by Mae Wood
“They are.”
“And you’re worried about Emily? Hell, Thomas, she’d be on the phone trying to set you up on dates, if she had half a clue you weren’t being a recluse. She’s going to be happy that you’re seeing someone.”
“I’m not there anymore,” I said, alluding to the darkness that had nearly swallowed me.
“That’s a good thing,” he agreed. “Have you met Chester yet?”
“Just got in from dinner with him. Solid guy.”
“Solid. And also the WASPY-est man in America.”
“That’s completely true. All through dinner I kept thinking about the stuffy, rich, snobby guy from Gilligan’s Island.”
“Mr. Howell. You wouldn’t be the first to make that comparison. ‘Thurston Howell’ is what some of his detractors call him.”
“Fit right in at the Penn Club,” I said, referring to my school’s private alumni-only club that I had no use for.
“Except he was on the board at the Yale Club, I think.” A soft snort from me and we lapsed into silence.
“Can I talk to Emily?” I said, offering no explanation for my abrupt request.
“Absolutely. Let me get her.”
After a few minutes, she was on the line. “Thomas! It’s so good to hear from you! How are the kids?”
I launched into a rundown of the kids and their adventures. “Listen, Emily, there’s something I need to tell you about.”
“Something or someone?” She knew. I didn’t know how she knew, but she knew.
“I’ve been seeing a woman in Memphis.”
“You can do better than that,” she challenged me. “‘A woman’? Thomas, give me some credit. I’ve known you for thirty years. It’s been Laurie and no one else and if you’re calling me about ‘a woman,’ then I know she’s not just any woman.”
“You okay with this?”
“Why wouldn’t I be? Don’t answer that. That was a figure of speech. Of course I’m okay with you seeing someone. Now tell me more.”
Telling Emily about Amy made me happy. I wanted them to meet. While I could never have Laurie’s blessing, having Emily’s was important to me. “Her name’s Amy. She’s a little younger, almost forty,” I said, fudging the truth to make myself feel better about our age discrepancy. “She’s cool. And she’s funny. Genuinely funny and she’s easy to be with. She’s been divorced for a few years. Her son is headed off to Duke next year for undergrad. And Sirius likes her,” I said. “And I really like her.”
“Then what are you worried about?”
“That she doesn’t want to get married again. Or that she will change her mind and want to get married again. Either way, it’s the same thing to me. I can’t handle going through that hell of being left again.”
“Are you in Memphis?” she said on a sigh.
“No, I’m in Philadelphia.”
“Well, damn, I was going to force Nick on a plane tomorrow morning so you two could go for beers and have a man-to-man chat. Since I can’t do that, I’m going to give him back the phone. But, really, Thomas. I’ve never known you to stand on the edge of a diving board, peer over the edge, and worry like this. If anything, you’re always going in head first and not caring if the water is shallow. Here’s Nick again. And I’m looking at our calendar because we are past due for a visit in person, and I expect you to do the same. We’ll get something on the books.” I agreed and we said goodbye.
A few moments later Nick’s voice was back on the line. “Thomas?”
“Yeah, I’m here.”
“Em just tossed the phone at me and said she was going upstairs for the night and that we’re to have a man-to-man talk. I’m guessing this is about the girlfriend?”
“Yeah, so I told Emily and she said I needed to talk to you.”
“I’m no pro.”
“No, but you did it again. You did it a second time.”
“You’re that serious?”
“I’ve been seeing her since June. Remember when I told you that I got a bat to the jaw at the softball game?”
“Yeah?”
“Well, she patched me up.”
“You and nurses,” he scoffed.
“She’s an orthodontist,” I corrected him.
“You’re dating a doctor?” he said, with a laugh.
“She’s an orthodontist. It’s different.”
“Slightly, but she’s got to be a handful.”
“She’s amazingly easy. Wait, that came out wrong. She’s not easy easy.”
“No, I’m with you there. You’re clicking with her, I take it.”
