“She’s fine, Amy. It’s just that you’re here now and I’ll go out later with her.”
“I’m here? That’s your reason? Me?” I put my hand to my chest.
He poured the rest of the coffee down the sink and rinsed out the carafe.
“Tom, I don’t need a babysitter.”
“I’d beg to differ.”
I gave him a sideways glance. “We’re not going there, remember? Anyway, you need to go out. This might turn into something.”
“She’s just going to give me some names for caterers. It’s not really a date.”
“Caterers?”
“Yes, this year it’s my turn to host the Christmas party and she knows some people.” He made a hand gesture and swatted at the air. “Cheese people, and people with trees and lights.”
“Okay, we’ll get back to that in a minute. Are you serious? She could’ve given you names last night. She wants a little romance, Tom. Go on and show her some.”
He turned and looked dead-straight at me. “Maybe I don’t want to show her romance.”
I wasn’t sure, but I think he put emphasis on “her.” As if there was someone else he wanted to. How long had it been since we talked? Was there someone else I didn’t know about?
“Well, tell me then about this Christmas party.”
“It’s nothing. We have it each year for the employees and clients. And this year it’s my turn to host. That means that I’ll just make a few calls and open my house for the professionals to come and decorate and leave food. The biggest part I’ll have in it is stroking the check for it.”
“Gosh, Ebenezer, at least you pay for it.”
“Ebenezer?”
“Yes. Get a little holiday spirit.” I hit him on the shoulder. “If you want, I’ll help with the platters. That store across town with the cardboard cows in front has the best veggies and dips. And we could throw up some decorations. Don’t you put up a tree, yourself, anyway?”
He looked at me as though I had just changed language on him.
“Not hardly, Amy. Who do I have here to even look at it? I’m gone twelve-hour days sometimes. It’s not worth it.”
I put on my best frowny face. “You’re such a Scrooge.”
“Fine, do you want to get a tree and decorate? Would that paint me as less of a Scrooge?”
My face lit up. “Yes! I love Christmas. Well, I did when I had a home to decorate. This year I’m finding myself kind of homeless.”
“Not anymore. I want you to stay here for the holidays. Show me something I don’t know.”
“Didn’t your ex-wife ever decorate? Or make sugar cookies and the whole house smelled like a bake shop.” I smiled again, almost able to sense the ginger and molasses. “A Christmastime bake shop?”
“She was Jewish.”
“Ah. Well then, I take your invitation and challenge and accept.”
He smiled. It was the first time he’d done so since I told him about Wesley. I needed to avoid that name while I stayed here. After all, I missed that debonair smile on Tom. It was chicken soup to my soul.
“And you’re going out tonight. If I have to drive the car and chauffeur both of you to the restaurant!”
The brightness of his smile turned down a notch, but I was pretty sure he agreed.
Chapter Thirteen
“Knock, knock. Can I come in?” I shouted from Tom’s bedroom door.
It was getting late in the evening and I wanted to make sure he wasn’t hiding out and was really going out with Kate. I hadn’t heard any phone conversations with her. He was being particularly hush-hush about the thing.
“Sure, come on in.”
I looked around his room. It was empty, but I was certain I’d heard him. His bed was un-made, but barely messy. The blankets were folded neatly back and his pillow was wrinkled. His cherry-wood valet stood in the corner by the window and his three-piece suit dressed it. Pictures of meaningless art were hung on the walls and a dresser held pocket change, his wallet, and a bust of some type of presidential-looking man. Totally not a woman-sharing space, by any means.
He peeked out from the bathroom. “I’m in here.”
“Are you decent?”
I heard him laugh. “Of course. You can come in.”
I walked warily toward the bathroom. What was taking him so long? It was four o’clock. Certainly he had to be leaving soon.
“Are you sure I should go?”
I watched him tie a blue and red tie that was better suited for a court hearing than a candlelight dinner.
“Yes, now stop asking that question.” He had asked it more than twice during the day.
