Ten Years Later

by Lisa Marie Latino

I gasped. “Well, Richard is gay, Andrea and I just caught him in bed with their landscaper. Meanwhile, W-S-P-S passed me over yet again for the co-host job, but they want to give Dante a show.”

  It was Katie’s turn to be surprised. “Meet me at Downtown. We need beverages.”

  ■ ■ ■

  We sat at our usual table in silence. No words could justify how each of us was feeling.

  “Hey, girls!” Stacy, Dante’s girlfriend, greeted warmly. “What can I get you to drink?”

  “Heineken.”

  “Merlot.”

  “Okay. Andrea?”

  Andrea didn’t say anything. I lightly touched her hand. “Hey, what do you want to drink?”

  “Oh, um, water,” she muttered.

  “And keep it allllll coming,” Katie added, making an air circle with her index finger. Stacy nodded and quickly walked away.

  “Had I known she was working, I would have suggested we go somewhere else. I thought she’d be packing for her romantic Jersey Shore getaway,” I muttered.

  “Who would have thought that Dante would have his shit together more than all of us combined?” Katie quipped.

  Andrea continued to say nothing.

  “Well, not that this is a contest, but as crappy as I feel, at least I still have a job and don’t have an outted significant other,” I reasoned. “Besides, I can’t bitch too loudly about my situation because his girlfriend is our waitress. Since Andrea is still shell-shocked, Katie, I give you the floor.”

  “The owners of Kettle Black were sent to jail by the IRS,” she responded. “I spent all morning checking positions in bakeries and cafes in the area, but no one is hiring. I have no idea what to do.”

  “Jesus Christ,” I muttered. Voluntarily quitting WSPS suddenly didn’t seem like such a slam-dunk decision, when you looked at it from a monetary standpoint. (Making barely above minimum wage was better than nothing.)

  “Will you guys help me look for lawyers?” Andrea suddenly asked.

  “Of course!” Katie and I replied in unison.

  “Will you guys help me move back into my parents’ house?”

  “Of course!”

  “Thank you,” Andrea sniffled, drying her eyes with a napkin.

  “I know it must be hard,” Katie said sympathetically. “You can’t blame yourself!”

  “Yes, I can.” Andrea cried harder. “I figured he was up to something.”

  “How?”

  “Because we barely had sex, all right?” Andrea stated bitterly as she threw down the tear-stained napkin on the table.

  Katie gasped.

  “Oh stop it, Katie. Don’t act surprised,” Andrea sneered.

  There was no disbelief coming from me. I knew Andrea sold her soul when she married such an old man, but I always thought she was at least performing her wifely duties (while hopefully blindfolded, judging by what I’d just seen).

  “So you knew he was a homosexual?” Katie grilled.

  “No, I had no idea about him being gay,” Andrea sighed. “When we first started dating, everything was great. But after we got engaged, our sex life fizzled out. I thought it was weird, but what was I going to do? I wasn’t going to suffer the humiliation of a broken engagement...”

  “And finding your husband in bed with another man isn’t humiliating?” I blurted out.

  “…So I stuck it out, thinking it would get better,” Andrea continued, ignoring me. “But it’s been next-to-nothing. We’ve basically been leading separate lives for the past two years.”

  “I didn’t know I had company,” I added.

  “I said next-to-nothing, not completely nothing. Clearly,” Andrea shot back, pointing at her pregnant belly.

  I narrowed my eyes at her.

  “So you had your suspicions, but you did nothing about it? Why wouldn’t you just leave?” Katie probed.

  Andrea looked at her as if she just sprouted a third head. “Yeah, like I would ever give up this lifestyle.”

  She definitely got points for honesty; at least she was a self-aware gold digger!

  “Ok, fine, but why would you get pregnant with his babies?”

  “Because that’s what you do when you get married,” Andrea exhaled. Then, her tone got hushed. “But there’s more.”

