’s work, Erin?”
“Okay. Fine. Look, Dad, I know it’s none of my business—I really know that—but ...”
“But you’re going to ask me anyway,” he said with an indulgent smile.
“Yes,” I said, looking down at my clasped hands. “And you have to know that Abby has nothing to do with this, honestly. She’d die if she knew I was talking about this with you ...”
“Erin, before I run away in trepidation, what is it?”
“Okay. Well, see ...” I hesitated. It really was none of my business, what was going on in my father’s head about Abby.
Oh, but, Erin, it is your business, Romance cried. These are two people quite dear to you and their happiness does concern you!
You’re butting in, Erin, and you know it, Reason countered, with a voice like a slap.
Yeah, well, it wouldn’t be the first time.
“Dad,” I said, looking steadily at his face, “are you serious about Abby? Because she said things seemed a bit—off—be-tween you two lately and I know she was so excited about your relationship and ...”
“Yes, Erin, I’m serious about Abby. I care about her. Which is why I’m going to have to end our relationship.”
What?
“You’re breaking up with her?” I said, though I’d heard him just fine. “I don’t believe it!”
Dad smiled, a bit sadly. “Why? Because I’m old and should be grateful that a younger woman is in love with me?”
Well, yeah, for starters, I thought. But I said nothing.
“Erin, Abby’s a wonderful woman. She’s beautiful and smart and caring. But ... she’s too young for me. We’re just not at the same place in our lives. I know she wants to get married—it’s written all over her—and in all good conscience I can’t let her continue to hope—to believe—I’m going to marry her.”
This is what you get for being a buttinski, Reason said. I thought I heard a note of gloating in its voice.
“Did you ...” Oh, Lord. I had to ask, didn’t I? “Did you ever tell her ... Did you do anything to make her believe there was a possibility of marriage?”
“Erin, you know Abby. I’m a man. Therefore, I’m a possible husband. I promise you, I never mentioned the subject. I never talked about the future.”
“She did,” I said glumly.
Dad sighed. “I know. She’s been dropping hints since October. At first, I ignored them and then when the hints got broader, I tried to confront her with my feelings but ... Well, you know Abby. She doesn’t always hear what she doesn’t want to hear.”
Yes, that much was true.
“Is there another woman?” I said, hoping there was because I was angry and needed a better excuse to be pissed off at my father than his trying to spare Abby’s feelings.
“Yes.”
Bingo.
“I met her just last week. We haven’t dated yet, just had lunch once with some other people. But I intend to ask her out.”
It just got worse and worse.
“So, you weren’t cheating on Abby with her?”
“Lord, no. Erin, I was faithful in word and deed to your mother for over thirty years. And I’ve been faithful to Abby since we met at the party. I’m happy being faithful. It’s who I am. I want to marry again. Just, not Abby.”
“You think this other woman—”
“Marilyn.”
At least it isn’t Tiffany, I thought.
“Marilyn. You think she might be the one.”
“Oh, it’s far too early to tell. She might have no romantic interest in me at all. But if she does, Marilyn and I stand a better chance of making a relationship work for the long haul. She’s in her late forties or early fifties, I’d say. She’s been married and has a son who’s now in college. Our experiences are at least similar. We’re compatible, Erin, or we could be. Truly compatible. And that’s what most of marriage comes down to. Compatibilty. Being comfortable just sitting in the same room together. It’s something I never really felt with Abby.”
“Why did you go out with her, then?” I challenged.
Dad laughed. “Well, for one, she liked me. Do you know how flattering it was to find a thirty-two-year-old woman interested in me, especially after my wife had left me so unceremoniously? And, as I said before, Abby’s charming and pretty and ... Well, she gave my ego a much-needed boost. She helped bring me alive again. And I’ll forever be thankful to her for that.”
“You know you’re going to break her heart. You do know that.”
“I know. But it won’t be broken for long.”
“How do you know about Abby’s heart? How do you know anything about her?” I said angrily.
Dad replied calmly. “Mark my words, Erin, before long Abby will see that we weren’t meant to be. Abby told me she always wanted a family of her own. Suddenly, she’s willing to give up that important life goal for me? No. Abby deserves to have that family. She’ll make a fine mother and I can’t deprive her of that experience.”
“Isn’t it her choice to make, whether or not she wants to have kids?” I asked stubbornly.
“Believe me,” he said almost sternly, “if Abby and I married she’d come to resent me. I’ve seen a similar thing happen with one of my colleagues. He grabbed at the chance to be married to a beautiful, much younger woman, without regard for his own emotional needs—or hers—and it’s a disaster. He’s getting a divorce and he’s a mess over it. Erin, nothing’s for certain, but with a decision as important as choosing a life partner, you have to read the signs. You have to try to be smart. I have to try to be smart for me and for Abby. What I want is a companion and a wife. What Abby wants right now is a father. She’ll get over that, but not if I stick around.”
Well, what could I say to all that?
Who was I to tell my father he was making a huge mistake, dumping Abby? First, deep down, beneath the shock, I didn’t really believe his leaving her was a mistake. And I was proud of him for being a real gentleman. Second, I wasn’t exactly batting a thousand in the romance department, was I? Sex, sure. Commitment, zero.
“Do you want another glass of wine?” Dad’s voice was gentle. “I’ve also got some cheese and crackers I could put out.”
I nodded. “Okay. Thanks,” I said and to my own ears my voice sounded like that of a little girl who’d just been scolded for naughtiness.
Dad stood and headed for the kitchen.
Well, I thought, leaning back into the chair, it looked like I wasn’t the only one not getting a piece of important jewelry any time soon.
E—thinking of sending card to yr father, just to say hi. gets lonely sometimes. how’s it going with him and that woman? M.
The end came a few days later. Abby called me on her cell phone, sobbing. She said she had just left work. I told her to go home immediately. I told her I’d be right there.
I knew what had happened, though Abby hadn’t made much sense through her tears.
When I arrived, Abby’s apartment door was ajar. I entered cautiously.
“Abby?”
She was curled up on the couch, a box of tissues at her side. Her hair was wild, as if she’d flung herself onto the couch and rolled in grief. Her face was red and puffy.
“Your door was open,” I said softly. “You have to be more careful.”
“I don’t care.”
“What happened?” Suddenly, I felt terribly creepy, pretending to be all innocent. Why hadn’t I warned her? I sat next to her on the couch.
“John broke up with me at lunch today,” she said, and the words brought more tears.
“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry.”
And Dad, I thought, how did you expect her to get through the afternoon at work after dumping her at lunch! Not very considerate.
“It’s all your fault, Erin!” Abby blurted. “You told your father to break up with me! How could you! You know how I feel about him!”
Why had I come, if only to be attacked? I’d come because my best friend had been dumped by a guy she was in love with. Duty called.
I put my hand on her shoulder. “Abby, I swear, I had nothing to do with it!”
“You never wanted us to be together ...”
“In the beginning, yes, but, Abby, I was fine with it after a while, you know that. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry ... I’m so angry at him ...”
Which was true and not true.
“Oh, what am I going to do, Erin?”
“You’re going to feel awful for a while,” I said. “And then you’re going to be fine, Abby. I promise.”
“At least you don’t break your promises to me.”
“Did John?” I asked, wanting very much to hear her side of the story.
Abby lowered her eyes. “No,” she said in a soft, low voice. “It’s just ... just that it hurts ... Oh, Erin I love him ... I thought he was my soul mate.”
And that was the end of the talking that night. A box of tissues and a half gallon of chocolate fudge ice cream later, Abby fell asleep on the couch and I went home, locking the door behind me.
It had been a long night.
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