“Flowers.”
“That’s pushy,” Gert said. “Todd will get them when he gets home and he’ll feel pressured.”
“How about a bottle of wine?” Hallie asked.
“He doesn’t drink.”
“But you do.”
“Still pushy.”
“Oh! I know. We’ll do a survey.”
“At eight o’clock at night?”
Hallie thought.
“I’ve got it!” she said, snapping her fingers. “We’ll say we’re thinking of moving into the building and we’re knocking on doors to see what the units are like. Doug, or whoever lives there, will have to invite us in.”
“To look at his unit?”
“It’s brilliant!” Hallie said. “Credit, please. We can still go see a movie after.”
Like clockwork, Erika appeared as they were polishing off the last crescents of the beer-battered onion. Gert wasn’t surprised that Erika showed up. She wondered if the girl had any other friends. Then Gert reminded herself that in New York, she didn’t have many, either. She hadn’t noticed when she was with Marc. They had socialized with neighbors and married couples and his associates, but she’d never really become good friends with them. Some of the women at the support group were nice. There was a retreat planned for the summer. She would go. She’d become better friends with them. Still, she wanted Chase to come back. Maybe she could make a better effort to find out what had happened to her.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” Erika said, sitting down. Her eyes were red, and her eyeliner was wet.
“Were you looking at Challa’s Web site again?” Hallie asked.
Erika nodded. She bit her lip. “I still can’t believe they’re having another baby. Why can’t I ever feel okay? Why can’t I ever call up the Web log and find something that actually makes me feel like I did the right thing by breaking up with him? Then I wouldn’t feel so bad. How come Challa can’t write, ‘Dear Web log. Today Ben beat me. Also, he smells like bad cheese.’”
“Maybe the whole thing’s fake,” Hallie said. “Maybe he does beat her, and she only keeps the Web log to put a sunny face on things. Maybe it’s like her fake fantasy life that she…”
“Bullshit!” Erika said. “Stop trying to comfort me. You’re about as comforting as Plexiglas.”
“Well, you can help me comfort Gert,” Hallie said.
“Comfort her about what?”
Hallie explained her plan.
Erika smiled. “Now you’re talking,” she said. “Don’t worry. You’re in good hands. We’re experts at this.”
Gert had a sinking feeling. Still, she now felt as irrational as Hallie and Erika often did. She wanted to know.
Todd’s building was on Washington Street in the West Village, not far from the Hudson River. Gert had never been that far west in the Village before. It was near 12th Avenue. It was quiet and seemed good for families, with little row homes and an elementary school.
Todd’s building was old. It was pink with white trim, settled between two shorter brownstones. The three women walked into the foyer, and Gert noticed that they had those copper mailboxes with antique intercoms. She was sure Todd was delighted by this. Todd loved old things.
Damn, she thought. I like him.
Why did she have to start thinking about him now that he was about to dump her?
The elevator, too, was a classic. It required one to push the doors open and closed. Inside, the metal arrow pointed to the little numbers representing floors. Gert knew Todd probably loved this, too.
Ugh.
They stepped out into the hall. It was quiet. There were long opaque windows at both ends. They ambled down to apartment 4D.
Hallie knocked.
There was no answer.
Gert was glad, in a way. They’d go see a movie, she would go home, and there would be a message from Todd affirming their date for Saturday. Everything would be fine.
“Hold on,” Hallie whispered.
They heard footsteps. Gert tensed up. She almost didn’t want to know. She wished she hadn’t come here.
What if Todd was actually home? What if half the time he pretended he was away when he was simply shacking up?
The door opened. A tall guy with messed-up hair and half-closed eyes stood there in a red sweatsuit. As soon as he saw Erika, he straightened up.
“Sorry to bother you,” Hallie said. “We’re looking to rent an apartment here, and we’re meeting with the landlord tomorrow. We were hoping to look at some of the apartments first. Would you mind if we took a look around?”
