The Weight of Small Things (11 page)

18

T
he Coyote Club was dark and loud. Corrie followed Capri through the crowd of beautiful people, feeling completely out of place and grateful for Daniel’s steadying hand on her back. They found a small table near the stage and Capri headed for the bar. Daniel’s eyes never left Corrie. She felt them on her no matter which way she looked.

“You really do look amazing,” Daniel shouted above the noise.

“I feel like an adult chaperoning the prom.” Corrie laughed. “I feel ancient!”

Capri returned with drinks and another young woman in tow.

“This is Mia,” she said, “the love of my life!”

She turned toward the spiked-haired blond she held by the hand and planted a long, wet kiss on her lips. Corrie shook her hand and smiled. And then the two young women were gone, off toward the dance floor, leaving Corrie and Daniel alone at the table.

Corrie sipped at the drink Capri had set before her. “God!” she sputtered. “What is that?”

Daniel took a sip and smiled. “Vodka tonic,” he said. “Capri’s drug of choice. Do you want me to get you something else?”

“No.” Corrie tried to smile. “It’s fine.”

They sat in silence, watching Capri writhe with her girlfriend to the throbbing beat of the music. It was too loud to talk, too crowded, too hot, too . . . hip. Corrie rubbed her temples, which were beginning to ache.

“Come on.” Daniel stood, holding his hand out to her.

She stared at him, then laughed. “God, no! I am
not
going to dance!”

Daniel grinned down at her. “I wasn’t asking you to. Let’s go.”

“What about Capri?”

“She’ll go home with Mia,” he said. “Come on . . . before my eardrums burst.”

He steered her back toward the door, waving at Capri as they left.

She followed him to the car, feeling disoriented and slightly disconcerted.

“So, all that prep for five minutes?” she asked as he started the car.

“Isn’t five minutes enough?”

“Yes,” she admitted. “I guess it is.”

Daniel turned the car west on the Santa Monica Freeway.

“Where are we going?” Corrie asked, staring at the palm trees flashing by.

“To the beach.”

“The beach? I can’t go to the beach like this.”

“Why?”

“Daniel, I can barely stand in these shoes on solid ground. I certainly can’t do it on the beach.”

“So leave them in the car,” he said, reaching up to open the car’s sunroof.

“I think I’d better just head back to the hotel,” she said. “I have an early—”

“You’re meeting Maya, I know. But you can’t come all the way to California and not see the ocean.”

They parked the car and walked out on the pier. Behind them, the lights of the city spread out for miles. Ahead, the ocean churned, dark and choppy.

“Feels like it’s going to rain,” Corrie said, wishing she’d brought a jacket. The air was chilly by the water.

“Good, we need it.”

Corrie leaned against the railing, staring at the dark expanse of water.

“I love the ocean,” Daniel said. “It’s so . . . limitless. You feel like you could just get in a boat and go anywhere, you know?”

Corrie shivered. “I think I’ll keep my feet on dry land.”

“Are you cold? Here, take my jacket.” Daniel pulled off his blazer and wrapped it around her shoulders. Corrie breathed in the scent of him, inhaling deeply.

“I’m sorry about last night, Corrie.”

“Don’t worry about it.” She didn’t look at him.

“I was a jerk,” he said. “You are happily married, and I had no right to kiss you.”

They stood in silence, listening to the waves hurl themselves at the shore.

“It just felt like old times, you know? Like when we were in college and everything was right.”

Corrie didn’t answer. She breathed in the scent from Daniel’s jacket, feeling the butterflies in her stomach that had been absent for so many years.

“We’d better go,” she said. “I really do have to get back to the hotel.”

Sighing, he followed her to the car and drove back to the apartment.

“I’ll just change and get going,” Corrie said, eyeing the patio where they’d kissed the night before.

“Have a glass of wine first. Just one,” he said quickly, before she could respond. “Just one glass of wine for old times’ sake. I have a nice pinot noir.”

Corrie walked out to the patio while he disappeared into the kitchen. When he returned, he carried a tray with two glasses, a bottle of wine, a loaf of bread, cheese, and strawberries.

