Work of Art

by Monica Alexander

  I sighed, hating how archaic that sounded. But it was something my mother would have said, so I knew she wasn’t exaggerating. “Trish, no. That’s not the kind of relationship I want with my wife.”

  She shook her head “No, Ryan, you don’t understand. That’s how I was raised. It’s all I know. And I haven’t stopped thinking about it since lunch on Tuesday. I know you want more for me and what you said came from a good place, but it was really unexpected, and I’m not sure how to navigate through it.”

  I closed my eyes, feeling like a dick. I knew I’d blindsided her with wanting to change careers. I should have thought it through before I said anything. But then on top of it, I’d attacked her without warning about her life and her choices. It was shitty.

  “See, the thing is, I feel so blessed, so fortunate and so happy that you chose me,” she said, putting her hand over her heart. “I’d always thought you were the most gorgeous man I’d ever known, and when your mom suggested setting us up, I didn’t think you’d go for it. I assumed I was too plain for you, too ordinary.”

  “Trish. No.”

  She shook her head to shush me. “You are an incredible, strong man and so handsome, and you only ever dated women who were your equal, and I knew I couldn’t compete with that, but then you picked me, and I can’t even describe how that felt. Ryan, you’ve made me so happy. So if you need me to change to make you happy, I’ll do it.”

  Jesus. What had I done? That wasn’t what I wanted at all.

  “Trish,” I said, taking her hand in mind. “I don’t want you to change. I made that mistake in my last relationship, and it cost me everything. I wouldn’t ask that of you.”

  “But you did ask,” she said, calling me on the carpet.

  I nodded. “I know, and it was wrong of me to do that. I’m sorry.”

  She sighed, long and loud. “Do you regret what happened with Courtney? That you guys broke up?”

  “No,” I said quickly, because I knew it was what she needed to hear.

  I truthfully wasn’t sure how I felt about my failed relationship. The wounds were still a little raw if I was being honest, but I’d never tell Trish that. In the end, Courtney and I had drifted too far apart, and as much as we were both trying to hold on to what had once kept us together, it was gone, and we had no choice but to just let go. I couldn’t forgive that she’d cheated on me. That stung, still. But I couldn’t look back and regret what had happened. We obviously weren’t meant to be together.

  I pulled Trish onto my lap and wrapped my arms around her. “I don’t regret what happened last summer because it brought us together. If she hadn’t cheated on me, I wouldn’t have known how great it would be to be with you.”

  She smiled and leaned for forehead against mine. “I love you, Ryan.”

  I kissed her. “Me too.”

  And then I realized I needed to be honest with her. Remembering how it had felt when I learned Courtney had been unfaithful had me looking back and questioning every interaction, every conversation and wondering how much of it had been a lie. How much had she omitted or made light of or skirted around to spare my feelings? I never wanted to make Trish feel that way.

  “Trish,” I said, as I kissed the spot just below her ear.

  “Hmm?”

  “I wasn’t honest with you on Tuesday.”

  She pulled back and looked at me, and I could see the panic flooding her eyes. “What do you mean?”

  “The girl who I was talking to when you were in the bathroom at lunch, she doesn’t work at the place I get my hair cut. She’s my ex-girlfriend.”

  I watched Trish’s face go pale. “What do you mean?”

  “No, don’t freak out. Please,” I said, as I hugged her tightly wanting her to feel safe. “We dated in high school.”

  “High school?”

  Now she really looked puzzled. “Yes. High school. We broke up after graduation, and I hadn’t seen her since then, but on Saturday I ran into her. It was really crazy.”

  “So, did you arrange to meet her for lunch on Tuesday or something? Is that why you wanted to go to that place?”

  “What? No. I had no idea she’d be there. We talked for maybe five minutes on Saturday night, and seeing her at the deli was completely by chance. But we sort of made plans to go out for coffee sometime and catch up.”

  Trish tried to pull away from me, but I wouldn’t let her go. “Why are you telling me all of this?” she asked cautiously.

  I sighed. “Because you know what I went through last summer, and I would hate for you to find out from someone else that I had coffee with a woman you didn’t know and didn’t tell you about it. I want you to trust me and know that this is just a friends’ thing.”

  She visibly relaxed in my arms, and I think it was partially because she knew how badly I’d been hurt. There had been some instances soon after Courtney and I had ended things that hadn’t been pretty, and Trish had been there to see me break down, to rage and scream and throw things and even cry. She’d been there through it all.

  She leaned forward then and kissed me on the mouth. “Ryan, I do trust you, and thank you for telling me. Enjoy catching up with your friend.”

  “Thank you,” I said, kissing her back, hoping she’d let me make out with her a little. I was that desperate for some kind of human connection.

  “Did she have all those tattoos when you dated her?” Trish asked when she pulled away from me, leaving me wanting more.

  Her nose was wrinkled in distaste, and I didn’t like it. Was she judging Harper?

  I shook my head. “No, she had one, but that was it.”

  “Oh, well, that makes more sense. I didn’t think you’d date someone who was stupid enough to permanently tattoo things on their body. It’s sort of tacky, and what will they look like when she’s old?”