The roommate shrugged. “I guess not,” he said. “It’s kind of a mess, but…”
“That’s okay. We’re just curious.”
They entered slowly. The living room was dark yellow and pasty, with an orange couch that looked like it had been there for decades.
“That was here when we moved in,” Doug said.
“How lucky for you,” Erika said.
On a wall was a framed poster of a half-naked woman. She was wearing black leather pants. Gert hoped it was Doug’s and not Todd’s.
“Yours?” Hallie asked him.
Doug nodded. “It’s a cover from a record,” he said. “I’m not obsessed with naked women or anything.” He looked at Erika. “I mean, depending on who.”
“Can we see your room for a sec?” Hallie asked.
He led them toward it. The four of them peered in. It was sloppy, with books and clothes everywhere, but the CDs were in a tower that stretched to the ceiling.
How very like a guy, Gert thought. The room’s a mess, but the CDs are perfect. Doug’s mattress and box spring were on the floor, under dark drapes.
“I’m not into heavy decorating,” Doug said. “I just sleep here.”
“Do you have another bedroom?” Hallie asked innocently.
“Oh, yeah, my roommate’s,” Doug said. “But he’s never here.”
“Why not?”
“He works ridiculous hours,” Doug said, heading into the living room. “And when he’s around, he’s at his girlfriend’s all the time.”
“All the time?” Erika asked. “Wow, they must keep really busy.”
“I guess,” Doug said. He stopped in front of Todd’s door.
Erika said, “They must go at it like rabbits.”
Doug laughed. “I suppose.” Gert looked down.
“I’ll bet they really wake the neighbors,” Erika said.
“All right!” Gert said.
Doug opened Todd’s door.
Gert tensed up again.
The three of them peered in.
There were no pictures of girls on the wall.
Gert let herself breathe.
The room was small, with a single bed that was not made up. The shelves were neat enough. There was a laundry basket full of clothes. Todd had a framed poster of a DeLorean on one wall. It looked like it had been there for a while. The glass was dusty.
She thought she might ask Todd about it. But of course, she couldn’t.
“Does your roommate like his girlfriend?” Hallie asked, standing in the doorway. Gert was annoyed. As far as she was concerned, the investigation had gone far enough.
“I assume,” Doug said, shrugging. “He’s always over there.” He smiled again.
“What’s her name?” Erika asked.
She tensed up again. What if he said another girl’s name?
“I think it’s…Gert, or Gertie,” Doug said. He shrugged apologetically. “Kind of old-fashioned.”
Erika played with a blue pamphlet she picked up on the radiator. It was called, “The War and the Second International.”
“Well, Doug,” Hallie said, shaking his hand, “you’ve been a real help.”
“Hey, you know my name,” Doug said.
“You said your name,” Hallie said.
“We’re sure you said your name,” Erika said.
“You distinctly said your name,” Hallie said. “Or I saw it on the mailbox.�
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“Okay,” Doug said. “Well, when you guys move in, come knock on my door. Me cosa es su cosa, comprendi vous?”
“Uh,” Hallie said. “Thanks.”
“Yeah.” Doug grinned.
“And thank your roommate for us, too,” Erika said. “Tell him to keep on giving it to this Gert woman.”
“Let’s go,” Gert said.
Walking out of the elevator downstairs, Hallie said, “Well, now we know the truth. Todd doesn’t tell his roommate about his secret girlfriend in Binghamton.”
“Oh, stop,” Gert said.
“No, seriously. Don’t you feel better now?” Hallie put her arm around her.
Gert was a bit relieved. There had been some benefit to manipulation…well, maybe. If Todd ever introduced her to Doug, though, she’d have some explaining to do. “I guess I do feel better,” Gert said. “But he still might break up with me tomorrow. He’s away and he doesn’t care.”
“Well, we’ll see the movie, and you’ll forget all about it for tonight.” Hallie kept her arm around her, and Erika patted her other shoulder, and for a minute, she was part of a team.
