He opened the front door for her, turned the lights on, strode into the living room with her following him, and didn't even bother to sit down. He turned to face her with a look of outrage.
“Just what exactly did you think you've been doing all this time with all your goddamn pretentious bullshit about not liking eating clubs and the social scene, and people with money? Why the hell did you lie to me? You're not just some simple girl who devoted herself to slaving away to save the poor in Harlem. You come from the same world I do, you went to the same school I did. You're doing the same things I am for the same reasons I am, and you're every goddamn bit as rich as I am, Miss Van Horn, so don't give me any more lofty bullshit about how uncomfortable and ill at ease you are in my world.”
“Where did all of that come from? And it's none of your goddamn business how rich I am. That's the whole point, Charlie. I don't want to be admired and pursued and respected and kowtowed to because of who my grandfather was. I want to be respected and liked because of who I am. And there's no goddamn way on earth to do that with a name like Van Horn. So I use my mother's name. So what? So sue me, for chrissake. I don't owe you or anyone else any explanations.” She was as angry as he was.
“I didn't want you to lie to me. I wanted you to tell me the truth. How am I supposed to trust you if you even lie to me about who you are? Why didn't you tell me, Carole?”
“For the same reason you didn't tell me about your yacht. Because you thought it would scare me or shock me or put me off, or maybe you were afraid I was after your money. Well, I'm not, you idiot. I have my own. And everything I said about being uncomfortable in your world is true. I hated that world all my life, I grew up in it, I had it coming out of my ears. All the pomp and ceremony and bullshit and pretentious garbage I want no part of. I love what I do. I love those kids. And that's all I want now. I don't want a fancy life. I don't need it. I hated it when I had it. I gave it up four years ago, and I'm a lot happier now. And I'm never going back to that world, for you, or anyone else.” She nearly had steam coming out of her ears.
“But you were born there. You belong there, even if you don't want to be there. Why was I crawling around apologizing to you? You could have at least let me off the hook on that one. You could have at least told me who you are instead of making a fool of me. When were you going to tell me? Ever? Or were you going to pretend to be Little Miss Simple forever, and make me crawl around on my hands and knees apologizing to you for what I have, and who I am, and the way I live? And now that I think about it, I don't believe you live in a studio apartment either, do you? You own that whole house, don't you?” His eyes blazed at her. She had lied to him about everything. She bowed her head for a moment and then looked at him.
“Yes, I do. I was going to move to Harlem when I opened the center, but my father wouldn't let me. He insisted I get that house, but I didn't know how to explain it to you.”
“At least someone in your family has some sense, even if you don't. You'd have gotten yourself killed up there, and you still could. You're not Mother Teresa, for chrissake. You're a little rich girl, just like I was a rich boy, at way too early an age. And now I'm a rich man. And you know what? If people don't like it, screw them. Because this is who I am. Maybe one of these days you'll stop apologizing too. But until that happens and you figure out that it's okay to be who we are, you can't go around lying to people and pretending you're not who you are. It was a stupid, rotten thing to do, and you made me feel like a fool. I called the goddamn Princeton alumni office this week and told them they'd made a mistake and dropped you off the roster. They told me you'd never gone to school there, because I thought your name was Parker, of course. And then I thought you were a fraud. As it turns out, you're not a phony, you're just a liar. In relationships, people owe it to each other to be honest, no matter what that is. Yes, I have a boat. Yes, I have a lot of money. So do you. Yes, you're a Van Horn. So fucking what? But once you lie to me like that, I don't trust you, I don't believe you, and to tell you the truth, I don't want to be with you. Until you figure out who you are, and who you want to be when you grow up, I don't think there's a damn thing left for us to say to each other.” He was so upset he was shaking from head to foot, and so was she. She hated the fact that it had come out this way, but in some ways, she was relieved. She had hated lying to him. It was one thing not telling people who she was at the center, but it was an entirely different thing not telling him.
“Charlie, I just wanted you to like me for me, not because of my father's name.”
“What did you think? That I was after your money? That's ridiculous and you know it. You turned this whole relationship into a farce, and your lying to me about any of it was a complete disrespect to me.”
“I only lied to you about my name, and about where I come from. It's not important. I'm still me. And I apologize. You're right, I shouldn't have done it. But I did. Maybe I was just plain scared. And once you knew me as Carole Parker, it was a lot harder to explain who I really was. I didn't kill anybody, for God's sake, I didn't steal your money.”
“You stole my trust, which is worse.”
“Charlie, I'm sorry. I think I'm falling in love with you.” As she said it, tears rolled down her cheeks. In her own eyes, she had screwed up everything, and she felt terrible about it. She loved everything about him.
“I don't believe you.” He spat the words at her. “If you were falling in love with me, you wouldn't have lied to me.”
“I made a mistake. People do that sometimes. I was scared. I just wanted you to love me for me.”
“I was beginning to. But God only knows who you really are. I was falling in love with Carole Parker, a simple girl from nowhere with no money and nothing to her name. Now you turn out to be someone else. A fucking heiress, for chrissake.”
