by Erinne Bates
“Fine,” she said with reservation. “It’s been fine.”
We talked for twenty minutes before she told me that Gordon had moved out. I waited with my breath held for the words I knew would come next.
“I was thinking I could come to visit perhaps in the near future,” she said. “Maybe… maybe we could spend some time together…” The silence in those seconds that passed was thick.
“Justine-“ my voice sounded too small so I took a breath and tried again, “I can’t.”
The words were out of my mouth before I even thought about whether or not they were the right words – whether or not they were the ones I wanted to say, or even felt to say. I stumbled to say something else less terse, but I continued to trip over my words.
“No, it’s okay…I understand,” Justine replied, cutting my rambling off.
“I didn’t mean to say it like that,” I mumbled. “I’m sorry. I just can’t...”
I forced myself to exhale again.
“So!” Justine’s voice suddenly changed to a more cheerful tone, “How does it feel to be forty?” I chuckled as the tears rolled down my cheeks, and then we both were silent together.
When she did speak again I could tell she had had tears of her own. “I – um - I am sorry for how our last time together went. It wasn’t a good way to—”
“You don’t have to apologize,” I interrupted. “I hate that it caused a problem for you – your marriage.”
“I don’t have regrets,” Justine said. “You know I never will.”
“Hearing from you on my birthday is a nice surprise,” I said relaxing a little. I looked at my watch lying next to my plastic tiara. I had fifteen minutes left before my mother would call. I began to think of ways to say goodbye.
“Are you staying in touch with her?” she asked, changing topics without warning again.
I knew she meant Fenne even though she didn’t say her name. I wondered if she thought she might be the reason I was refusing to see her.
“A little. Twice a month maybe.” My communications with Fenne were usually by email, but we also skyped once or twice a month if we had time. She had earned her Ph.D. in the past year and had been interviewing with museums all throughout Europe. She had told me during our last conversation that it wasn’t a matter of finding a position but finding a museum that shared the same vision she had. I chuckled inwardly when she had said that, wondering if it were possible.
“No one else then?” Justine probed further.
“Not really. I’m really involved with my clients and I’m just trying to focus on my career. You?” I winced at the last part. Justine answered before I could take it back.
“No. I mean- I’ve had a couple of dates, but I wouldn’t say it’s going anywhere.”
“Oh, I hadn’t any idea.” I was completely surprised. I would have never thought she’d meet someone else so quickly…or had this other person been there all along? I was about to ask but changed my mind. Either answer was dispiriting to me.
“Are you not going to ask who?” Justine quipped with laughter in her voice.
“It’s none of my—”
“My God!” she cut me off, “Of course I haven’t been seeing anyone!” Her laughter made me laugh also.
“Will you be okay?” I asked after she told me how Gordon had begun staying at the other apartment within a month after our ‘little incident’ as she called it. Gordon had phoned only yesterday to inform her he was going to file for a divorce.
“I’ll be okay when you have forgiven me and we can be friends again.”
“I’d like that very much,” I said, feeling the tension in my shoulders finally loosen. I never wanted to hear her say I’m sorry. But I needed her to know we would never be what we once were. To reach a point where we could be just friends would take time, for me at least. Time and trust.
Chapter 32
Awakening
In the summer of the year that I turned forty— when one begins to take stock of where they’ve been and where they are now heading; when we go over the lessons we have learned and become thankful for what we now know; when the songs that changed our lives at seventeen now gave us our second wind, I took a day to go to the ocean’s shore and watched the sun set. Something inside of me was stirring, like an arousal of hope and anticipation, and I scanned the horizon, half expecting it to reveal something to me.
I thought of Fenne. Even though I knew we’d probably never see each other again, I often ached to be near her. Not just physically, but emotionally— even spiritually. I felt as though if given a chance, we would have been happy together. There was much to learn of each other still but had there been the chance for it all to develop properly, I believed I would have fallen in love with her. In all of my emails and letters and the times that we spoke over the past two years, I kept this from her. I figured I had done enough to complicate things for her when I was in France and was happy she was still staying in contact with me after all the dust had settled. It was hard to hide my feelings. So much that I had to limit myself from writing so often that it would be obviously too often. Sometimes I felt as though any given word I spoke or wrote to her could be de-coded, and she would know what I was really feeling.
Deep down I knew if I told her the truth of how I felt, she’d be kind at least, whether she shared my feelings or not. Deep down, I also knew that I had hugely misrepresented myself during our short time together. And though we made the best of it in the end, and all seemed forgiven, it is not forgotten by me how foolishly selfish I had acted during my time with her. There is a shame I can’t let go of, and behind it, I’ve kept my feelings quiet and hidden as best as I could.
As I climbed into bed at the end of the night, I opened my laptop to respond to emails that had been accumulating throughout the day. Most of them were queries or chapters sent from authors, looking for someone to take an interest in their manuscript. While some of the agents I knew ignored a majority of the unsolicited ones they received, I tried to read each of them and take the time to respond. Of course, I wasn’t yet in a position to ignore new prospects, but I also did it because I remembered the painstaking effort that went into preparing one’s written word. Not all queries or submissions showed a high level of skill or even a great amount of effort, but I held a kindred soft spot for my fellow ink slingers and promised myself I would look over each of them for as long as I could.
