This Is Not How It Ends

by Rochelle B. Weinstein

  “Sorry, I have to whisper,” he explained. “At a ceremony for a new hospital wing in Atlanta.”

  “I thought you were in New York,” I said, confused.

  He blew me a kiss and said he had to turn off the phone. “I love you, Charley.” And he was gone.

  Ben asked if everything was all right, and I didn’t have an answer. “I thought he was in New York. He’s in Atlanta.” This had been happening more and more frequently, and I made a mental note to call Elise for an updated itinerary.

  The drive down to Little Palm Island was mostly quiet. I pressed my nose against the window and watched the intermittent glimpses of ocean pass by. “Jet Ski Rentals.” “Shell World.” “The Best Key Lime Pie in the Florida Keys.” “You know the Keys have more dive shops in this one stretch than the entire country,” I said. “A Philip factoid.”

  “Sari and I were certified together,” he said, his voice trailing off. “In Hawaii.”

  I faced him. “I’ve upset you.”

  “It’s fine, Charlotte. It’s worse pretending she didn’t exist.”

  “But I don’t want to upset you.”

  He took his eyes off the road to glance in my direction. “You’ll know when you’ve upset me. Have you spoken to your father yet?”

  “No. He’s called. I’ve avoided. He doesn’t leave messages. I don’t know what to say to him.” I searched out the window for the answer, speaking the questions out loud. “Does he want forgiveness? How can I forgive him? Do you think there’s anything he can say that could make up for the years he was gone?”

  He was thinking about this. Thinking how any parent could just walk away from a child, rip the anchor and plant it somewhere else. It was unnatural, but it occurred. “I’m not one for forgiveness,” he began.

  “Entirely different scenarios.”

  “Let me finish. I’ve thought a lot about the letter.”

  I was relieved to hear this.

  “When life throws a curveball, you have a decision. You can go on being angry and empty, or you can move toward peace. It’s living or dying. Choose the path that makes you feel alive.”

  “I’ve already lived without him for so long.”

  He looked over at me with deep sincerity in his eyes. “Then let him be a part of the next chapter.”

  Little Palm Island was the kind of astonishing that almost seemed fake. A small boat took you to the private island surrounded by turquoise ocean. Palm trees dotted the white-sand beach, and thatched-roof bungalows (without telephones or TVs) were tucked away among the island’s tropical flowers. But the true charm of the island was the bare beauty: the peaceful quiet, the key deer that pranced along the sand, dining under a dazzling sky at a beachside table for two.

  The staff greeted Ben and his guest, offering us access to the island’s many amenities. While he participated in meetings, I found a hammock nestled in the trees overlooking the ocean and sat with my book. The heat disappeared in the gentle breeze, and I eventually closed my eyes and fell asleep.

  The delicate touch of a flower petal across my arm roused me. “Can I join you?”

  I moved over, and Ben slid beside me.

  “I love it here,” I told him.

  “I had a feeling you would.”

  The beauty of our surroundings made it so we didn’t have to talk. Instead, we watched the ocean, and the birds fly overhead. A waiter came by and offered us a drink. And the more we lay in quiet, the closer we became.

  Later we were invited to a tasting at the restaurant with some other chefs, and Ben took turns feeding me with his fork. “Close your eyes and tell me what you taste.”

  I followed his directions as he spoon-fed different flavors into my mouth, some of which I knew right away—strawberry . . . cilantro—and others that were a mystery.

  “My turn,” I said, as he closed his eyes and opened his mouth for a helping of honey-glazed snapper. I spent more time than I should have on his face, tracing his lashes, the shape of his jaw, the texture of his lips. He opened his eyes and found me staring. A faint blush dusted my cheeks, and we held on like that until he broke into a smile.

  I liked watching how Ben changed around food. He became more animated. His eyes lit up. One of the chefs, a woman, approached me. “I’ve never seen him happier . . . not since . . .” And I didn’t correct her. I let his happiness be because of me. Even if it was short-lived. Even if we were going to cross the water and return to our separate lives.

