Slim Chance (22 page)

“You must be Eve,” he said, licking his lips. He moved in to kiss me on the cheek.

“Nice to meet you,” I said, extending a hand instead. “And it’s Evie.”

“Whoa! So formal! Billy said you knew how to have a good time—I hope he was right!”

I grinned feebly.

“Let’s get going…my car’s out front and I hate the thought of her being all alone. No need to worry, though—I slipped the doorman a few bucks to watch her for me.”

“Good thinking,” I said.

He ran ahead of me through the lobby when he noticed that the doorman was inside on the phone instead. I seriously considered getting back into the elevator that second, but I figured it might make an interesting anecdote for my memoirs (
Cos
mopolitan,
August: “10 Great Careers You Can Have from Home”).

“Let me get that for you,” he said when I finally made my way outside. “The handle can be a little tricky on this side.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t touch it,” I told him.

“So, Eve, you ever been in a Porsche before?” he asked as we headed for FDR Drive.

“Is that what this is?” I asked as disinterestedly as I could. “Where are we going?”

“I thought you might like to see how she handles on the highway. If there’s no traffic, I’ll open ’er up—you won’t believe the ride!”

“Don’t you find it pointless having a car in the city?”

“Naw—this baby makes it all worth it. But you’ve got to be willing to make sacrifices. I don’t even wanna tell you how much I pay for parking every month…$450! Can you believe that! What a racket. Well, nobody can say I’m not a devoted daddy!”

“That’s sick.” What a vile creature. Morgan was really going to get it. Preston wasn’t even remotely cute—there was more hair on his knuckles than on his head, and I could only assume he’d gotten dressed in the dark. Not only that, but he drove like an asshole. “Uh, could you slow down, please? You cut that guy off,” I said, looking back. “I think he might have hit the wall.”

“That shitbox? It shouldn’t even be allowed on the road. So, where you wanna go for dinner?”

“Didn’t you make reservations somewhere?”

“Nah. I just figured we’d see where the night takes us….” He stared at my legs.

“Hey—eyes on the road,” I said.

“Well, I’ll be honest with you, Eve. I thought if you were a real dog, we’d just grab a quick drink at some hotel bar. But Billy was right—you’re not bad. So dinner it is! You got any ideas?”

“Um, maybe we could just get that drink. I guess Morgan forgot to tell you, but I’ve already got plans for later.”

“Oh. Okay,” he said as we slowed for traffic on the exit ramp, but he was distracted by some sort of roadblock up ahead.

“I think it’s just one of those spot-checks,” I said. “They’re doing them a lot on the weekends now. You know, to check for drunk drivers.”

He checked the rearview mirror nervously, as if he were contemplating backing up the ramp. A car pulled up behind us and he slammed his palms against the steering wheel in frustration.

“You’re not
wasted,
are you?” I asked. That would be rich.

“No. But hold on.” He threw the gear shift into Second and squealed around the car in front of us.

“What are you doing?” I screamed.

“I’m blowing it!” he shouted as he made for a spot between two parked police cars. Fortunately, there wasn’t even close to enough room for us to pass through, and the cop standing there slapped his light stick down on the windshield. Preston lowered the window.

“What’s the problem here, officer?” he snapped.

“Turn off the engine. You in some kind of hurry, buddy?” The cop asked. “You can’t wait your turn?”

“Ha! You see, my girlfriend here isn’t feeling well. I’m bringing her to the hospital.”

I smiled and waved.

“She looks fine to me. License and registration.”

Preston made a face and handed them over. The cop walked slowly back to his cruiser.

“What the hell’s the matter with you?” I shouted. “Are you brain damaged?”

“Calm down, calm down. When he gets back, just tell him you’re really sick. We’ll say…what’ll we say…help me out here if you have any ideas… Got it! We’ll say you’re pregnant and that you think you’re losing the baby! Yeah! Just bend over and moan or something…they’ll have to let us through right away.”

