If You Lived Here, You'd Be Home Now

by Claire Lazebnik

  He held on to my fingers too long, and I had to tug my hand away. “You look amazing tonight,” he said, his eyes running up and down the length of my body. “I had to tell you. Of all the women here, you’re channeling the whole theme like no one else. You look like a brunette Grace Kelly.”

  “Okay, that one I haven’t heard.”

  “I mean it. You have her delicate bone structure. My father worked with her in the fifties, you know.” I had no idea who his father was, but I didn’t really care. “Your dress”—he gestured—“she would have worn something like that.”

  “Yeah?” Plenty of people had told me I looked nice that night. What good did that do me? I was still alone, surrounded by couples. The only man paying me any attention was this guy and I just wanted him to go away.

  He wasn’t done with the personal comments. “Where’s the nose ring tonight? I miss it.”

  “It didn’t go with the dress.” And it was a stud, not a ring.

  “I don’t know why that kind of thing is so sexy, but it is. Not,” he said gallantly, “that you aren’t sexy without it.”

  “Thanks,” I said flatly.

  “It’s the good-girl-gone-bad vibe,” he continued. “Guys can’t resist it and you have it in spades. Hey, can you act? Are you interested in acting at all?”

  “Not really.”

  “You have the right look for this project I’m working on. A feature. If you wanted to come in one day—”

  I was tipsy and tired and depressed and rapidly losing patience. “How dumb do you think I am?” I said.

  “I’m serious.”

  “Sure you are.”

  “I am. You have that It quality. You know what I mean? You have It.”

  “The doctor told me antibiotics would take care of that.”

  He touched my arm again. “You like to joke around, don’t you?”

  I recoiled—and stepped back onto the toes of Andrew Fulton, who was standing behind me. Where had he come from? And how long had he been there? “Sorry,” I said, hopping off of him.

  “No worries,” he said. “Hi.” He nodded to Dane Miller. “Dane.”

  I wondered how much he’d overheard. I decided to fill him in, courtesy of the vodka I’d drunk: “Hi, Coach. Pammy’s dad misses my nose stud but thinks I’m still sexy without it and also that I have the It factor and should come give him a private audition on his casting couch one day.”

  Andrew processed that, his eyes flickering back and forth between us.

  Dane hastily said, “We were just joking around. This young lady is very funny.”

  “I’m a riot,” I agreed.

  “I need to talk to you,” Andrew said to me. “Excuse us, Dane.” He took me by the arm and propelled me across the gym floor. We didn’t say anything until we reached the far wall, where he let go of my arm. “There. Got you away. Sorry about that guy.”

  I absently rubbed my arm where Andrew had been holding it. It didn’t hurt but I could still feel the impression of his fingers there. Or imagined I could. “What’s up with him? Does that stuff actually work on anyone?”

  “I don’t know. I doubt it. His wife is here, so I don’t know what he was thinking.”

  “He’s a dick,” I said. “Dicks don’t think.”

  “Well put.”

  “Speaking of wives,” I said and stopped rubbing my arm, “where’s Gracie the Beautiful?”

  “She’s not my wife,” he said. “But she’s over there.” He nodded toward the center of the gym. I looked. Gracie was very animatedly talking to Marley Addison and James Foster. Marley was smiling at her with polite detachment, but James was yawning and glancing around the room.

  “Does she know them?”

  “Of course not. Not personally.” Andrew scowled. “Never date a PR person, Noah’s mom. They so much as smell a celebrity and they’re like dogs on a bone. She probably has some event she wants them to come to, so she pounced.” He shook his head irritably. “God, I hate this! It’s bad enough when we’re out around town and she spots some famous person, but here, at school, where I work… And, you know, Louis Wilson sees all. And he does not like celebrity parents being targeted like that.”

  I tried not to let him see how delighted I was that he was annoyed at his girlfriend. “Want me to get her away from them?” I said. “I could tell her that her car’s on fire or something.”

  “She’d let it burn,” he said grimly. “Just keep me company, will you?”

