“No, come to think of it. Anything I need to know about Dr. Harvey?”
“Yes, there’s been a bunch of emails. You were copied on everything. I updated the slide decks based on his changes. You don’t look good, Joanna. Is everything…”
“I’m fine. Thanks for your help.”
Susan tried one more time. “Can I get you a cup of tea or something?”
“No, thank you.” Joanna’s head bent over the research materials on her desk. “Can you shut the door, please?”
The instant Susan was gone, Joanna plunged into work, trying to ignore her very real pain. An awful combination of emotional and physical pain. She’d never been in this much pain in her life. Never. Not even after the abortion. Not when her parents screamed at her or each other. Or when they divorced. Or when her mother died or she had to watch her father die slowly of alcoholism. The pain from those events stopped, eventually. This would have to stop, too. She’d just have to wait a few more days and it would stop. She was married to a man who loved her. Their future was promising. None of this lessened the longing of wanting to see Michael again. To look into his blue eyes. To touch the stubble on his jaw. To feel his soft lips on hers. More than anything she wanted to hear his voice and his laugh.
STOP. This wasn’t the way to get over him. She worked, and worked, and worked. Somehow, that first day ended and she left the office. Once outside in the fresh air, it all came crashing in on her again. She couldn’t go home yet, and called Brian and left a message: “I’ve been sitting all day and I need to walk. I’ll see you when I get home. Pizza for dinner? Bye.”
She walked slowly, killing time and getting home as late as possible. She still got there too early to go to bed, which was all she wanted to do. Fortunately she’d planned ahead and had taken out some documentaries from the library to watch with Brian. Anything so she wouldn’t have to talk to him. She felt guilty for being distant with him, and angry at him for keeping her from Michael. Pain, guilt, anger. Repeat.
When she did go to bed, she slept poorly. The inside of her eyelids became a screen for her brain’s projections of Michael. Her memories of him were even more vivid at night.
On Tuesday morning, Joanna again left at seven. She didn’t leave the office that night until eight, digging up extra things to do. When she got home, she retreated to her computer to do research about real estate and running an inn. At least that’s what she told Brian. What she was actually doing was embarrassing. She was looking for information about Michael. She read reviews of his mysteries and found a skimpy paragraph about him in a magazine. When a
picture of him popped up after she clicked on a link, tears pricked her eyes. Brian walked in and she switched to her email with the speed of a teen getting off a porn site.
Brian accepted her level of busy the first few days without asking too many questions. She did catch him studying her out of the corner of his eye. Fortunately, he had a lot of things on his mind. Not only projects with deadlines, but also family matters. That Wednesday he was up early, preparing to leave for New Jersey to have breakfast with his sister and mother before visiting assisted living facilities. While he was shaving, Joanna pretended to get ready for work. The minute he left she went back to bed. From there, she left her boss a message that she’d be in by noon.
She slept for another two hours, which she needed after spending nights staring at the bedroom ceiling. Having some time in the apartment alone took pressure off. It was a luxury to be in bed and not worry what she’d do if Brian got playful. When it was time to get ready for work, she showered. In the stream of hot water she masturbated, trying to quiet her body. It had been screaming at her, begging all night to be touched. It wasn’t erotic, it was more like finally getting out a sneeze.
After another long, break-free day at the office, she went home. Brian was on the couch reading brochures from the assisted living places he’d visited with his mom. It had been a hard day for him, and Joanna hated herself for not being able to do more than pretend to comfort him. She tried to participate in Brian’s “What should we do when we’re old?” discussion. She listened and nodded but wished he would just shut up so she could collapse into bed. Pain, guilt, anger, and now self-loathing.
Thursday was a dull blur. By Friday morning, Joanna was dreading the upcoming weekend, knowing she wouldn’t have work as a fallback excuse for her antisocial behavior. They had a few plans but would be alone together a lot of the weekend.
