Sleeping Alone (13 page)

Five minutes later she took a seat in Dr. Schulman’s office.

“We’ll have the Pap results back in a week or so,” the doctor said, perusing her notes. “When do you want to schedule your mammogram?”

“I’ll get back to you on that,” Dee said, withholding a shudder. “The budget can only stand so much this month.”

“You should talk to your boss about instituting an HMO plan,” Dr. Schulman said. “It might make more sense for you.”

There was no point reminding the doctor that she wasn’t some high-priced executive at a Fortune 500 company. The thought of the Starlight ever being able to offer an HMO was downright laughable.

The doctor leaned forward, her dark eyes bright with professional concern. “So now it’s your turn, Dee. Any questions, concerns, problems you’d like to talk about with me?”

Dee wondered if the doctor used that same annoying tone of voice with her husband. “Yes, there is,” she said, pushing away the thought. “I want to go back on the pill.”

“Well.” The doctor leaned back in her seat. “I feel obliged to remind you that while the effectiveness of the pill is undeniable, there are still some valid and pertinent reasons for the use of condoms.”

“I understand,” Dee said, “and I agree, but I still want to go back on the pill.”

“You’re in a steady relationship?”

“I’m not in a physical relationship at all,” Dee said, growing annoyed. “I’m thinking ahead.”

It’s called wishful thinking, Doc, and I’ve got it dawn to an art form.

Brian’s Thanksgiving Day visit had had an enormous impact on her, though it probably wasn’t the impact he’d hoped for. He had wanted her to swoon at his feet, totally overcome by desire for him... totally overwhelmed by admiration for all he’d accomplished. The truth was, there had been something pathetic about him that day, a look of loneliness, of vulnerability, that she hadn’t seen since they were in high school. And once again, it had drawn her to him. She’d told herself she was immune, and over the years she’d actually come to believe it. Thanksgiving had blown all of her theories to hell.

She felt like a gawky fifteen-year-old girl around Brian, the same girl who’d worshipped him like a God. The same girl who’d believed he would make all of her dreams come true.

It won’t happen this time, Brian,
she thought as Dr. Schulman wrote out a prescription. This time she’d fight fire with fire. The Christmas season was a dangerous time for lonely single women on the verge of middle age. Take a little mistletoe, a lot of eggnog, add a marrow-deep loneliness, and you had a recipe for disaster.

It had been three years since she’d had sex and even longer since she’d slept with a man. Really slept. Where you went to bed together and stayed there through the darkest part of the night, then woke up to find out you weren’t alone.

It was what Sam wanted. He’d told her time and time again. “I’m not going to hurt you, Dee. You don’t have to be afraid.” But she
was
afraid. Not of Sam, who was a good and decent man, but of herself. That maybe she only wanted what she couldn’t have, the things and people that were bad for her.

But what frightened her most of all was the thought that the decisions she’d made as a frightened teenager would end up hurting her son.

John went back to the marina around two o’clock, and by three Alex was the only one left in the diner. She rinsed dishes and stacked them in the dishwasher, wiped down the stove and countertops, then poured herself a tall glass of iced tea. It didn’t matter that it was 25 degrees outside and snowing lightly. She was hot and sweaty and beyond tired.

She pushed open the swinging door that separated the kitchen from the rest of the diner and claimed the booth nearest the door for herself. She’d forgotten how wonderful silence could be. No loud jukebox music. No laughter. No spirited arguments about sex, politics, and religion. Just blissful peace and quiet.

She took a sip of iced tea, then closed her eyes to enjoy the sensation.

You did it, Alex,
she congratulated herself. The world’s lousiest waitress had transformed herself into a fairly decent short-order cook. Considering the fact that she’d been tossed into the deep end of the pool, she’d not only managed to stay afloat, but also she’d learned how to swim.

Sometimes her old life with Griffin seemed as if it had belonged to someone else—some sad, lonely woman who didn’t have the guts to admit she deserved more from marriage than a platinum American Express card. Would it have been different if she’d showed a little backbone early on? She wondered if part of her charm for Griffin had been her malleability, or if he’d always secretly longed for someone as accomplished as Claire Brubaker.

An image of Claire, the way she had looked that afternoon at Harrods, flashed before her eyes. Her lustrous red hair pulled back in a chignon, her chic navy blue maternity dress, her stomach swollen with Griffin’s child. It wasn’t often a woman could point to the one moment in time when her life changed forever, but Alex could. From that moment on, the end of her marriage had been inevitable.

She didn’t want to think about Claire... or about Griffin. They belonged to a distant past, to a world that no longer existed for her—if it had ever existed at all. He’d be ashamed of her, Griffin would. Ashamed of the beads of sweat rolling down the back of her neck, of the way her hands smelled of onion and cooking oil.

Ashamed of the fact that she had managed to survive on her own.

