To Have and to Hate

by R.S. Grey

  After an hour, we move from the shoe department over to the designer clothes. Since I don’t really have any interest in shopping the sale myself, I’m designated as the “Here, hold this” person. My arms are laden with shirts and jeans and dresses as the two of them make their way through racks of clothes in record time.

  Every now and then, I chance a peek at a price tag and try not to audibly gasp at how outrageously expensive everything is. Three thousand dollars for a jacket. Another thousand for glorified sweatpants. I keep telling myself they’re only trying things on, dwelling on that delusion because I don’t want to continue raining on their parade.

  “Miss, would you like me to take those from you? Sorry, we’ve been absolutely flooded today,” a sales associate tells me as she reaches to collect everything in my arms.

  “Oh, sure. Yes. Thank you.”

  “What’s your name? I can start a dressing room for you.”

  “Our items are all mixed in there,” my mom tells her.

  The sales associate smiles. “That’s fine. Why don’t I set you guys up in a large dressing room and you can go in together?”

  “Perfect,” Charlotte says with glee.

  This is truly her idea of the best day ever.

  The pit in my stomach grows more the longer I stay in the store. My carefully crafted delusion starts to fissure and crack each time my mom or Charlotte agrees something is a “must buy”.

  I try, in vain, once more to remind them of reality. “Mom, you have enough clothes. Seriously, do you really need another jacket?”

  At that, something snaps in her.

  “Enough, Elizabeth!”

  I jolt in surprise as heat floods my cheeks. My mom doesn’t usually raise her voice. She’s used to getting her way with guilt, so for her to outright yell at me…well, it shocks me enough to zip my lips from that point forward.

  I trail behind them as they check out, looking away from the register, not quite caring anymore what they decide to spend on their shopping spree.

  “Now, let’s see your apartment,” my mom tells me once we’re out on the sidewalk again, loaded up with hefty shopping bags.

  She turns to me, all smiles now that she’s riding the high of consumerism.

  I stop dead in my tracks, wearing a deer-in-headlights expression. “What?”

  “Yes.” She nods. “Let’s see your place. I’m exhausted from being on my feet all day. We can order dinner in and relax for a bit before we drive home.”

  “Oh, that’s not…don’t you want to beat traffic?”

  “I don’t mind. I haven’t seen you in ages, and I’d rather not rush home.”

  Oh now she suddenly wants to spend quality time with me.

  The valet pulls up to the curb with her Range Rover before helping us load their shopping bags into the trunk.

  Charlotte takes the front seat so I slide into the back after hesitating on the curb. Then my mom turns back and looks at me expectantly.

  “Didn’t you say your place is in Tribeca? Charlotte, pull up the address on Google Maps so we can find the quickest route.”

  “Mom, I just…I really need to get back to work,” I say, still trying to avoid the inevitable.

  “We won’t stay long! Just a minute.”

  Short of saying no outright, I’m left without a choice.

  The only saving grace is that Walt won’t be home. Even while sick, he was already gone from the apartment when I woke up this morning. I didn’t expect anything less from him considering it’s a work day. I’m sure he showered, popped some Tylenol, and got on with his life as if he was just fine.

  “Elizabeth?” my mom asks, prodding me.

  I can tell her patience has worn thin, so with a resigned sigh, I tell her she doesn’t need to map it.

  “I can just tell you how to get there.”

  On the drive, I try to come up with at least one plausible reason for how I could afford to live in Walt’s apartment all on my own. There’s no possible way. It’s obscenely nice, a building meant only for the upper echelon of wealthy New Yorkers. Short of being a closet billionaire, I come up with nada.

  As we pull up to the address and I direct them around the side to the parking garage, Charlotte looks back with a confused frown.

  “Why did you take us here?”

  “This is where I’m living.”

  Her jaw drops. “What do you mean? You live here? In this building?”

  I nod.

  For the first time all day, my mom and sister are speechless. We ride the elevator up to the 35th floor and then step out into Walt’s apartment.