At work she opened an email from Ruth, the realtor in Cape May: Was Joanna still interested in any of the houses she had seen, including the Tea & Scones? Joanna wondered the same thing. The phone rang.
“This is Joanna Matthews.”
“Joanna.”
She knew instantly who it was. How could she not? His voice had been in her head all week. If she were stronger she would’ve hung up. “Michael.”
“How are you?” he said, wishing he’d been stronger and not called.
“Fine. How are you?”
“Not fine. I’m in the neighborhood. Any chance you’re free for lunch?”
“No, I can’t,” she said.
“Please. We need to talk.”
Susan walked past the open door. Joanna said, “I’m working.”
He didn’t say anything. Then, “I know you like your food. You gotta eat, right? That’s why God invented lunchtime.”
Her heart was pounding. “I’ll meet you in the lobby at noon.”
Emails needed answering, but she was filling them with typos and gave up trying. She grabbed her purse and went to the ladies room. In the mirror she looked alive. Miserable yes, but excited and alive. Her heart was still pounding, and she couldn’t wait to see him. It was only 11:45, but she was useless now anyway. On the way to the elevator she told Susan, “I’m going to lunch. Might be awhile.”
To any observer, she probably looked like every other office worker heading out to lunch. They couldn’t feel her legs longing to run, or hear her breath coming too fast. A second after pushing the down button for the elevator, she pushed it again. When the elevator did come she entered it sideways, like a crab, before the doors were fully open. As the doors were closing, she saw Susan smiling a little smile at her, not knowing what she had done to make Joanna distant. Joanna waved. As the elevator inched its way down to the lobby, Joanna’s body was so full of adrenaline she wondered if she was damaging herself somehow.
The elevator doors opened and she was in the lobby. He wasn’t there yet. Wait, pacing just outside the glass doors, there he was. She watched him a moment, her heart aching. He suddenly stopped and turned towards her, and he gave her a little smile. Had things been even slightly different, they would’ve run into each other’s arms. He opened a big glass door and walked towards her as she walked towards him. They stood for a moment a foot apart, smiling goofily at each other, the yearning palpable between them.
“Hi,” she said, holding out her hand, needing to touch him.
He took it and held it longer than socially necessary, obviously feeling the same way. “Joanna.”
Her face was hot. “Lunch?”
“Sure,” he said. “Is there anywhere quiet where we can talk?”
“Hard to find midtown. Wait, what about the Excelsior? They have a pretty quiet restaurant.”
They walked, slowly and closely together. She said, “How are you?”
“Honestly?”
“Maybe not.”
“Then I’m fine. Great. Dandy.”
“Me, too.”
“I wasn’t sure you’d even see me.”
“I didn’t want to, I mean, I know I shouldn’t. I’ve missed you, though.” She stopped walking and looked at him. “A lot.” People streamed past them, some jostling them but they didn’t care.
He said, “There’s so much I wanted to talk with you about, and now none of it seems worth it.” They continued walking.
“No,” she said. “Please. Talk about anything.” She wanted more of his v
oice, live and in-person, instead of in her constantly replayed scenes of Cape May.
“Well,” he said, trying to make it light, “this has been the worst week of my life.”
“Me, too.”
They arrived at the Excelsior in the mid-Forties off Sixth Avenue. The popular hotel also had a restaurant and a bar. Joanna and Michael were sat a table for two and the waiter welcomed them.
Michael said, “Coffee please,” and Joanna nodded in agreement. They fleetingly looked over the menu while they talked.
She said, “When did you leave Cape May?”
“I took the bus on Sunday. I was supposed to stay a few more days but couldn’t face being there after you, after…”
“I’m sorry about the way I left things, but I didn’t know how to…what else to do. I still don’t.”
“I know.”
“We don’t even really know each other.”
“You don’t really mean that, do you?” he said. She shook her head. The waiter brought coffees and they ordered, although neither was hungry. “How’s work?”