  “Sure.”

  There was a pause. He shuffled his feet restlessly, glancing quickly and unhappily at Gracie and the celebs again. “I can’t watch this anymore. I’ve got to get out of this room. Will you come with me?”

  “Sure,” I said again.

  He led me out the side door of the gym, swiping a couple of glasses of champagne off of a waiter’s tray on the way, and then down the hallway to his office. “Here, take this.” He handed me one of the champagne glasses so he could reach into his hip pocket.

  “Won’t she be mad that you left?”

  He pulled out a bunch of keys, selected one, and unlocked the door. “She’s already mad at me. What’s one more item on a long list?” He opened the door and gestured for me to go in. It was dark, and after I stepped inside I just stood there, enjoying the quiet after the chaos and noise of the casino room. Then Andrew flicked on the light and the spell was broken.

  He closed the door behind us with a hospitable gesture toward the extra chair. I sat down and took a sip of the champagne before remembering I had had enough to drink already. I carefully put the glass on the edge of the desk as Andrew circled around it and sat in his chair. Now it felt like we were about to have another meeting about Noah, except the coach was in a tuxedo and I was in a satin dress.

  A very formal meeting.

  But I didn’t want to talk about Noah tonight. So I said, “Why’s Gracie already mad at you?”

  Andrew put down his champagne glass and leaned forward, yanking at his hair in a comic gesture of despair. “Well, today’s big grievance is that I’ve ‘ruined her weekends’ by agreeing to coach T-ball. She likes being free to go away and now we’re stuck here for the season.”

  “Are you sorry you said you’d do it?”

  “Are you kidding? I love it. Especially with Noah and Joshua on the team—those two crack me up. I love watching them get better every week. And there are some other great kids too.” He waved his hand. “And by the way I really don’t need more nights spent at some dusty bed-and-breakfast in Cambria or some twee place like that, visiting precious little antique stores and eating too much French toast. Don’t need them, don’t want them, can’t afford them.”

  “Did you tell her that?”

  “Yes. Pretty much word for word.”

  “And?”

  “Well, first she pointed out that if I had stayed on my original career track, I would be able to afford it, no problem. So then I pointed out that even if I had, I still wouldn’t want to go to those places.”

  “And then?”

  He slumped back in his seat. “Oh, you know… She said I only care about what I want, not about what she wants. Which I guess is basically true.”

  I said slowly, “There’s the Noah thing on Sundays too. She must hate that.”

  “I’ve canceled it when she’s asked me to.”

  “But she does hate it?”

  He looked down at his hands. “Yeah, she hates it. It ‘ruins our Sundays’ the same way that coaching ‘ruins our Saturdays.’ ” He glanced up. “And, by the way, this thing tonight? It ‘ruined our Saturday night.’ ” He laughed shortly. “Or at least it did until Marley Addison showed up. I guess I should thank her for making this whole event worth going to for Gracie.” There was a pause. When neither of us was talking, you could hear the noise from the casino room but no distinct voices. Andrew said, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be complaining like this.”

  “You don’t have to help Noah on Sundays anymore,” I said. “I mean,
he sees you on Saturdays now. And if you didn’t have to come to our house, you guys could still get away for at least part of the weekend.”

  He thought about that for a moment then shook his head. “I don’t really want to.” He fidgeted, looked away, then looked at me again. “Let’s talk about something else.” There was a pause. He said abruptly, “I like your dress.”

  “Can we please not talk about this stupid dress?” I flicked at the skirt, which lay over my knees in satin folds. “I can’t tell you how many people have made some comment about how I look tonight. Am I normally such a slob that my wearing a dress is some huge topic of conversation? Don’t answer that.”

  “I won’t,” he said. “But yes.”

  “I’m more than happy to discuss your tux. You look good in it.”

  He glanced down at himself. “Gracie picked it out. I don’t know anything about this stuff.”

  “She has good taste.”

  “Yes, yes, she does.” Another pause. He said, “So we have our first game next week. Is Noah excited?”

