Silk

by Heidi McLaughlin

  She was still talking, but I didn’t hear anything after that.

  Her parents were coming to town. Fuck. What if Allie asked me to meet them? That couldn’t happen. I would find a way out of it. Of course, maybe she wouldn’t ask me in the first place.

  “Adam ... Adam ... Are you still there?” Carly screamed in my ear.

  “Uhh, yeah. Sorry. I’m listening,” I said, even though I hadn’t been.

  Carly sighed loudly. “Pay attention, please. I was saying that we can’t do the party until the weekend. The boys aren’t playing this weekend so I thought we could do it Saturday night. The question is where? Do we want to do it at the bar?”

  “Nah. Let’s do it at my place,” I said, sounding more like myself. “We’re at the bar every weekend. There’s nothing special about that.”

  Carly rattled off ideas about what we should serve, how we should decorate, and who we should invite. I doubted that she was coming up with this stuff on the fly. Most of her plans had probably already been set into motion and would happen with or without my help. I stopped listening again and wondered instead if and what Allie had told her parents about me.

  Alexis

  I was late. I looked at my watch and used my mental telepathy skills to send “hurry up” messages to the cabbie. My parents loved me endlessly, but they did not like to be kept waiting. Since I was 30 minutes late, they were definitely waiting.

  Birthdays had always been a huge production in my house. When I’d turned 6, my parents rented a train to give me and 20 of my closest kindergarten friends a ride through the neighborhood. When I was 12, I was obsessed with the Spice Girls, and my dad rented a limo to take me and 6 of my closest friends to their concert. Several years later, my parents had rented out a ballroom at Hotel ZaZa to accommodate the 100 guests invited to toast my 16th. When it came to my birthday, my parents, and my dad in particular, spared no expense. My 18th was the only birthday that we didn’t celebrate, and it wasn’t from lack of effort on their part.

  After I moved to Manhattan, they thought nothing of trekking halfway across the country for the sole purpose of having dinner with me. Every year, my dad picked a different hotel. He would rent a ridiculously overpriced room for the two of them and a separate room for me. After dinner, we would saddle up to the bar for a single drink, and then they would excuse themselves for the night. In a carefully choreographed dance that my dad was all too aware of, my friends always managed to show up just after my parents called it a night. That was when the real party started. It was my dad’s gift to me: a night in a fancy hotel where my friends and I could safely get ourselves shitfaced without having to worry about making it back to campus.

  My dad kept up the tradition even after I graduated from law school and moved out of my ratty campus apartment. I didn’t use the room for sleepovers any more, but usually stayed alone. It was nice to sleep in a bed that I didn’t have to make, and room service for breakfast was a nice perk when my morning-after stomach was up for it.

  This year my parents were trying out a relatively new hotel in Midtown, The W. I wasn’t sure why they picked it since there was one in Dallas. It didn’t seem very exciting to stay in a hotel that you drove past every day on your way home from work, but I think my dad felt like it showed that he hadn’t lost his cool.

  Hotel choice aside, I wasn’t excited about tonight for a different reason. This was the first year that I didn’t have any kind of after-party planned. For the past few years, Ethan and a few of our law school friends had joined me, but it had always been Ethan that spearheaded the revelry. Tonight, he was out of town on a work-related project. Since our friends were mostly his friends, I hadn’t bothered to put anything together.

  But that wasn’t even what was really bothering me. No, Adam was the real reason that my figurative panties were in a bunch.

  My mother had insisted that I invite my “mystery man” to dinner. Up to this point, they knew nothing about him. I still hadn’t even spilled his name. Since they only had one kid to worry about, my parents could be overly intrusive. Ethan was the only male that I’d introduced them to in the past nine years, and he didn’t really count.

  They were going to be completely overbearing when it came to Adam. They would probably be so ecstatic that I was involved with someone that they would overlook some things. Actually, my mom would probably be more willing to overlook the tattoos and bedhead than my dad. After all, my mom wasn’t dead. She would recognize a good-looking man when she saw one

  Adam and I had been seeing each other all summer. That put us around the four-month mark. It would probably be an appropriate time to introduce them. So, even though the thought put knots in my stomach, I’d done it. I’d stepped out of my comfort zone and asked him to come to dinner tonight.