“I’m spending all my time there, and now my boss is starting to like me. He’s got an obsessed employee, mornings and evenings.”
He paused. “Things hard at home?”
She nodded. “It’s…yes. Hard.”
“Brian seems like an okay guy. I wish he wasn’t.”
After a long, painful pause, Joanna tried making small talk. “Did you finish Time and Again?”
“Yes, on the bus home from Cape May, although my thoughts might’ve been elsewhere.”
“You have to read the sequel now.”
“Sure. Will do. And you? Are you still thinking of moving?”
“Well,” and she looked at him wistfully, “my life is a little confusing at the moment.”
The waiter brought their salads, and they settled in to eat. They talked of movies, politics, even the weather. Conversation flowed easily, comfortably, perhaps because it helped them avoid discussing what was uppermost in their minds.
She said, “How are things with your son?”
“Not great.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“Yes, actually. I’d like to talk to you about him, or anything else, really. Rob lives in San Francisco and works with computers. I don’t understand half of what he does, but he makes a lot of money and is happy. We have a…tenuous relationship. Even though his mother left me, I somehow became the bad guy. No, that’s not fair, there’s a lot more to the story, and I’m not proud of my behavior.”
“I’ve heard rumors that parenting can be hard.”
“Not like you think. He’s a great guy, but, I mean and he’s gay. Donna accepted it with no hesitation and it took me a while. Is taking me a while, still.”
“I see.”
“In December he and his partner are getting married, and he wants me to fly out there. And I don’t know what to do. You think I’m wrong?”
“It’s not for me to say.”
“Look, I have, and love, my gay friends, but it hit me differently when my one and only kid turned out to be gay, like I had failed in some way as a male influence or something. That, because of me, he had a tougher time in life.”
She didn’t say anything.
He said, “Say something. Really, go ahead.”
“I don’t have children but…”
“You can just say it.”
“It’s not about anything you did. It’s not about you. Kids should be loved unconditionally. And go to his wedding and be proud he found someone to love who loves him back.”
He stared at her. “You’re wonderful, you know.”
“I don’t know how you jumped to that conclusion.”
A busboy refilled their water glasses.
“That house,” Michael said, “the Tea & Scones. It would be a good investment, you know. It’s a good price, and I could see you running it.”
“Me, too. I felt right at home there, but…”
“What?”
“Well, how can I plan anything when I can’t stop thinking about you. It’s awful.”
“Thanks,” he said, moving the salad around with his fork.
“I didn’t mean…” she put her hand on his wrist.
“I know what you meant. It is awful. For me, too. It’s not like I want the moon moved an inch to the left, I just want to be with you without feeling like a criminal. But those two things now seem equally unlikely.”
It was time to go. They each left money on the table and stood up to leave. The tension increased as they walked to the exit through the hotel lobby. They looked at each other, thinking the same thing. Joanna willed herself away from the pull of the registration desk and the possibility of taking the next step. She walked outside, and he followed.
Waving her hand toward the hotel she said, “It’s not that I don’t…I do, but…”
“In degrees of difficulty I know this is a thousand times harder for you, because of him. It’s up to me to be understanding.”
“Thank you,” she said, dropping her head.
He put his hand on her upper arm, and moved closer to her. He whispered, “Let’s get you back to work.”
They walked east and all too quickly they were in front of her office building. They lingered, making up things to talk about, reluctant to separate.
She said, “How’s your book coming along?”
“Not bad. I’m channeling my misery into my art.”
“Don’t cut off any body parts.”
“No, I’d like to stay whole. Just in case.”
She smiled, about to reply, when her smile widened suddenly. “Hi,” she said, to a coworker entering the building. Then to Michael, “I can’t stand here with you. I feel like I’m wearing a blinking neon sign.”
“A scarlet ‘A’?” She nodded. He said, “Listen. Would you like to go out for coffee later, after work.” She shook her head. He whispered, “We need to talk, without whispering, without interruptions.”
