by Devan Sipher
“What do you mean?”
“You told Stu not to marry me.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You used nicer words. But he told me at the time what you said. That we weren’t ready and that we were rushing into things. Now I wonder if that was his way of saying he thought you were right. Could have saved ourselves a lot of aggravation if we had listened to you.”
“You loved each other.”
“Did we?” she asked. She looked across the Hudson, but her gaze wasn’t focused on the Jersey skyline. “Before I divorced Stu, I went to a therapist, and when I told him about our relationship, he said that he suspected Stu and I filled a void in each other’s lives. But the truth was we created a void in each other’s lives. I never went back to that therapist.”
“You’re sounding very cynical.”
“Not cynical,” she said, rotating the ice cubes in her glass. “Honest.”
“I was there. I remember you guys being in love.”
“Oh sure, at the start we thought we were destined for each other. Everything seemed so perfect. We knew each other since we were kids. Even our names fit together. When I saw him on Match.com, I thought I’d hit the jackpot. We both did. But I think deeper down I was a thirty-year-old woman afraid that almost all my friends were married and having children and I was being left behind. And I think he was afraid of the same thing. Maybe not the children part. Because, let’s face it: Stu is a child. But maybe that was part of it too. Maybe he wanted to prove that he wasn’t a child. That he could be a man. Or at least wear a tuxedo for one night like one. It was a great wedding, though, wasn’t it?”
Austin pictured Naomi lying in the Crystal Cove hotel bed with a breeze coming in off the bluff. “It was.”
“Naomi told me that you hooked up that night,” Steffi said, coming closer to him, and it wasn’t so he could hear her. She was standing so close he could smell the rum on her breath. “She said you were very good.”
“Thank you,” he said, for lack of anything better. “I mean, that was nice of her to say.”
“Was it?”
“Excuse me?”
She put a hand lightly on his arm. “Was it nice of her to say? Or was it simply the truth?”
The next thing Austin knew Steffi’s mouth was on his, her lubricated lips open and thirsty.
“Steffi—,” he gurgled.
He wasn’t able to make much sound because her mouth was like a suction cup. It was as if she were trying to inhale his face. And her hands were moving toward his belt buckle.
He finally succeeded in pulling away. “Steffi, I think you’re a little drunk.
“No, I’m not,” she said. “I’m a lot drunk.” Her mouth was coming in for another Austin-flavored big gulp. He leaned sideways, and her chin smashed into his shoulder.
“Ow!” she said, rubbing her jaw.
“I’m sorry,” he said, wanting to extricate himself as quickly as possible. “So sorry. But I’ve gotta pee.”
He ran back down the stairs. Once he reached the crowded corridor below, he realized he really did need to pee. He headed down more dark, crowded corridors through a sweet-smelling mist coming from hidden fog machines, until he found the über-modern men’s room, where a row of slick black-tile-and-chrome urinals lined a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows.
“It’s a little like pissing on New York, isn’t it?” said a guy standing at the neighboring urinal. Austin wasn’t in the habit of starting conversations in lavatories, but he had to admit it was a unique sensation relieving himself while looking out a picture window high above Manhattan.
“What do you think of the party?” the guy asked when they stood alongside each other again at the sink. Austin noticed he spoke with an accent, something Mediterranean sounding.
“It’s great,” Austin said.
“Looks like you are enjoying yourself,” the guy said, observing the large saliva stain on Austin’s lapel as well as Austin’s effort to remove Steffi’s lipstick from the edges of his mouth.
“Are you involved with the Web site?” Austin asked.
“I own the Web site, or sixty percent of it,” the guy said as he mussed with his thick black hair. “But I’m getting a lot more than that out of it.”
“How so?” Austin asked, rubbing at his facial skin but still seeing a bloodred ring around his lips. Or maybe it was just that his skin was now red from the rubbing.
“Let’s just say there are business mergers, and there are other kinds of mergers.”
Austin wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that.