He turned and looked at me. His face was clean-shaven and his hair was slightly damp. I could see the darker color around his ears where he’d missed drying it. The smell of fresh soap still hung in the air.
“Okay, so where are you going to take her…courtroom seven or eight?”
“What are you talking about? We’re going to that place downtown by the theater. Francis, the lady who sat beside us and listened to our entire dinner conversation, suggested it.”
He didn’t pick up on my sarcasm. He was more nervous than I thought.
“Tom, look at me.”
He stopped messing with the knot and looked up. “What’s wrong?”
“Tom, you’re going on a date. Loosen up. Don’t you have a nice pair of jeans? Is there a softer side to your wardrobe, or are all your clothes pressed professionally?”
“Jeans? Amy, you don’t wear jeans on a date.”
“Okay, I’m not sure about the last time you actually went on one, but it’s all right to wear something not dry-cleaned. People wear pajamas to the grocery store nowadays.”
He looked at me with popping eyes. “Now that’s absurd. Pajamas?”
“Not the type you wear, I’m sure. But yes, they wear cartoon characters. It’s crazy.”
“That is crazy, and what do you know about what I wear at night?”
True that. I never saw the guy out of those shirts with those pointy things stuck in the collars. Maybe the night shirts were just as starched, but without the cuff links.
“That new place by the theater is casual dress, Tom. Plus, you wore a tie last night, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“I’m just saying wear a nice pair of dark jeans, a buttoned-down shirt and maybe a jacket. Give her the ‘casual Tom’ tonight.”
“Are you serious?”
Okay, that was the green light for me to intervene. Anyway, it wasn’t a definite no. Good thing I was there. She might’ve ordered stuffed mushrooms to go with her stuffed date.
I went to his closet in search of a wardrobe change. He followed me, pulling loose his tie and unbuttoning his shirt. By the time I turned around, he only had on his T-shirt and it was now pulled out from his dress pants. Without all of his dressiness and starch, the closet suddenly felt a tad bit small for two people to be doing inventory. I was staring into his shirt, feeling his breath on my face and smelling his hypnotic cologne. I only came about to his neck in height.
“How about this?” I held out a printed shirt and reached over his head for a pair of jeans I spied at the last minute. I slightly fell against him after losing my balance trying to tiptoe it. He caught me and for a brief second, his hands held onto me with a different feel—a little less rigid, in a formal sort of way. Replacing it was a new, secure “here I am if you need me” kind of way. Even his eyes were saying something…maybe. They were so light and so expressive, as if holding me tighter than his arms were. Forget it, I was crazy—one might even say vulnerable—right now. Maybe it was the intoxicating smell, all that blinding white cotton, or the fact I was rebounding at the speed of light from Mark and running away scared from Wesley. Hitting the well-built, secure, and friends-only wall of Tom was not an option. Even if he was the only thing that made sense in my life.
“Well then, you get started with these.” I handed them over and sprinted out of there li
ke a gazelle with a set of tiger’s teeth in her butt.
Tom found me hiding in the kitchen pantry. I pretended to be seeking out cereal. It was a sure bet he’d have something with grains and raisins in there. He was a reasonable man when it came to food. He certainly wasn’t the marshmallow-type like Wesley.
“Amy—”
“Say, you look sharp!” I gave him the obvious once-over, trying to avoid getting my eyes stuck on certain regions. “Be careful or she’ll gobble you up and you’ll have wasted money on an appetizer.”
By the look on his face and the serious tone in which he said my name, I needed to inject some levity. I suspected he wanted to say something about that whole closet thing. Had he sensed something too? And yes, I’ll admit it was weird having him leave the house to pick up a woman. After being the only one in his life for the past year, it would be tough to share him. But how was that fair? He deserved someone to make him happy. Ours was a friends-only type of thing. It had always been. Ever since I spelled it out, right before I moved out of his house the last time.
