by Karma Brown
He watched me for a moment. “Don’t take this the wrong way, because I promise you it’s coming from a good place, but...are you well enough to be back at work?” At my exasperated groan he held up his hands. “I know. You seem fine. I trust you when you say it hasn’t affected your work. But an unsent email in your drafts folder—in your personal account—isn’t much better than you writing all that stuff down on a sticky note. It’s not officially date stamped until you send it.”
“But it is date stamped, sort of. From when I created the draft. Which was a week before my accident.”
“True, it will show you started an email on that date, but the contents could have been rewritten at any time,” he said. “She could easily argue you wrote that list of grievances yesterday, not the week before your accident.”
Of course. I felt like an idiot for not realizing that draft was of no use because I could never prove I hadn’t written my complaints after Brooke went to Greg and Susan. Naturally Brooke knew the truth, but it would be her word against mine, and based on these past couple of months, she would undoubtedly come out ahead.
I felt sick. The one thing I’d been clinging to—my job, my career—might not be as secure as I’d believed. Maybe they wouldn’t fire me, but they could force me on long-term disability. Which would leave me with nothing but time to contemplate how unrecognizable my life had become.
Daniel’s voice was gentle as he dipped his head to look into my eyes. “With my lawyer hat on I would tell you to document everything that’s happened, and without question don’t let Brooke near your computer or files again.” I nodded, swallowed hard. “With my friend hat on? It’s time for a pep talk. Don’t let her get to you, because you’re giving her way too much control here. And that’s not the Lucy I remember.”
Alex’s warning from when I was thirteen rushed back, that I would one day regret giving Nancy McPherson so much power over me. The situations were obviously not the same, but the feeling inside my gut certainly felt familiar.
“Hey, come on, Luce. You can do this. You’re stronger than you think.”
“Am I?” I sighed. “Maybe I used to be, but I don’t feel strong these days. I’m barely keeping my head above water.”
“Want to get out of here?” Daniel asked, and I nodded. I still hadn’t taken a bite of my sandwich, but my appetite was long gone.
“So what can I do to distract you?” Daniel took my hand and pulled me along the sidewalk once we got outside Aroma. My insides jolted at his touch, which was too intimate for who we were to each other. Friends. But I didn’t let my hand drop from his and, instead, squeezed a little tighter.
“I don’t know if you can,” I said. “I’m fairly committed to this bad-attitude-Betty thing right now.”
He smiled, then picked up the pace. “I know just the thing.”
Our hands separated out of necessity as we moved through the throngs of people shopping along Bloor Street. It was probably for the best, as I was starting to worry about how long was too long for Daniel to be holding my hand. A short walk later we stood on a residential street near the university, everything starting to green up with buds and blossoms now that spring had arrived. It was relatively quiet here this time of day, everyone out and about doing what you do on errand-filled Saturdays, and the students who lived in the area were probably still sleeping after being out late the night before. I looked at the big house we’d stopped in front of, the green awning and red sign so familiar after many nights here while I was at U of T, and grinned. “What’s this? A pint and a cheerful trip down memory lane?”
“Don’t you think you could use both?” he asked, and I laughed.
“That’s fair,” I said as we walked up the front steps and into the Madison Avenue Pub—the “Maddy” as it was fondly known by the locals—and settled into a red velvet banquet booth on the second floor.
“I know we just ate—well, at least I did—but I should have suggested this instead. A lot of happy memories, right?”
I nodded, looking around. Taking in the decor that hadn’t changed much over the years. It was comforting to be in a place that both felt familiar and, as Daniel said, was filled with good memories. My stomach growled and I pressed my hand to it. “I could use a grilled cheese. They make the best one.”
“I hate to tell you this, but it’s not on the menu anymore,” Daniel said, and I gave a small grunt of disappointment. “But the Voodoo Chicken Fingers are amazing. And you can’t go wrong with the stuffed burger.”
