Aefle & Giesla

by Libby Malin

  “I thought you said you hadn’t been here before.” She didn’t smile.

  “I mean the atmosphere is great. No, I haven’t been here before. But it came highly recommended by my sister.” Why was she being so combative?

  DeeDee took a sip of wine and stared at Thomas, her eyes narrowing. “Your sister -- she’s your lawyer, isn’t she?”

  “Yes.” Why did he have the feeling that this line of questioning wasn’t good for him?

  “And she recommended you bring me here.”

  “Uh…yes.”

  “To talk about how we can win the case?” Her eyes narrowed and didn’t blink.

  He looked down and licked his lips. “Well, uh, she suggested… that is to say, one might be better off taking a more conciliatory approach to this…”

  She put her glass down, wiped her mouth with her napkin, and reached for her purse on the floor.

  “You know what? One might not be that hungry after all. One might have a splitting headache. In fact, one might be heading home. That is, if one doesn’t mind this one leaving.” She stood and headed for the door, while Thomas’s jaw dropped.

  What had he said wrong?

  Just then, the waiter arrived with their appetizers, and it took all of Thomas’s willpower not to stay to eat the savory -- and expensive -- meal he’d just ordered. Instead, he threw a large number of bills on the table, thanking his luck he’d decided to pay cash tonight instead of using a credit card, and ran after DeeDee. After two steps, he returned to the table and scooped up the gift he’d bought, retracing his steps double-time.

  He’d waited around all day, cooped up in his hotel room, for this meeting. He wouldn’t be denied.

  He caught her just as she was getting into her car.

  She rolled down her window. “Just let me go home, Tom, okay?”

  “What’s the matter?” he asked, refusing to budge. “I traveled three hours to get here, only to find out you couldn’t meet until this evening. I waited around all day, and you call off the meeting. I am not a mind-reader. Tell me why you’re upset.”

  She threw her hands on her steering wheel and cursed.

  “Do you think because I’m blonde I’m dumb? Your sister, who happens to be your lawyer, suggests you take me to the swankiest place in Oyster Point. I might be a hick, but I’m not a stupid one. And all that crap about being conciliatory? You’re going to try to get me to drop the suit. I’m just not in the mood, Tommy.”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  “Call you what?”

  “Tommy. And don’t assume that I’m a chauvinist just because other guys around here are like that.”

  She laughed cynically.

  “Right. All the guys here are cavemen and you’re Foie Gras and Caviar. I forgot. Well, tell me, Mr. Manners, are you saying you didn’t come down here to talk this dumb blonde into something she doesn’t want to do?”

  He paused. “I -- I…”

  “Did your sister dare you to do it, Tommy? Just like the boys dared you to stop Wendy’s wedding and you ended up stopping mine? And then let me believe you did it because you were such a chest-thumpin’ Tarzan kind of guy, ready to stop a poor ole weakling like me from making the biggest mistake of her life?” She paused. “Or should I say ‘one’s life’?”

  He froze. Oh, no. She knew.

  “I was going to tell you about that,” he murmured, but she was shaking her head and already putting her SUV in reverse. She started to back up so she could leave.

  He cursed under his breath. So she knew about the dare. Okay, so what? Any other bride would have stayed at the altar. Was it his fault she’d decided to respond to his prank? Hadn’t she thanked him for it, more or less? Hadn’t she said she’d been planning to run away from the altar and Buck? Buck Bewley! My god, what a jerk. Who’s to say if DeeDee would have ultimately fled if Tom hadn’t stood up and objected? He would not be the villain here. Dammit, he really had been the hero, whether she realized it or not!

  He flew around to the other side of her car and pulled open the door. Or rather, tried to. It was locked, and the force of his grab yanked something in his shoulder. He groaned in pain and dropped the stupid gift basket, bath salts and rubber ducks splaying out onto the graveled lot.

  She screeched to a halt and ran around to him.