John wasn’t ashamed of any of it. He looked at her with the same wonderful mix of desire and affection whether she was wearing her pale blue waitress uniform or nothing at all. He didn’t judge her by her lack of education or accomplishment. He seemed to judge her by what was in her heart. Not even her parents had done that.

She wished with all her heart that she had met John years ago when they might have had a chance to make a life together.

“God, I’m sorry I’m so late.” Dee burst through the door like a red-haired whirlwind. “Dr. Schulman was running behind schedule, and I—”

Alex’s eyes opened wide. “The doctor! Are you okay?”

“Routine maintenance.” Dee slipped out of her hunter green windbreaker, then hung it from the hook near the door. “If you’re looking for someone local, I’d be glad to give you her number.”

“I guess.” Her experiences with the medical profession in the last few years had been equal parts frustration and heartbreak.

“What do you use?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Birth control,” Dee said, sitting down opposite her. “Call me an optimist, but I just asked the doctor to put me back on the pill.”

“I—well, I don’t really use anything.”

“Tell me you’re kidding.” Dee looked and sounded horrified. “You must be using condoms at the very least.”

“Excuse me, Dee, but what makes you think I need them?” In point of fact, she and John hadn’t been using birth control, not that it was any of Dee’s business. They both had been tested, and thank God both were HIV-negative. Alex knew all too well that pregnancy would never be an issue for her.

“The guys at the counter think you and Johnny are getting married.”

“Please tell me you’re kidding.”

“Vince thinks John will pop the question Christmas Day. Rich is betting on New Year’s Eve.”

“What about you?” she asked. “Are you putting fifty cents on Groundhog Day?”

“Honey, don’t go getting upset. They love John and they’re fond of you. They want the two of you to be happy together.”

“We’re not really having this conversation,” Alex said. “I must be having a bad dream.”

“Don’t worry,” Dee said. “Your secret is safe with me.”

“I don’t think any secret is safe in this town.”

Some of Dee’s sparkle dimmed. “You’d be surprised,” she said after a moment. “Every now and then one manages to sneak by.” She adjusted her ponytail, and her trademark grin returned. “So when did it happen?”

“That’s personal, Dee.”

“I’ll bet it was Thanksgiving. He couldn’t take his eyes off you.”

Alex’s face flamed. She might as well have taken out an ad in the
New York Times.

“I promise I won’t ask you all sorts of nosy questions,” Dee said. “I always hate when people do that.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course, if there’s something you’d like to tell me, I’d be more than happy to listen.”

“There’s nothing to tell,” Alex said carefully. “We enjoy each other’s company.”

“I enjoy Vince Troisi’s company, but I’m not sleeping with him.”

“And it’s a good thing you’re not,” Alex shot back. “I don’t think Cora would be too pleased about it.”

Dee tossed a packet of sweetener at her. It bounced off her shoulder and fell to the floor. “You know what I’m talking about. The sparks between the two of you could light this place for a year. I’m almost thirty-five years old, Alex. Believe me, I know when there’s more than just good sex happening between a couple.”

Alex put down her glass of iced tea and met Dee’s challenging gaze head-on. “There isn’t,” she said bluntly. “No strings. No commitments. It’s the way we both want it.”

“Bullshit.”

“Dee!” Alex wasn’t sure if she should laugh or be insulted. “I think I know what’s happening better than you do.”

Dee refused to back down an inch. “Trust me,” the woman said. “I’ve known Johnny all my life and I’ve seen him through good times and bad. The boy’s in love.”

“I wish you wouldn’t say that.”

“Why not? I’d be overjoyed if you told me a kind, handsome man was in love with me.”

Instinctively Alex touched the place on her left ring finger where her wedding band used to be. Dee’s sharp eyes caught the gesture before she could cover up.

“So that’s the way it is,” Dee said in a quiet tone of voice. “You’re still carrying a torch for your ex.”

The thought made Alex physically ill. She opened her mouth to say exactly that when a surprisingly sharp instinct for self-preservation sprang to life. If she let Dee believe she was nursing a broken heart over Griffin, she wouldn’t have to endure endless questions about the future of her relationship with John. How could there be a future when she hadn’t relinquished her past?

It would be easier this way, she told herself as the silence stretched between them. Easier for her and in some ways for John as well. He’d made his own feelings on the subject of commitment crystal clear. She imagined it would be a relief to him to know they were in total agreement.

“So call me a hopeless romantic,” Dee said at last. “I was hoping—”

“I know what you were hoping,” Alex said, “but that’s just not in the cards for John and me.” She was surprised at how hard it was to say the words.

And how deeply she regretted the fact that what there was, was all there could ever be. She was, after all, still another man’s wife.

* * *

Eddie looked up from the sports section as John walked into the room. “So you’re going out again tonight?”

John grabbed his old leather jacket from the arm of the couch. “I’m taking a pizza over to Alex’s.”