An hour later I was full of chicken fingers and two pints of the Maddy’s Mad Blonde Lager and felt better than I had in weeks. We’d laughed a lot—reminiscing about our many messy Maddy nights, and how they should probably have named bar stools after us for all the money we’d spent there. We waxed poetic while we drank our pints about how carefree life had been back then, before we had to start “adulting.”
A touch light-headed from the beer and not paying enough attention to where my feet were planted, I missed a step as we walked out of the pub. Luckily Daniel was right behind me and caught me before I landed on my ass, though it wouldn’t have hurt much on the carpet-covered stairs. It also wouldn’t have been the first time I stumbled down these steps, but definitely the first time in the middle of the day.
“Thanks for bringing me here,” I said, leaning back into Daniel so he could stretch around me to reach the handle and open the door for us to leave. “You were right. This was a great distraction.” My voice was boozy and relaxed, and I wished we could go back upstairs and keep this thing going. Order another pint and reminisce a little longer. But by the time I thought to suggest it we were outside already on the pub’s small front porch, under the shadow of the awning, and I knew the moment had passed. He had to get home, to study, to Margot. And I had to figure out what I was going to do about Brooke.
I turned around to look at Daniel, still behind me, to thank him again for knowing exactly what I’d needed, and as I did he leaned down and touched his lips to mine. But it wasn’t a quick kiss this time—it was one that lingered.
He held his lips to mine long enough for me to reciprocate. His hand moved to my lower back, his fingers clutching my jacket, and he pressed me closer. I closed my eyes, the feel of him against me reassuring and exciting. I didn’t even worry we were making out in broad daylight, where anyone could see us. I didn’t care about that—only about how fierce my need for him was, and how well we fit together (unlike with Matt, I had enough height on Daniel that my arms could go easily around his neck and rest on his shoulders) all these years later. His mouth was warm, all-consuming, on mine and I got lost in what we were doing. Lost in him, and the memory of us.
It was incredible and exactly as I remembered how it felt to be with Daniel. At least at first.
Then something strange happened. Like the magnetic pull of our lips reversed, and I could no longer keep my mouth against his. The taste of him was all wrong, too, even if I couldn’t sort out exactly why. But even though I pulled away from the kiss, our bodies remained in contact and the energy between us continued to buzz. His breath was heavy in my ear and his heart beat fast against my chest. I rested my head into the crook of his neck and grabbed my bottom lip, pulling slightly, feeling the lingering tingle. I wished I could go back to kissing him, in nearly the same place we shared our very first kiss. But the sensation of being repelled increased in intensity with every passing second and soon I couldn’t bear to be near him.
“What’s wrong?” Daniel whispered, his lips brushing my ear. I shivered and he pulled me closer despite my slight resistance. I wanted him so badly, in a way that made me feel weak and pathetic. But while my mind shouted for me to stay, my body was retreating.
“We can’t do this,” I whispered back. But why was I the one saying this? Daniel was married. I was instantly furious with myself for letting things get to this point. But, my God, kissing him... For the f
irst time since I learned what had happened to me I felt normal. Like all the puzzle pieces were finally back in their proper places. Except they weren’t.
For a moment Daniel didn’t respond, kept his arms around me and his lips near my ear, his breath slowing as the intensity between us lessened. “I know,” he finally said. He rested his forehead against mine, closed his eyes, looking pained. “I’m sorry. I should never have—”
I pulled back, waited for him to open his eyes and look at me. “No, it wasn’t you. I wanted to. But it has to end here. It’s not fair for anyone.” He nodded and I knew he was thinking of Margot, like I was thinking of Matt.
“I don’t know what happened, Lucy.” He scraped a hand through his hair and smiled sadly at me. “I got caught up. Being here again, with you.”
I extricated myself from his arms and stepped back, nearly tumbling down the last few stairs. He reached out for me, but I managed to hold myself up on the metal railing. Now that we were a few steps apart and I was no longer in his arms, he seemed unsure about what to do with his hands. He tucked them into his pockets and gave me a long, miserable look.