“And when you find someone you want both with, you’re a lucky man, am I right?”
“You are right,” Austin said. “So you and Steffi are an item?” he asked, crossing his fingers the answer was yes.
“Steffi?” the guy laughed. “No, not Steffi. Naomi. You know her?”
“I do,” Austin said, thinking his skin was now looking green.
“Then you know I am a very lucky man.”
“I do.”
Naomi was standing beside a sleek ebony bar, but her mind was elsewhere. Her mind was on a text she’d received from Austin more than an hour ago. It said he had a surprise for her. She had included him on the Evite list, half hoping, half fearing he’d respond.
“Naomi, the party is quite fabulous,” said Godwin, with Noah at his side. “And you know how much I avoid using that word.”
“Well, you know who gets the credit,” Naomi said.
“And I love taking credit,” Noah said.
“I thought you just loved spending on credit,” Godwin said, wiping a stray crumb from Noah’s fashionably plaid lapel.
“Only other people’s credit,” Noah said. “And speaking of taking other people’s credit, where’s Mom? Please tell me you didn’t throw her from the roof deck. I get nervous seeing the two of you around sheer drops or sharp objects.”
“She’s perfectly safe,” Naomi said. “Which of course means no one else is. Dov invited Barbara Corcoran from the show Shark Tank, and Mom is stalking her.”
Godwin shook his head, a frown creasing his handsome dark features. “Has it occurred to either of you that your mother is actually a rather nice woman?”
“No,” Naomi and Noah answered simultaneously, then looked at each other and cracked up.
“You’re both incorrigible,” Godwin said, walking toward a waiter carrying a tray of rumaki.
“Did Mom tell you that she’s going back to California to visit Dad?” Noah asked.
“No,” Naomi said, not interested in focusing at that moment on her mother’s midlife crisis. She was more concerned that Austin might be at the party, and she was wondering if she should enlist Noah’s help in finding him. But that would require explaining to Noah her relationship with Austin, which she wasn’t sure she wanted to do. Nor was she sure that she could.
“Mom made a plane reservation for Labor Day weekend, and the only reason I know is she asked me if I had any gift suggestions. She wants to bring Dad something from New York.”
Okay, Naomi had to admit that did sound like a step in the right direction.
“I think she’s lonely,” Noah said. “The problem with the whole second childhood thing is there’s not a lot of other kids on the playground.”
Naomi hadn’t really thought about that. Perhaps she gave her mother too hard a time, but she found the notion doubtful.
She saw Dov approaching and had the same mixed feeling of attraction and dread that she always felt when she was near him. She had thought it was mostly due to having been burned in the past when she moved too fast, but after Austin’s text she knew that wasn’t the real reason.
“Noah, do you remember Austin Gittleman from when we were kids?”
“Austin Gittleman? Was he the one whose dad died in a surfing accident?
”
“Yes.” Naomi wasn’t even sure what she was asking. How would Noah recognize Austin? She needed a different plan. “Have you seen Steffi?” Steffi was the only person who could help her.
“Is she with Austin Gittleman?” Noah sounded confused.
“No. Forget Austin. Have you seen Steffi?”
“Earlier.”
“How’s the most beautiful woman in the room?” Dov asked, sliding an arm around her waist.
She slipped out of his embrace. “Why do you keep telling people that we’re a couple?”
“Because if you hear it from enough people, then you’ll eventually believe it.” He kissed her on the cheek.
“I don’t get a kiss?” Noah said.
Dov clasped his hands around Noah’s shoulders and kissed him on each cheek.
“Is that Acqua di Gio?” Noah asked, sniffing at Dov.
“Yeah.”
“Very White Party 2008.”
“I’ve been wearing this stuff since high school,” Dov said.
“Exactly,” Noah replied.
Naomi was barely following their conversation. She was keeping her eyes peeled for Steffi or Austin while trying not to look too distracted. It was kind of like playing Twister with only her head and shoulders.
