Always on the prowl for good food, Mark’s best friend, Doug Mason, often dropped in on Wednesdays, having discovered that Lucia’s cooking was among the best. Mark had invited him over tonight to share the chowder.
Mark turned his key in the lock and pushed open the door. Lucia generally ran to greet him, but she was not waiting for him tonight. The apartment was strangely quiet and it seemed empty. Certainly he was home earlier than expected, but he couldn’t imagine Lucia running out to the store and leaving the food cooking in the kitchen.
Mark frowned. Lights were on in both the living room and kitchen, and he could see the glow from a lamp in the bedroom. Steam rose from the blue ceramic pot set on the stove top, and the aroma of the chowder filled the apartment, making his mouth water.
Clothes were scattered on the floor of the living room. Lucia had no washing machine at her apartment and she would bring clothes with her when she came over, tossing his into the washer with hers, and there were two small piles on the floor. Perhaps she was in the laundry room two doors down. He looked into the hall.
“Lucia,” he called. “Lucia, are you there?”
He turned back as he heard the sound of metal squeaking and the THUMP of a heavy object hitting the floor in the bedroom.
He chuckled. Lucia was hiding from him, planning to spring out of the closet while his back was turned, or to reach from under the bed to grab his ankle, hoping to frighten him half to death.
She had done it once before, hiding in the bathtub behind the shower curtain. Mark had fallen to the floor, his hands covering his head as Lucia had ripped back the curtain and pounced. She had been as surprised as he had been when she discovered he was buck-naked, having dropped his clothes in the laundry basket as he passed through the bedroom, planning a long soak in a steaming hot bath.
He would surprise her today.
Mark strode toward the bedroom, braking sharply as he crossed the threshold.
Lucia stood in front of the closet, her backside pressed against the door. As he watched, it popped open a few inches, as if it was packed beyond its capacity, and she pushed back, trying to keep it closed. A sheet was draped loosely over her body, and what might pass for a seductive smile was pasted across her face. Mark heard the sound of jangling coat hangers coming from the closet.
For a moment, Mark stared at Lucia as he realized what was happening. Then, he advanced toward Lucia. Toward the closet.
“Mark, let me explain…” Lucia broke the silence. She stepped toward him, glancing over her shoulder in alarm as the closet door opened wide, and Mark saw Doug Mason as he attempted to cover himself, holding one of Mark’s shirts in front of his body.
Mark’s eyes narrowed and his jaw tightened.
“Out,” he commanded, his fist slamming against the door. He wanted to slam it into Doug’s face. He wanted to break Lucia’s neck. “Get out of my apartment,” he growled. “Both of you.”
Doug and Lucia seemed immobile.
“I said to leave,” Mark roared, striding closer to the closet, pushing Lucia aside, grabbing Doug’s shoulder and shoving him through the door, out of the bedroom. He turned on Lucia.
“You, too. Out.”
When she didn’t move, he grasped her arm and jerked. She fell onto the bed and Mark hauled her across it, her body smacking against the floor on the other side.
She cried out in pain, but he dragged her across the floor.
“No, Mark, no. Let me explain. It’s a mistake…I…”
Mark was interested in neither an apology nor an explanation. He wanted her out of his sight.
Lucia kicked and twisted her body from side to side, dropping the sheet as she tried to slip away.
“Mark, I need my clothes. I have to get…”
Mark scooped her off the floor, lifting her into the air, and lugging her across the living room.
“Put me down. Please, Mark,” Lucia screamed as tears ran down her face. She hit him against the chest and clawed at his face.
Doug stepped up to Mark, his hands held out in front of him as though he were approaching a wild animal he wanted to placate. “Listen to me, Mark. Stop and listen…Mark, put her down, man.” Doug grabbed his shoulder, attempting to wrest Lucia from him. “I’m sorry. It just happened, man,” Doug exclaimed. “It just happened.”