“We can’t be friends,” I said.
He nodded, his chin dropping as he stared at his feet. His jaw tensed and released a few times, and I nearly started crying as I watched the turmoil move through him. It was as though we were breaking up all over again, and I wondered what it had been like the first time.
“Are you going to be okay?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said, wondering if it was true. I longed for things to be different, already regretting my words even though this was the only thing that made sense. “Well, bye, Daniel.”
“Take care of yourself, Lucy.”
I walked away, keeping my head high and not glancing back to see if he was still standing on the porch, watching me and wishing, like I did, we could have another chance.
But even if Daniel had told me he still had real feelings for me, wanted to leave Margot, I wasn’t sure what I wanted anymore. When I first woke up and learned Daniel was not my husband, the moment we had just shared was what I fantasized about—where he would tell me he wouldn’t let me get away a second time, and the confabulation I’d created would become a reality. We would be married. “Better late than never,” I would say before I kissed him and we exchanged long-overdue vows.
But the moment I’d imagined, hoped for, hadn’t been real. Instead, it had felt like something inside me was opposing Daniel. I couldn’t explain why, or how, but it was undeniable—the sense we were not matched, after all. We were not supposed to be together. Otherwise, we never would have been apart in the first place and it would have been Daniel I woke up to in the hospital. He was not, I was beginning to understand, the missing piece I’d been looking for.
37
I wasn’t up to going out, but Jenny was relentless and told me she wouldn’t leave me home alone and there was no way I would make her miss the best party of the year. So because she was letting me crash on her futon, but mostly because she was right that being alone probably wasn’t the best idea, I agreed. With Jenny’s nudging and most of a bottle of wine while we got ready, by the time we arrived—at a swanky downtown restaurant that had been closed for the night to accommodate the who’s who of the city’s film and television industry—I felt good, ready for anything. The afternoon with Daniel now thankfully buried under my buzz.
“Lucy, I want you to meet someone,” Jenny shouted in my ear. It was loud in the restaurant, all the voices mingling to create one giant hum. I let her drag me around for about thirty minutes while she introduced me to colleagues and friends, smiled and shook hands and asked appropriately social questions about what they were working on, nodded and turned my face into a mask of curious interest at their responses. There was an endless stream of drinks moving in and out of my hands. I was having a great night, and for a while I simply forgot. About my accident, and Daniel, and Matt. Then Jenny was beside me again, squealing and clawing at my arm and whispering about how she’d met some hotshot director who claimed to know who she was, and she had to leave me for a few minutes to go mingle. She kissed me on the cheek before practically running through the crowd to get back to this director and his entourage.
With so many drinks consumed it was time for a bathroom break, so I made my way downstairs—carefully, the high heels (I’d changed out of my flats at the last minute and into a pair of Jenny’s shoes) and alcohol and steep stairs a dangerous mix. The washroom was empty, which was surprising for the number of people at the party. I came out of the stall and clumsily readjusted my short skirt so the zipper was at the back again, and then leaned heavily against the sink ledge as I evaluated myself in the mirror. Jenny had curled my hair into big, glossy waves, my lips were still colored, thanks to a lip stain that lived up to its marketed staying power, and I looked like a girl without problems. If only I could have frozen time. The door opened, the sounds of the party seeping back in, and I turned from the mirror to see Jenny.
“You okay?” she asked, holding two drinks in her hands. Something clear, in short glasses with one giant ice cube sitting in the middle of each.
“Better than ever,” I said as I washed my hands. The water splashed over the edge of the basin and I reached for some paper towels, losing my balance in the process. “Oops!” I laughed and stood with my feet a bit farther apart to stabilize my body. Then I wiped up the excess water and took the drink Jenny handed me.
“Maybe I should have grabbed you a water, too,” Jenny said, watching me try to stand without swaying.
