Because You're the Love of My Life

by Sarah Kleck

  “I’m tired, Annie,” he said, sounding it. “I just want to shower and go to bed.”

  I looked at him startled, almost ashamed. He’d never rejected me before. I had no idea how hurtful it could be.

  “OK,” I said, suddenly feeling as rejected as Grace just had when I’d told her I needed to go home without her.

  Holden got up without another word, pressed a kiss on my forehead, and disappeared into the bathroom. While the shower ran, tears trickled down my face. Had I asked too much of him recently? Had I taken care of him too little? Did he still love me?

  When Grace rang the doorbell the next morning at nine on the dot, I heard Holden sigh.

  “Good morning.” She came in beaming and carrying a bag of baked goods. She went to the kitchen as if it were her own, made coffee, and set the table. “There’s a new exhibit at the MFA,” Grace said while placing bagels and croissants in a basket and putting them on the table. “I thought we could . . .”

  “I’ll go running,” Holden said.

  “Don’t you want to have breakfast with us?” Grace asked.

  “Not hungry,” he said and walked into the bedroom, then closed the door behind him. He reemerged a little later wearing his running gear and his headphones.

  “See you,” was all he said. He gave me a brief peck on the cheek and left.

  Grace seemed unbothered by his coldness. “I can’t wait to see Francesco Clemente’s paintings in person. I’m really impressed with him . . .”

  As she babbled on, I stared at the door through which my partner had just disappeared. Then I turned to her and watched in amazement as she removed a carton of eggs from the fridge, took a bowl and whisk, and began cracking and beating the eggs.

  The fog lifted from my eyes that very moment. I suddenly became aware of how much Grace had inserted herself into our home and life. You’d have thought she lived here. She’d even put a toothbrush in our bathroom. Only now did I recognize that we’d been living for weeks, if not months, in some sort of triangular relationship. I involuntarily shook my head. No. This couldn’t go on. I couldn’t risk losing Holden. He was the best thing that had ever happened to me.

  “Grace.”

  She looked up from the frying pan. “Yes?”

  “We have to talk.”

  Unsurprisingly, Grace was miffed for days. But I was willing to take it. It wouldn’t have worked out the way it was going. I was in a very serious relationship, and, pregnant or not, Grace had to accept that if she wanted to continue being my friend.

  “This doesn’t mean I’m no longer here for you—I’m always here when you really need me,” I explained. “But Holden and I also need space and time for our relationship. Do you understand?”

  “I think I understand very well,” she said peevishly and then grabbed her purse. “I know when I’m not wanted.”

  She waddled off toward the door, head held high, then gave me one last withering look and slammed the door behind her. I heard her crying on the way down the stairs.

  “Have you heard from Grace?” Holden asked three days later.

  “No.” I sighed quietly. “She’s still angry with me.”

  He came to me, put his arms around me, and kissed me gently.

  “She’ll come around. Don’t worry,” he tried to cheer me up, kissing me again. “I’m proud of you having the courage to deal with this.”

  I smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry. I’ve asked too much of you.”

  “It’s OK.” He shrugged. “She’s your friend, and she’s going through a hard time.”

  “Yes, but final exams start in few weeks. Then I’ll have more than enough to deal with to finish up college, and I want to spend what little spare time I’ll have left with you. I know it will be hard for Grace too—even more so being as pregnant as she is. I’m there for her when she needs me, but I can’t have her hold on to me because she doesn’t know what to do with herself. How’s it going to work once the baby’s here? She’ll have to take responsibility for herself and the child.” I sighed again. “What if she can’t handle it?”

  “She’ll grow into it.” Holden smiled. “Grace is a big girl after all.”

  The next day, she finally texted me. She was too miffed for a phone call.

  You’re right about what you said. Wanna go for coffee? Only if you and Holden don’t have plans.

  I wrote back. Love to. I miss you.

  Chapter 14

  A few weeks after we graduated, on her own birthday, Grace gave birth to her gorgeous baby boy, whom she named Gabriel. “Because he looks like an angel, don’t you think?”

