by Sandi Perry
"Because you asked me out and we are trying to get to know one another on a deeper level. Since that didn't work out as I'd hoped, at least let's have some dessert."
She was not in the mood for dessert, or anything else. "Let's just leave; that's the only thing that could salvage tonight," she said. As Alex paid the bill, she eyed the couple in the booth next to theirs. They were enjoying dinner and each other's company. She bet they would head straight to bed and have a round of rip-roaring sex. She stood up and flung one last longing look over her shoulder at them as they left. As Alex walked her back to her place, she huddled in her coat, feeling miserable and disappointed over the disastrous dinner. She was surprised when Alex put his arm around her shoulder. Her first thought was to shrug it off, but he'd assigned himself as protector, and as much as it irked her, he was gorgeous and she was extremely attracted to him. Maybe the gesture was a ray of hope that the evening could be salvaged.
"You're shivering," he said.
They entered the small lobby. As she took a step onto the wide, oak staircase, she realized he'd stayed back. "Don't you want to come up for some coffee?"
"Is that really an offer for coffee, or is it a euphemism for sex?"
His stance was all male swagger and he was damned fine-looking. Taking a chance, she stepped back down and walked over to him. Desperate to regain the upper hand, she reached into the warmth of his open coat and leaned in for a kiss. He responded immediately, kissing her senseless until she didn't care about anything except this moment and this need. She felt him ease her off him and looked at him puzzled.
"As much as I'd love to, I can't. I like you too much to let it only become something physical. I need you to learn how to dip your toe in the water and not run away," he said.
"How dare you lecture me on what you need me to do!" she snapped, her desire turning to outrage in a flash.
"That's what people in relationships do. They help each other, they support each other, and they give of themselves as individuals so they can develop together as a couple. But I can't help you if you don't want my help. All I can see now are the walls that you've put up between us and everyone else in your life. You fix those things, and then come to me, that's if you're still interested."
She blinked in surprise at his turnaround, but recovered in time to hurl a hail of insults his way. "You know what Alex, you're a real bummer; you're no fun at all. How dare you preach to me, you barely have your own act together? I'm sorry I ever asked you out."
"And I'm sorry your father died and left you with a mess to sort out. But being sorry is only the first part of the story. What you do about it is the second part, and from where I'm standing you're doing nothing. You're choosing to do nothing when clearly, something has to be done. So, do yourself a big whopping favor, and unfreeze yourself and join the rest of us in the world."
She watched wordlessly as he left and then stomped furiously up to her loft. Her hand shook as she tried to get her key in the door. Walking into the dark apartment, she couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so livid. Well, that's what you get when you open yourself up to somebody—you get knocked right onto your ass. She swept all the clothing off her bed that had been carelessly thrown there earlier—when the evening had held promise. She washed off her makeup and quickly changed out of her things before falling into the comfort of her bed. Alex was dead wrong; he was wrong about everything. The first tear fell a minute later, and then many more before she fell into a restless sleep.
Chapter 34
Allison stood impatiently at the light on Sixth Avenue while she waited for it to change. Still freezing in late March, it was shaping up to be an endless winter. She dashed through the doors of Magnolia, one of her favorite bakeries. and did a quick glance around to look for Kaitlin. She walked to the back, sat down on a cheery red and white striped stool, and took out her phone. There was a text from Jeremy asking her if she was going up to Mom's for the weekend. One positive from her father's premature death was how close she'd grown with Jeremy. They were making a great attempt to keep in touch to visit their mother often. Take that, Alex, I'm doing things. She threw her BlackBerry into her bag with a snap. I am so over that jerk, I cannot believe I ever thought some hick from the South was in my league. She spotted Kaitlin as she made her way into the shop and smiled; glad to be rescued from her own mental rant.
Allison jumped down from her perch and held out her hand to take Kaitlin's numerous shopping bags while she struggled with her coat. As she pulled off her white, wooly ski-cap, strands of her hair stood up. Allison reached up to laughingly smooth down the static hairs and realized it was a gesture that mirrored her mother's.