Oh no! We’ve been down this road before. What was I thinking? Was it possible he was slipping back into the complete “Amy moving in with me, again” routine? Was I royally screwing up our friendship by leaning on him too much, again? At least that time I did only see him as a friend. I was still pining over Mark. The difference now was that Mark wasn’t in the picture. He was on a plane, headed across the country.
What was I saying? Of course Tom was only a friend. My best friend, in fact. Then, of course, When Harry Met Sally claimed men and women couldn’t just be friends. No worries; we’d prove that theory wrong. Tom and I were thicker than thieves. Up until that little time in the closet just now, I saw Tom as my best friend. A very black-and-white situation. What just happened was totally something wrong with my radar. Not everyone wants you, Amy. Get a grip on reality. And stop liking guys in their tee shirts.
Tom stared at his shoes. His ultra-cool brown shoes. They looked like the ones in men’s magazines. He had impeccable fashion sense.
“I won’t be late getting home.”
I put my hand on his chest and suddenly wondered whether that was such a good idea. Coming back home in those jeans and shirt, sitting around with me. “Be late, Tom.”
He did that kind of half-nod with pinched lips. There was something he wasn’t saying and I wasn’t sure I wanted him to. There was a fuzzy haze around us now. What kind of cologne was he wearing anyway? You might need to go to a man-free island and hit your reset button.
“You’ll be all right? You know how to set the alarm, right? The code hasn’t changed. And I picked up some tofu. I don’t eat it, of course. But I figured I’d be seeing you this weekend sometime and I wanted to have—”
I pulled down a box of whole wheat grains and smiled. “I’ll be fine, Tom. Go and have a good time.”
He walked out, leaving a trail of the best smell I’d had the pleasure in partaking in a while. It made me think of Mark, and then about him in Chicago. I put the cereal back and went out to scour the cabinets for liquor. Not my usual dinner but then nothing usual had happened in my life for quite some time. Besides, the other night at Jim’s house, the sensation of feeling tingly all over was pretty spectacular. I could use spectacular right about now.
It wasn’t quite seven o’clock when Wesley called. I’d only had two mixed drinks. Jack and Cokes. Tom had brandy but it felt as if it tore off a layer of tissue from my esophagus when I drank it, so I went with something I could chase better. I was a smidge tipsy but nothing I couldn’t think cognitively about.
“Hello.”
“Amy, are you busy? What are you up to?”
I looked around at Tom’s living room, and then to the television. I was watching some movie about two people in love and she moved away and he couldn’t take it and followed her. Was this telling me something?
“I’m watching a movie.” I paused it. I needed to know how it turned out.
“You want to come over here and watch it?”
He sounded lonely. I felt a pang of guilt for letting him suffer, knowing he wanted me there. Knowing how lonely that house must’ve felt without me in it. It always did when he traveled.
“It’s on Netflix, Wesley.”
“Well, I was going to tell you to bring a chair, anyway, if you did come over.”
“What?”
“I haven’t got living room furniture yet.”
Holy mother of… I forgot I took it to the apartment. Well, he got what’s-her-name when he left. I thought the couch was a reasonable pillage.
“The movers are coming Monday to load up my stuff. I’ll have them deliver the sofa.”
“Will your other things be coming with it?”
I tried to hear whether there were any background noises. Like maybe he was at a bar and it wouldn’t be as hurtful to tell him the truth. Sadly, I heard crickets. He must’ve really been at home, sitting on a floor, looking at where couches used to be. Where I used to be. Why do I feel so guilty? He left me.
“Not yet, Wesley. I need time. I told you that.”
“I know. I just thought you’d had some.”
“What, a day?” I watched the people frozen on the television screen.
“What is it that you’re figuring out, Amy?”
Good question. I didn’t know. It just didn’t seem perfect etiquette to move right in after both our respective relationships failed. I needed to know we weren’t just falling back onto plan A. I couldn’t have our marriage morph into a consolation prize. It had to have intention. There needed to be time for reflection. Time to gather strength to get it right for the last time. Days, weeks? I wasn’t sure. Anyway, I had to help Tom put together a party. That sounded more fascinating than watching Wesley watch boxing on television and yelling out for a beer.