  I knew it. Something didn’t add up. The only thing Andrea enjoyed more than bottomless bank accounts, couture fashion, and being put on a pedestal was sex. Since she lost her virginity at thirteen (an event which, oddly enough, occurred in my basement; I’m surprised my house didn’t combust into flames after such sin was committed!), Andrea has had an extremely salacious sexual appetite that many of her lovers found hard to keep up with. So you mean to tell me that she’s been with this dude for years and never got it from him…or elsewhere? Impossible. Not only would I bet my life that she had been cheating throughout the duration of her marriage, I could personally guarantee who she has been currently cheating with.

  I had enough of Katie’s questioning. It was my turn to step in, shine the figurative interrogation light into her face, and crack this case once and for all.

  Of course, before I could lay into her, Stacy appeared with our drinks. “You girls ready to order?”

  “Yes!” Andrea bellowed, happy to be off the hook. She picked up a menu. “I’ll have-“

  “Come back in a little bit, Stacy,” Katie interrupted.

  She gave us a quizzical look. “Is everything okay? I mean, I am Dante’s girlfriend now. I consider you girls friends, so if you need to talk, I’m here.” Such off-base rhetoric would usually have triggered an eye-roll out of me, but my eyes were too busy cutting into Andrea, whose hands were visibly shaking while they held up the laminated menu.

  “This is none of your business,” Katie retorted.

  I broke my stare to view Stacy’s reaction. “Whoa. Okay,” she said, her hands shooting up defensively. “Just call me over when you are ready.”

  “Katie, why did you tell her to leave?” Andrea whimpered as we watched Stacy jog away. “I’m starving!”

  Katie and I simultaneously crossed our arms. Andrea turned back to us and studied our stern gazes.

  “Ok fine,” Andrea hissed, sitting back down. “But I don’t want you guys to yell, criticize, or lecture me, especially YOU,” she pointed at me.

  “What makes you think I’m going to do any of those things?” I asked innocently.

  “Just tell us,” Katie demanded.

  Andrea sighed. “Ok, when Richard and I stopped being intimate…I fell in love with someone else.”

  “What the hell, Andrea!” Katie scolded. “You’re sitting here crying over your husband deceiving you, yet you are doing the same thing to him!”

  “And you thought I was going to be the one to get on your case,” I remarked.

  “You’re not listening, Katie. I said I fell in love with someone else, but nothing about sleeping with someone else,” Andrea corrected. “This guy is too much of a gentleman to even kiss me while I’m in this delicate state.”

  “Is it Xander?” I finally asked.

  Katie gasped. “The personal trainer you guys work out with?”

  “How did you know?” Andrea panicked, not even bothering to deny it. “Did he tell you something?”

  “He did not say a word, but considering you told him about your pregnancy before your own family, I’d say it was a tad obvious that you two were close.”

  “I really like him, you guys,” Andrea genuinely smiled. “I have never connected with anyone like I did with Xander. But…”

  “But…” Katie and I repeated in unison.

  “How can I leave one of New Jersey’s most prestigious, richest doctors…for a personal trainer at a gym?”

  “If you truly love him, who cares how much money he makes?” Katie pointed out.

  “The money thing matters, Katie. I’m sorry, but it’s true. What do you guys want me to do, go from caviar to McDonald’s? Alimony and child support will only cover so much.”


  I sympathetically looked at Katie’s puzzled expression. Poor, delusional Katie. This is a girl who believes in equality for all, including the right to love freely among tax brackets.

  “Sorry Andrea, but get your food stamps ready. It looks like the decision was already made for you,” I quipped.

  Andrea’s pout signaled the end of the conversation, and the three of us silently studied our menus. As I debated between ordering a grilled chicken Caesar salad or a bacon burger with waffle fries, my mind went to Andrea’s predicament. No matter what, she would be provided for—both in the form of a human ATM machine or in an actual relationship—so on some level, she was going to come out a winner.

  I wouldn’t describe Andrea’s situation as a good thing, but some people really do have all the luck.

  ■ ■ ■

  Two hours later, we helped Andrea pick up her essential items from the Deveroux estate. (It would take an entire fleet of U-Hauls to collect the rest.) Richard and the landscaper, thankfully, weren’t upstairs enjoying round two.

  After we had finished packing, we drove Andrea to her parents’ house. We sat with her as she turned on the waterworks and tearfully broke (part of) the news to her family. Her mom and dad were upset, yet understanding. They hugged their little girl tightly and whispered softly in her ear. Despite the circumstances, the scene before me was kind of touching.