  I guess four months of dating wasn’t long enough in his mind. He’d nicely, but firmly, declined the invitation. To be fair, his senior project had been taking up a lot of his time. Now the summer session was ending, and his final exam was tomorrow. Of course, I understood that he needed to study for it. I’d had seven years of higher education. I was glad to be done with all the studying and exams. And my head knew that you didn’t do something as nerve wracking as meeting Garrett and Lydia Harper on the night before a final exam..

  Someone please tell that to my heart though. It was shocking to me, but I’d rather spend my birthday on his couch reading a book while he studied than eating a $100 meal without him. And, to be honest, the fact that he said he couldn’t even break away to have a drink with me after dinner had not set well.

  Once the cab pulled to a stop, I flew out of the car and breezed through the revolving door. I stepped onto the mat proclaiming “Good Night” and barreled through the lobby. I only barely noted the elegant and modern décor. There would be time later to fully appreciate it.

  I came to a screeching and unsophisticated halt in front of the hostess stand in front of ‘Heartbeat.’ Scanning the room, I told her, “Harper, party of three. I think they should already be here.”

  “Yes, ma’am. They are. Right this way,” she said, motioning for me to follow her.

  As I approached the table, my mother’s eyes lifted and centered on me. Her naturally beautiful face was marred by a pinched smile that I knew was a direct result of my tardiness. My dad followed her gaze and stood. “Allie Girl!” he said. His words were informal though his tone was not. My dad’s demeanor toward me had always been a living oxymoron.

  “You’re late, dear,” my mom said, setting her nearly empty glass of wine down on the table. There were some things my mother waited for no one.

  “I’m sorry. I got tied up at work. Harper, Conley, and Rowe doesn’t observe birthdays,” I said.

  “Well, this Harper does. Glad they finally let you out of the sweatshop,” my dad said, with a more relaxed smile.

  After I properly kissed my mom’s cheek and hugged my dad, I sat down and unwrapped my silverware. I spread my napkin across my lap, hoping that my mom recognized the good manners that she’d taught me.

  Over the next hour, my mother caught me up on the happenings of their inner circle of friends back home. I learned that Howell Scott’s son, Ryan, had accepted a residency at Johns Hopkins. Virginia and Thomas Baker’s daughter, Cassandra, had recently had twin girls with her new husband. And Preston Harrison’s son, Preston the second, had been picked up for the third time on possession charges. What I was sure that my mom didn’t know was that during high school, Ryan handed out pages from his dad’s prescription pad; Cassandra gave the entire basketball team crabs; and Preston had been the class hookup for cocaine, pot, and ecstasy.

  With the exception of Preston, they’d apparently moved past their high school personas. Old habits die hard though, and I still thought of them as the way they were and not where the gossip mill put them now. I wondered, when their parents told them that Alexis Harper was a lawyer in New York City, did they still think of an 18-year-old Allie? Everyone’s last memory of me
was the broken girl who had lost everything, including her mind, and then disappeared.

  It was nice to see my parents. I missed them, and we’d finally gotten to that place where they considered me an adult. Now that I’d finished school and was no longer on their tab, we were on more equal footing.

  It was also fun to discuss our shared profession with my dad. We discussed the project that had kept me late tonight, and my dad nodded in appreciation and told me about his latest case. My mom smiled and nodded, but her eyes glazed over as they always did when we started speaking what she called legalese. My dad was happy that finally one of the women in his life actually listened to and appreciated his war stories.

  We made it almost to dessert before my mother brought up the subject of Adam. “So now tell me again, dear. Why couldn’t this mystery man of yours join us for dinner on your birthday?” she asked. She said it in her sweet mom voice, but I heard the tone that she really meant.

  I bristled, feeling the need to defend him before she’d even gone into full on-attack mode. “He’s still in school and has a final exam tomorrow. And would you please not refer to him as ‘mystery man.’ It sounds so sordid.” Boy, did my mom like sordid.