The theater was moderately crowded. They had decided on a mindless adventure film that had just opened. Even if it cost seventeen dollars for the movie, popcorn and soda, it was just the therapy Gert needed.
But Gert felt cold in her short skirt. Hallie gave her her coat to drape over her knees.
The movie was over by eleven.
“It had its moments,” Hallie said as they descended toward the back exit.
“The one guy looked like Ben,” Erika said. “That bugged me.”
The crowd slowly squeezed out the back door. Gert accidentally stepped on the back of a woman’s shoe. The woman gave Gert a nasty look.
The guy she was with turned around to Gert. “You just stepped on her shoe,” he said angrily.
“Don’t tell us problems,” Erika said. “Give us solutions.”
“Excuse me!” the guy said. “What did you say? And why is it your business, bitch?”
Gert looked away. They were all going through the door. The guy was tall and heavy, with a chain around his neck. He looked at Erika, waiting.
“You know she didn’t mean to step on her shoe,” Erika said. “And there are bigger tragedies than having your shoe accidentally stepped on. Just move along, asshole.”
The guy’s eyes narrowed. His girlfriend hung on his arm and chomped on her gum.
“What did you say, bitch?” the guy said again, stopping. They were out back now, by the Dumpsters. Other people were moving down the alley.
“You shouldn’t call women bitches just because they speak their mind,” Erika said. “See this girl you’re with? Do you think she’s a bitch? And don’t look away, sweetie.” Erika looked at the girl. Gert just wanted to get out of there. “Why do you date a guy who calls women bitches? Do you think that’s right, or don’t you have a mind of your own?”
“You better—” the girl started, looking at the guy.
“You better shut your mouth right now,” the guy said, getting closer to Erika. “Or I’ll show you how to mind your business.”
“We apologize,” Gert said. Her legs felt cold, and she felt vulnerable in high heels.
“Good; now I think you should apologize,” Erika said. “My friend’s husband died a year and a half ago, and she’s been through a lot.”
“Oh really?” the guy asked. “Is that why she’s dressed like a slut to go to the movies?”
Gert looked down at her waist. She wanted to cry. She pushed her skirt over her legs.
“Well, you’re dressed like a pimp!” Erika said. “And your girlfriend—”
Hallie grabbed Erika’s arm. “Let’s go,” Hallie said, and she and Gert pulled her away.
“It bothers you that a woman talked back!” Erika called behind her. “You thought you could mouth off for no reason.”
Once Erika, Gert and Hallie got far enough away, Erika looked back. “Pimp!” she yelled. Then they all ran down to the subway.
“You’re stupid!” Hallie said, panting as they went through the turnstile. “You could have gotten us killed! What if we see them in the middle of the night somewhere?”
“We won’t,” Erika said.
“How do you know?” Hallie said. “I don’t feel safe anymore. What if we bump into him in the street?”
“That’s what he wants us to think,” Erika said.
“What if he’d tried to hurt us?” Gert added. “What if he’d had a knife? Did you want to die being right?”
Erika said, “He shouldn’t go through life thinking women are bitches if we don’t do exactly what he wants.”
It was only later, when they were recouping with coffee at a diner near Hallie’s apartment, that Erika admitted that she wasn’t sure what had gotten into her.
“I think I’m losing it,” she said. She put her head in her hands. “I just couldn’t let it go. When he said ‘bitch,’ something in me snapped. I’m just tired of everyone being an asshole.”
Hallie shook her head. “I always think the world is this wonderful place,” she said. “And then I remember how you have to always be careful. We could have gotten hurt back there, easily. I don’t like being so cynical, but something like this sends you back to the beginning. I should start taking tae kwon do again.”
“I think martial arts just give you a false sense of security,” Gert said. “If someone’s stronger than you, they’re stronger than you. Ever tried to wrestle a guy? It doesn’t matter if they’re short or scrawny or quiet. They pin you in two seconds flat.”
“When have you wrestled a guy?” Erika asked her.