  “Jesus, Tommy, what the hell’d you go and do? You didn’t break it, didya? What is it with you nowadays anyway? You used to be the timidest guy in town, and now all of a sudden you’re standing up at weddings and pulling car doors off.”

  He rubbed his shoulder with his good hand.

  “I think I sprained a muscle.” He grimaced as he rolled the joint in its socket. “And will you please stop calling me Tommy?” He stepped back, right onto one of the rubber ducks, which let out a pitiful squeak. “How about a deal -- I will, from this moment forward, cease to think of you as a dumb blonde, if you conversely cease to think of me as Timid. Fucking. Tommy!”

  “Hey, watch your language, mister,” an older gentleman said from across the parking lot as he opened a car door for his wife.

  “Sorry,” Thomas muttered in that direction, but he was angry, tired, and in pain. Now he just wanted to get this stupid conversation over with, get a good night’s sleep, and head back to Baltimore in the morning, where he could start sorting out the machinations of his tenure progress. He already knew what the outcome of their talk was going to be. DeeDee had no intention of dropping her countersuit, the silly woman. Yes, the silly, stupid, blonde woman.

  She sighed heavily.

  “Just a sec.”

  She hurried to the driver’s side of the car, stepped in and backed the SUV into a parking spot, then rejoined him on the asphalt.

  “C’mon. Let’s walk. They probably cleared our meals away by now.”

  “What about this mess?” He indicated the squashed rubber duckies -- she’d ridden over two more when she’d parked -- and the spilled bath salts. “They’ll harm the environment.”

  She rolled her eyes and groaned, then just grabbed his good hand and headed to the nearby river, where a hiking trail hugged the placidly lapping waters.

  ***

  “All right, Tom,” DeeDee said as they walked. “Spill -- did Megan make some kind of settlement with Buck?”

  “No! He’s a despicable man. And you proved your smarts when you left the altar.”

  She turned her head sharply. “You’re making fun of me.”

  Tom stopped. “Why on earth would you say that? I’m not making fun of you. I’m stating a fact.”

  She blushed, two rosy spots appearing on her magnolia-white cheeks.

  “Buck is trying to ruin me financially, you know. He’s getting the company to cut my dealership.”

  “What? He can’t do that. How could he influence whether you stay open or not?”

  “For God’s sake, Tommy -- Tom -- don’t you read the news? You know how a bunch of dealerships were being closed down after the government bailout? I thought all that was over, but apparently, it’s not. I originally wasn’t one of the dealerships slated for closure. Until I ran away from Buck. His family has connections.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  She stopped and peered at him. “How do you know?”

  “His sister is the administrator at my father’s assisted living facility, a facility that has little patience for cranky older gentlemen whose sons entice the betrothed of Mr. Bewley to run away from their nuptial altar.”

  She stopped and crossed her arms over her chest, staring into the water.

  “So you can’t possibly be thinking of asking me to drop my suit. I’m sorry I jumped to that conclusion, Thomas.”

  “Well, uh, I…” He had been thinking of that very thing, of course, but it seemed so cowardly now. He remembered how he’d shrunk from Buck in the duck store. It wasn’t a good feeling. It made his stomach tie in knots. Megan could be wrong. Maybe it was better to duke this one out.

  She turned to him and grabbed
his arm.

  “Why did you come, then? What did you want to tell me?”

  She looked into his eyes, and in that moment, he remembered what he’d loved about her years ago -- it wasn’t her looks, which were tantalizingly erotic. No, it was her girlish innocence under all that rough exterior, a joyful desire to just be happy, to trust people to want her to be happy. It was when she was disappointed that the roughness came out, as if she were afraid of being made a fool of.

  She looked so beautiful in the evening light. Again, he was reminded of the Fouquet Madonna, its sensuality and purity combined in one.

  He swallowed hard straightened. “I wanted to confess to stopping your wedding for the wrong reason,” he said. That was partly true. He’d meant to tell her -- before the lawsuit had crashed on his head. “And to ask you to forgive me.”