  They both put two and two together quickly enough. Even though Walt isn’t the type to have a smattering of personal photos hanging on his walls, it’s clear whose apartment we’re in. He’s the only person in my life who could afford to live in a place like this.

  “You’re living with Walt?” my mom says, more of a fact than a question.

  Still, I nod in confirmation.

  My sister laughs to herself as she continues down the hall, heading in the direction of the great room. “Are you joking? This is his freaking apartment? Had I known…”

  Her sentence dwindles off, and my stomach squeezes tight with discomfort.

  Had she known, she would have agreed to marry him?

  I feel sick at the thought.

  “Yes, so now you can see why I was hesitant to bring you both back here. I’m not sure whether or not I’m allowed to have guests over. It’s not my apartment.”

  “We’re not guests, Elizabeth. We’re family. Besides, I know Walt.” Charlotte tacks on a carefree wave. “He won’t mind that I’m here.”

  What in the world does that mean?

  My mom doesn’t make herself at home quite as fast as Charlotte does. She clasps her hands together and walks gently down the hall, stopping to admire the artwork along the way. I catch up to her as she stands in front of a marble bust of Apollo that rests on a pedestal. I have no doubt it’s an original.

  “He’s an avid collector,” I tell her with a sense of pride.

  “Seems like it,” my mom says with a tone of appreciation.

  “You can see all of New York from up here,” my sister says from her perch near the windows in the great room.

  Rather than join her, I ask them if they’d like something to eat or drink. They both agree they could use a snack, so I head into the kitchen and start to root around in the refrigerator. The housekeepers must have come today and stocked it with food. There’s more than enough to choose from. I tug out some fresh fruit that’s already been cut up, vegetables, cheese, and some hummus so I can make a platter for us all to share. I’m halfway through slicing the cheese when I hear the elevator arrive.

  I freeze and jerk my head to the left, wondering if maybe my sister or mom left the apartment without my noticing and now they’re returning. I glance over at the clock and assume it’s too early for Walt to be home. It’s only 4:30, but then I hear my sister’s voice as she calls out.

  “Walt!”

  I imagine her flashing him a sparkling smile as she rushes over to greet him.

  “Charlotte. Julianne. I wasn’t expecting to see you both here.”

  “Sorry for the intrusion,” my mom says. “We came into the city to see Elizabeth.”

  There’s an inkling of truth in there somewhere, I suppose.

  “I don’t mind,” he says, sounding as if he truly means it. “Sorry, I’m getting over a cold, so I’ll spare you both a hug.”

  Charlotte laughs. “Don’t be silly. I don’t mind.”

  My eyes want to roll so badly.

  “Where’s Elizabeth?” he asks.

  “In the kitchen, getting us drinks, I think,” Charlotte says.

  “Right. Let me go see if she needs any help.”

  Quickly, I set down my knife and fix my hair. I tack on a tentative smile once he rounds the corner. His presence is as breath-stealing as a punch to the gut. Had I not seen how sick he was
yesterday, I would never suspect he was under the weather at all. He’s wearing a black suit and tie. His chin is clean shaven, his hair styled with a touch of pomade. He walks toward me and my body buzzes with anticipation.

  I’m expecting something—feeling excited, even—as he draws near. He looks to feel the exact same until he suddenly comes to a stop a few feet away from me and smiles tightly. His hand fists gently and then he bounces it on the counter.

  “Hello.”

  “Hi,” I say timidly. “Feeling better?”

  He grimaces and rubs the back of his hairline. “Like walking death, actually.”

  “But you went into work?”

  He shrugs as if partly embarrassed. “I don’t really get sick days.”

  “Can I get you anything? I could heat up that soup from last night? There’s some leftover.”

  “It’s all right.”

  I step toward him and reach out with my hand, realizing a moment too late that my intention was to give comfort. Since that’s not something we do, I wrap my hand around my stomach instead.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, carefully lowering my voice. “I didn’t realize they were coming into town today. Had I known, I would have come up with a better plan. It wasn’t my intention to have them encroach on your space.”

  “I don’t mind.”