  “I would be happy to refer to him by his name if only you would tell us what it is. You are the one who has created this air of mystery,” she said, smiling coyly and circling her hand in the air.

  “Fine. His name is Adam. Happy?” I said with the petulance of a teenager. This line of questioning did not leave me feeling like I was on a level playing field with my parents. I felt like I’d been transported back in time. Once again, I was teenage Alexis looking for her parents’ unlikely approval.

  My dad’s fork was frozen midway to his mouth. He spoke before finishing his bite. “Adam what?” His voice projected indifference, though his eyes definitely did not.

  Here we go. My dad was going into full deposition mode. All eyes were upon me as they waited for my answer. “Adam Hill,” I said simply, shrugging my shoulders. Now that I’d let it slip, my dad would be running a full investigation and background check tomorrow. He wouldn’t be happy until he knew what Adam ate for breakfast every morning.

  “And is Adam Hill a native New Yorker?” my dad asked.

  “Ummm, no. He’s from Texas, too. Houston, though.” I answered. I hoped he didn’t ask much more than that because I still didn’t know much about Adam’s upbringing. And, whatever his upbringing, I doubted they would approve.

  “Now, Dad, no sneaking around behind my back, trying to learn everything you can about him. I know all I need to know about him for now.” I looked at my dad expectantly, waiting for the questioning to really begin.

  But he was staring at the food on his plate, deep in thought. He picked up his glass of scotch and took a longer than normal pull. When he returned his gaze to me, his eyes were piercing. “Are you sure about that?”

  “Yes,” I said. “He is great. We are great.” I wasn’t sure that was entirely true. We might not be great, but we were getting by.

  “Well, then, if you’re happy, that’s enough for me. So do you have any big plans for the weekend?” my dad asked, changing the subject. His tone was lighter.

  This was certainly not how I’d expected this to go down.

  “No, not really,” I answered honestly.

  “Maybe we should extend our stay then?” he asked. “Maybe do some birthday shopping and go see a show?” My mom’s eyes brightened at two of her favorite topics.

  I need to squash this fast. “Actually, I’m going to be working a lot this weekend. I probably won’t be able to spend much time with you if you stay.”

  “Just as well. I need to get back to Dallas anyway,” my dad said as my mom’s face fell.

  The remainder of the evening was uneventful. I finished my carrot cake with cream cheese icing, and then we headed to the bar and ordered our final round. As soon as my mom drained the last drop of her glass of cabernet, they were ready to leave me to my own devices.

  My dad signaled the bartender. “We are retiring for the evening, but it’s my daughter’s birthday so please treat her right. Put whatever she wants on Room Number 1216,” my dad said to him.

  “I’ll take care of her, sir,” the good-looking bartender replied with a wink in my direction. I blushed, hating my dad calling attention to me in this way.

  Returning my attention to my parents, I lied, “I’m just going to have a drink and then go upstairs.”

  I had no intention of stopping at one drink or going upstairs. Even though it was a terrible waste, I wasn’t in the mood. My plan was to have a couple more drinks. When I achieved the desired level of numbness, I was going home. All I wanted to do was curl up in my bed with Rubber Cat and sulk a little. My dad would be none the wiser.

  I hugged my parents and thanked them for the birthday dinner. Then I sent them on their way. I took a seat and let my mind wander.

  Twenty seven years old today. Birthdays always seemed like a good time to take stock of your accomplishments and shortfalls. So far, I’d done exactly what I’d planned. I’d finished school. I’d taken the job that was expected of me. I’d invested over $40,000 in my 401K account in just two years. I owned my apartment. Well, sort of. In truth, my dad had put down 50 percent of the asking price as my college graduation present. He’d paid the mortgage payments during my three years of law school. Then, when I graduated from law school, he’d handled the remortgaging of my apartment. He’d gotten much better terms and put down another 20 percent of the mortgaged amount. Thirteen years from now (after just 153 more extremely reasonable payments), I would own it free and clear. Even if it wasn’t really my doing, I was pleased at the thought.