  The whole time, I imagined this same conversation going down in my household. Dad would immediately threaten to kill my rogue husband. Meanwhile, my brother would sit there, laughing like a ten-year-old: “Ha-ha-ha, Carla’s husband is GAY!” And of course, my mother would be offering sweet, comforting words such as: “How blind could you have been to not know your husband was sleeping with other men?” or “Boy, you must have been a real beast to live with to make him go the other way!” or “Did you get an HIV test?”

  The Cleavers we D’Agostinos are not.

  10

  Day 52

  “I can’t believe you drive into the city every day. This traffic sucks,” Dante remarked.

  “You were the one who asked to ride in together. You could have taken the train if you wanted to,” I shot back.

  As laborious as Labor Day Weekend turned out to be, a huge part of me did not want it to end since I knew a wider scope of misery was awaiting me on the other side—the first post-news gym session with Xander, a painful car ride into New York with WSPS’s future star, and a pre-show meeting with the woman who took my job and the guys who gave it to her. All this, before 9 a.m.

  The morning’s workout with Xander had not been easy, and I was not talking about drop sets; I wanted to cry for the man. Surely, falling in love with a morally conflicted married woman was not on his vision board. To keep myself from accidentally saying anything hostile to Dante, I thought back on my morning at the gym.

  “Albert Einstein once said: ‘In the middle of difficulty lies opportunity,’” Xander had proclaimed after listening to me vent.

  “Wow,” I’d gasped while on the floor struggling through mountain climbers, “you actually have these things memorized, huh? You’re like a human meme generator.”

  “They are pearls of wisdom given to us by the greatest influencers on our society. I try to apply them in my everyday life.”

  To what? Get you through your weight lifting? I’d thought mordantly. “Well I’ll see your quote and raise you another,” I’d told him, pushing myself off the mat. “Vince Lombardi: ‘Winning isn’t everything, it’s the only thing.’”

  “And that kind of “all-or-nothing” mentality is the exact reason why you are in the quandary you are in. Life is not a contest.”

  I shrugged. “That mantra worked pretty well for Lombardi.”

  “So did this one: ‘Perfection is not attainable, but if we chase perfection we can catch excellence.’”

  “Eh, what do you know,” I’d retorted, slinging my towel over my shoulder. “You don’t even like football.”

  “No, I definitely appreciate it, it’s just that the train is so much easier,” I heard Dante say, interrupting my daydream.

  “What are you talking about?” I barked.

  “Driving in the city versus taking the train in,” Dante replied slowly.

  “Oh, right. Well, basing my life on someone else’s schedule is not me; I don’t need to tell you that. I like the freedom to come and go as I please. Besides, we have our own garage; we’re right outside the Holland Tunnel, and they cover gas and tolls. I’d rather sit in traffic than next to someone who wasn’t taught proper hygiene.”

  “I understand,” Dante said quietly. He was clearly picking up on the animosity of my tone.

  “Besides, you’ll get your train experience when you leave the station, unless you plan on sticking around nine hours to wait for me to bring you home.”

  “No, that’s okay.” Dante gulped.

  I surfed through my preset FM radio channels and settled on a classic rock station. I turned up the volume, in hopes of turning down Dante’s attempts at more conversation. I was in no mood to entertain. Yeah, well, that didn’t work so well.

  “SO W-S-P-S, HUH? WHO WOULD HAVE THOUGHT WE’D BE WORKING TOGETHER? THAT’S SO COOL,” Dante shouted over the blaring Metallica music.

  “NAIL THE INTERVIEW FIRST, THEN WE CAN TALK ABOUT HOW ‘COOL’ IT IS,” I yelled back.

  More silence.

  “WHAT DID YOU DO THIS WEEKEND?”

  “The usual.”

  “WHAT DID YOU SAY?”

  “THE USUAL!”

  More silence. I noticed Dante mutter something to himself, and then watched him lean over and turn the volume knob down.

  “Hey, this is my car! You don’t get to control the music!” I protested.

  “And these are my ear drums. You don’t get to ruin them!”