  Hours later we were approaching Islamorada. Philip called and we put him on speaker. It was remarkable to me how he didn’t balk at our spending the afternoon together on a romantic, secluded island, and an uneasiness spread through me.

  “Charley girl, I can’t wait to see you. Don’t get too attached to that handsome chap over there. I’m eager to see that pretty face of yours.”

  I laughed, the waver in my voice undetectable. “We missed you. How was the hospital?”

  “Hospitals are bloody dreadful, darling, though I learned something new. The worst time to have a heart attack is during a game of charades.”

  “Awful joke, Philip,” Ben said.

  “I’ve got to run, lads. I love you, darling. You too, Goose. Get my girl home safe and sound.” And his voice disappeared.

  A few minutes passed without either one of us speaking. It was Ben who broke the silence. “You okay?”

  “How do you always seem to know when I’m not?”

  “It’s all over your face.”

  I sighed. “I can’t shake this feeling that something’s going on with him.”

  “He’s telling stupid jokes. That’s an indication that he’s fine. And you’ve had a lot going on yourself.”

  I was grateful that he noticed and that he didn’t try to defend me or defend Philip. He listened, which meant a great deal more.

  “You’re not afraid of falling asleep anymore,” he said. “You looked so peaceful on that hammock, I didn’t want to disturb you.”

  “Some pain we learn to live with. It becomes our armor.”

  “What are you protecting yourself from?”

  “Don’t you mean who?” I asked.

  I wasn’t sure if we were talking about Philip, my father, or something else. Had I chosen a man who left me as perplexed and alone? Had I chosen to love a familiar hurt?

  “I’m a dad, Charlotte, the thought of Jimmy being somewhere out in the world without my knowing where, or if he was okay . . . I’ll never understand.”

  I hadn’t shared this with Philip. I thought at the time it was silly and foolish. “The trip to Florida all those years ago, when I met Philip on the plane, I landed in Miami, and I immediately texted my mom. It was the first time I really thought about being cut off from my father. I’d always thought about him from my perspective . . . how he made me feel. What his absence did to me.

  “That day was different. I stepped in his shoes, really inhabited his brain, and I could not, for the life of me, understand how a man could bring a child into the world and not know where they were or how they were feeling. I’ll never make sense of it.”

  He didn’t immediately respond. Ben was a thinker.

  “Say something.”

  “What can I say? I can’t relate.”

  I thought about Sari, and how she’d give anything to be alive and with Jimmy, monitoring his snacks, his comings and goings. Worrying and waiting for a text saying he was okay.

  We turned down my street, and Ben slowed down. “It was never about you, Charlotte. You have to believe that. It hurts, but his leaving was not because of you. How could it be?”

  We pulled up to the gate, and he parked the car out by the street. Ben plugged my code into the panel, and the metal swung open. We walked side by side beneath the trees and down the narrow drive.

  “When you love someone,” he began, “nothing should keep you apart.”

  I tossed my head to the side and left the long strands to blow in the warm summer breeze. Philip was coming home
tonight, and I was already feeling sad. Ben’s words were touching me. They were confusing me, too.

  “Ben, are you talking about Philip?”

  He finally faced me. “I don’t know, Charlotte. Am I?”

  “You said I was lucky to have him . . .”

  “You are,” he said. “Philip loves you . . . and relationships aren’t easy . . . they come with a lot of sacrifice . . . a lot of compromise.”

  “Is that it? You think I’m compromising?” My head shook, blocking out what I didn’t want to face. “I wish you’d come out and say whatever it is you’re trying to say. You think I’m channeling some daddy issue? Not everything goes back to our childhoods, Ben. Is that what you think?”

  “Maybe.”

  He was probing so deep he could easily see the nerve he was brushing against. The lines were beginning to blur. Painful memories were a heavy burden, and I was skipping over them, trying to bypass the hurt. The holes were widening, Philip’s absences subtle reminders of a childhood spent denying my wishes and yearning for them to come true.