  I couldn’t have agreed more. I was head over heels in love with the sleeping baby in my arms. “He’s absolutely lovely.”

  I hadn’t known if Holden particularly liked babies, but he was totally blown away. He couldn’t wait to visit Grace and Gabriel in the hospital, and he helped me shop for a baby gift. We hadn’t seen Grace as often lately. Once she started birthing classes, she only dropped by once, at most twice, a week. She got to know other pregnant singles there, and it was clear how much good it did her to talk with women in the same situation—though one should say women in the same difficult situation because, Lord knows, it’s not easy to raise a child all alone. And she was able to blow off steam with women who understood exactly what she was going through.

  While Grace was trying to find her way in her new role as a young mother, I started looking for a job. This meant I traveled the tortured road from one interview to another and tried my very best to stand out from among the dozens of other applicants. I had believed the world would be mine with a Harvard degree in hand, but, after a few rounds of interviews, I had to face reality. And reality was damn frustrating. In more than one instance, it seemed that what mattered most wasn’t a college degree, or even one from Harvard, but how much an applicant was willing to flirt with some sex-starved HR guy.

  “I need a drink!” was the first thing I said to Holden when I got home after a four-hour interview marathon. He nodded, grabbed his coat, and took me to a bar where we got good and drunk.

  “You know what?” I began to philosophize drunkenly. “Maybe we should just take off. Get a backpack and”—I spread my arms theatrically—“travel the world. Just the two of us.”

  I saw from Holden’s smile he thought my proposal was the booze talking and that I’d laugh it off the next day.

  “No, seriously.” I continued with a slur. “What are we doing this for?”

  He frowned. “What?”

  “Well, getting jobs just to be stuck on a hamster wheel for the rest of our lives, struggling to get out of bed every morning to do the same grind every day. Why are we doing this to ourselves?” I took Holden’s hand, squeezing it firmly.

  “Let’s just take off” I repeated my proposal. “Let’s see the world.” Suddenly Seth came to mind, and I imagined him off discovering the world with everything he owned on his back. Maybe my idea was too romantic. After all, he was working on a degree, which suggested his adventure was more purposeful than in my fantasy. But, still. Even if the circumstances couldn’t have been worse, he had said No to the path he’d been born into. No to ordinary life draining him. No to the obligations forced on him. No to the conventions imposed on him. No to a life he didn’t care to lead.

  “Annie, it’s not that simple.” His tone was admonishing.

  “But it is that simple!” I insisted. Seth did it!

  Holden cast me a lenient look. “You had a bad day, honey. You’re overreacting. That’s all.”

  “I’m not overreacting,” I protested, getting more pissed off from one second to the next. “Just because you don’t dare leave frigging Boston . . . every time I ask if you want to travel, you say things are best at home and we have everything we need here. You’ve never seen anything else. You can’t say if you like something or not.”

  He stared at me almost horrified. The bartender gave me a look, too. Yup, I’d gone too far.

  “I
. . . I didn’t mean it like that,” I said. “I’m sorry.” I put my hand on his thigh. “It’s just that . . .” I let out a long breath. “It’s just so damn frustrating, you know.”

  Holden took a moment to get over my outburst.

  “Yeah, I know,” he said.

  Even though I’d nearly lost faith, three months after graduating I finally did get a job. A pretty good one, actually. Verumax Pharmaceuticals, Inc. hired me—over eighty-six other applicants—as a junior pharmaceutical representative. It was an ideal entry-level job. I got to travel a bit, which satisfied my travel bug and made me appreciate being back home after being on the road. Plus, I was gaining lots of experience. Now that we were both employed and I had been at Verumax a year and nine months, Holden and I had some disposable income for the first time. We bought a condo that was bigger than the apartment we’d been living in, bought a second car, and put new clothes in the closet. Looking back, it was the best time of my life.

