“Jo! What’s the matter? Are you sick?” Cynthia undid her seat belt so she could lean over and feel Joanna’s head.
Joanna couldn’t talk, so she just kept shaking her head.
“Breathe, honey, just breathe.”
Some words came out: “I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”
Cynthia uncapped a water bottle. Joanna took a few gulps and slowly calmed down. Cynthia wet a paper towel and held it to her sister’s head. “You feeling better?” Letting out a deep sigh and sinking back into the car seat, Cynthia said, “Ohmygosh, I thought you were having a heart attack. Don’t do that again, okay?”
“I’ll try not to.”
“I was really scared.”
“I’m sorry I scared you.”
“I’ll drive the rest of the way.” Cynthia got out of the passenger seat and walked around to the driver’s side while Joanna climbed over the gearshift column.
When Cynthia buckled herself in, Joanna told her, “I suddenly thought about you seeing the house and hating it, and yelling at me for dragging you down here.” It was semi-true anyway.
“I’m not really that scary, am I?”
“Everything’s a little scary right now. If you love the house, that’s scary, too. There goes most of the money I have in the world.”
“And Brian’s money.”
“See? That scares me, too.”
“Let’s go see the house. No matter what I think, it’s your decision, and Brian’s, if…if…Well, I don’t know what the hell is going on inside you, and you won’t talk to me, so, whatever.”
Joanna answered by buckling her seatbelt.
“That’s all I’m gonna get from you, huh?”
“Cynthia, drive. It’s the next left.”
Cynthia drove the few moments more to the Tea & Scones while Joanna tried to turn off her emotions. It didn’t work. The physical pain of missing Michael grew when the car pulled into the driveway. The house once again was inviting, gorgeous, and Joanna’s dream come to life. But he was there, everywhere, standing on the porch telling her to stop being enthusiastic, his warm breath hitting her ear and disturbing her. God, she had been in love with him already, and she hadn’t even known.
Cynthia was out of the car and up the front steps before Joanna even managed to unbuckle her seat belt. Joanna took a deep breath, and got out to face the future. As she walked up the path, she said to Cynthia, “Do you want some time alone with the house or should I call Ruth the realtor. She’s in town, waiting for our call.”
“Give me some time and then call her.” Cynthia checked out the roof with binoculars she’d brought. If she were buying the house herself she couldn’t have been more thorough. She walked the perimeter, examining the windows, landscaping possibilities, backyard, parking area, everything outside the house. Then Joanna called Ruth.
While waiting, the sisters sat on the porch steps and talked. “It’s a great house, Jo. Perfect location. Close enough to walk to the shops and beach, but a little off the beaten track. It offers people quiet, if they want quiet. I think if you’re ready to handle everything, you should buy it.”
“I think so, too,” Joanna said, trying to sound enthused. She did adore the house and did want to buy it, but life in general was bleaker than it had ever been. Throwing herself into planning, seeing the house again, meeting with Ruth, it all was supposed to drown out her yearning for Michael and her guilt about Brian. But sitting on the porch, where she had stood with Michael, she was mourning his loss. It was as if he had died. But he wasn’t dead. He was back there in Manhattan, probably in his apartment by now, wondering what the hell was going on.
“Joanna?”
Joanna jumped. “What?”
“Where are you? I’ve never seen you like this. Is it all because of him?”
Joanna nodded, stood up, and walked down the path, pretending to look for Ruth’s car. While Cynthia remained on the porch, Joanna took out her cell phone and called Michael again.
He answered after two rings. “Hello.”
“I…I’m sorry,” was all she could manage.
“That’s all I get?” She couldn’t say anything. He continued, “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know.” Joanna felt the tears coming, and the lump in her throat made it hard to talk. To make matters worse, Ruth arrived and was parking. “I beg you to forgive me for…everything. I can’t stay on. I’m in Cape May, with my sister. We’re looking at the Tea & Scones again. I think I’m going to buy it.”