"Thanks for rescuing me! I swear, my friends are so obsessive about shopping, about boys, about The Hills, American Idol, you name it," said Kaitlin.
Allison smiled, "It's hard being a tween these days with all the distractions; I guess school takes a low rung on the ladder. I texted you on a whim and was surprised when you said you had the day off."
"It's a teacher-in-service day—whatever that means."
"How did you get here? The limo?" Allison asked.
"I was at Saks, so I walked up the block."
"And you're sure your father's okay with you walking around on your own?"
"Well, I'm not telling him," she smiled prettily. "Besides, if I lived in Brooklyn I'd be allowed to travel around by train and walk anywhere by myself. It's we upper-eastsiders who are so spoiled. Anyway, which cupcake should I get? I always get the peanut butter crumb; I'm in the mood for a change."
"Well, I'm a big chocolate fan, so I usually go with the red velvet," Allison offered.
They made their selections, with Kaitlin ordering hot chocolate and Allison taking a double espresso. Allison asked her young companion if she'd chosen a favorite to vote for on American Idol.
"I don't really watch it; I sort of just know what's going on through my friends. I can't relate to the contestants. Most of them come from nothing and work their heads off to get to where they want to be. Someone with everything like me can't imagine making the sacrifices they make. They really love what they're doing. I've never felt that passionately about anything."
"So I guess we're alike in that respect. I can't seem to summon up any passion for anything either," Allison said morosely.
"That's not true!" Kaitlin exclaimed. "What about your art?"
"It's an outlet... a response to a tragedy... it comes from a negative place."
She stared at Kaitlin, horrified at what she'd just said. "Oh my goodness! I can't believe I just unloaded on you like that. It was completely inappropriate. I'm so sorry. Someone's been messing with my head, lately."
"It's okay. You were being honest. My therapist, Dr. Rosenbaum, says nothing bad can come from being honest."
"Are you sure you're only twelve and didn't swallow a thirty-year woman on your way over here?" Allison asked.
Kaitlin laughed, "So, who's messing with your head?"
"Now, that, I'll keep to myself. But I do wish I could simply erase him."
"Dr. Rosenbaum gave me a trick and it works pretty well. If I ever find myself obsessing over something, a negative comment someone made, or you know how a song can get stuck in your head?"
Allison took a bite of her chocolate cupcake and nodded.
"Well, he told me to write it down on a piece of paper and flush it."
"Does that work?"
"It might take a couple of times, but watching it swirl down the toilet bowl into oblivion is kinda satisfying. Of course it's only symbolic, but it does put those annoying thoughts..."
"Or annoying person..."
"Or annoying person," Kaitlin smiled widely. "In their rightful place."
Allison nodded, "Are you enjoying your cupcake?"
"I can't believe I chickened out and went for the peanut butter again. I hate it that I play it so safe."
"There's nothing wrong with safe, you're about to enter your crazy teen years and
I'm fairly certain you'll end up taking some risks. Just remember that your peanut-butter cupcake is reliable, dependable, and always there for you."
They sat for a few minutes and then Allison spoke up. "But if there is anything that you discover that really lights your fire, grab it with both hands and make it happen. Some opportunities only come around once and it wouldn't be good to let your fear get the upper hand. Now, tell me, are you free next Tuesday night? Because I have a pair of front-row seats for the American Ballet at Lincoln Center."
Kaitlin wriggled her nose, "The ballet? I think I'll pass."
"Don't tell me you've never been! You live in New York, the capital of culture...surely you've been to the MoMA?"
Kaitlin shook her head.
"The Met?"
Again, she shook her head.
"Isn't your father on the board of all those places?"
"I have no idea," Kaitlin shrugged.
"You're coming with me next Tuesday, and furthermore you're going to really like it."