  She smiled and tilted her head. “Aw, Tom, it takes a big man to admit he was wrong.”

  There it was again -- that flash of joy, of wanting everything to work out. She’d been so angry just moments ago. It had taken so little to heal her wounds. He felt himself relax as he remembered how comfortable he’d felt around her once they’d discovered each other again years ago.

  “Say, let’s go back to my place. I’ll make you dinner -- no, let’s order in, my treat. I’ll get us some good seafood from Crabpot Pete, okay? Maybe we can even compare notes, so to speak, and plot strategy on our own. We need to look out for ourselves….”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  THOUGHTS OF getting DeeDee to drop the suit went even further out the window as Thomas enjoyed the evening with her back at her house.

  They talked into the wee hours after polishing off a dozen steamed crabs, crab cakes, hush puppies, and cole slaw, all washed down with a bottle of white wine from a local vintner. They didn’t just talk about Buck-- although a good portion of the meal was therapeutic fulminations over what a bully the man was and how DeeDee should never have agreed to marry him.

  They caught up, filling in the blanks of what they’d heard of each other’s progress over the past ten years, correcting wrong assumptions-- DeeDee had heard Tom was moving to Europe when he’d only been doing research abroad-- and reconnecting with the parts of themselves that had meshed during their brief affair. They talked about their childhoods in Oyster Point, the rough teen years, why they both chose their paths, and what they hoped to accomplish in life. A lot of it was a rehash of material they’d covered during their fling, but for Thomas, it felt as if a weight was lifting off him to find in her the sympathetic ear and kindred spirit he’d remembered. Whatever their differences, they’d bonded on some fundamental level, both of them fighting misperceptions of themselves as they’d struggled to find happiness in work and life.

  “You know, Thomas, you were kind of, well, stuck up back then,” she said, lolling on her living room sofa, munching on some M&Ms, their dessert for the evening.

  “Stuck up? I was the exact opposite! I was crushed down!” he protested. “By the likes of Buck Bewley.” He practically spat the name. They’d spent so much time damning Buck that the man’s name seemed synonymous with every evil character from history.

  “What did Buck do to you in high school?” DeeDee asked eagerly, leaning forward to hear yet another tale confirming their low opinion of the man.

  “Well, not Buck specifically. I was talking allegorically. Buck and I didn’t cross paths a great deal. But I did come into contact with his fellow travelers, if you know what I mean -- the jocks, the BMOC types… I never understood why you went to the prom with him.”

  She rolled her eyes. “We’ve been over that a million times already,” she said. “You were too scared to ask me, remember? Even though I’d put the word out that I’d look kindly on an invite.”

  “Need I remind you that this coded message arrived in the form of a dare from --”

  “Jeez Louise, Tom, stop reliving that crap. We’re both past it, all right?”

  She moved up onto the couch, relaxing, her blond hair catching the light from a nearby lamp, creating a glow like a halo around her creamy face. As Thomas stared at her from his chair across the room, he wondered again at how lucky he’d been to have her at one time, and asked himself why they’d broken up.

  “It’s a bitch,” DeeDee continued, “how those things in high school kind of brand you, though. You know, make you who you are today.”

  “But I’m not that person any longer. I think I proved that decisively, in fact.”

  DeeDee laughed and ran her fingers through her hair. “I guess you did prove something, Tom. Next thing I know, you’ll be moving back to Oyster Point to prove what a man you are.”

  She stood, taking their glasses into the kitchen. He followed her.

  “What does that mean?”

  She didn’t look at him as she put the dishes in the sink. “You bolted out of town as fast as you could after high school. Didn’t want to stay after college.” She turned to him and jabbed her finger lightly on his chest. “That was the reason we didn’t stay together, remember? You were all hot to trot for grad school. Too good for us poor chumps in Oyster Point.”

  “There are no grad schools in Oyster Point, DeeDee. I couldn’t have stayed.” This had the tinge of déjà vu to it. It made him uncomfortable. “And you could have come with me. I asked, if you recall.”