  However, my accomplishments, which I now realized could be counted on one hand, were all I had planned for myself. I would continue to work and save, and save and work until I reached retirement age. I’d never had any aspirations of falling in love, getting married, or having a family. Until recently, I’d believed that these things were impossibilities. Then I’d met Adam, and everything changed.

  Or had it? Our relationship was painfully unclear to me. There was no doubt in my mind that I’d fallen for him. I’d been moving blissfully along with my head in the sand, but I knew we couldn’t keep up this momentum. I would pull the rug out from under us soon. If we made this work, it would be nothing short of a miracle.

  Then again, he hadn’t done anything for my birthday. I’d received the usual bouquet of pink tulips from my parents. They were beautiful, and I’d enjoyed them on my desk today. But, even as grateful as I was, I’d wished they were from Adam instead. He’d sent me an ice cream cake when we’d first met. Then, when I’d had a rough week after losing a particularly important document, he’d sent me a cookie cake that said ‘All is not lost.’ When my computer had been out of commission due to a nasty virus, he’d sent me a bottle of Advil and a cheesecake with a note that said,

  ‘There are two ways to fix a virus. Medication and cake.’

  He’d clearly learned early on that the way to my heart was through dessert. So I was surprised and disappointed when nothing edible was delivered today.

  I didn’t know what to make of it. I mean, doing absolutely nothing for my birthday was borderline unacceptable even if we had only been seeing each other for four months. More troubling, it seemed out of character for him since he’d shown that being thoughtful wasn’t outside his wheelhouse.

  I took a sip of my belvedere and soda considering that maybe this infant relationship of mine was fizzling out before it had really gotten started. I removed the lime from my glass and sucked on it. The sour taste matched my mood.

  It was then that a ridiculously handsome man sat down on the stool next to me. I dropped the lime back in my drink. Maybe it was because of my mood, but I openly sized him up. He was dressed like he’d just finished a long day of work. The top button of his dress shirt was undone, and his tie hung loosely below it. He looked incredible even if the shirt a
nd tie didn’t look quite right. Something about it just didn’t fit the recklessness emanating from the man looking back at me. He looked like an underwear model dressed for a funeral.

  His lip curled up in a sexy, mischievous smile. “What brings you here tonight? Business or pleasure?”

  He had really great eyes. They were a rich deep brown. They reminded me of saddle leather. I asked myself, exactly how mad at Adam am I? I had a decision to make. I made it.

  “Pleasure. Today is my birthday, and I’m celebrating,” I answered coyly.

  “Do you always celebrate alone on your birthday?” he asked.

  “No, not usually. But these are special circumstances. Would you like to celebrate with me?” Even in my heyday, I wasn’t usually so forward, but I was throwing caution to the wind.

  “It would be my pleasure,” he responded, sending me a winning smile.

  The bartender reappeared in front us. I ordered another vodka and soda, and my new companion ordered a Woodford Reserve, neat. We sipped our drinks and made small talk, steering away from anything too personal. We both preferred the Mets over the Yankees. He liked action movies while I preferred reality TV. He liked vintage music and wished more than life itself that he could go to a Led Zeppelin concert. I was into more modern stuff, preferring Maroon Five, Muse, and Of Monsters and Men. Eventually, conversation stalled. However, the silence was not uncomfortable.

  Finally, he broke it. “So, you’re a girl, and it’s your birthday.” His eyes danced as if a light had just gone on. I laughed before he finished, “I’ve been dating this girl, and her birthday is coming up soon. Any ideas on what I should get her?”

  “It’s hard to say without knowing her. What’s she like?” I asked.

  “She’s amazing. Drop dead gorgeous. She has an incredible body. But she’s incredibly smart, too, and works really hard at her job. Loves children and animals. The problem is that she has everything she needs. I can’t think of a single thing that I can give her.”

  “She can’t possibly have everything she needs. No one has everything they need. What you need to ask yourself is ‘what can I give her that no one else can?’ When you figure that out, you have your answer,” I said. I looked down into my drink before meeting his eyes again. “So, if you have such an amazing girlfriend, why are you here with me?” I asked.