Mark shrugged him off, flinging Lucia toward the open door.
“No.” Mark shook his head, shoving Doug toward Lucia “Nothing ‘just happens,’ you worthless piece of…”
Mark’s head jerked up, hearing Lucia yelp as her body collided with the wall across the hall.
“It was my fault. Okay?” Doug screamed.
Mark planted his foot on Doug’s backside. “You were my friend,” Mark cried, propelling Doug through the door, crashing into Lucia.
Slamming the door, he threw the bolt, and strode back through the living area.
The clothes on the floor were theirs, and he kicked them across the room. Doug’s wallet fell out of his jeans as they hit the wall. Lucia’s purse lay on the coffee table next to Doug’s keys and their cell phones. Why hadn’t he noticed that before?
Because thinking the two people he most trusted would betray him like this would never, ever have occurred to Mark, that’s why.
Doug pounded on the door. Lucia called his name.
He stared at their belongings. They were naked. Doug could not start his car. They had no money. Neither could call for help…It served them right. He’d never been this angry in his entire life.
Then, Mark sighed. Why must he always do the right thing?
He scooped up her purse, their clothes, keys, and phones, starting toward the door.
“Mark, don’t be a jackass,” Lucia shouted. “Open the door.”
He froze as his hand touched the bolt. His lip curled.
Jackass?
“If I call you a jackass, it means I love you,” she had once told him. “It’s an insult of endearment. If I didn’t love you, I’d call you a piece of slime.”
He’d laughed and reminded her to be careful. A jackass could kick.
Mark turned back toward the bedroom. Opening a window, he tossed everything onto the grass below. He stripped the sheets from the bed and threw them out too.
Perhaps they would find their belongings. Perhaps not.
The woman in the next apartment screamed for quiet, threatening to call the police.
Mark returned to the living room, dropped into an overstuffed chair, and stared at the wall.
“Hi, Mark.” Jennifer entered the office.
Mark heard the door close behind her, and the sound of the mail being dumped on the table just inside the door.
“Looking for me?”
Mark’s hands were trembling and his fist was clenched so tightly it hurt.
“I want to find a woman,” he growled without turning around.
“Doesn’t every guy?”
“What?” Mark turned away from the window to find Jennifer wearing an expression of complete innocence.
“A particular woman or will anyone do?”
Mark frowned, unable to shake Lucia’s image from his mind and not understanding what Jennifer had said.
“Are you all right, Mark?” Jennifer looked concerned. “I’m just teasing you.”
“I’m fine,” he snapped. “I need help finding this woman.” He held a copy of the photograph in his hand.
“Have you tried the student directory? Or is she faculty?”
“Neither. I need your investigative skills. Her name is Lucia McClelland. She may be with a man named Douglas Mason. I knew her in Boston, but she may be in Charleston now. I need her telephone number. If she’s living in Charleston, an address would be helpful.”
“Okay. Have you tried…”
“I’ve Googled her name, looked online, checked every site where I knew her password.”
“A really close friend, for sure.” Jennifer’s lip twitched and Mark could tell she was teasing him, again,
but he was in no mood to play along.
“Used to be. I saw her in a photograph I took at a basketball game a while back. Thought I might give her a call. Catch up.”
“I’ll do what I can, my captain.” Jennifer saluted, then she turned and began to sort the mail.
“Thank you,” Mark said, then walked down the hall toward his office.
He had never been able to make sense of what had happened between him and Lucia, what he had done—he must have done something wrong, something horrible and unforgiveable, to drive her away. To drive her into the arms of another man. Obsessing on the question all night had not provided any clarity.
He didn’t understand why she was now in Charleston. Had she come looking for him? Did she want to rekindle their romance? Maybe Doug was just a friend. He gulped.
No. How could he do that to Karen? But how could he turn Lucia away?
Reaching his office, Mark stood behind his desk for a moment.