  “Philip has to work, Ben. He runs a multimillion-dollar business and oversees, like, a hundred offices.” My hand came up in the air to emphasize the point. “I don’t think he wants to be away from me, and I resent the comparison.”

  “Relax, Charlotte,” he said, speeding past me. I stood there watching his back, speechless. There was a myriad of emotions and feelings swelling inside me. He was tapping into every single one. I tried to catch up, and when I did, I was out of breath.

  “You’re not being fair. This is his business, his livelihood. I’d never take that away from him.”

  The house came into view. I saw the pale-yellow lights reflecting on the exterior. Sunny would be waiting not so patiently. I gulped the feelings away, so Ben couldn’t see what he was doing to me. He was holding a match in his hand. Ready to strike. When we reached the top of the stairs, he got in my face. There was a flame in his eyes, and it was directed at me. “Charlotte, you shouldn’t have to defend Philip, not to me or to yourself. He’s my friend and I love the hell out of him, but I’m not sure he’s giving you all you need, and I think you know it, too.”

  “You don’t know what you’re saying. You have no idea what I need.”

  “Don’t I? Believe me, Charlotte, I wish I didn’t know from any of this. You just have to figure out what it is you want.”

  What did I want? It should have been a simple answer to a simple question. But Ben was staring down at me, looking as though he were about to kiss me again. His body bent in my direction, close, but still far enough away. There was a longing within that was inches from raising my chin and opening my lips. I was out of breath and out of words, our bodies suspended in the pull of anticipation. And then he backed away.

  And I felt the letdown wash through my body. And the shame that accompanied it.

  The keys to the house slipped from my hand, and they made a sharp clanging noise.

  He scooped them off the floor and opened the door. The house was dark, and Sunny jumped on us, barking and braying with excitement. When I turned to thank him for getting me home, for taking me on an adventure, he was already down the steps and walking along the driveway. He wouldn’t get very far. He was inside me now.

  CHAPTER 23

  September 2018

  I had learned not to use the term home liberally when it came to Philip’s back-and-forth. He was home, for a moment, and I plucked myself from one life and immersed myself into another.

  “I think you should slow down,” I said to him the next day on Ocean Reef. We were kicking around golf balls. Well, Philip was. I was sitting in the cart, hiding from the unbearable heat and mosquitos. His thin arms poked through the sleeves of his shirt. His pants were sagging in the back with enough room for someone else to fit in there with him.

  He sauntered over to my side of the cart and lifted my chin for a kiss. His lips tasted of sweat, and I kissed him back. “I’ve never felt better, Charley.” His fair hair shone in the sunlight, and his eyes were playful and lively. He hugged me, and I held him hard.

  A nearby cart with two women approached, one stopping to say hello to Philip. He greeted her with an ease that reminded me of the old Philip. The one who barreled onto that plane and swept me off my feet. “Claudia!”

  The woman reached his chest, but there was no mistaking her beauty. Her exotic looks could make her Israeli or Hispanic, with dark flowing hair, big brown eyes, and an enviable number of curves.

  “Charley,” he began, “Claudia works for DLJ, our law firm, and I’m going to embarrass her by reminding her she’s a rising star, one of our top transactional associates. Claudia, my fiancée, Charley Myers. She’s my star, I might add.”

  I reached for the woman’s hand, and she gave me a full-wattage smile that was both warm and appreciative. She didn’t blush from Philip’s compliment. It was as though she knew she was admired, but had a proper dose of humility. This was the kind of woman I imagined Philip welcoming into his life. I reached for my messy hair and hid my unpolished nails.

  “This man raves about you,” she said. “My favorite abuela is Charlotte. We call her Cha Cha. I miss her, she’s still in Cuba. There must be something about that name.”

  “There is,” Philip interrupted, pulling me close. “It breeds extraordinary women.”

  Claudia and Philip returned to their conversation, discussing a pending deal, and then he asked what brought her to the Keys. She introduced us to her friend Simone, who was here for an engagement party. “I plan on taking advantage of the amenities while she’s at the party.”