“I can’t.” She looked at her watch. “I have to get back to work. I have a meeting in a few minutes.”
“Joanna…”
“I have to go,” and she opened the glass door into the lobby.
He followed. “When can I see you again?” She couldn’t answer. “Will you call me?”
“Maybe, I don’t know.” He looked so hurt. She whispered, leaning in closer to him, wishing she could touch him. “I’m sorry.”
He nodded.
“I’ve got to go.” And she walked away from him. Again.
***
Michael walked through the door of his apartment, and just stood there, keys dangling from his hand. Although he’d always known that any control he had over his life was merely an illusion, this obvious, painful, total lack of control was unbearable. He didn’t try to or mean to but he fell in love—if not at first sight, then at second day. And he had even less control of the outcome. Joanna knew how he felt, and everything was in her hands now.
He changed into sweatpants and an old T-shirt and sat down to work on his book. Every word was like pulling teeth, every completed sentence inadequate. Why bother. Instead, he put on a Miles Davis CD, made some tea, and returned to a recently started project: cleaning out the junk in his apartment. Living alone, he’d let things get out of hand. Piles of newspapers and magazines stood atop his tiny kitchen table. Books were in swaying stacks on the floor. Now he was thinning out his library. The massive job was keeping him sane, and keeping his mind off the guilt. It clawed at his insides—the thought of possibly being responsible for breaking up someone’s marriage, and at the same time praying for it. His parents had been married forever. True, they didn’t like each other much, but due to their vows and inertia, they stuck it out until death did them part. His own marriage fell painfully apart, and he was at least half to blame.
Meeting Joanna, even this late in life, was akin to a miracle. Admittedly, the real woman of his dreams would be available, wouldn’t she?
He loved Joanna. That was the miracle. Parts of him that had been closed and cynical even to the concept were suddenly, uncomfortably, wide open. The funny thing was, if he and Joanna had been set up, this all might not have happened. But as strangers without expectations, they were unguarded, and just themselves, and discovered each other. He knew she had strong feelings for him, but what she’d do with those feelings he really didn’t know. He found her, and it was more than likely he would lose her. She was a woman who wouldn’t want to hurt her husband. Michael needed to protect himself from further damage to his heart. But how? It was too late to shut back down.
Back in Cape May when she walked away from the Woodline estate and out of his life, he’d sat on the bench in the little park for what seemed like an eternity. Since then, he’d examined his feelings for her many times. Could he really be in love with her? Perhaps if she were available the excitement wouldn’t be there? But Michael wasn’t that kind of man. He never had been. As unsatisfying as his marriage had been, he would probably still be married to Donna if she hadn’t left him. (The realization of that unhealthy little fact landed him in therapy for a few years after the divorce.) He should’ve wanted a divorce as much as she did. But he was loyal and liked being in a relationship. Even an unsatisfying one.
Since leaving Cape May, he realized he’d never felt anything for any woman the way he did for Joanna. It made him contemplate calling his ex-wife and apologizing. How good a husband could he have been, never truly, fully loving her. Donna must’ve sensed it, and resented him all those years and been thrilled when she found someone who truly loved her…the way Michael now loved Joanna.
He couldn’t let himself think about Joanna’s husband. Brian. Why couldn’t Brian be an idiot or nasty? He seemed like a regular guy. And the pain Michael went through as a dumped husband, he might inflict on Brian.
That afternoon he made many trips to his building’s basement, filling the recycling bins with newspapers and magazines. He purged his desk drawers, throwing dried up pens, and pictures of his ex-wife, down the garbage chute. He found empty boxes in the laundry room and brought them upstairs to load for the thrift store. The living room seemed twice the size. Misery properly channeled was productive. His New Agey friends would say he was making room for Joanna in his life, spiritually and physically. That may have been true. Another truth was, if the worst happened, if he never saw Joanna again—an unbearable thought he could not dwell on—he would still have to find a way to live the rest of his life.
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