He realized that he had photographed Lucia almost five months ago. He had not noticed her in the crowd at the game, but she surely must have seen him on the court. Had she come to find him, he would have heard from her long before now. If she had come to find him, then that SOB would not be with her.
He heard a knock at the door.
“Come,” he called.
Jennifer entered, a smile spread across her face. She held out a piece of paper.
“You said Lucia McClelland or Douglas Mason. How about Lucia Mason? Here’s her number.”
“But…”
“Looks like Douglas Mason found her first.”
“No. I found her f—” Mark frowned as he stared at the sheet of paper. “But how did you…?”
“Phone book, Mark. Real detective work. Let me know if you need anything else, photographs, recorded conversations, a stakeout…” She laughed. “Seriously, though, let me know.”
“Thanks,” Mark said, still staring at the number. He lowered himself into his chair.
She married the bastard? One of his textbooks lay on the desk in front of him, and he flung it across the room, the door rattling as the book slammed against it.
How could she do that? How could she marry that lowlife, backstabbing, piece of trash?
He is your best friend. He did you a favor by showing her true colors.
His mother’s words back then had been intended to comfort him in some manner. They hadn’t then and they didn’t now.
Mark reached for the telephone, but he stopped as his finger moved to punch in the final digit.
Why was he calling?
To apologize for tossing her out without listening to her explanation?
What possible explanation could she have given him?
To scream at her, to call her the names his mother used whenever she was mentioned in conversation?
He had done that often enough in his mind.
To find out why she had rejected him? Why he wasn’t good enough?
He placed the telephone in his pocket. He hadn’t enough time to raise that question before class.
***
Mark delayed making the call until that evening after eating dinner with Karen. He’d hardly spoken during the meal, and Karen had repeatedly questioned him, asking what was wrong. Was there a problem at school? Did he feel badly? Had she done something to make him angry? He had denied each problem and, claiming to be exhausted, had started for home earlier than he normally would have left her.
He had been blindsided by Lucia’s behavior. He had tried to contact her the day after he had discovered her with Doug, dialing her number ten times, reaching voice mail on each attempt, leaving the same message each time. “I love you, Lucia. Please call me.” She’d never returned his calls, nor made any other effort to contact him.
He had reviewed their life together countless times and, yet, he had no inkling why she had done what she had done. He lacked “closure,” his psychologist friend had told him, and, deep down, his friend had said, he always expected her to return to him and he harbored the idea, the illusion, perhaps, that they would, once more, be together.
This lack of closure explained his imaginary “sightings” of Lucia, his dreams about her, and his flashbacks—his inability to properly move on. He needed to know what had happened, and the reason really didn’t matter. Maybe he had some personality flaw, he had speculated about that often, maybe she hated his family, maybe she had sleeping with Doug for two years, perhaps with others, proving his mother to be correct when she called Lucia “the little tramp.”
Mark had no desire to rekindle their relationship, but he did need to put his questions to rest, and to do that, he needed her explanation. He owed it to Karen.
Finally, he summoned the courage to call. His heart was racing as he dialed the number, and his mouth felt so dry, he was not certain he would be able to speak.
“Hello.” Lucia’s voice.
Mark swallowed hard. “Lucia, this is Mark Stuart.” He forced the words out.
There was silence and Mark thought at first the call had been dropped or that Lucia had punched him off, just as he had the urge to do, but he heard her take a deep breath.
“Mark? Is that you?” Lucia’s voice shook, and she paused, taking another deep breath before continuing. “How did you find me?”
In Mark’s mind, he was hearing her voice as he had that first night at the pub in Cambridge, and his vision blurred as he started to cry, but he wiped his eyes and choked back a sob.
“Your name is in the telephone directory.”
“Of course. Sure…So you are in Charleston? Visiting your family?
“I’m a professor at the college.”