  She laughed. “It was real romantic, too, if I remember correctly. Something about sharing a place in Boston, how it would be cheaper and all than you staying by yourself, how I’d enjoy going with you to university functions even if I just had a job somewhere.”

  His face warmed. He remembered it differently. Yes, he’d couched it in somewhat practical terms, but he’d felt at the time that such reasoning would have an appeal for her pragmatic side -- if she’d known she would be helping him, that is, instead of just tagging along. And part of him hadn’t thought she’d come just because he’d wanted her to.

  “That’s not exactly what I said,” he groused. “And I told you that you, too, could take advantage of being in a college town --”

  “Right. And take business courses.”

  “What’s wrong with business courses? Harvard has a first-class business school. You never understood that,” he said in frustration.

  “Really? Harvard has a business school?” she asked. “You mean for secretaries and all? Why, shut my mouth, I never would have guessed.”

  “You’re mocking me.”

  “And what the hell were you doing -- telling me I was only good enough for business courses.”

  He mentally growled. They were reliving their original fight ten years ago. “I didn’t say you were only good enough for that course of study -- a perfectly legitimate course of study, I might add -- I just thought, given your aptitude and affection for your father’s business, that it was a natural fit.”

  “Of course. And maybe if that hadn’t worked out, I could have gone to their beauty school. Harvard does have a beauty school, doesn’t it?”

  “Will you please stop it? I’m not demeaning you. If you’d wanted to pursue something else, you could have. You still could. You have such a chip on your shoulder!”

  “Me? What about you, buster? I wrote you and asked if you were coming to the next year’s reunion because they needed guest speakers, and you replied that you had more important things to do than spend a weekend in East Podunk talking to us hicks.”

  “I never said ‘East Podunk.’”

  “You might as well have.”

  “I said that I had important research to do -- my Aefle work was just starting -- which I didn’t think anyone in Oyster Point would care to hear about, given its obscure nature and the fact that one would need to have quite a substantial understanding of medieval history to even perceive why this little monk would have an impact of enormous proportions on current research in the field.”

  “Translation: us East Podunk hicks wouldn’t get it.”

  “Do you really think they would?” he seethed.
/>
  “I rest my case.”

  “I’m not being a snob -- there’s a difference between snobbery and expertise… and, and understanding and interest! Do you really think anyone here would be interested in Aefle?”

  “Well, even if we dopes were too stupid for you, you could have come back to see me. You never even gave me a call when you were in town to visit your dad.”

  “I heard you were seeing Buck.” He ran his fingers through his hair. Truth be told, he’d been hurt when he’d first heard about her relationship with Buck, but his father -- source of town news, as always -- had told him it sounded like a casual thing. He’d always imagined she would move on and realize what a mistake she’d made.

  “Oh, so you were afraid.”

  “I was not afraid!” Not afraid of Buck at the time. But perhaps a little afraid of having his feelings hurt. She’d wounded him with her rejection of his move-in proposal, despite his many attempts to reassure himself that he shouldn’t have expected anything else. When he’d heard she was seeing Buck, he’d taken it as evidence that he’d been right all along -- that the DeeDees of the world didn’t end up with the Thomas Charlemagnes of the world.

  “Okay, maybe that’s too strong a word. Maybe you were just…” She narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms. “… timid.”

  He inhaled sharply, his eyes widening.

  This wasn’t going to work. He stormed to the living room. Why he thought he could have a decent conversation with DeeDee McGowan, let alone reason with her, let alone rekindle a romance -- he must have been mad. Stark, raving mad.

  “Where are you going?” she asked, following him.

  “Home,” he muttered. He would drive back tonight and tell Megan in the morning that dealing with DeeDee was hopeless. He’d call his dad and apologize for not meeting him for breakfast.

  “That’s it. Run away. Just like you did before. You couldn’t wipe the dust of Oyster Point off your feet fast enough. We were never good enough for you.”