“Would you like another drink?” Dov asked her.
“I’m fine.”
“You seem tense.”
“Aren’t you?”
“Hell no,” he said. “I’m having a ball.”
It occurred to Naomi that if Austin really was there, she didn’t want him meeting Dov. And vice versa. She tried to configure in her mind a way to avoid that happening.
“Noah.” She turned to her brother, who was sipping a pomegranate martini and watching eye candy on the dance floor. “Let’s go find Mom.”
Noah looked at her like she had suffered a psychotic break. “Why?”
Naomi glared at him. “Dov, do you want to come with us?” she said, knowing full well he had a very low tolerance for her mother.
“Sorry, honey, I gotta check on the, um, thing with the club manager.”
“No problem,” Naomi said, smiling sweetly. Then she grabbed Noah and started moving quickly.
“You’re going to make me spill my martini, and pomegranate stains,” he said. “What’s up?”
“Nothing. Why do you think something’s up?” She jammed her way through the throng, with Noah in tow.
“I’m spilling!” he squawked. “It’s a good thing your boyfriend is paying me a lot of money.”
“He’s not my boyfriend!”
They searched the dance floor and the hallway to the bathrooms. “Why are you so eager to see Mom?” Noah asked.
“Mom?” Naomi asked. “Right. Mom. Just want to make sure she’s not getting into any trouble.” Fortunately, there was no sign of Lila before they spotted Steffi as they headed toward the roof deck.
“Steffi!” Naomi called out. “Have you by any chance seen Austin Gittleman?” A blast of Lady Gaga surged from the sound speakers.
“Who?”
“Austin Gittleman!”
“No!” Steffi said sharply. “Why would you think I would have seen Austin Gittleman?”
“I think there’s a chance he’s here somewhere.”
“There’s a chance of lots of things, Naomi,” Steffi said, wobbling on her heels, her voice thick and sour. “But the chances are usually slim.”
Austin walked in a daze down another fog-filled, mirrored corridor. He emerged in what seemed to be some kind of pool room. And not the billiard kind.
A giant disco ball hovered over a triangular-shaped whirlpool in a glass-walled lounge floating eighteen stories above the Hudson River. There was a 360-degree wraparound view mesmerizing enough to almost keep Austin from noticing two bare-breasted nymphettes frolicking in the pool with a fully dressed guy in leather. Above their heads was a sign made out of incandescent electric bulbs spelling out SPLURGE.
Despite the aquatic theme, Austin felt like a fish out of water. He didn’t know anyone at the party. Other than Steffi and Naomi, and he had yet to lay eyes on Naomi. He should have guessed that she would have a boyfriend. Why wouldn’t she? It was surprising she wasn’t married. But if Austin couldn’t be with her, he was at least glad she’d found someone who seemed good-natured and successful. Far more successful than Austin could ever hope to be. Though, shallow as it might be, Austin had noticed that the guy was shorter than him.
It had been a rash decision to come to New York. He didn’t know what had come over him. It was really Mandy’s doing. Not that she’d forced him to come. But she had gotten him thinking about the choices he’d made in his life. He tried so hard to make the right choices, but maybe he had defined “right” as safer rather than better.
Ever since Dallas had left him, he had been mourning not just for her and Coal, though he missed them terribly, but for the predictable life he’d had with them. He had known exactly how many minutes he could spend making Coal breakfast or having coffee with Dallas and still get to the office on time. He had looked forward each day to having two hours with Coal before reading him a bedtime story, and he could count on sex with Dallas twice a week (more if they didn’t like the guests on the Daily Show).