“No. No water.” I shook my head. “I can drink water tomorrow.” And to prove it, I downed my glass (gin and soda) in three gulps. Jenny cheered, then we tried to high-five, but it didn’t go well because we had both had too much to drink, and we giggled as we walked back upstairs, arm in arm.
I should have stopped drinking then, but I had moved past the point of no return—my ability to be rational about my level of drunkenness gone with that last gin and soda. So I happily accepted a glass of prosecco from a passing tray once we got back to the party. I turned to tell Jenny how much I appreciated her making me come out tonight, but she was no longer beside me. Standing on my tiptoes, I peered over the few heads blocking my eye line to see if Jenny was nearby when someone touched my shoulder and I turned around.
“Lucy! I thought that was you.” She smiled, and though she looked different from how she used to, I recognized her instantly.
The half-full glass of prosecco dropped from my hand, shattering near our feet. “Oh! Are you okay?” Margot asked, holding on to my upper arm with her hand and moving us away from the broken glass. I nodded dumbly, staring at her.
Still holding my arm, Margot looked around quickly and made eye contact with a server working the room. She waved her over, and we moved another few feet away as someone else brought out a small dustpan and sweeper.
“Here,” Margot said, handing me another glass of bubbling booze. Then she leaned in and hugged me deeply, and I finally found my voice.
“Margot, it’s so great t-to see you,” I stammered, my words slow and ill-formed. Pull it together, Lucy, I thought. Embarrassingly I hiccuped right then, my hand quickly coming up to cover my mouth. “Sorry about that. So, how have you been?” Racing through my mind were a million questions. About Daniel, about whether she knew what had happened between us these past few weeks, what he may have told her about me. Then it occurred to me Daniel might be here with her, and my chest clenched. My eyes darted around the nearby milling crowds, but I couldn’t see him.
“I’ve been well,” she said, smiling. She seemed not to notice how much I’d had to drink. Maybe I was hiding it better than I thought. Or maybe she was being kind. “It has been such a long time, Lucy. You look gorgeous as ever.”
“Thanks. So do you.” Daniel hadn’t been kidding when he said Margot was different now. The Margot I had
known in school was beautiful, but her edges weren’t smooth—she never wore makeup or anything that could be called “dressed up” and her short, choppy bob was often pulled back with elastic headbands. But this Margot...she was stunning. Her dark hair fell to her shoulders, sleek and straight. Her makeup was flawless, as was her outfit—a black pantsuit that billowed at the top and was tight through the leg—and glossy red nails perfectly matched to the large beaded choker around her neck.
“So what brings you here?” she asked, resting a hand and those red nails again on my arm. “I didn’t realize you were in the industry.” Her smile was warm and friendly—she seemed delighted to have run into me—and then I realized she had no clue Daniel and I had been spending time together recently. Probably had no idea we had run into each other at Jake’s party, or that we’d been texting and meeting up from time to time. Then I thought back to today, Daniel and me at the Maddy, drinking beer and kissing under the awning... I swayed again but managed to keep my balance.
“Oh, I’m not,” I said, wishing I hadn’t tossed back the last gin and soda so quickly—or the three (four?) drinks that preceded it. “I’m here with Jenny.”
Margot let out a happy squeal that made me jump, and started glancing about. “Jenny’s here? I haven’t seen her in ages. Not since I styled a set for her, maybe a year ago now? I would love to say hi.”
Jenny and Margot had worked together a year ago? Jenny told me she hadn’t seen Margot in years. Years, as in multiple. The heavy truth that Jenny had lied to me about Margot settled across my shoulders, and tried to push me to the ground, though I managed to resist the desire to lie down on the sticky bar floor and close my eyes.
“You know what? I’ll tell her you’re here,” I said, though I had no intention of telling Jenny any such thing. I had a new plan: hightail it out of this party as soon as I could extricate myself from this conversation with Margot. “Listen, I need to head out. I, uh, have a big work project to attack tomorrow.”