“Yeah,” I said, admitting to what he figured out and not a bit more.
“And you’re wondering how I did it a second time. It’s like doing it the first time, but also entirely different. Because you know what’s on the line.”
“You got it in one. I can’t go back there.”
“That I can’t help you with. I didn’t lose my first wife the way you lost yours. My divorce isn’t a good benchmark. But was it fucking scary to think that I was volunteering to potentially go through that shit again, but this time with Emily? Oh, hell yes,” he said with a laugh. “And as trite as it sounds, my options were limited. I could either enjoy what I had or be miserable. Because it’s not like being married or not really changed the risk I was running. I love Emily. If she leaves me, no matter how or when, I’ll be a sad SOB, and it’ll be your turn to whip my ass into shape. So, if what I’m supposed to advise you on is how to do it again, then I can’t. Because if you’re even thinking about marrying her, then you’ve already placed that bet. You’ve already signed up to suffer. Now that I’ve been straight with you on the math, what are you going to do?”
“She doesn’t want to get married again” was my non-answer.
“And you do?”
“Maybe.” I shrugged, not eager to make concrete the feelings and thoughts that had been swirling in me since our trip to New Orleans in July.
“How do you know she doesn’t want to get married again? Have you talked about it?”
I sighed. “Very early on. She told me that she didn’t want to get married again and, frankly, that was a huge relief. There wasn’t any pressure to seeing her.”
“You don’t have to get married, you know that. Right?”
“Fine,” I said, resigning myself to the heartbreak that I might suffer. “I want to. I want her in my house and I want her in my life and I don’t want her to have her fuckhead of an ex’s last name any more. Bottom line—she’s mine.”
“And there’s the Thomas Popov I know. Go land this job and then whisk your orthodontist away to Pennsylvania.”
35
Amy
Thomas arrived straight from the airport as I was scurrying around the house, preparing for the influx of friends and neighbors. I wrapped my arms around him, thankful he was back. It had only been a few days and I had been focused on party prep, but I missed him as I fell asleep in my bed alone on a Sunday night for the first time in months. It was hard to fall asleep without his long arm slung low across my hips, my bare back clutched against his chest.
“How was your meeting?” I said, nuzzling against the button placket of his dress shirt.
“Eh, not good,” he answered, kissing me on the forehead and squeezing me tighter.
“Not good?” I asked, moving away a bit to peer up at him. I didn’t like the sound of that. And it didn’t make sense with the happiness I’d seen on his face when he walked through my front door. If his meetings had been bad, then I was expecting to see frustration.
“Amy,” he sighed, gazing down at me. “I wasn’t really upfront with you. It wasn’t a meeting so much as a job interview.”
My eyes widened and my heart dropped. He continued, “Penn Med is looking for a new COO and I was a candidate.”
“That’s a huge step up,” I said, the words coming out in a pained whisper as I tried to hold my anger at his deception and my hurt at him leaving. “You are going to move
?”
“I’m not. I’m not taking the job. I haven’t formally told them to take my name out of consideration, but—”
I looked away from him, fixing my eyes on the kitchen cabinets visible over his shoulder. “You should take it,” I said, forcing the supportive words out of my mouth while my world crumbled.
“No, I don’t want to.”
Another step back and I looked him dead in the eye. “You don’t not take this because of me.”
“I haven’t even been offered it, but I’m not taking it because of a bunch of things. I didn’t really jive with the CEO and there’s this orthodontist who I’m really into.”
“Eeeep,” I said, imitating a game show’s wrong answer buzzer. “That’s the wrong answer. You need to take the job for you. Don’t make life decisions around me.”
“I’m making that life decision around me, Amy. Around us, okay?”
I shook my head and wrapped my arms around my body, stepping farther away from him. “That’s what happened last time,” I said. “He gave up chasing his dream because of me and I don’t want you to make a sacrifice like that. It’s too much. And you’ll end up resenting me.”