“You need to eat something,” he said, smiling. “And so do I.” They were eating bread and cheese, sipping wine, and talking idly about college days when Corrie’s cell phone rang. She scanned the caller ID. Bryn’s apartment. Corrie frowned.
Damn! I thought she left him for good this time
.

“Hey, Bryn, what’s up?”

“Corrie? It’s Paul.”

“Paul? Oh . . . uh, hi.”

“Where’s Bryn?”

“I’m sorry, Paul. But she doesn’t want to see you.”

“Look, she might not want to see me, but she damned well
needs
to see me. God, Corrie, I’m going out of my mind. I need to make sure she’s okay.”

“She’s okay, Paul.”

“Then where is she staying? I called your house and Mark said you’re out of town. So where the hell is Bryn?”

“Paul, I am not going to tell you where she is. She doesn’t want to see you.”

“I just need to talk to her. I need to make sure she’s all right.”

Corrie sighed. “She’s fine, I promise. She’s staying with a friend.”

“What friend?”

“I’m hanging up now, Paul.”

She flipped the phone closed, leaned back, and sighed.

“So I guess Bryn is finally leaving old Paul for good,” Daniel said. “It’s about time.”

Corrie nodded. “He’s no good for her. He never has been.”

“Maybe she and Bob will hook up?”

Corrie laughed. “I don’t think so. Bryn is
not
the homebody type.” She shook her head. “I don’t see Bryn settling down anytime soon.”

“Not like you,” Daniel said. “You are nicely settled down.”

“Yes,” she said with a slight smile. “I suppose I am.”

He filled her glass again. “And are you happy?”

“I guess so.” She sipped the wine, felt the smooth, easy buzz of good red wine.

“You guess so? Don’t you know so?”

She stood, carrying her glass to the railing, and looked out at the lights of the San Gabriel Valley sparkling below. “I’m happy enough.”

“And how much is that . . . happy enough?”

Corrie didn’t answer. How much was happy enough?

“You deserve more than that, Corrie. You deserve fireworks and champagne and . . . and bliss.”

“That’s not real,” she replied sadly. “Fireworks and bliss don’t last forever.”

“Why not?” he asked, rising to stand beside her. “Why can’t bliss last forever? You and I kept it going for four years. . . . Why couldn’t it last forever?”

“Because you left.” Corrie’s voice was flat.

“And I’ll never forgive myself for that. I’ll pay for it forever.” His voice was tired.

Corrie turned to him, reached out to touch his face.

“You’ll never know,” she said softly.

He looked at her, his eyes narrowed.

“Corrie, last night on the phone, you said I left you . . . but you didn’t say ‘me,’ you said ‘us.’ ”

Corrie shook her head, turning away.

“Why did you say that?”

Corrie felt her legs begin to tremble so hard she had to clutch the rail for support. The tears she’d fought all day spilled over, trickling down her face.
God! I can’t do this. I have to get out of here.

She turned to go, but Daniel had her by the arm. “Corrie?” His voice was soft.

“I was pregnant when you left.”

She let the tears come, leaning heavily against him, sobbing into his chest.

“I was pregnant . . . and you left.”

“Oh my God, I didn’t know. Oh, Corrie-Andy, I didn’t know.”

At the sound of the name—the name only Daniel called her—Corrie gave up all pretense of holding it together.

“You left me . . . you left me alone, and I was pregnant, and I didn’t know what to do.” She smacked at him, pulling away, hitting at his stomach, his arms, finally connecting with his jaw. “You bastard! You left us both!”

“Shhhhh,” Daniel whispered, pulling her tight to him. “Shhhhh. Oh, Corrie-Andy, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” He whispered it over and over again until her sobs quieted.

“What happened?” he asked finally.

“I had an abortion,” Corrie hissed. “I killed the baby.”

She pulled away from him and began pacing. “I killed our baby, and now I can’t have any more. I can’t have any more because I killed our baby.”

“Did the doctor say that?”

She shook her head, her curls now hanging limply around her face. “But I know that’s why. God is punishing me.”

“Bullshit!”

The word exploded in the air, startling them both.