“Is that so terrible? You can't forgive me for that?”
“Maybe not. What was terrible was lying to me, Carole. That's the terrible part.” As he said it, he turned away from her, and stared out the window at the park. He stood that way, with his back to her, for a long time. They had said enough for one night, and possibly forever.
“Do you want me to leave?” she asked in a choked voice.
He didn't answer at first, and then he nodded, and finally spoke. “Yes, I do. It's over. I could never trust you. You lied to me for nearly two months. That's a hell of a long time.”
“I'm sorry,” she said softly. He still had his back to her. He didn't want to see her face again. It hurt too much. The fatal flaw was hanging in the breeze.
She walked quietly out of the apartment, and closed the door behind her. She was still shaking when she got into the elevator, and when she got downstairs. She told herself that the whole thing was ridiculous. He was angry at her for being rich, when in fact he was richer still. But it wasn't about that, and she knew it. He was furious with her because she had lied to him.
She took a cab back to her house, and hoped that he would call her that night. He didn't. He didn't call her that night or the next day. She checked her voice mail constantly. Weeks later, he still hadn't called her. Finally, she realized that he never would again. What he had said to her that night was true. He had told her it was over for him, that he could no longer trust her. However good her intentions, she had broken the sacred trust between them, which was the essence of a relationship. He didn't want to see her anymore, or talk to her, or be with her. She knew she was in love with him now, but she knew that it wouldn't change anything. Charlie was gone for good.
16
TWO WEEKS BEFORE THANKSGIVING, ADAM AND Maggie were spending a quiet evening at his place, when out of the blue she brought up Thanksgiving. She hadn't thought about it before, but now that they were spending so much time together, she wanted to spend it with him, and wondered if he was going to be with his kids. She hadn't met either of them yet, and they had both agreed it was still too soon. They were together nearly every night, and he loved being with her, but as he told her,
this was still the test drive, and they were taking their relationship out for a spin.
“Thanksgiving?” He looked at her blankly. “Why?”
“Are you going to be with your kids?”
“No, Rachel is taking them to her in-laws in Ohio. We alternate holidays. This is my off year.”
She smiled at him then. She hoped that meant good news for her. She hadn't had a real Thanksgiving, with people she cared about, in years. Not since she was a very little kid, if then. She'd cooked a turkey with her mother once, who had been too drunk to eat it and passed out before it was cooked. Maggie had wound up eating it at the kitchen table alone. But at least her mother was there, even if unconscious in the next room.
“Do you suppose we could spend it together?” she asked, cuddling up to him, and looking at him.
“No, we can't,” he said, looking grim.
“Why not?” She took it as an immediate rebuff. Things had been going really well between them, and the brusqueness of his answer took her by surprise and hurt her feelings.
“Because I have to go to my parents'. And I can't take you with me.” With a name like O'Malley, his mother would have a heart attack. Besides, who he was dating was none of her business.
“Why are you going there? I thought you had a terrible time on Yom Kippur.” What he was saying made no sense to her.
“I did. That has nothing to do with anything. In my family, you have to turn yourself in for holidays anyway. Like a warrant for your arrest. It's not about having a good time. It's about tradition and obligation. As much as they drive me nuts, I think family is important. Mine stinks, but I still feel I need to go and show respect. God knows why, but I feel I owe it to them. My parents are old, they're not going to change, so I suck it up and go. Don't you have somewhere to go?” He looked miserable when he asked her. He hated the reminder that he had to spend another rotten holiday with them again. He hated the holidays, and always had, because of that. His mother managed to ruin every single one of them for him. The only mercy was that his parents celebrated Chanukah and not Christmas, so he got to spend Christmas with his kids. That was fun at least. Holidays on Long Island never were. “Where are you going to be for Thanksgiving?”
“In my apartment, alone. The others are all going home.” And she, of course, had nowhere to go.
“Stop trying to make me feel guilty,” he nearly shouted at her. “I have enough of that with my mother as it is. Maggie, I'm really sorry you have nowhere to go, but I can't do anything about it. I have to go home.”
“I don't understand that,” she said unhappily. “They treat you like shit. You told me so. So why would you go home?”
“I feel like I should,” he said, looking stressed. He didn't want to defend his decisions to her. It was hard enough as it was. “I have no choice.”
“Yes, you do,” she insisted.
“No, I don't. I don't want to discuss this with you again. That's just the way it is. I'll be home that night. We can do something over the weekend.”
“That's not the point.” She was pushing, and he didn't like it. She was treading on dangerous ground with him. “If this is a relationship,” she pressed on at her own peril, “then I want to spend holidays with you. We've been together for two months.”
“Maggie, don't push me,” he warned her. “This isn't a relationship. We're dating. That's different.”
“Well, pardon me,” she said sarcastically. “Who died and made you king?”