“It’s not too much. It’s nothing. The job is nothing.”
“It’s not nothing!” I yelled, my arms breaking free and flailing by my sides in anger. “It’s what you want. You can’t tell me that you want to stay in Memphis when you could be at a world-class hospital system.”
“Yes, I can. Because I don’t want to be there. I didn’t like the rest of the team. It’s not a good fit for me. I can’t explain it. I can just tell you it’s not a good move for me. But Amy, I’m not going to lie to you and tell you that you aren’t a factor in that equation because you are.”
“See, and that’s what’s going to ruin this. You can’t make decisions based on me,” I said, as I stomped my foot in frustration that he wasn’t getting it. He wasn’t understanding that he’d miss this opportunity and then that loss would become all he would see when he’d look at me. Regret and lost chances. I looked down at my feet. I didn’t want to fight with him. I just wanted this over.
“Yes, I can,” he roared and I didn’t look up. I didn’t respond to his rage. “I can and I will make decisions based on you. Because I damn well want to. I’m sorry, Amy, unlike last time, you aren’t pregnant. I don’t have a moral obligation to you. I don’t have to do a damn thing. I could fucking leave right now, but I won’t. Because I fucking love you.”
I blinked at surprise at his words. I was expecting him to leave and let me face my Halloween party guests with a pasted-on smile.
“That came out all wrong. Amy, please.” He held out his arms to me. “Please, Amy,” he softly begged. “I love you. I’m being selfish, even if you don’t believe it. I’m doing this for me. Because I love you and because I think it’s a bad move for me.”
His blue eyes pleaded with me, taking in every tiny movement, searching for any signal about my thoughts. A step toward him, and I saw his shoulders sink as he exhaled his breath. Another step and the etched lines of concern around his eyes softened in relief. And third step and I was wrapped in his arms.
“Amy, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I love you. I should have told you I was looking at a job, but I’m being honest now.” His grasp on me loosened. I lifted my chin to look at him. I hadn’t seen Thomas serious before. I’d seen him happy, and relaxed, and turned on, and worn out, and silly, and frustrated, but I’d never seen him be earnest. And my heart clutched his calm, measured words. “I didn’t know until I got there. I didn’t know how much I didn’t want that job and how much I wanted you until I thought I’d have to choose. Either that, or ask you to move to Pennsylvania. But there isn’t a choice. I choose you. I choose you because I want to choose you. Because I love you. Because you are fucking amazing, and amazing at fucking.” His mouth turned up in a little tease of a smile and I grinned at his silliness. “This is me being selfish. This is me choosing you.”
His hand ran across my cheek, swiping away my tears with his thumb. Tears that I hadn’t noticed. I pressed up on my toes and met his mouth with mine for a kiss that was long and languid, deep and deliberate. Breaking the kiss, I danced my lips on his. “I love you.”
I walked backward through my house, clinging to him, kissing him, touching him, as he pressed our way to my bedroom and kicked the door closed.
After a quick shower, I laid out my costume on the unmade bed. Bobby socks, a knee length plaid skirt, yellow cardigan, and penny loafers. “Nancy Drew,” I crowed, delighted that I’d found a costume I loved that didn’t require a partner.
“Is this only for Halloween?” he asked, his eyes bouncing between the kitschy 1950s school girl outfit and my towel-wrapped body.
“Listen, people are showing up in a half hour. I have to do something with my hair and unless you’ve got your costume in your car, there is no way you can make it to your house and back in time.”
“My costume is there,” he said pointed to the heap of clothes on the floor. “I was counting on it being a mess from the travel, but it’s going to be even better now that it’s extra rumpled. Gonna thank you for that.” A wink and I blushed.
“What are you talking about?” I said, digging around in my dresser for lingerie and pulling out a very sexy lace set that I’d bought Sunday afternoon to go under my conservative Nancy Drew outfit. I’d wanted the sheer black lace to be a surprise for him later, but based upon his hungry looks as I stepped into the cheeky panties and balconette bra, a little delayed gratification during the party would pay massive benefits.