  “I guess so. I’m terrified.”

  “Why?”

  “All that pressure. Like when he’s at bat. And he’s probably not going to do well. And I don’t know if you can hear them, but there are these dads who sit there and criticize—”

  “Those dads are dicks,” he said. “To borrow a term.”

  “Are you sure you’re allowed to say that in public?”

  “We’re not in public.” He took a sip from his champagne glass and put it down a little too hard so it clanged on the desk. “God, I hate those guys. They work against everything I’m trying to accomplish with these kids. You know, I actually have the right to ban them from games—I’m just waiting for them to say something bad enough for me to justify it to the head of the rec center.”

  “Why do there have to be people like that?” I said. “Why can’t everyone be relaxed and friendly and get that my kid is trying his hardest?”

  “I don’t know. There are always a few jerks in every crowd. But I’ll do my best to make sure Noah feels good about himself during the game.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “Anything you can do to help me get through it?”

  “I’d recommend a mild sedative.”

  “Yeah, that would help.” I wondered if he was as aware as I was of how alone we were in that little office with the door closed. I wondered whether he thought of me as just another mom at school whose kid needed extra attention, or as an interesting person in my own right. I wondered if he had been looking for me to keep him company just now, or if he had just stumbled across me by accident. I wondered why men looked so good in tuxes. I wondered—

  “We should probably go back to the gym,” he said abruptly into a silence I hadn’t realized had fallen.

  —I wondered if I was boring him.

  I stood up, and so did he. He came around the desk. I fiddled with my skirt a bit, fluffing it in back where I’d sat on it, smoothing it down in front. He watched me and said, “Maybe it’s a good thing you don’t dress like that all the time.”

  “Huh?” I looked up from my skirt-fussing.

  “Nothing.” He stepped toward the door. “Come on, Noah’s mom. Let’s get back to the party.”

  “Don’t call me that,” I said with a sudden tipsy vehemence.

  “Why not?”

  “I’m not just Noah’s mom. I know you think that’s all I am. But it’s not.”

  There was a pause. Then he said, “It’s the opposite, actually. I need to keep reminding myself that you’re Noah’s mom. Otherwise—” He stopped.

  “Otherwise what?” I asked, almost desperately.

  He reached out and touched my hair gently and I held my breath. He shook his head slightly and dropped his hand. “Oh, you know,” he said casually. “Wouldn’t want to send the wrong kid home with you in car pool.” He flicked his chin toward the door. “Come on. Let’s go.” He opened the door and held it for me.

  He stayed a foot or two behind me as we walked back into the gym. The belt at my waist felt a little too tight and I could feel the muscles in my calves aching and a blister forming on my right big toe from the unusually high heeled shoes I was wearing. I focused in on those things because it was easier than trying to figure out what had just happened. Or hadn’t happened.

  You want something bad enough, you start imagining it’s a possibility. Was that what I had been doing? Or had he actually looked at me like he wanted to touch me more? Maybe if I hadn’t had two martinis I’d have been clearer on the whole thing. But I had and I wasn’t.

  Marley Addison and James Foster had vanished. Good thing I hadn’t taken Maria’s bet. But Gracie was still standing near where she’d been when we left. She spotted us the second we walked in—she was looking—and swiftly approached, graceful in heels that were even higher than the ones I was wearing. She had to be well over six feet tall in them, which made her a couple of inches taller than Andrew.

  “There you are,” she snapped at Andrew. “Where were you?” Her eyes darted over to me and back to him. She put her hands on her hips.

  “Nowhere,” he said. “Just my office. I told you I wouldn’t stick around if you were going to go on the attack with Marley Addison.”

  “I wasn’t attacking anyone. We were just talking about some of the charitable events I’m working on—she was very interested and happy to help out. But thanks for your support.”

  “This wasn’t the place for that.”

  She shrugged that off irritably and turned to me. “Hi!” she said with a big, brittle smile. “So were you hiding away in his office too? What were you hiding from?”