Before I could tell him that I would be doing no such thing, the cop came back and said, “Mr. Betancourt, it seems your dri
ver’s permit was suspended three months ago for $1400 in unpaid speeding fines and failure to appear. Please step out of the vehicle, sir.”

“There must be some kind of mistake. I
paid
those tickets!”

“Sir, please step out now. We’re impounding your vehicle.” Preston turned white as a sheet. I guess he didn’t see the poetry in it. “Unless…” the cop continued, “
she
has a valid license,” he said, motioning towards me with his pen.

“No! No! She can’t drive my car!” Poor guy. He was in a real snit. “She doesn’t drive standard!”

“Yes I do, officer. And I have a valid license.”

“Either she drives,” the cop said, “or we impound the vehicle. What’ll it be?” Preston reluctantly stepped out and came around to the passenger’s side. I slipped behind the wheel and turned the key.

The cop handed Preston two tickets. “Driving without a valid permit, that’s $350, and driving without a seat belt, $50. You’re lucky I don’t put down attempting to blow a roadblock, too—that’s a criminal offense. I could arrest you for that.”

It had been a while since I drove stick. A few years ago, when Bruce was driving his dad’s old Caddy, he gave me lessons in the parking lot of the high school around the corner from our place. At the time, I didn’t see the importance of it, especially since I was never really any good. But now, I was delighted to be able to help.

“Here goes!” I said, grinding the gearshift into what I thought was First. I eased off the clutch and onto the gas. The car lurched backward. Cops scattered out of the way.

“That’s reverse!” he yelled, clutching at his chest.

I laughed. “Whoops!” Slowly, we inched forward, gathering speed. I popped it into Second. The engine purred agreeably. “This is fun! Let’s take ’er out on the highway!” Preston stared at me in abject horror.

As soon as we were safely out of view, he made me get out so he could drive.

“Take me home immediately,” I demanded.

“What about our drink?”

“I’ve had enough fun for tonight.”

“I had a blast!” I told Morgan and Billy when they walked in the door an hour later.

They looked at each other in surprise.

“Really? I didn’t think you’d actually have fun,” she admitted.

“Well that shows how much you know,” I said. “I got to drive a Porsche!”

“He let you drive his car?”
Billy gasped.

I nodded.

“That doesn’t make sense….” he mumbled to himself.

“Why not?” I asked him. I wanted them both to admit they’d set me up with a complete psycho.

“Why are you home so early?” Morgan asked, her suspicion growing.

“I was having too much fun—I thought we’d save some for our next date.”

“What happened, Evie…”

“Oh, you know, the usual. He tried to blow a police roadblock and almost got us shot and killed.”

Morgan rolled her eyes and slapped Billy on the arm. “You said he wasn’t a loser,” she yelled at him.

“Wait. I
never
said that. All I said was that he’s a fun guy. And he is. Happy hour with Preston is a blast. Once, he got the waitress at MacDougall’s to give us free pitchers all night because he convinced her we were beer critics from the
Times…
” Billy laughed to himself and shook his head..

“I thought
you
knew him, Morgan!” I shouted.

She tried not to laugh, too. “I’m
so
sorry, Evie. Technically, I never met him. But I screened him on the phone for you, and he sounded fine. Was he at least cute?”

“Nope. Not even close.”

She slapped Billy again. “What?” he said. “How am I supposed to know if a guy’s cute or not. He seems okay to me.”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. This merely confirms what I’ve suspected for weeks—that Bruce was the only man for me and that I’m destined to die miserable and alone, having blown my one true shot at happiness. Good night to the both of you,” I said curtly and went off to my room.

Since neediness is one of the surest ways to lose a man’s interest (
Allure,
March: “Are You Scaring Him Away?”), I waited until after my third session with Dr. Shloff to call Bruce and apologize about the incident in the park. This way, I reasoned, he’d be dazzled by my newfound insightfulness and unable to resist me. Or at least resist hanging up on me.