  Philip turned to me with the look on his face that meant he was up to something.

  “When’s the party, Simone?”

  The waify blonde said, “Tonight.”

  “It’s settled. You’ll come with us, Claudia. I have someone I’d like you to meet.”

  My eyes questioned Philip.

  He nudged me with his elbow. “Ben!”

  “Philip, that’s sweet, but Ben will kill us.”

  “You’re single, yes? Ben’s a wonderful lad. Right, Charley?”

  Ben? The word filled my brain and then my body. “Philip.”

  “No, no, Charley, it’ll be good for him. He needs to start putting himself out there.”

  I knew Ben wasn’t ready. I knew more than I could ever admit. I knew Ben didn’t like surprises or small talk. He was protective of Jimmy, and he’d never agree to this. Ever.

  The words leaked from my throat. “Ben’s a good guy. You’ll like him a lot.”

  Claudia hesitated. The ambush whittled away her breeziness, though I could tell she didn’t want to be rude. She fixed her eyes on mine while I nodded. “Okay then,” she said, “sounds as though we have a date. Guess I can’t litigate myself out of this one.”

  Philip beamed, and my stomach flipped. “I’ll have a driver pick you up at seven,” he said. “It’s a forty-five-minute ride to our house. Dress comfortably. The restaurant is outside. And you’ll adore Ben.”

  The pair drove away, and I was too stunned to speak.

  “I can’t believe I hadn’t thought of that before. Claudia would be great for Goose.”

  I couldn’t begin to list the reasons this was a bad idea. Ben wouldn’t like being trapped for the night. He’d complain he had to work. He’d worry about Jimmy. What Jimmy would think. Even though I knew Jimmy was ready for a female figure in both of their lives. And then there was the matter of Claudia. According to Philip, she was twenty-eight, but lots of women would hesitate to get involved with the widowed father of an eleven-year-old.

  “Maybe you should explain his history before you throw them together,” I offered.

  “Charley,” he said, clutching my hand in his. “Don’t overthink. Goose is a real catch. Any woman would be lucky to have him as her beau. We, of all people, should help him be happy again.”

  Ben hadn’t wanted to meet Claudia at the restaurant. “Not here. Anywhere but h
ere.” It was remarkable he even agreed to the setup in the first place. Firm refusals cluttered our conversations. A steely politeness was tough to draw back.

  But once Philip got Ben to agree, Ben had no control over the where and when of the tryst. “Goose,” Philip said, “meeting at the restaurant is best. You’ll be far more relaxed in case you’re needed, and if you don’t like her, you can always say there’s trouble in the kitchen. Trust me, though. You’re going to love her.” I cringed when he said “love.”

  Claudia arrived at the house first. She was polished and perfect in skinny jeans and an off-the shoulder white peasant top. In flip-flops, she was even shorter than I remembered, but her friendly personality made her taller. Philip fixed her a drink, and we moved to the patio.

  It was a breezy night, which pushed some of the humidity away. Clouds passed overhead, and it looked like it might rain. In the Keys, you could never be sure. As quickly as the clouds rolled in, they crept out to sea.

  Claudia complimented our home, and when Philip went inside to take a phone call, she cornered me with Ben questions. I heard myself describing him. The soulful green eyes. The sexy brown hair. It probably seemed as though I was playing him up for her, but really I was describing what I knew. I decided to tell her he was a widower, because it was a way to protect Ben. “He may be a little quiet at first. He’s sometimes moody like that. That’s Ben.”

  “How long?” she asked. “How long has he been alone?”

  “A few years.”

  This news surprised her, and a twinge of sadness filled her eyes.

  “He has a son.”

  She shifted from one leg to the other. “Whoa. Philip neglected to fill me in.”

  I told her, candidly, “He’s a good guy. It’s a lot to take in, I know.”

  I was a horrible person, judging her mixed emotions while praising myself for my tiny feat. I didn’t dislike Claudia. In fact, I liked her quite a bit. She was sharp and witty and easy to talk to. I was taking in all these positive attributes when Ben walked through the door.