“You knew the rules when we started. You lead your life. I lead mine. We meet in between when it works for both of us. Well, Thanksgiving doesn't work for me. I wish it did. Believe me, I wish it did. And I'd be happy to spend it with you if I could. But I can't. Thanksgiving with my parents is a command performance for me. I'll come home with a migraine, a stomachache, and a giant pain in the ass, but come hell or high water, they expect me to be there.”
“That sucks,” she said, pouting.
“Yes, it does,” he agreed. “For both of us.”
“And what was that bullshit about this not being a relationship? And all that meeting-in-the-middle crap?”
“That's what we've been doing. Not to mention the fact that I've been seeing you every weekend, which is a big deal.”
“Then that makes it a relationship, doesn't it?” She continued to push, missing all the danger signals from him, which was rare for her. But she was upset about Thanksgiving and not being with him. It made her braver about challenging him and his “rules.”
“A relationship is for people who eventually want to get married. I don't. I told you that. This is dating. It works for me.” She didn't say a word after that, and the next morning, she went back to her own place. He felt guilty all afternoon about what he'd said. It was a relationship. It had become one. He wasn't seeing anyone else, and as far as he knew, neither was she. He just didn't like admitting it, but he also didn't like hurting her feelings. And he hated not being with her on Thanksgiving. He hated all of it. And he felt like a shit. She was at work when he called her, and he left a loving message on her machine.
He never heard from her when she got off work. And she didn't turn up at the apartment. He called her that night, and she was out. After that, he called her every hour on the hour, until midnight. He thought she was playing games with him, until one of her roommates answered, and told him she was really out. The next time he called, they said she was asleep. She had never called him back. And by the following afternoon, he was beginning to steam. He finally decided to call her at work, which he rarely did.
“Where were you last night?” he asked her, trying to sound calmer than he felt.
“I thought this was only dating. Wasn't that the one where neither of us gets to ask questions? I'll have to look it up, but I think those were the rules, since this isn't a relationship.”
“Look, I'm sorry. That was stupid. I was just upset about Thanksgiving. I feel like a shit leaving you alone.”
“You are a shit for leaving me alone,” she corrected.
“Maggie, give me a break on this one. Please. I have to go to Long Island. Honest to God, I have no choice.”
“Yes, you do. I don't mind if you're with your kids. That, I understand. But stop going back to spend holidays with your parents, so they can punish you.”
“They're my parents. I have to. Look, come over tonight. I'll cook you dinner and we'll have a nice time.”
“I have something to do. I'll be there at nine.” She sounded cool.
“What are you doing?”
“Don't ask me questions. I'll get there as soon as I can.”
“What's that all about?”
“I have to go to the library,” she said as he fumed.
“That is the worst bullshit excuse I've ever heard. All right, I'll see you tonight. Get there whenever you want.” He hung up on her then, and wanted to tell her not to bother to come at all. But he wanted to see her, and he wanted to know what was going on. There were at least two nights a week when he called her and she wasn't home. If she was seeing someone else, he wanted to know. She was the first woman he had been faithful to in years. And he was beginning to wonder if she was cheating on him.
He was sitting on the couch waiting for her when she got in that night, having a stiff drink. It was nearly ten o'clock, and it was his second drink. He had been looking at his watch every five minutes. She looked at him apologetically when she walked in.
“I'm sorry. It took longer than I thought. I came as soon as I could.”
“What were you doing? Tell me the truth.”
“I thought we weren't supposed to ask questions,” she said, looking nervous.
“Don't give me that shit,” he shouted at her. “You're seeing someone, aren't you? This is perfect. Absolutely perfect. For the past eleven years I've had a chorus line of women. You come along, and for the first time in years, I'm faithful to you. And what are you doing? Screwing someone else.”
“Adam,” she said quietly,
sitting across from him and looking him in the eye, “I'm not screwing someone else. I swear.”
“Then where are you when I call you at night? You're out till nearly midnight. You're never goddamn home if you're not here.” His eyes were blazing, and his head was throbbing. He had a headache, and the woman he was crazy about was fucking someone else. He wasn't sure whether to cry or scream. It was poetic justice perhaps, for what he had done to other women, but it sure didn't feel good while it was happening to him. He was crazy about her. “Where were you tonight?”
“I told you,” she said calmly. “I was at the library.”
“Maggie, please… don't lie to me at least. Have the balls to tell me the truth.” Looking at the agony in his eyes, she realized she had no other choice. She had to tell him the truth. She hadn't wanted to. But if he thought she was seeing someone else, he deserved to know what she was doing when she wasn't with him.
“I'm taking pre-law classes at school,” she said quietly but firmly, as he sat in his chair and stared at her.
“You're what?” He was sure he had misheard.
“I want to graduate and go to law school, and it's going to take me about a hundred years to get my degree. I can only take two classes a semester. I can't afford to take more than that anyway. I got a partial scholarship.” She exhaled deeply as she said it. It was a relief to tell him the truth. “I was at the library tonight, because I have a paper due. I have midterms next week.” He stared at her in disbelief and then his face broke into a grin.
“Are you kidding?”
Toxic Bachelors Page 24