We had a pretty good conversation—very open and honest, although we avoided the subject of Daphne for the most part. Not only did I not want to know, but I didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. He seemed glad that I was still going to Dr. Shloff, and he agreed with me that I’d had a bit of a breakthrough about the whole wedding dress thing.

“It doesn’t make me feel very good to think you might not have wanted to marry me, but at least you’re making progress,” he said.

“The beauty of the theory is that it’s not all my fault—the having doubts part, I mean, not that, uh, other stuff. I was motivated by subconscious fears and issues!”

“Maybe I was pushing you into all of it,” he said. “You weren’t ready.”

“Bruce, you can’t blame yourself.”

“I’m not.”

“Oh. Good.”

“But maybe I should have waited until we’d talked openly about getting engaged instead of steamrolling ahead. I just wanted it to be romantic, you know?”

“It was,” I assured him.

“Until you puked.”

“Until I puked,” I said, then giggled as adorably as I could.

Things were going so well that I even told him about my ill-fated date (including the fact that Morgan had forced me into it, just for good measure). He laughed at all the right places, and asked if I planned on going out with Preston again. I knew he was joking, but still—it definitely denoted interest on some level. We didn’t make plans to see each other or anything, but he did say I could stop by and pick up my mail anytime.

I’d barely hung up the phone when it rang again. I figured it was Bruce, impulsively calling back to ask me out, but it was Mom.

“I have to keep the line free, Bruce is calling me back.”

“Why? Is there something I don’t know?” She’d probably be happier over a reconciliation than I would be.

“We’re finally starting to be on good terms again and I don’t want to miss his call,” I said. “Seriously, I have to go.”

“That’s good, Evelyn. That’s very good. Do you really think there’s a chance he’ll take you back, after what you did?”

“
Mom,
I’m hanging up,” I said, and almost did.

“Wait! I have to tell you something. Are you sitting down?”

Please, don’t let her and Albert be getting married.
I couldn’t take another surprise engagement. I was far too fragile for this right now.

“What is it?”

“Well, I’m not sure exactly how you’re going to feel about this, but your grandfather died.”

“Oh.”

“Apparently, he’d been in the hospital for quite some time. Even Lucia didn’t know. He had lung cancer,” she sighed. “My father never smoked a day in his life.”

I’d never even met my grandfather, so I didn’t feel too weird about it, but for Mom, it was a different story. I knew she’d always secretly hoped he’d forgive her one day. “Are you okay?” I asked.

“I’m fine,” she said. “When it’s your time to go, it’s your time to go. I should know that better than anyone. Death is going to take every one of us, Evelyn, even you, so there’s no sense in getting all worked up about it now. The man lived a long life.” Mom could be very pragmatic when it came to things like this. Still, there was no need to remind me that I’d be worm food one day. “To die alone, though,” she continued thoughtfully, “…well, I suppose that was his own choice.”

“Do you want me to come over?”

“Thank you, Evelyn, but you stay there. Albert is here, and I’m really fine. I promise. And Lucia’s on her way. But the funeral’s the day after tomorrow. There won’t be any visitation or a mass or anything like that—his priest will say a few words at the cemetery and that’s about it. If you want to come…”

“Of course.”

T
he only people who came to Ray Valerio’s funeral were me, Bruce, Claire, Mom, Albert, Auntie Lucy and some old woman who’d apparently fed his cats while he was in the hospital. If he had any friends, they didn’t bother to show. Or maybe they had no idea that he’d even died. There was nobody to call and tell them.

When I phoned Bruce to tell him what had happened, he immediately insisted on coming, out of respect for Mom. Secretly, I hoped that he was looking for an excuse to see me, but since he still spoke to both Mom and Claire on a regular basis—probably more often than I did—it was most likely a combination of both. It was nice of him, and I was glad to have him there. I’d told Morgan not to bother coming, although she’d also offered. It wasn’t that big a deal. I never knew the man, after all.