“Why don’t you bring her here?” Eddie asked as Bailey rested her head on his knee.

John let the question pass. He felt like a hormone-crazed teenager looking for a place to be alone with his girl.

“You’re staying in tonight, aren’t you?” He slid his arms into his jacket.

“Maybe,” Eddie said. “Maybe not. I might go over to Paul D.’s for poker.”

“NYPD Blue
’s on tonight. I thought that was your favorite.”

“You take care of your life,” his father said sharply, “and I’ll take care of mine.”

“Hey, Pop, no offense meant. I was just reminding you—”

“I’m not an old man.” Eddie’s voice went high with anger. “I don’t need my kid telling me where to go and what to watch on TV.”

Eddie had gone on one of his nocturnal rambles two nights ago while John was piloting a two-day fishing trip down to the Chesapeake. Alex had spotted him sitting on the dock in his Jockey shorts, and she’d gone outside with a blanket. She’d tried to persuade him to come inside, but when that failed, she sat with him until the sun came up.

John could still see the look in her eyes when she told him about the incident. “He’s not sleepwalking,” she’d said, her voice heavy with sadness. “I think Eddie has a real problem.”

Bailey whimpered and nudged Eddie in the leg. She knew something was wrong, same as Alex. And, John thought ruefully, she had about as much chance as he and Alex did to make it right again.

* * *

Alex met him at the door wearing a pair of silky dark gold pajamas. Her hair was piled loosely on top of her head, held in place with a pair of tortoiseshell chopsticks. Her face had been scrubbed clean of makeup. Dark smudges circled her eyes, making her look tired and almost unbearably fragile.

“Pepperoni?” she asked as she closed the door behind him.

“Half pepperoni, half sausage.”

“I want the pepperoni half.”

He followed her into the kitchen, then placed the pizza box on the table. “Sit down,” he told her. “I’ll get the plates.”

She opened her mouth to protest but apparently thought better of it and sat down. “The wine,” she said. “I should—”

“It’s on the back porch, right?”

“Yes, but—”

“I’ll get it.”

“I’m too tired to argue with you.”

“So that’s the secret.” He took down two plates from the cupboard and found a pair of wineglasses on the counter. “Get you tired enough and you’ll finally let someone help you out.”

She pushed back her chair and stood up. “Why don’t you take that pizza and go home.”

He dropped the plates and glasses on the table. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I don’t want you here. It means I want to be alone.”

“Where the hell is this coming from?”

“Where do you think?” Her voice shook with anger. “I’m not going to be in your or anyone else’s debt, John. Not for anything. If that bothers you, then maybe it’s better we find out right now.” And with that she burst into tears.

He stared at her in openmouthed shock. His instinct was to take her in his arms, but she’d probably have his head on a platter if he tried. He waited, expecting the tears to end as quickly as they’d started, but she surprised him again. She buried her head in her hands and sobbed as if her heart was breaking.

Finally he couldn’t take it anymore and bent down to gather her into his arms. She was stiff and unyielding at first; her pain was like a third presence in the room. He stroked her hair, whispered things, foolish meaningless things, in her ear until she began to melt against him.
Who hurt you, Alex? Who did this to you?

But he wouldn’t ask her.

He knew she wouldn’t tell him if he did.

* * *

Alex pressed her face against John’s shoulder. How was she going to explain this ridiculous crying jag? He probably thought she was a total lunatic, sobbing because he wanted to set the table and pour the wine. Another woman would be down on her knees thanking God she’d found a man like him. Alex was doing her level best to drive him away.

Her conversation with Dee that afternoon had sent her emotions on a roller-coaster ride—which was the last thing she needed. Her emotions had been too close to the surface these last few days as it was. Sunsets made her heart ache. So did the way the sunshine danced across the ocean. The mournful sound of the gulls as they swooped overhead reduced her to tears. And as if that wasn’t enough, Christmas was less than two weeks away. If anyone so much as whispered “God bless us, everyone,” she would probably dissolve in a flood of tears.

Hearing herself say that she and John had no future together had been like hearing a door slam shut. It sounded so final, so terribly sad. But how on earth could she expect otherwise? Of course they had no future together. He couldn’t have a future with a married woman. And for all she knew, he didn’t want a future with anyone at all.

They told each other that the present was all that was important. In the darkness they whispered New Age platitudes about how today was all anyone really had to offer. What difference did your past or future make when it wasn’t yours to give?

All of which sounded very trendy and free-thinking. Too bad it had absolutely nothing to do with the reality of their situation.

She would say she was premenstrual, but it had been so long since she’d had a normal period that she wasn’t sure she’d recognize the symptoms. How long had it been? Six months. Maybe even longer. She hated feeling this way, fragile and vulnerable. After a lifetime spent feeling needy, she’d finally discovered that strong was better. But why didn’t anyone ever tell you how hard it was to stay strong?