“I mean it, Corrie. That’s bullshit! Millions of women have abortions every year and then have other babies. If there is a God—and that’s a big
if
in my book—but if there is, I can’t believe he’d punish you like that. You . . . God, Corrie! You always do the right thing. You always take care of everybody. What kind of God would be that cruel?

“Look.” He pulled her close again. “I don’t know why you can’t get pregnant, but I promise you—I
promise
you—it’s not because you had an abortion. I mean, that wasn’t even your fault, honey. That was
my
fault. I’m the one who left. I’m the one who walked out. If you have to blame someone, blame me.”

He held her while she cried, wiping her tears on his sleeve until it was a sodden mess. Finally, he began kissing her cheek, her forehead, her nose. She raised her face to his, and he kissed her mouth. All of the longing, all of the pain, all of the hurt she’d been feeling swept away in the force of that kiss. She pushed herself closer to him, eager for his taste, his smell, his hands. His kisses were hard, bruising. His hands were hot where they touched her. He took her breath away.

He led her inside, to the back bedroom, and slowly undressed her, kissing each bit of newly exposed skin.

Afterward, they lay together quietly, Corrie resting her head on his chest. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so relaxed and complete.

Daniel traced his finger along the scar on her leg.

“How’s your mom?” he asked softly.

“The same.” Corrie turned away from him, her cheeks reddening.

“I’m sorry.” He pulled her shoulder until she faced him.

“Stay,” Daniel whispered.

“What?”

“Stay,” he repeated. “Stay here . . . with me.”

He pulled her tight against him. “Seriously, Corrie, you should stay. Capri’s moving out. We could be together, like before. I’ve got contacts at some of the local papers. I could help you get a job . . . a real job.

“Think about it! You could work for a real newspaper and write about things that matter. Maybe you could do a story now and then about the center. . . . Oh, and you could do grant writing for the center. We could really use you.”

Corrie pulled away from him. “I can’t stay, Daniel. I shouldn’t even be here now.”

“Just think about it. You could move in here. I’ve got the rent covered. We’d be happy. . . . Maybe we could adopt a baby.”

Corrie lay in silence. What would it be like, living with Daniel again? Sharing this apartment, eating together every night on the patio, working for a newspaper. She let her mind drift over the possibilities.

“Just think about it,” Daniel repeated. Then, abruptly, he said, “I’ve got to take a leak.”

He went to the bathroom, leaving Corrie alone in the four-poster, her thoughts scattered, her body sated.

The phone by the bed rang.

“Daniel?”

But he didn’t hear her.

Finally, the answering machine picked up and Corrie was startled into the present by a woman’s voice, soft and purring.

“Hey, lover, it’s me. Just wondering what time you’re picking me up on Friday. God, I can’t believe we have the whole weekend! I’ve got some lovely new toys. Oh, we’re going to have fun. Call me.”

The machine clicked. Corrie looked up to see Daniel standing in the doorway to the bedroom.

“It’s not what you think,” he said.

“It’s not?” Corrie sat up in bed, clutching the sheet to her chest.

“I mean, it is but it’s not. She’s not, we’re not . . . she’s married. We just have fun together sometimes.” Daniel sat down on the edge of the bed, his voice pleading.

“So . . . you have a habit of sleeping with married women.” Corrie was out of bed now, pounding down the hall to collect her clothes from Capri’s room.

Daniel followed.

“Corrie, it’s not like that. You’re not like that.” He grabbed at her arm, but she pulled away.

“Apparently, I am like that!” Her voice rose, and she felt a sob catch in her throat.

“Corrie!”

She slammed the door to Capri’s room in his face and began pulling on her own clothes. Daniel banged on the door, but thankfully, he didn’t open it.

Once dressed, Corrie grabbed her shoes and purse, opening the door to find Daniel blocking her way.

“Let me go!” She pushed at him hard, forcing him to step backward.

“Corrie, wait! Can’t we talk about it? Can you please just calm down so we can talk?” He reached for her arm, touched her face with his other hand.

Corrie wrenched her arm from his grip and ran for the door. For the second time in two days she was running down the stairs, away from the apartment, away from Daniel. This time, he didn’t follow.