The worst part of it all for me was that I didn’t have a thing to wear. The only item I still had that fit me was that stretchy ocelot dress from the engagement party, which I hadn’t thrown out because it looked even better after I’d lost more weight. Unfortunately, it was almost surely inappropriate for a funeral. I
ended up buying a cheap summer dress for $29.99 at K-Mart that doesn’t bear description. To add a much-needed touch of class, I also wore the diamond tennis bracelet Bruce gave me for Christmas.

The only other funeral I’d ever been to was Claire’s sister, who died about ten years ago. This one was much quicker. The priest struggled painfully to find a few nice things to say, Lucy cried when they lowered the casket into the earth, and then we all went to Mom’s to eat. Except, thank God, for Albert, who had to go back to work.

“Bruce, how’s your mother doing?” Mom asked as she filled his plate with lasagna and salad. It wasn’t weird at all, having Bruce around. It felt familiar and comfortable, except that he was still having a hard time looking me in the eye.

“She’s fine. Still a little upset about all those nonrefundable deposits, I think. But she’s doing okay.”

Claire laughed.

“Maybe Evelyn should offer to help pay for those,” Mom said matter-of-factly.

“Mom!
Please.
” It was humiliating enough that the entire family plus Albert knew about my little indiscretion. I didn’t need to be publicly reminded of it every time we sat down to dinner, too.

“Uh, I don’t think that’s necessary,” Bruce offered. “Evie’s got enough financial responsibilities for the time being.”

“You’re too good to her, Bruce,” Mom said.

I grinned weakly at him.

“Isn’t this a time when we should be talking about Dad?” Lucy asked. She hadn’t said much since we got back from the cemetery.

Mom rolled her eyes. “Fine, Lucia. Is there anything you’d like to say?”

“He had his good points, you know. Don’t tell me you don’t remember. He was an okay father back in the day. Strict as hell, but fair. And he absolutely adored Mom. Did you know that when she was sick, he brought her fresh flowers every day?
Every day for six months, just to brighten her room.” Mom glared at her skeptically. “I’m not saying he was right, Lilly, how he treated you, but he wasn’t all bad, either. Evie deserves to know that.”

“I was his only grandkid, and he never wanted to meet me,” I told her.

“Oh, I bet he did. Probably more than anything. But that would have meant him admitting he was wrong, and that was a little more than he could handle,” she said. “He was so stubborn. It was ridiculous. And look what he missed out on! We could all learn a little something from him in that respect.” At least now I knew where I got it from.

“Yes, yes, Lucia, that’s fine,” Mom said impatiently.

Lucy ignored her. “You know, Evie, I never really noticed, but you have his eyes. You definitely have his eyes.”

I did? There was nothing particularly special about my eyes. Boring brown, although I’d flirted with green contacts for a while (
Glamour,
October: “Grabbing What Mother Nature Never Gave You”).

“She also inherited his financial irresponsibility,” Mom said. “Which brings me to something I wanted to discuss with you, Evie, and now’s as good a time as any. Bruce, you’re a part of the family…well, you were anyway,” she corrected herself, and shot me a dark look. “…so I’m sure nobody will mind if you hear this, too.”

Lucy nodded in agreement.

“It seems that your grandfather has willed his house to you.”

“What?”

“Hey, Evie, that’s great!” Bruce said.

“But what does that mean?” I asked.

“That means it’s yours,” Lucy said.

Surely there was a catch. Why would he give it to me? He hated me. “Why didn’t you get it, Lucy? Because you live in London?”

“No, because I guess he wanted you to have it. He loved that house very much. Your mom and I grew up there.”

“I know it’s in Carroll Gardens somewhere, but I’ve never actually seen it,” I told them.

“It’s an old brownstone,” Mom said. “Probably needs renovations.”

“At least it’s in a good neighborhood. I bet it’s not that far from our place,” I said.

“You mean
my
place,” Bruce added.

“Sorry, Bruce.
Your
place.”