  “I was just keeping him company.” And he complained about you the whole time, I thought. Now that she was standing in front of me, it felt like he and I were keeping a guilty secret. I couldn’t meet her eyes.

  She said icily, “How nice of you.”

  “Rickie is Noah Allen’s mom,” Andrew said quickly, like he was in a rush to make that clear. “We were talking about the T-ball game Noah’s playing in next week.”

  “Oh, right—the Saturday morning league,” she said, her voice even colder. Sub-Arctic. “Noah’s the kid you coach on Sunday mornings too, right?”

  “It’s really nice of him,” I said. “Noah’s kind of bad at sports and—”

  “Don’t worry,” she said, cutting me off. “Andrew will take care of that. Nothing Andrew likes better than to spend all his free time helping out little kids who can’t play sports. That’s pretty much all he likes to do on the weekends these days.”

  “Gracie,” he said like it was a warning, but she turned her back on him.

  “Would you mind if he missed tomorrow’s little session with your son?” she asked me as if he weren’t even there. “I was just wondering because we had talked about maybe driving up the coast to Santa Barbara for the day. There’s this amazing taco place we both love and it’s been a while since we’ve made it there.”

  “Oh, of course,” I said uncomfortably. “I don’t want to mess up your plans. Don’t worry about—”

  “Hold on a second.” Andrew didn’t raise his voice, but he sounded angry. “I want to work on Noah’s batting a little more before the game. So I’m coming tomorrow.”

  Gracie raised her chin. “She said it’s fine if you don’t.”

  “I want to go.”

  She tossed her head back, and her beautiful golden hair swirled up then settled back into perfect place. “So you care more about some kid’s batting practice than about going with me to Santa Barbara?”

  “The tacos aren’t that great,” he said.

  “Then maybe I should find someone else to go with.”

  He studied her thoughtfully, no sign of emotion on his face. I studied him with probably lots of emotion in play across my face, but fortunately no one was watching me. “You should do what you want,” he said quietly.

  She flung up her arms. Her beautiful, slender, pale, smooth arms. No
t a tattoo on them. “That’s a classic Andrew response,” she said. “Helpful as always. So caring. So invested. So you.”

  “What do you want from me?” he asked like he was curious, not angry.

  She glanced at me and then looked back at him. “Well, for one thing, I’d like you to walk out to the car with me so we can continue this conversation in private.”

  “Of course.” He inclined his head a little. “Excuse us, Rickie.”

  She walked away without saying anything to me and he followed close behind.

  I watched them go, wondering if I’d see him again that evening. Wondering if this was a normal fight for them. Wondering if they were the kind of couple who fought a lot because they had great make-up sex. Wondering if any part of him was wishing he didn’t have to leave with her but could stay there with me.

  I was sick of wondering. But there was no one to give me any answers.

  Dad was sitting all alone in a corner of the gym. Just sitting there on a folding chair, humming quietly to himself and jogging his knee up and down rhythmically while people bustled past him.

  “Hi,” I said. I leaned against the wall next to him; there weren’t any more available chairs. “How’s it going?”

  “Fine, fine.” A pause. “I’m ready to go home.”

  “Yeah? How long have you been sitting here?”

  “I’m not sure,” he said. “I’ve been lost in thought.”

  “I bet. Where’s Mom?”

  He made a vague gesture. “Around. Mingling. She thrives on all this, you know.”

  “Yeah, I’ve noticed. What about Mel and Gabriel?”

  “They sweep by every now and then.”

  “They seem happy to you?”

  “I’m not the right person to ask. They seemed perfectly happy to me when they were on the verge of separating.” He reached up to pat me on the back. “So how are you doing, little girl? Having fun in your pretty green dress?”

  “It’s red,” I said. Dad was color blind but it hadn’t occurred to me until then that he had the color of the dress wrong.

  “Is it?” he said.

  We stopped talking then and just waited there in silence, me standing, him sitting, while other people whirled and moved and laughed around us.