As I scrolled through the list of emails, one from Fenne caught my attention and I opened it before any of the others. It wasn’t very long, but I was used to getting short emails from her. She had a knack for getting straight to the point and leaving out the fluff. If I read her paragraph two or three times I could trick my senses into feeling she’d written more.
At the end of this particular email, she wrote, “What did you do today?”
In all of her letters, either handwritten or electronic, she had not once asked me such a question. It prompted me to hit the reply button and type, “I sat on the beach and daydreamed of the day I will lie in your arms and tell you that I haven’t stopped loving you yet.”
I read over my words, feeling the sensation of hope and anticipation return to me, causing me to smile. There. I said it, I thought to myself, staring at the sentence. It was beautiful. Perfect and straightforward, just as she would have constructed.
If I hadn’t had a large number of work-related emails to go through, I would have simply deleted my initial opening response and continued writing about something more platonic. I had plenty of other things to talk about that wouldn’t risk the friendship Fenne kept with me. Instead, I clicked the discard button and began reading through my other emails. By the time I was done, I could barely keep my eyes open.
I habitually clicked on the ‘refresh’ button at the top of my email screen and sat there in a tired daze, watching the swirling icon. I had responded to all that I was going to for the evening, but in my tired zombie-like state I couldn’t bring myself to close the screen o
n my laptop before the swirling icon stopped and I knew for certain whether or not new emails had come through. Only one did. It was from Fenne, and at first glance, it looked like it was in reply to the first email she had already sent me.
She wrote one sentence: Why do you use the word ‘yet’ as if you may one day cease to love me?
I stared hard at my computer screen, trying to make sense of what I was looking at. I didn’t necessarily feel uneasy, but I felt as though I had been busted. I just couldn’t figure out how. I scrolled down the page and saw the words I had written. They had been sent to her, but how?! Hadn’t I discarded the email?
“Fuck me,” I said out loud, covering my mouth with my hand. “Fuck – Fuck – Fuck – Fuck!”
I sighed and sat back, keeping my eyes focused on my screen in case I realized I made a mistake and had NOT accidentally sent her the words I had written in response to her question, “What did you do today?” How could this have happened? I hit the reply button and scrolled the mouse over to the ‘discard’ button to retrace my steps from before when – oh fuck me…
The ‘send’ button happens to be next to the ‘discard’ button. Both are large and clear and have their own icons, depicting either a trash can or an arrow pointing forward, to suggest the direction your message is also going.
…I believe in Fate when it suits me. I do, I confess. Not always! But if I need it to justify something, I’ll give Fate the props it deserves. On this evening, however, it was too soon to tell if Fate had intervened in my favor or not. I looked at my clock. It was after eleven in the evening, which meant it was around five in the morning in Amsterdam. I wondered what Fenne was doing awake so early since I had accidentally sent that email only a couple of hours before.
My sleepiness had now vanished. I thought to respond but wasn’t sure if I should try to explain my error or just let the cat that was now out of the bag breathe. She hadn’t rebuked my words. Maybe if I said nothing more about it, she would not inquire.
“Fuck it,” I said under my breath and began to type.
Fenne,
I wish I could give a thousand excuses about the message you received from me earlier. I said what I meant to say, but it was sent accidentally. I feel glad it is out there, even though it comes with the risk of having you tell me not to contact you anymore. If I have offended you, I hope you will understand and forgive me. Always, C.
Chapter 33
Oops
When I woke up I searched my emails immediately for a response from Fenne, but there was nothing. My heart sank slightly. She would surely understand I had accidentally sent that message. Wouldn’t she? I had a full day of meetings and phone calls at my office and struggled to not get distracted by my thoughts. Maybe she hadn’t read my response yet.
I decided to meet Elise and a few of our old friends at Veronica’s after work instead of going straight home.
“Why are you so insistent on keeping it all inside? Why don’t you just tell her how you feel and release it?” Elise had asked me over a game of pool.
“Well it is out there now, which seems to be the problem,” I replied.
“You know what I mean.”
“For what reason?” I asked, bending over the pool table to take aim. “She’s over there, I’m here. Her life is just starting out,” I stood up after I missed the ball I was aiming for all together.
“You’ve written two romance novels, you can’t figure out a good reason?” Elise shot back. I laid my stick on the table and approached her.
“I really fucked things up when we were together, ok?” I said.
“That was two years ago—”
“Yeah, but she’s not like you and me – or anyone else we know. She’s very different. Like smart different.”
“I don’t get it, what’s smart different?” Elise probed.
“Forget it,” I said, grabbing my beer and guzzling the remainder. It was time for me to go home. Elise held my arm as I started to turn.
“Wait, I’m serious. I mean, if you love this girl, she’s important to me too. I don’t know what you’re trying to say about her being different, but if she’s the girl you want—”
“She’s just” –I smiled as I thought about her straight forward mannerisms, and then the way she was when she was focused on something that intrigued her. And the way she was when she was focused on me—“she is wonderful to know,” I said, putting my hand on Elise’s hand. All I wanted to do at that point was to go home and tell her.