“A house is a very big responsibility, Evie,” Mom cautioned shrilly. “It’s not something to be taken lightly.”

“I know, I know.”

“I’m sure you have absolutely no idea,” she said.

“Leave her alone, Lilly. Don’t spoil it,” Lucy said, and smiled at me. “I’ve known for a few years that Dad was planning to do this, you know. And boy am I glad I never told Roderick. When we were here in January, he paid all the back taxes on the place. It was either that or put Dad into a home, which would have been a lot more expensive.”

“What a loving gesture,” I said.

Lucy laughed loudly. “Dad told him to consider the tax bill my dowry. Man, was he pissed when I told him the house was going to Evie.”

Mom snorted in delight.

“I thought Roderick didn’t come because he was too embarrassed to see us,” I said. “After that whole thing with Diana.”

Lucy shrugged. “I don’t know, but I’m sure that’s part of it. Don’t worry, though, he’s not mad at you, Evie. He’ll get over this…he always does. Poor, dear Roderick,” she sighed.

“Oh, he does it to himself,” Mom snapped.

“He’s constantly humiliated over one thing or another. You know, I’m beginning to wonder if I should be, too, by association. Ahhh, I suppose he’s just my cross to bear,” Lucy giggled. What she saw in him was anyone’s guess.

“Well, I think it’s wonderful,” Claire said, raising her wine-glass. “Congratulations, Evie.”

We left Mom’s as soon as Albert showed up after work. Sensing I was a little frazzled, Bruce took pity on me and asked me over for some coffee.

“Thanks,” I told him as he poured me a cup. “We need to talk.”

“Uh-oh. Maybe we could just watch TV instead.”

“Seriously, Bruce. I feel really bad. About a lot of stuff. Like what you said about your mom. Is she really mad? This must have cost your parents a fortune.” In all my self-absorption these last couple of months, I hadn’t really thought about what calling off the wedding would mean for them.

“Don’t worry about it—it wasn’t that much. A few thousand bucks. To tell you the truth, I think she’s actually pretty relieved about the whole thing. I heard her telling one of her friends that you’d always been unstable, so she wasn’t surprised.”

“That makes me feel a whole lot better.”

“Hey, I’m just being honest.”

“Well, I was going to say I should call her and apologize, but now I think I’ll stick to my earlier plan.”

“That it would be a cold day in hell before you apologize to my mother for anything?”

“Exactly.” This felt good—just like old times.

“Yeah, I think that would be best. Although my dad might like to hear from you. Just to say hi or something.”

He was right—I should have called him. “Okay. If you think he wouldn’t mind hearing from me. Do, uh, they know why we…. called it off?”

“Not my mom. But my dad does.”

“You
told
him.”

“Yeah.”

“God, I’m so embarrassed.”

He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Well, maybe you don’t have to be.”

“Why not?”

He made a face, and said, “I wasn’t going to tell you this, and I only will if you promise not to tell anyone, okay? Especially your mother.”

“Okay,” I said.

“Well,” he said, taking a deep breath, “my dad told me that the same kind of thing happened to them once.”

“Your mother had an affair?”
Ha! I had a feeling Bertie was harboring some sort of dark secret, and this finally confirmed my suspicions. I’d always figured she was probably a repressed lesbian or something. But this would do.

“No,” Bruce said. “My dad.”

“Get
out!
” I yelled.

“I’m not kidding. I still can’t believe he told me,” he said, shaking his head.

“With who?” I couldn’t imagine Bruce’s dad with anyone except his mom. And even then, it was a stretch.

“He didn’t really give me details, which is good because I definitely didn’t want any. But it was a long time ago, before the girls were born. He was out of town, speaking at some sort of preserves conference.”

“A sticky situation…”

“Ha, ha. It was a one-time thing. But when he got home, he told my mother right away.”

“And she forgave him?”

“Maybe she didn’t feel like she had much of a choice. I was just a baby.”

This explained a lot. “And I suppose he’s been trying to make it up to her ever since.”