  “They won’t stay long.”

  He shakes his head. “Honestly, I don’t mind.”

  “Elizabeth?” my sister calls. “Do you need help?”

  “No!” I call back. “It’ll only be a minute.”

  “All right then.” She dips her head into the kitchen and smiles sweetly. “Walt, I’d love a tour of your apartment.”

  Twenty

  A few hours later, I find myself at Walt’s dining table sitting through the world’s most awkward dinner. There’s a layer of tension surrounding us that everyone seems all too eager to ignore. In my defense, it wasn’t my idea to have my mom and sister stay this long. Walt insisted on ordering in dinner from an Italian restaurant down the street, so here I sit, with a plate loaded up with salad, mushroom risotto, and fresh focaccia bread—all of which is untouched.

  My mom sits beside me, twisting her napkin in her lap. I know this must be incredibly difficult for her. I doubt she’s happy to be sitting in Walt’s apartment, eating a meal with him. The fact that Walt is the conservator of our families’ joint trust means he effectively holds her purse strings, and only a few weeks ago she was begging me to get him to increase her monthly disbursement. Now, here she is with a tight smile, listening to whatever story Charlotte is telling.

  That’s the other source of awkwardness about this whole evening. Charlotte has latched onto Walt the same way she latched onto those Gucci wedges at Saks. She hasn’t stopped talking his ear off since he got home. Earlier, I skipped the apartment tour in favor of finishing up with the snacks in the kitchen. Little good that did. Even in there I was privy to my sister oohing and aahing from various rooms, gushing over Walt’s place.

  I wanted to gag on her enthusiasm. Now, it’s even worse.

  When dinner arrived and we’d loaded our plates, she clung to Walt, insisting he take the seat beside her so she could continue picking his brain about his favorite restaurants in New York.

  “This food is amazing. How did you discover this place?” she asks.

  “It’s just around the corner. I pass by it all the time.”

  She laps up every bite as if she’s never had a goddamn breadstick in her life.

  “This lasagna is to die for,” she says, practically orgasming on the spot.

  To be fair, that’s probably exactly what’s happening since she forgoes carbs most of the time.

  She takes another bite then reaches out to touch Walt’s forearm, underscoring her enthusiasm. My eyes lock onto her hand like I’m trying to harness some previously untapped laser vision. When I realize how harsh my expression is, I blink and look away, trying to ignore her.

  It gets harder and harder as dinner goes on.

  I’ve never really seen Charlotte like this, so unashamed to make her intentions clear. Normally, she’s so eager to have men chase her that she likes to sit back and make them sweat. Now, though, she’s all over Walt, dominating the conversation, tilting her body toward him as if my mom and I aren’t even present.

  Walt sits across from me, quiet but attentive.

  Somehow his politeness only infuriates me more. I want him to rebuff her advances. Push her hand away. Make it clear he’s not interested.

  Finally, there’s a lull in conversation because Charlotte is chewing her food, and Walt glances over at my mom.

  “What brought the two of you into town today? Did you say?”

  Charlotte rushes to finish chewing. “We couldn’t pass up the sale—”

  “The opportunity to see Elizabeth,” my mom interrupts, with a smile that’s as sweet as honey.

  I nearly snort but suppress the urge at the last moment. Walt shoots me a curious look, but I glance down at my food, worried that if he gets a good look at me, he’ll know something’s wrong.

  “And were you able to explore the city at all?” he asks.

  Yes, we explored all three levels of Saks Fifth Avenue.

  Of course, I don’t say that. It’s not my place to rat out my mom and Charlotte. I might not agree with their choices, but I also don’t think it’s necessary for me to run to Walt and tattle on them.

  My mom glances down at her food. “Oh, not as much as I would have liked. Maybe the next time we visit we can make it to a Broadway play or something fun like that.”

  Charlotte’s giddy at the prospect. “Yes! Please. Walt, you’ll come with us, won’t you?”

  “He’s busy, Charlotte,” I say, realizing it’s the first time I’ve spoken all dinner.