As soon as I entered my home I called her. I counted the hours forward to see what time it was in Amsterdam – it was three a.m. there but I didn’t care. On the third ring, Fenne answered. Her voice was quiet but alert.
“It’s me,” I said.
“I know.”
“You’re sleeping?” I caught myself stalling, feeling for the right moment to say what I wanted to say.
“I think I was,” she said.
“Um…Hey, did you see my email? ” Oh god, I was sounding bad already.
“Of course.”
I stopped and waited for her to continue, but she said nothing more.
“Well… I am wondering if I said something wrong,” I pressed the palm of my hand to my forehead, frustrated by the lack of connection between us.
“No, why would you have?”
“Really? It’s just that it was such a weird mistake to happen – and then I tried to explain, but I haven’t heard back – I mean, I don’t really know how it made you feel…and I was curious about how you felt…” my voice trailed off at the end. None of the conversation was going as hoped. “Is it too late? Early, I mean? I can call you later – or you can call me—”
“You always ramble when you get nervous,” Fenne said, cutting me off. “It’s cute.”
“Sorry. I am nervous.”
“Why do you wonder how I feel about what you said? Do you think I don’t already know how you feel?”
“Well, it’s not like I’ve talked about it. I mean we don’t talk about those things.”
“Calli,” Fenne began, “You have this carpet over your eyes that you think I don’t see beneath” – I tried not to laugh out loud at her analogy – “but I know how you feel. I’ve always known, I think you can agree. What I don’t think you understand is that I have been waiting for you to come around.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean you were settling into your job, and you work very hard and long hours. I think you said you had some things you needed to work out inside of you, maybe, too?”
“Oh, god – “I sighed, “I was such an idiot in France, and it had nothing to do with you, but I hurt you—”
“Do you want me to hold onto that as long as you have?” Fenne asked, cutting me off. It silenced me. Obviously I didn’t want that. “So let it go. You are the only one keeping it alive,” she said.
I took a deep breath and exhaled, “The truth is, I want to tell you that I wish we had had the chance to fully develop our relationship because I think… I think life is dull without you in it. I miss you in every way. I have every day since we parted.”
“That makes me happy that you say those words.”
“I hadn’t heard from you and I thought maybe I had pushed you away,” I said, feeling relief.
“No. No, you couldn’t do that. I was waiting to contact you because I was waiting for an answer here. There is an exhibit coming to one of your museums that focuses on Dutch masters of art and I have requested to be one of the speakers.”
“Really? How long could you stay?”
“It’s for three weeks.”
Chapter 34
Smart Different
The opening night of the Dutch art exhibit was a black-tie affair. Fenne had arranged for me, Elise, and her new girlfriend Natalie to have an all-access pass during the event, granting us special up-close viewings of privately held pieces, an unlimited bar, and dinner with the hoytee-toytee’s of the city. Fenne had arrived the week prior, t
o accompany the art pieces. Between our schedules, our time was limited to evenings, but we made the best of every waking moment.
“When do we get to meet this Fenne of yours?” Elise asked me as we walked through the exhibit. “Natalie and I are both excited to find out exactly what ‘smart different’ looks like.” I laughed when she said that, as Elise had teased me about that phrase ever since it came out of my mouth.
“I’m not exactly sure. She is supposed to talk about the exhibit and give some background information and then I think she will be free to join us,” I said, feeling happy butterflies dancing in my stomach. I had not seen her since I had left for work in the morning. Opening night was a black tie event and Fenne had taken a change of clothes with her when she left that morning.
“The brochure says seven-thirty, which is now, so it has to be any moment,” Natalie added. I had only just recently met her, but I liked her for Elise. She was poised and down to earth. She didn’t seem pretentious, but one could easily sense her charm school roots.
“I’m so nervous,” I said out loud, then looked at the two of them who were staring back at me.
“Why are you nervous? Is this like a pregnancy thing and you have sympathy pains?” Elise joked.
“Good evening ladies and gentlemen,” a voice I knew well came over the speakers causing me to grin. Everyone quieted and turned as I did to face the platform upon which Fenne stood. I sucked in my breath when I saw her. She was stunning in a long black dress with a slit that ran up the side of her leg. Her dark hair hung loosely around her shoulders with the most beautiful soft waves. “Thank you all for attending tonight’s special presentation of works we have all cherished for decades and even centuries…”
“Wow,” Elise said nudging me gently. I could not take my eyes off of Fenne. I doubted anyone in the room could. Never had I seen her with makeup on, nor did I imagine she would be so natural speaking in front of the one hundred or so who had attended. The words that she spoke were eloquent and inspiring. Her passion for the pieces that were being displayed was contagious and spread through every member of the crowd who listened to her evince her love of the artists’ greatest works. She spoke for ten minutes, and when she had finished the room literally applauded for the way her words had moved them. I felt goosebumps, the way I did at Petit Trianon years ago when she shared with me the history of the Palace.