Gert thought. Her brother. And Marc. A guy on her floor freshman year when most people were home on break. It hadn’t gotten far, in that case. But it was fun.
“Self-defense teaches you to act only as a last resort,” Hallie said, looking at Erika. “Some of us could use that training.”
Gert pushed her skirt down again. She still felt cold and ashamed. She thought that the world wasn’t set up to get through without someone to protect you. That guy would never have said anything to her if Todd had been there.
Where was Todd, anyway? She wanted Todd. She needed Todd. Why deny it?
Slumping over on the subway going home, trying not to think too hard, Gert hoped there would be a message from him on her voicemail when she got there. She had given him enough time. At least she hadn’t sat home all night waiting for him to call.
But there was no message.
Chapter
13
Saturday morning, the phone still hadn’t rung. She was grateful for the widows’ support group. It would go until almost lunchtime, and by that time, Todd probably would have left a message about dinner.
When Gert left the condo, bright sunlight was making sharp tree-shaped shadows on the sidewalk. She stepped carefully around them, thinking that if she were a kid, she would take fat pieces of chalk and trace them.
She wended her way to the corner, around planters and street signs, and that was when she saw him. It was his brown hair. And his haircut.
Marc.
He was just a few feet ahead of her….
The guy turned around.
It wasn’t Marc, of course. Gert’s heart dropped.
She had seen look-alikes before, on the way to the supermarket or to work, and they’d caused an instant jolt that scrambled her brain. It could be the haircut, or the eyes, or the curve of their mouth. Whenever she saw them, her heart lifted for a second, then plummeted.
It wasn’t as if she thought Marc was alive. It was just that she’d gotten that little surge she always used to get upon seeing him. Only now, it simply reminded her that it couldn’t possibly be him. It never would be.
The community center was quiet, its horizontal shades pulled low. There was a huge kids’ calendar on the wall, made out of construction paper, and on top of it, it said, “March goes in like a lion a
nd goes out like a lamb.” Gert thought it was supposed to be March comes in like a lion. But the more she looked at it, the less sure she was. She’d learned that in elementary school, and now she couldn’t remember. A sure sign of old age.
Chairs were squeaking into place. Gert sat down. She remembered how foreign she’d felt the first day she came to the group. Support groups had always been for other people, not her. They had been something to joke about. “The first step,” Marc’s friends had said, “is admitting you have the problem.” Support groups had been things to make fun of on Saturday Night Live. Support groups had been things for people on the news or movies of the week. Support groups were for the people her mother helped through whatever fund-raiser her busy-body friends were running and enlisting her in. Support groups were for Victims. Gert had never been a Victim. It was far better to be the one who helped than the one who needed the help.
As much as the group helped her, as much as she got along with the women, she’d never lie and say she wanted to be there. It was not about having fun. It was about surviving. And what was surviving? Solely the act of not giving up.
The only real living she’d done lately was with Todd. And now that might be gone, too. There was still much surviving to be done.
Gert adjusted her pocketbook securely below her chair—even in a safe space you could never be too careful, so she wound its loop around one of the chair legs. She caught some movement out of the corner of her eye.
Chase was coming into the room.
Gert sat up and waved to her. Chase smiled and sat down next to her.
“Where’ve you been?” Gert asked. “I’ve been wondering if you’re okay.”
“I’m okay,” Chase said. “It’s just—”
“Ladies,” Brenda said. “It’s time to begin.”
“I’ll tell you later,” Chase whispered.
It was a tough session, full of tears. Michele said that weekend was her wedding anniversary. That spurred talk about anniversaries and birthdays. Brenda said that for her husband’s birthday, she’d celebrated by baking his favorite kind of layer cake, lighting a candle, and eating it alone. Everyone said they would have joined her if she’d told them. But Brenda said she wanted to be alone. And she wasn’t really alone, she said, because she felt like her husband was in the room. She said that when she finished singing happy birthday to him, one of the candles went out. Gert, although chiding herself for her cynicism, wondered why Brenda had left her window open in the middle of March.
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