“I don’t know. Probably.”

“Why do you think he told you?”

“Because I told him about us, I guess. Or maybe he just needed to get it off his chest. But it was kind of weird. When we were talking, he sounded okay with it, like he didn’t really regret it very much or something. Maybe because it was so long ago. I don’t know.”

This was my big chance.

“
I
regret it, Bruce,” I said.

He’d been playing with the sugar, but now he looked me square in the eyes. “I know,” he said. “But I still can’t believe you actually did that. I thought I knew you.”

“Imagine how I feel, knowing all this shit is my fault.”

“Sorry, Evie, but I feel a little worse for myself here.”

“Of course. Sorry,” I mumbled. I wished he could read my mind. Then he’d be able to see how much I regretted everything. “I want you to know that I would never ask or expect you to forgive me for this. What I did was unforgivable.”

“It was,” he agreed.

“And I don’t deserve anything from you. I don’t even know why you’re sitting with me here right now. You don’t owe me a thing.”

“I don’t,” he said.

“And I wish…I wish more than anything that I could take your hurt away,” I said. “And put it on myself.”

“For a while, I wished that, too. Along with some other things. Worse things.”

“But now…” I said hopefully.

“Now nothing. I’m still thinking up new ways to torture you.”

“Very funny.” I said. A joke. That was okay. “Have you come up with anything interesting?”

“I thought an old-fashioned tar-and-feathering would do. Or maybe just tossing you off the Brooklyn Bridge.”

“I’ve considered that myself…”

“Don’t joke about that,” he said seriously.

“What would you care?” A cheap and manipulative tactic, I admit, but more often than not, this sort of thing worked.

“Of course I’d care. I’d care a lot.” See?

“I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t,” I said.

“If you think I’m going to tell you not to be so hard on yourself, I can’t.”

“That’s okay, I’m not looking for absolution,” I said. “Feeling miserable is the only thing that makes me feel better, if you can believe that. Torturing myself helps the guilt go away.”

“
Absolution
…That’s a heavy word, Evie. Have you been talking to your mother?”

“Yes. She told me that if I said about three million Hail Marys, all would be forgotten.”

“Sounds like a start,” he said.

“Actually, I think I’ve finally accepted that there is no easy way out of this. I’m going to have to live with my mistakes for the rest of my life.”

“We all do.”

“There’s an upside, though. My mistakes are so huge and catastrophic that they dwarf everything else in my life, so I can’t help but learn something from them.”

“Have you really learned anything, aside from trying not to get caught when you cheat on your fiancé?”

“That’s a very dark way to look at this. And by the way, I know that getting caught wasn’t the mistake. But part of it was letting it come to that in the first place. I should have talked to you more, Bruce. I don’t think I really knew then why I was feeling everything that I was feeling, or why I was behaving the way I was, but maybe if I’d given you the benefit of the doubt, we could have talked it through before it was too late.”

“So why didn’t you?”

“I guess because I didn’t think you understood how important it was for me to be skinny, and I resented you for that. And then it all just got more and more out of control, and I felt completely alone, and even when I knew I was getting into trouble with it, and at work, and all that, I didn’t want to disappoint you. Or give you the satisfaction of being right. Or hurt you.”

“It sounds like Dr. Shloff is earning her fee.”

I got up and poured myself another cup of coffee, and topped it off with lots of cream. Getting this stuff off my chest was good, but I also wanted to know where he was at.

“What do you want from me, Bruce?” I asked. It was a fair question.

“Nothing.”

“Then why am I here?”

“You can go if you like,” he said.
Whoops!

“I’m serious,” I said. “Dr. Shloff thinks you should be confronting your feelings about me.”

“Does she?” he laughed. “That’s great. Tell her I’ve been doing that every waking minute for the last two months.”

“You have?”

“Of course. But I still haven’t figured any of it out. And I guess the reason you’re here is simply because I asked you.”

“You mean you want to be friends?”