“Give me until the New Year.”
“The New Year? Are you serious?”
Who was I fooling? I was going back. Where else did I have to go? And certainly he learned his lesson by now. Did he learn his lesson? Which lesson: not to cheat or to not take me for granted and try to actually woo me? A little bit, anyway. And I know. I needed to be more spontaneous, more out-of-the-box than cooking spicy food and equating it to amazing foreplay. I just wanted my last vacation before going back into wife-mode. Time to re-wire myself into knowing I was going to spend the rest of my days on earth being the wife of an attorney…the managing partner in our fathers’ law firm, responsible for planning all the office retreats and dinner parties for new clients. For now, though, this was Amy time. A buffer between the past epic fail and the new do-over. I just needed a breather to clear my head. And the thought of punishing him a little by making him live alone only crept in my thoughts a few times!
“Yes, the New Year. I think that will give us some healthy time to get reacquainted with each other a little bit at a time. We should maybe go out and see if it’s really what we want. We screwed up before, Wesley. I’m not filling out divorce papers twice on the same person.”
He was quiet. I couldn’t interpret this silence.
“Okay.”
Wow, that was easy. No tantrums like usual? Maybe I needed to be more assertive in the future. Noted.
“So, how about Sunday night? Can I take you out then?”
How sweet. He was acting as if we were back in high school. But I didn’t get the opportunity of a date with him then; Ashley did. I think it would be good for me to see him in a different light than the two-timing sleaze ball I’d been referring to for the last couple of months. This was nice. Just what I needed. To set the tone for a new beginning.
“Sure.”
“If they’re packing you up Monday, where are you going to be staying until New Year’s?”
“A friend’s house. Now, I’ll meet you Sunday. Where do you want to meet?”
The last thing I needed was him all over this Tom and I cohabiting thing. It would prove to bring no mojo to whatever was going for us at
this moment.
“I guess the Tavern. Is that good for you?”
And look at that, he even asked my opinion. Not just a “this is where we’ll go.”
“Sure. I’ll meet you there around six?”
“I’ll be looking forward to it.”
You know what? I believed him. All of that empty space at home was doing him some good. Better than a marriage counselor, I bet.
Chapter Fourteen
I didn’t see Tom at first when I went downstairs. I didn’t wait up for him the night before, either. I went to bed early on purpose. He seemed to be complicating my mind lately. I was trying not to concern myself with how possessive I felt seeing him drive out of the driveway to pick up Kate. I didn’t know her and I felt as if she’d been convicted of illegal cock-fighting. This wasn’t normal. I needed to feel the way I did when he first told me he had a date. A little in disbelief—Tom? With another girl? But still not…jealous.
“Hey you.”
He startled me. I was looking out the kitchen window. There was a blue jay eating something on the ground. Poor guy, he was tricked by the sight of the birdfeeder. I bought it and put it up, but it seems when I moved into my apartment Tom abandoned the idea of keeping it full.
“Hey.” I turned around to see him.
He wore a sweatshirt and jeans. It knocked his age down by ten years.
“How was it?”
“Well, I was hoping to dish last night, but I was surprised not to find you waiting up.”
He noticed? He wanted me to be waiting up?
“No, I was tired.”
“Must’ve been the Jack.”
I scrunched my face. “Huh?”
“You left out the Jack Daniels. I wasn’t aware you had a habit of drinking before bed.”
“It’s a part of the mourning process.” I moved out of the way for him to put water in the coffee pot.
“Give me a break. You and Mark hadn’t spent the last month together more than a few evenings.”
I hated when he was right. The truth was Mark was always working. Then when I continued my routine of attending charity events with Tom, Mark grew resentful and worked later for no reason, I felt. We weren’t the poster children for best relationship. But the fact remained I thought we’d one day have one. I could lament that, couldn’t I?
Leaving Amy (Amy #2) Page 11