He rustled around in the carry-on that he had dragged in the room while I was laying boneless in my bed after our romp. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched his towel drop and his firm ass disappear under a pair of blue boxer briefs.
“My costume,” he said. As I dressed, I watched him slip into his very wrinkled suit.
“Thomas,” I whined. I tied up my hair up into a high ponytail, and I continued to slightly scold him because I was disappointed. I wasn’t expecting him to go all out, but I was expecting some effort. “Really. That’s not a costume.”
“Wait.” He went back into his carry-on and pulled out a khaki trench coat. He donned the coat and loosed his dark tie. “Just one more thing,” he said, his eyes dancing with happiness as he uttered the quote.
The disheveled TV detective of my childhood stood before me. A much more handsome version of Columbo, complete with signature catchphrase he’d employ before breaking a case wide open. Yeah, I did love him.
36
Thomas
“I can’t get away, Dad.”
“Your sisters and I are flying in next week and you can’t get away for one measly dinner? It’s Thanksgiving.”
“Really. I can’t. And you know it won’t just be dinner. If it were just dinner, it would be one thing, but it’ll be dinner and then a movie and then breakfast and lunch and like a week’s worth of meals packed into three days. None which I have actual time to eat.”
“Miller. This is Thanksgiving. I expect you to be there.”
“Dad. I can’t.”
“You mean that you won’t. There’s a difference between can’t and won’t. And this is a won’t.”
“Fine. It’s a won’t. I won’t be there.”
Miller was like me in a lot of respects, many of which I found annoying at times. But the qualities that had made it easy for him to succeed as an adult—his drive, his commitment to his work. Those could make him an asshole. We didn’t dig our heels into sand. We dug them into concrete. And there was no moving us.
But for him to bow out of Thanksgiving, that wasn’t about any exam. “Is this the girl you’re seeing?”
“I’m literally going to be eating Hot Pockets while staring at textbooks.”
That’s a yes. For all of mine and Miller’s flaws, we weren’t liars by nature. We were deflectors. And with his response, I knew there was no changing his mind. I wanted to
spend the holiday with him, with him and his sisters, but he’s twenty-four. Twenty-four was before I fell in love with a blonde nurse in pink scrubs and family Thanksgivings were the furthest things from my mind.
“Well, we’ve got tickets to Boston still. Do you want us there?”
He sighed. He sounded tired and stressed. Not just from this phone call, but from his work. “It’s okay,” I said, letting him off the hook. “I’ll fly the girls here. Maybe we can Skype or something.”
“That’ll work. Thanks, Dad.”
We ended the call and I leaned back in my office chair, popping my feet up on my desk and staring out my window towards downtown Memphis. Now I had to break the news to the girls. Cassie, then Claire. I’d take a hard fight with Cassie and then have an easy conversation with Claire for dessert.
I dialed Cassie and explained the situation without alluding to Miller’s likely girlfriend. If he told his sisters, he told his sisters. That was his call, not mine.
“Memphis? Really? For Thanksgiving?” Cassie’s voice grew higher pitched with each word. “This is going to be so awesome. My little sister is having her debut ball and she invited me, which is like a huge deal, and because she thought I might be in Memphis that weekend, but I said no because you decided we were going to Boston . . .”
She continued to talk and I popped my brain into neutral while I scanned through emails. The only thing I registered was that she was happy about the change and I was certain I was going to have to shell out for another dress.
“You have three hundred dollars.”
“Dad-dy,” she whined. “That’s like a pair of shoes.”
Some back and forth and we ended up at five hundred. Her fashion marketing degree had all sorts of hidden costs attached, not to mention spending next summer in New York, which she kept hinting at and I’d continued to play dumb about.
That phone call completed, I shot an email to Ava and asked her to change the flights around. Nothing had gone sideways.