Kaitlin sighed, "I probably won't, but if I'll be with you and get out of doing my homework, I'm sure it'll be worth it. Or maybe, I can come to your opening party Friday night? If I say pretty please?"
"Please isn't enough, you have to be at least twenty. How'd you hear about that, anyway?" Allison asked.
"I saw the invitation on the front hall table. I think my Dad is planning on going.
Oh! I almost forgot, here." She handed a digital camera to Allison.
"What's this for?"
"I need you to take my picture. We're doing a pictorial diary for a school project. It's supposed to give us an instant 'snapshot' of how we spend our time." She held up her cupcake and pretended to take a bite while she smiled.
Allison took the shot and looked at it. "That's awful, I'll take some candid shots of you while you're talking and looking through your bags and stuff. It won't look so staged."
She snapped away for a few minutes and was about to hand the camera back when she had a thought. She walked over to the woman at the next table, spoke with her for a second and then handed her the camera. She walked back to Kaitlin and put her arm around her and they laughed as their picture was taken. Then they gathered all the bags together and Kaitlin balanced the box of cupcakes she was bringing home for her father in one hand. She had chosen three chocolate with various toppings, and one peanut-butter crumb, just to be safe. They hugged good-bye and set out into the brisk, winter air.
Chapter 35
Allison entered her loft after six. It wasn't late, it just felt that way because she was so weary. As she was hanging up her coat on the rack, she heard a sharp rap on the door. She cautiously opened it to see Kenyon standing there, indignantly tapping his foot.
"You scared me to death; I just got in this second," Allison said.
"I know, I've been waiting. I ran out of mozzarella in the middle of my lasagna. Do you have any?" he asked.
"Yes, on the fridge door. Wouldn't it have been easier to run down to the corner deli?"
He stormed over to the refrigerator and wrenched it open, "No, because you've been avoiding me all day. Why do you have a whole wedge of mozzarella? You don't even cook."
"Because you always run out when you prepare lasagna and if I have the cheese, then I have some ownership of the lasagna. And it just so happens that I'm in the mood for some creamy, fattening food tonight." She stepped in around him and took two beers out of the fridge. She rummaged around in the kitchen drawer for a bottle opener and opened one, handing it to him. Then she took the other one, opened it, and took a big swig. A large belch escaped her delicate lips.
"Hey, hey, manners, young lady. Your mother taught you better than that."
"That was an unrepentant belch. I'm done with apologizing and making excuses. I'm done," she said as she slammed the bottle on the counter.
Kenyon eyed her warily, "Is that why you've avoided my texts and calls all day? I haven't heard a thing about the date last night. Alex will not return my calls either. I'm in a total news blackout."
"There's nothing to tell. It was a disaster—a total and unmitigated disaster."
"Really?"
"Yes, Kenyon, really."
"What went wrong?"
"Let's see, so many choices...was it the moment when Alex told me to unfreeze myself and join the living...or was it when I threw myself at him and he rejected me saying he didn't want just a physical relationship. The nerve of him, a newspaper thief, lecturing me on anything!" She huffed as she threw herself onto the plump, cushioned sofa.
"He steals newspapers?" Kenyon asked.
"That's beside the point. I have to figure out a way to get through the next couple of weeks until I finalize my decision with the board."
"Let's backtrack a minute. You offered your glorious body to the man and he said no?"
She nodded.
"Did you offer it verbally? Or did you kiss him and touch him?"
Allison blushed, "The latter."
"And was he turned on?" Kenyon probed.
"He sure was."
"And then he said no. He wanted more—he wanted the whole enchilada."
"Pretty much."