“Is Brian there?”
“No. I needed some distance from both of you. To think.”
“You’re buying a house with him, so you’ve made your decision, haven’t you.”
“Michael…”
Ruth was walking towards her, smiling so much that Joanna wanted to punch her in the face.
“Michael, I have to go,” she said, but he had already disconnected the call. “Hello?” She felt paralyzed with grief, but Ruth started talking and selling, and rattling off percents and numbers and dates. Joanna walked into her future house, and something inside her clicked shut.
***
Joanna put a binder on the house. Over the years, Cynthia had bought antiques from and sold antiques to Cape May residents. She knew people who knew people in charge and somehow managed to get the Tea & Scones inspected within the week. It passed. Joanna and Cynthia decided to stay a few more days in rooms at a tiny bed and breakfast just outside town. The separate rooms prevented them from getting on each other’s nerves.
One afternoon Cynthia walked into Joanna’s room. “Dinner plans. I saw a rustic restaurant, near the water. I can’t remember the name. Probably bad but fun food. Wait, I think it’s a man’s name. Harry’s? Henry’s?”
Joanna practically yelled, “No not there.”
“Ooooookay.”
“It’s only four o’clock. I practically just finished lunch.” She grabbed her sunglasses and headed out, saying, “I’m going for a walk. I’ll be back in an hour.”
Later they went to a diner. Joanna said, “I hope this place is okay?”
“It’s fine. And Jo, I don’t know what I said earlier…”
“I’m having breakfast for dinner. You?”
Cynthia nodded and pulled out a magazine to read. Joanna pretended to read. Not another word was uttered by either of them through the whole meal other than “Pass the salt.”
When she was alone that night in her room, Joanna went to bed early, hoping to fall asleep quickly. It wasn’t to be. Brain called to check on her, and a friend called to chat. The conversations were over quickly yet upset Joanna, probably because both times her cell buzzed she hoped it was Michael, even though she had no right to hope it was Michael.
The next morning, while waiting for various papers to be faxed by the sellers’ lawyer, Joanna and Cynthia went for a walk on the beach. Joanna was covered in sunscreen plus long-sleeved white shirt and big hat, and Cynthia was wearing a tank top and absorbing as much sun as she possibly could.
Cynthia said, “You know, it’s really nice here. Relaxing. I may come and visit you a lot.”
“I’d like that.” They continued walking.
Cynthia linked her arm through Joanna’s. “You can visit me, too, during your off-season. We’ll see some shows, go to exhibits.”
“I’m glad to hear you still want to spend time with me. I know I haven’t been a joy to be around.”
“No, you’ve been a pain in the ass.” Then quickly, “With reason, of course.” There was another long pause. “As nice as this is, I don’t know how anyone could give up a two-bedroom apartment in Manhattan.”
“I don’t want to live in New York any more. It’s changed, and I’ve changed.”
“What about Brian?”
“He’d stay in Manhattan until death do them part. In that apartment, too. He’s lived there over thirty years. I was thinking…”
“What?”
“Brian should keep the apartment. Sublet it or some
thing.” Joanna stopped walking. “That’s a good idea, Cynthia. I’m going to talk to him about it.”
“What about the money you’d get for the apartment? Don’t you need it in order to buy the house?”
“Not if I use more of my inheritance, and savings. I’ve been socking away my paycheck since I started looking at houses. I’m not saying it’s a fiscally responsible thing to do, but it’s better than making Brian give up his beloved Manhattan after what I’ve, if I,” she stopped, staring off.
Cynthia said, “What?”
Joanna looked around toward the buildings. She saw the back of Morrow’s and the wooden walkway and steps. “Michael and I kissed for the first time right here.” With that, she turned and walked away, and Cynthia followed.
***
Everything that could be done in Cape May—the first steps on the tall house-buying ladder—was done. Before Joanna was ready, it was time to go home, and she was back in the car with Cynthia heading north to New York.