“A professor? Good for you, Doctor Stuart,” she exclaimed. She paused. “It is Doctor, isn’t it?” she asked hesitantly. “I…I never knew whether you finished your degree after…after …”
“It is Doctor Stuart.”
“I’m truly pleased for you, Mark.”
In his mind he could see her smile.
“I’d no idea I would find you in Charleston.”
“We moved here about six months ago. Doug’s mother has been ill…”
He’d forgotten Doug’s parents lived just up the coast.
Mark waited for her to continue, and neither spoke for several moments.
“I saw you in some photographs I took at a basketball game early in the year. I’d forgotten about them until the other night.”
“So, that was you then, the one I saw. I thought it might be you, but I had decided it was my imagination—sometimes I think I see…never mind. You always enjoyed taking pictures, of course, but I couldn’t guess why you might be on the court, acting like a news reporter…and you’ve lost weight. You look good.”
“Thanks.”
“I understand now why Doug was acting strangely during the game. When I would look in your direction, he would stick his head in front of my face or point in the other direction and tell me to look. Once he spilled some of his Coke on my trousers. It became rather comical, but he was so insistent.”
Mark smiled, realizing that Doug was jealous. Served him right.
“Not the Lucia McClelland I remember. You would have fought to the death had I tried to prevent you from…doing something…anything…Different relationship, I suppose,” Mark said bitterly.
“Mark, that’s not fair. I did everything…”
“I need to see you, Lucia.”
Silence.
“I really need to see you.”
“I…I don’t know that’s a good idea, Mark. It’s lovely to hear from you, but…but we’ve both moved on with our lives.”
“Have we? You certainly seem to have moved on, Mrs. Mason, but I need to see you. You owe me.”
“Mark, please…”
“Truthfully, I’d rather not see you, Lucia. I’m talking with you by telephone and I’m about to be sick at my stomach, so if I didn’t really need to see you, I wouldn’t ask.”
“I don’t think�
��Give that back to me,” Lucia exclaimed. He heard another voice, but could not understand the words. “I’ll take care of this, Doug,” Lucia said as she came back on the line.
“Mark, I need to go. Please don’t call me…”
The line went dead.
For several moments, Mark sat where he was, staring at the phone in his hand. Then, he sighed. That was it. Perhaps making the effort would be sufficient.
He wandered into the kitchen and heated water for tea. He spooned the loose tea into the infuser, placed it in the cup of boiling water to steep, and set the timer for five minutes. Just as Lucia had taught him.
As he paced around the kitchen, waiting, his telephone rang.
“Mark, this is Lucia. Doug’s gone out. I…I really can’t see you, Mark. It would be difficult…Doug…well, Doug would be angry and…”
“You told me you loved me. You crossed an ocean to be with me. Then, you fornicated with my best friend, you broke my heart, and you walked away without a word. I need an explanation.”
Again, she didn’t respond.
“Thirty minutes, Lucia. Thirty minutes. You owe me that much…Please.”
***
The next morning, Mark and Lucia sat in the small park on Meeting Street. It was almost eight o’clock, and Mark had class at nine.
As he had arrived, Mark had spotted Lucia and Doug sitting on a bench in a secluded corner of the park, the little girl from the photograph playing on the walk beside them. Perhaps she was Doug’s niece.
As he stared, he wondered why he had the urge to smash Doug’s face against one of the pavers on the walkway, but he had no desire to hurt Lucia. He shrugged. He had never been in love with Doug.
Doug was staring in his direction while he pushed a double baby stroller back and forth in a rocking motion. He was really taking this uncle thing seriously.
As he noticed Mark, he sprang to his feet. Taking the little girl’s hand and pushing the stroller, he quickly left the park through the other entrance.
Mark sat on the bench with Lucia, now, placing his laptop and notebook between them. Lucia held a large cup, and Mark could spy steam rising from the liquid inside. Tea, he knew. Mark had chosen tea this morning too. For old time’s sake, perhaps.
Just Three Dates Page 24