  Fine. I wasn’t about to argue. Besides, he would need those precious ears to field calls while on the air.

  More silence.

  “So how are Andrea and Katie doing?” Dante asked. “I haven’t talked to them in a while.”

  “I don’t know. Call them, especially Andrea. She has some interesting news.”

  “Oh yeah? Like what?”

  “Did I stutter? I said to call her. I’m not at liberty to say.”

  More silence.

  “Stacy and I had an awesome time down at the shore. We could just lie there for hours and talk about anything. I think I’m starting to really fall in love with her,” Dante gushed. My chest clenched at his words.

  “And we’re here!” I announced, jerking my car into the garage. I did a quick Sign of the Cross as I jumped out.

  “Good morning Carla!” the garage attendant, Charles, greeted. “Is this your boyfriend?”

  “Definitely not,” I chuckled. “This is my friend, Dante.”

  “Nice to meet you, Dante,” Charles said. “You have a good girl here.”

  “The best,” Dante added, shaking his hand.

  “See you later, Charles!” I waved.

  “Have a good day, baby doll!”

  We took the elevator up to the 30th floor without saying a word to each other. I was still processing what Dante had said before about Stacy; he had never talked about a girl like that. How had a barely attractive waitress with an IQ of a pebble made him change his playboy ways?

  Dante’s blue eyes lit up when the elevator doors opened to reveal the WSPS red logo on the wall. “This is so cool,” he excitedly breathed.

  “Get a hold of yourself,” I ordered. “The studio hasn’t been upgraded in fifty years; it’s nothing to get crazy over.”

  Laney saw us and buzzed us in.

  “Well, hello, young dearie!” Laney exclaimed.

  “Hello, Laney!” I exclaimed, showing joyful emotion for the first time this morning. “This is my friend, Dante. He has an interview with Dan today. Dante, this is Laney, the longest-tenured person at the radio station. She knows all.”

  “Hi Laney,” Dante said, extending his hand.
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  Laney started mock hyperventilating as she shook Dante’s hand. “Carla, you are always complaining that you can never meet anybody, yet you hang out with people that look like this?”

  I laughed. “Dante and I grew up together; we’re like family.”

  “What’s a little incest between friends?” Laney bellowed. “He’s like an Italian Ken Doll! Hey, can I be your Barbie? I’m not tall and blonde, but you know, hee, hee, hee,” she cackled.

  Dante looked at me, clearly taken aback by Laney’s over-the-top personality. I smirked. What, poor little Dante couldn’t handle an audience? How was he going to be able to handle the lunatic New York Mets fans calling up to complain about the team being out of the pennant race in May? “Laney, I’ll be right back, let me take Dante to Dan’s office.”

  “Okay. But hurry back, Momma Hen has some eggs she’d like to hatch.”

  “Oh, I will!” I was salivating over what Laney had to tell me; she probably wanted to give her first take on WSPS’s new hire, Ruby Smith.

  “Laney’s…interesting,” Dante commented as we walked down the hall.

  “She’s the best,” I corrected. “If it weren’t for her, I’d really lose my mind in this place.”

  I knocked on Dan’s door. He flung it open, and I saw Tommy sitting on the black couch with a striking blonde woman who I knew was Ruby, thanks to the Google stalking spree I’d partaken in after the Andrea drama subsided.

  It must have taken Ruby three hours to get ready for work that day. For starters, her makeup looked professionally done. She wore a cream three-piece suit, with dusted gold pumps and accessories to match. Her short golden, pixie haircut fit her round face perfectly. Overall, her look was flawless. I self-consciously pulled at my New York Yankees baby doll tee as I gave a quick glare to Tommy, who slightly hung his head in shame.

  “There she is!” Dan greeted warmly. He was obviously putting on an act for the new hire(s).

  “Hi Dan,” I replied sweetly, joining in the charade. “This is Dante Ezra.”

  “I know I’m mad early, but I took the ride in with Carla so I wouldn’t get lost on the way to our interview,” Dante added.

  ‘Mad early?’ I snickered. Way to be professional, Dante.

  “It’s all good!” Dan exclaimed. “I’m Dan ‘The Man’ Durkin. It’s nice to meet you!”