After an hour of quiet in the car, Cynthia took a chance and said, “This trip must’ve been painful for you.”
“Hmm?”
“You know what I’m talking about, Joanna,” she said, not caring if she got yelled at. “Michael.”
“It was.”
“It must’ve been romantic, meeting him like that.”
“It was.”
“Is it possible, Jo, that you got caught up in the drama of it all? Handsome stranger, beach, stars.”
“Maybe.”
“Any idea what your future entails?”
“No.”
“Well, sis, I don’t mean to be the cold, hard slap of reality, but you’ve just put a binder on an expensive house. Are you sure you want to be doing all this right now?”
“Cynthia, the only thing I know for sure is that I have to keep going forward. I want to move. I want that house. It’s the only thing I have any control over.”
“Okay, sister. I’m on your side, whichever it is.”
The usually long ride was much too short this time. She dropped Cynthia off at her apartment.
“Jo, please call if you need me. I meant it: I’m on your side.”
Before Joanna was ready, she was pulling into the garage under their building. Brian was upstairs waiting for her.
The elevator stopped at the eleventh floor and she stepped out, slowly heading towards her apartment. She’d only been away a few days, yet the hallway looked and felt different, as if some reality show had swooped in the minute she left, just those few days ago, and smashed walls, relocated doorways, painted, and changed lighting fixtures. She half expected some overly enthusiastic former athlete or C-list actor to jump out with a camera crew to document her flabbergasted reaction to the changes. She stopped, overcome by a memory of being seventeen and visiting a beloved third grade teacher back at the elementary school. She’d felt like a giant next to the kids. It seemed impossible that she had ever physically fit into the building, that it had ever been her school. That was how it felt now. That despite having lived on this floor, in this building, almost twenty years, she no longer belonged. Or even worse, she was no longer welcome.
The suddenly alien keys, on a bunch of key chains lovingly collected and added over the years, fell to the floor. When she picked them up they wouldn’t stop shaking until she used one hand to steady the other. The door unlocked. Archie meowed, rubbing against her leg, and she was relieved to see him, something familiar, something warm and loving in this now strange atmosphere. At the sound of the door closing, Brian came out of his office. Although it was late afternoon, he was still in his robe. Her normally clean husband looked awful, his robe stained, and himself unwashed. He hadn’t shaved. The apartment was a mess, too, with dirty dishes on the coffee table, DVDs out of their cases on the floor, and stuff all over.
She said, “You okay?”
His voice was raspy when he answered, as if he hadn’t uttered a word since she left. “That’s a stupid question, coming from you.”
She just stood there, her throat tightening, her stomach a stormy mess. What could she say? Words couldn’t repair this.
He waved his arm, trying to explain. “I shouldn’t’ve said that.”
“No. I understand.”
“No, you don’t. You can’t. Jo, this whole time you’ve been away. I kept thinking of you, picturing you, seeing you with him. I’ve never done that before. I mean, I’ve never not trusted you.”
She wanted to say she was sorry but those words sounded hollow even in her head. And they wouldn’t have scratched the surface of his hurt.
He continued. “Now you’re buying a house. But I don’t know where we are, together. How we’re gonna be. Making me leave New York and everything.”
“No,” she said, mobilized, taking off her jacket, and putting down her keys. “I had an idea. We should keep this apartment for you.”
“How? Why?”
“You love it, and Manhattan, more than I do. This could be your pied-à-terre.”
“And I’m supposed to be happy about this? Gee, it makes me feel really secure about our future together, Jo,” he said, and went back into the office, but not before she saw he was crying.
***
After another night on the couch, Joanna lied and told Brian she had to go to work. She did plan on quitting in person later that day. First, she needed to go and talk to Michael. She left the apartment and headed toward the subway, in case somehow Brian was hanging out of the living room window watching her. Instead of going into the subway station, she walked downtown. A niche between two buildings offered a quiet place from which to call Michael. It smelled of urine and she didn’t care. Would he even answer when he saw her caller ID? If he did answer, would it be to just curse at her and hang up? If he did that, she wouldn’t blame him.