  “You’re meeting Grace today, aren’t you?” Holden asked one Saturday when we were cuddled in bed together, my head nestled into his neck.

  “Yes, for brunch.”

  Grace rarely spent time away from Gabriel, who was almost two years old, but he was with her friend Molly, who had offered to take care of Gabriel so Grace could have a break, and she urgently wanted to use the time to do “something adult.” So, we had a reservation at ten at Café Fleuri. Just the two of us. It had been a long time since I’d seen her dressed up. She almost looked like the old Grace with playful curls, red lips, and perfect eyeliner. And there were no food stains, sticky handprints, or dried drool on her blouse.

  “Guess what?” she asked, grinning blissfully when we’d sat down. “I slept through the whole night. The first time in ages. It was marvelous.”

  I smiled. “Wow, you’ve dialed down your demands quite a bit.”

  “I’m always astonished how little I need now. For example, sleep is pure luxury. As is going to the bathroom alone.”

  I grimaced. “Sounds pretty sad.”

  Grace shrugged. “It’s worth it.” She turned to the waitress who’d come up to our table. “Two mimosas, please.” Then she turned back to me. “Gabe’s teething. It’s costing me my last nerve.” She rolled her eyes. “Last night, with him sleeping over at Molly’s, was a mini holiday, let me tell you.”

  “When is she bringing him back?”

  “Around two. So, I have”—she looked at her watch—“three and a half hours to enjoy my freedom.”

  “Well, cheers!” I toasted her when the waitress brought our mimosas.

  Grace emptied her glass in three gulps and immediately ordered us another round. Then, we got up and went to the buffet.

  “Oh, look, they’ve got those salmon rolls. And there—the little croissants filled with marzipan.” Grace was enraptured, and I shared her joy. It seemed she desperately needed this time off. I decided right then I’d take Gabe for a night just so she’d have a little time for herself.

  When we got back to our table, a thirty-something woman and her three-year-old son had occupied the next table. Grace rolled her eyes, and our festive mood dampened.

  “So much for my childless morning,” Grace mumbled through clenched teeth. Even before we’d eaten our first croissant, it started.

  “Candy,” the boy demanded.

  “No. Only after you’ve eaten your fruit,” his mother replied, but she left the candy on the table so the object of his desire was still in view.

  “How’s it going with you and Holden?” Grace asked as she tried to ignore what was going on at the next table.

  “Excellent,” I said. “But his mother really gets on my nerves.” I’d had the pleasure of getting to know her since we started living together and realized she was the kind of mother who wouldn’t consider any woman good enough for her son.

  “Is she still dropping by as much?” Grace asked.

  I nodded. “For someone who simply took off and didn’t care about him for half his life, she sure demands a lot from him. Not to mention always finding fault with me. You know what she said after I returned from a three-week work trip up and down the East Coast?”

  “Candy,” said the voice at the next table.

  “What?”

  “That I must be bored since I’m at home every evening now. That was it.”

  “What did you tell her?”

  “‘Bored?’ I asked her. Then I told her my eyes had finally stopped twitching.”

  Grace laughed heartily.

  “You should have seen the look she gave Holden.”

  “Candy.”

  “Speaking of plans for the future . . . how was your presentation on Tuesday?”

  “Oh. Really good.” I was surprised she remembered. Holden had needed reminding. I had submitted a proposal for optimizing Verumax’s heartburn drug, and my boss asked me to present it in front of the whole team.

  “Candy.”

  “Though I was pretty nervous about it. Even the execs came.”

  “Candy!”

  “No, first your fruit.”

  “It’s going to Research and Development now. R&D will review my proposal and, if the changes are implemented, I stand a good chance of being transferred there. With a little luck, they’ll even let me supervise the project.”

  “CANDY!”

  “Wow, that sounds fabulous.” Grace was delighted for me. “You'll get into R&D faster than you thought.”

  “If it works, yes.”