  Three sets of eyes glance over to me as if just now realizing I’m present. I flush and reach for my wine glass.

  “Oh my god,” Charlotte erupts suddenly, staring over at my hand. “How did I miss your ring earlier? Is that real? It can’t be!”

  I pause with my glass halfway to my mouth and glance down at the gemstone as it twinkles beneath the light of the chandelier. It’s as beautiful as ever.

  “It’s just on loan from Walt,” I say sheepishly. “Y’know…so people buy the whole marriage thing.”

  He frowns but doesn’t contradict me in front of them.

  “Give it here. Sheesh, let me see that thing.”

  I hold out my hand for her, and instead of looking at the ring on my finger, she tugs it off and holds it up to the light.

  The diamond twinkles in her gaze, making her look like a cartoon thief.

  Then, to my horror, she slides it onto her ring finger and holds it up for us to see, even going so far as to toss a wink in Walt’s direction. “Eh? Pretty good, right? This could have been us, Walt.”

  It feels like the floor is falling out from underneath me.

  I’m not quite sure how we fell into this circumstance, this cringeworthy flirt-fest between my sister and my pretend husband, but one thing is very clear to me: I want it to stop. All evening, I’ve felt territorial about Walt. My body has been reacting as if my marriage to him is real, as if my sister has been flirting with the man I really love. My hand aches with the urge to reach across and nab my ring back from her, to tell her she had her chance and she squandered it.

  “May I take a look?” my mom asks.

  “In a minute,” Charlotte says, still admiring it on her finger.

  I try to continue eating, but my risotto has turned into a chewy blob in my mouth. I force down my bite then set my fork on the edge of my plate.

  “I’m not quite sure I understand what’s going on here,” my mom says, glancing between Walt and me. “Why was it necessary for Elizabeth to have a ring? Why is she living here? I thought the marriage was simply for legal reasons concerning the trust.”

  “Yes, and then I realized it would be almost impossible to keep our marriage
a secret,” Walt replies, sounding matter-of-fact. “So we agreed to place an announcement in The Times and make it official.”

  “Oh! So the ring is just for show!” Charlotte says with a fit of giggles. “I love it! So secretive. So fun. I would have loved to play along had I known it wasn’t going to be just some boring contract.”

  “Yes, well, you didn’t. You lied.”

  My reply silences the table. Again, gazes flit to me, and this time, I don’t back down.

  Charlotte’s beautiful features contort in confusion. “What?”

  I stare her straight in the eyes. “I can’t sit here and listen to you make light of everything you’ve done, Charlotte. When your family needed you, you lied and claimed you were in love, and I bought it. I wanted you to be happy, but you didn’t give a damn about my happiness. To you, this is all some big game. Instead of helping, you ran off and did whatever the hell you wanted with no concern for your family. I had to step up and do the right thing. I had to marry a near stranger, and none of you gave a damn.” I turn to my mom now, trying to fight back angry tears. “You forced me to do it.”

  “I did no such thing,” my mom argues haughtily.

  I toss my napkin on my plate. “Are you kidding? The guilt you threw at me? The fact that you and Dad got yourselves into this position in the first place? You were going to lose everything if not for me. I had no choice. You guys ensured that.”

  “Yes, well. It’s hardly a sacrifice.” Charlotte laughs, misreading my tone.

  “I married a man I hardly knew, Charlotte!”

  “Yes, and so what? Now you’re living in a palatial penthouse and wearing diamond rings. Give me a break,” she retorts, tossing my ring back at me. It clinks on my dinner plate, rolls over, and then settles with a squish inside my risotto.

  Walt shoots to his feet, scraping his chair against the floor.

  “I think we should end the evening.”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” Charlotte says, standing up beside him as if they’re a team. “Sorry my sister’s such a brat.”

  “Charlotte,” my mom hisses.

  “What? Are you kidding me? You’re just going to let her speak to us like that?” she asks, pointing at me. “All day at Saks she was a Debbie Downer, pointing out every freaking price tag. God, I can’t listen to it anymore.”