“Hi. It’s Joanna.” He didn’t say anything. “Are you there?”
“Yes.”
“Can I come see you?”
“Why?”
“Please. I need to talk to you.” More silence. “Please.”
“If you think you can manage to keep the appointment.”
He hung up.
As Joanna walked there, her level of dread climbed. By the time she was in front of Michael’s building, she was shaking and felt sick. He buzzed her in without saying a word.
This time he wasn’t at his door waiting for her. It broke her heart to think she’d never see that look of love and desire in his eyes again. She walked slowly towards his apartment, swallowed hard, and knocked, wary of how he would greet her after what he’d said on the phone. He opened the door, silently, barely making eye contact at first. He ushered her in, and shut the door. They stood there. Her eyes scanned his face. He looked older, all the hurt, anger, and rawness showing.
“You bought the house? You and Brian?” She nodded. “Why are you here? To rub salt in my wounds?”
“Please don’t hate me,” and tears came. “I couldn’t take that.”
“You can’t take it?”
She started to talk, trying to say she wanted to explain, but froze. He kept his distance. Finally, “Oh God, I missed you.” He said nothing. “Every minute I was in Cape May.” Her thoughts were so scrambled. “Monday, about Monday, and everything…now…I’m…”
“That was pretty cruel, you not showing up.”
“I didn’t know what to do.”
“And a text message?”
“I was wrong. I’m sorry.”
“That doesn’t help much. I didn’t know, I still don’t know, what the hell is going on with you. Us.”
Some tears slid down her cheek, and she wiped them away quickly, embarrassed. He was the one who had the right to be crying. But still he handed her a tissue.
He said, “I’ve missed you. Even after what happened Monday. And this week of hell. Even while I was hating you, or close to hating you.” There was an awkward pause. “Why are you here?”
She needed a moment before continuing. Lo
oking around his spotless apartment, she said, trying to make any kind of conversation, “You must’ve gotten rid of a hundred books.”
“Joanna.”
“It looks great. Bigger.”
“Joanna. Why are you here?”
“Could I have some tea?”
He put the kettle on, then said, “You look as unhappy as I feel. Go sit down.” He brought over the cup and honey and put them on the table in front of her. Seeing the sad, resigned look in her eyes made Michael go cold. For some stupid reason he had still held some hope.
She spoke slowly and carefully, like a drunk trying not to sound drunk. “Meeting you was the most unexpected, wonderful thing that’s ever happened to me.”
His heart dropped. “But…”
“It’s ripped my controlled established world apart.” She lowered her eyes, unable to meet his. “At first I thought maybe it was just something physical. I didn’t know I could feel so much, or want someone so much.”
He quickly wiped away a tear. “If my heart is about to be broken, again, can I get a hug first?” He leaned forward to take her in his arms. That simple embrace, just being touched by him, set her spinning. They kissed. It started out lightly but they couldn’t stop. They ended up horizontal on the couch, her leg wrapped around him, his hand sliding up her thigh.
Summoning every ounce of will power, she broke off the kiss, removed her leg, and stopped his hand, saying, “Michael, I can’t.”
They sat up.
“I can’t leave him.”
“You mean you don’t want to leave him.”
“Don’t want to. Can’t. I don’t know. What’s the difference. I know I want you. But there’s more to it than that.”
“Joanna, it’s the twenty-first century. People get divorced.”
“Other people.”
“You’re looking at one. Donna’s happier. I’m better off for it, too.”
“You said your divorce was awful, wasn’t it? Donna’s rejection was painful wasn’t it?”
“Yes, it was painful, but I got over it and moved on. People do.”
“But he doesn’t deserve to be hurt like this. And I can’t stand feeling this guilty. It’s making me sick. He hates me. I need him to forgive me.”
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