He no longer had a reason to dawdle in the morning or to rush home after his last patient. He was acutely aware of having extra time on his hands, and the irony was he no longer had a job that demanded as much time. He was soon likely to have no job whatsoever, since he was constantly being reprimanded for spending too many minutes with each patient. With no need to stay late at work and nothing to come home for, he felt lost. The weekends were the worst. There was no reason to go to a park or a video arcade. Or to take a trip to the Belle Isle Aquarium. There were no mad dashes to the grocery store for more Cheerios. And no candlelit dinners after Coal was in bed. Sometimes he’d pretend Dallas and Coal were just out of town for a weekend custodial visit, as they had often been. Except it made Sunday nights even worse when they didn’t return.
He felt like an amputee, suffering spasms from a phantom limb, but when he wasn’t feeling overwhelmed by the vast emptiness of his days, he thought incessantly and obsessively about Naomi. As soon as Dallas left, his first instinct had been to pick up the phone and call Naomi. But it wasn’t fair to do that to her. Or to himself. He needed time to grieve. He needed time to feel sorry for himself. And the truth was he didn’t have the strength at the time to bear finding out that Naomi was with someone else. It turned out he still didn’t.
He shouldn’t have come to New York. No, the problem wasn’t that he’d come. His mistake was that he’d come too late. He actually liked the city, much more than he expected. The crowds, the fast pace, the energy. He couldn’t really see moving there. That was more Mandy’s idea. He had scheduled a job interview while he was in town mostly to humor her. And it provided a good pretext for the trip. Still, Mandy was right about taking chances, though he continued to have reservations about her going to the Congo. But since she was scheduled to leave in the morning, she was unlikely to change her mind. He’d been hoping to hear from her when she finished packing, but she was probably still annoyed with him for the article he’d e-mailed her about a British tourist kidnapped in Kenya. He had sent the article to remind her how easy it was for people to take their safety for granted. It was only now that he realized that applied to emotional safety as well as physical.
All his effort to be careful about the things in life he could control had somehow led him to be careless with the things he couldn’t. There was a lesson to be learned. A lesson he could contemplate on the flight back to Michigan. He wanted to find Naomi and congratulate her—on the Web site and the boyfriend. And then he wanted to leave. The mass of bodies surrounding him felt oppressive. He had never seen so many people at a party. Surprisingly, many of them l
ooked vaguely familiar. Austin saw a teenage starlet whom he recognized from gossip stories posted on Facebook, and he spotted Barbara Corcoran, the real estate mogul. He and Dallas used to sometimes enjoy watching Shark Tank after Coal was in bed. Austin also recognized the woman standing next to Barbara Corcoran, but he couldn’t place her face. Maybe she was also on a reality show. Then it hit him. She wasn’t a celebrity; she was Naomi’s mother. She was much older than when he had last seen her, but it was impossible not to recognize her; she looked like Naomi.
He could ask Naomi’s mother where Naomi was holding court. Or, maybe better, he could just ask her to give Naomi a message. Nothing too complicated. In fact, just congratulations would do the trick. That’s all that was necessary. Just let her know he was there and that he offered his good wishes.
No, man up, he told himself. No wimping out. No messages. He had come all this way, made up that cock-and-bull story with Steffi about Stu inviting him, and he wasn’t going to leave with his tail between his legs. He was going to ask Naomi’s mother where he could find Naomi. And he was going to see her one last time. He could do this. He wanted to do this. And he was about to do it when his phone buzzed. He pulled it out of his pocket, but it was a number he didn’t recognize.
When he looked up, Naomi’s mother was gone. Or she was no longer standing next to Barbara Corcoran. Austin swiveled his head from side to side. She couldn’t have gone far. He navigated through the crowd in the direction he had last seen her. He shoved and shimmied between fashionistas and Silicon Alley swashbucklers, turning his head left and right, and he almost walked right into her.
“Mrs. Bloom?” he said.
“Yes?” Lila looked at him expectantly.
“I’m a friend of your daughter.” Austin was relieved that they could hear each other talk. Though he still had to shout.
“I’m meeting so many wonderful friends of my daughter’s tonight,” she shouted back. “I can’t tell you how happy it makes me.”
“I’m actually a friend of hers from back in—”