  “CANDY! CANDY!” The toddler wouldn’t stop whining. Grace pinched her eyes together, took a deep breath, opened them again, and put on a forgiving expression, wildly determined not to have her childless morning spoiled this quickly.

  “No, first your fruit.” Supermom tapped her fork on the plate where she had arranged two blueberries, a slice of apple, and a handful of raspberries in a happy face pattern. At the same time, she took the candy from the table and dangled it before her son’s nose.

  “You’ll get this right after.”

  “Candy now!” the boy demanded.

  “First your fruit,” his mother repeated in that determined drone that has absolutely no effect on their children. He’d get what he wanted in the end. Grace had remained remarkably calm considering her rather hot temper. But I had had enough. I was ready to jump up and tell the woman she should either give her child the stupid candy or try to teach the lesson elsewhere.

  The whine was turning into a temper tantrum. The little boy threw himself on the floor, flailed his arms and legs around, and yelled, “Candy! CANDY!”

  “First your fruit,” his mother insisted and raised her finger. She meant it, but then her son totally lost it.

  When Grace tried to start her sentence for the third time in a row, the expression on her face suddenly changed.

  “CANDY! CANDY!”

  Grace got up without a word, took the candy from the woman’s hand and popped it into her own mouth. The boy’s eyes widened. He had just experienced the shock of his life. His mother, too. She sat there slack-jawed.

  With an outraged “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she grabbed her son off the floor and stormed out of the restaurant. Grace received grateful looks from the other guests.

  “I didn’t think you’d be bothered by this given that you’re a mother yourself,” I said while giggling.

  Grace shrugged. “Kids are like farts,” she said drily. “Only your own are bearable.”

  After brunch I went to the gym and ran some errands, and when I got home at 5:30, Holden was already waiting for me. I immediately noticed he was dressed up and that he’d gotten his hair cut.

  “Did I miss something?” I asked while looking him over.

  Holden grinned mysteriously. “We’re going out,” he said without any hint at where. “Put something nice on. You have twenty minutes.”

  “OK?” I answered, making it sound like a question.

  Because I’d showered at the gym, I only needed to p
ut on a little makeup. I changed into my favorite dress, which, because it was made of lace and jersey, was the perfect balance of elegant and comfortable.

  “Ready,” I announced fifteen minutes later. “Where are we going?”

  “First: you look awesome, darling. And second: I’m not telling.”

  The twenty-minute drive ended in South Boston at the Fish Pier.

  “Wait,” Holden said after he pulled into a parking spot. He went around the car, opened the passenger door, and helped me out as if he were a nineteenth-century gentleman. Then he took me by the hand and led me along the road by the water. His face reflected a strange mixture of joy and nervousness. Mine was marked by skepticism. We finally stopped outside Del Frisco’s, one of the best restaurants in Boston.

  “We’re having dinner here?” I asked.

  Holden nodded, and opened the door for me.

  “We have a reservation for Crane,” he told the hostess.

  She looked in her book. “Yes, table for two. Please follow me.” We followed her to a comfortable private room with velvet-upholstered furniture.

  “OK, out with it,” I demanded as soon as we were seated. “What are we celebrating?”

  “Can't I go out for dinner with my woman without there having to be an occasion?”

  “In theory, yes,” I conceded. “But that would be a first. So, spill. What’s this about? Have you been promoted?”

  “No. But thanks for asking. That puts no pressure whatsoever on me.”

  Even though he said it as a joke, I could have slapped myself. Holden’s promotion had been overdue for some time. My dumb comment was like rubbing salt into an open wound. I was happy to hide for a moment when the waiter arrived with the menus. Maybe Holden really wanted to go out with me. Just so, without a special reason. Or? Suddenly another thought shot through my mind. My eyes widened. My face flushed. Oh my God! Was he going to . . .

  “How’s Grace?” Holden interrupted my panic. His question sounded so relaxed that my tension dissipated.

  “Good. Gabe was with a friend of hers overnight, so she had a good night’s sleep.” Then I remembered the candy story. “You won’t believe what she did.”