"Ally, I know you don't want to hear this. But I'm liking Alex more and more. He's a stand-up guy who's confident enough not to take advantage of a vulnerable woman." He held up his hand when she started to protest. "Hear me out. Every other guy would've grabbed you and made for the bedroom. Here's a man who genuinely respects you and won't let you be taken advantage of—even when he would be the recipient of the booty. He's pushing every button you have and you're reacting to him." He pointed an accusatory finger. "Now, while that's a good thing, you aren't being proactive. You have to make a decision from a point of strength, like when you opened the gallery. You wanted to prove something to your dad, and to yourself, and it's a grand success."
He stood up and drew her into a hug, "I've got to go put this lasagna in the oven. Come over in an hour and bring a good bottle of wine." He smiled as he wiped the tear that leaked out of her left eye.
She took a shaky breath, "Kenyon, I don't know what I would do without you." She looked at him for a long minute, "Well, I guess I would be ten pounds lighter."
He laughed and let himself out.
Chapter 36
Allison was standing in the small storeroom at the back of her gallery. "I can't believe the opening's tomorrow night, Emily; I've been completely AWOL on you. After this show, I vow to simplify my life." When she didn't get a response she looked over her shoulder at Emily who was looking through a stack of packing slips. "Em, did you hear me? I need a witness to my vow."
"Heard you... simplify your life," she mumbled in response.
"Great. I've been ranting and raving to myself."
Emily paused in her task, removed her glasses and looked at Allison. "Listen, you'll have to forgive me. I've been setting up this show almost single-handedly while still running the gallery. I'm up to my eyeballs in work and have been for months. I'm the last person you want to tick off right now. And you're right; you really do need to simplify your life—and take control of it."
"Ouch, that hurts. I'm not sure I deserved that."
Emily looked at her steadily. "I'm pretty sure you did. I've never heard you act victimized before. I know I sound harsh, but let's take a reality check, here, it's been nearly seven months since your father died and it's been that long that you've been vowing to simplify your life. Does that sound about right?"
Allison swallowed. "Does everyone else think I've allowed my life to spiral out of control?"
"I've been too busy to take a poll, but I can tell you this much—either run RossAir Industries, or run your gallery. It's your decision, but for goodness sakes, just make it. I'm leaving now, and I'll come in early tomorrow to put the finishing touches on the space." She started to reach for her coat, then dropped it to walk toward Allison and pull her into a quick hug. "Things will work out," she added. "You simply need to m
ake a decision."
Allison nodded and watched Emily gather her coat and bag. She continued unpacking the paintings that had arrived a few days ago from Montreal. Vince was one of her favorite new artists, and she was glad he was poised for what she hoped was a meteoric rise. Allison had arranged for New York magazine to come down and do a piece on the opening. She was also highlighting her mother's glass vases and bowls that had grown more intricate and interesting over the last few months, as if all her creative juices had been set free.
Allison opened the last of the cartons and began to unwrap the paintings. She gasped, her disbelief growing as each painting was revealed. This really couldn't be happening. Vince, why did you do this? Half of the paintings he'd sent over were portraits of a woman in various poses and settings. The resemblance to herself was uncanny and frankly, startling. This looks like the most narcissistic show I could ever have put on, she thought frantically. She looked at the time in despair; it was well past midnight. Too late to call, too late to do anything, She clicked open the latest jpg file he'd sent her for approval, and saw shots of all the pictures that were now lying around the room. She'd been too busy to check to see what he'd been working on, and now she was royally screwed.
****
"Mom, you're here early. The show isn't supposed to start for another couple of hours."
"I thought I'd come by early and offer my help." Her mother leaned in for a kiss and then straightened to survey the room. Her eyes widened as she walked from one painting to another. "These are astounding. I didn't know you were going to be featured in the show. What an interesting idea!"
Allison's lips were pursed, "It's an awful idea; I'll be the laughingstock of the artists' community. I'm praying for a snowstorm tonight. Have you heard the forecast?"
"Clear and forty-five. But surely you knew about these paintings. Didn't you see some sort of renderings?"
"I was too busy to check."
"That doesn't sound like you, Allison. You're usually so in control of everything. No detail ever gets by you—what's going on?"