  Almost instantly my insides started burning, and a protective vibe shuddered through me. “Trish, don’t go there,” I warned, and she froze, realizing she’d overstepped her bounds.

  “I’m sorry,” she said instantly, the regret apparent in her tone. “I didn’t mean to insult your friend. I wasn’t thinking.”

  That’s right. She hadn’t been thinking. I let my arms go slack and fall to my sides, giving her the indication that she could get up.

  “Ryan, please don’t be mad,” she begged. “I’m sorry.”

  But she’d done this shit before, and I couldn’t stand it. For as sweet as she was, she was judgmental and elitist at times. I’d even heard her make sarcastic comments to her friends about something as small as someone who – gasp – dared to attend an event in a non-designer dress. It was catty, and we’d had many discussions about how much I disliked when she did it. But now she was insulting someone I’d cared deeply about for years, and I wouldn’t have it.

  After a few seconds, she knew it was best to just let it go, so she crawled off my lap and stood up. “Are you coming to bed?”

  “In a few minutes,” I said stiffly. “I want to unwind out here.”

  “Okay,” she said quietly, lacing her hands together in front of her. “I really am sorry. I’ll be more careful about what I say in the future.”

  I nodded, but what I wanted to tell her was that I didn’t have a problem with her saying it, it was that she was thinking it in the first place.

  She started to walk toward the bedroom but stopped and turned around. “By the way, our mothers want to meet us for a late lunch on Saturday when they get to town.”

  I nodded, knowing I didn’t have a choice in the matter. “Okay.”

  Trish watched me for a few moments, probably wondering if I’d say anything else, but in that moment, I just wanted to tune out.

  It had been a long day, it was late, and I had to be up early, but I wasn’t anywhere near tired. I hadn’t really been sleeping a lot over the past few months, but mindless TV helped. I switched the channel over to the Food Network and watched Iron Chef America.

  Fifteen minutes into the show, my cell vi
brated from where it sat on the newly repaired coffee table. I hoped it wasn’t a work crisis and held my breath as I looked at the screen. It was a number I didn’t recognize.

  Hi.

  Hi, I responded, not sure why I felt compelled to do so when I had no idea who I was saying it to.

  It’s Harper.

  An involuntary smile spread across my face, and I immediately fell back into my eighteen year-old self, giddy to be exchanging texts with my girlfriend. But then my twenty-nine year-old self who lived in the present was nervous because I had no idea who Harper even was anymore, but the idea of getting to know her again and rekindling a friendship made me respond.

  I was surprised to hear from her – surprised, but excited.

  Hi Harper.

  How are you? Having a good night?

  Just got home from work. You?

  Doing paperwork. Busy night at the shop – finally getting a break.

  Busy’s good.

  :)

  So what’s up? I texted, wondering what made her reach out to me.

  I wanted to see if you wanted to grab that coffee we talked about on Saturday.

  I hesitated and looked back toward the bedroom as if Trish was there watching me. I’d inevitably dismissed her because I wanted to be alone, and now I was texting with Harper. It made me feel guilty.

  And I think I hesitated in responding long enough that it made Harper second guess asking.

  It’s okay if you can’t. I didn’t think that you might have plans with your fiancé. Never mind if it’s not a good day, she texted back.

  I quickly fired off my reply. I’d love to catch up, and Trish is going out of town on Saturday afternoon. I have no plans. Let’s meet for coffee. You pick the time and place.

  For some reason, I pictured her smiling at my reply, just like how she’d smiled at me when I’d seen her the other day.

  I’ll text you tomorrow to let you know what time, but if it’s okay with you, could we maybe make that coffee a beer?

  I laughed out loud, and I wasn’t sure why. Probably because this was one of the most nerve-racking things I’d done in years, and I could tell Harper was nervous too.

  Yes. A beer would be good. I’ll look forward to hearing from you.

  :)

  See. I knew she’d been smiling when I’d replied.

  * * *

  “Hello darling,” my mother greeted me, air kissing the space next to my cheek when I stood from the table at a restaurant I hoped she would like. I’d picked it on a whim, since I’d been at the office all morning, and it was close by. “How are you?”

  “I’m fine, Mom. How was your flight?”

  “Long, and I smell like an airplane, but no matter, we’re here, and it’s so good to see you.”

  “Ryan,” Felicity Spencer chimed in loudly as she released her daughter and turned to face me with her pointy, pinched nose and an expression like she’d tasted something sour that brightened when she held her arms out for me.

  I’d never been a big fan of Trish’s mom, but she thought I walked on water, so I kept quiet and pretended we were good friends.

  I returned her hug, holding my nose at her pungent perfume. “How are you, Felicity?”

  She pulled back to appraise me, and I realized her scent had transferred onto my shirt. Great.

  “Well, I am just thrilled that you kids are finally getting married. I mean, I remember my Trisha telling me how handsome she thought you were back when you were at Yale and we’d see you at The Vineyard in the summer. She was just a teenager then, but she would tell me all about how one day she was going to marry you.”

  “Mom,” Trish said, her face flushing as I put my arm around her and pulled her against me. I turned and kissed her temple, and she smiled.

  “She could predict the future back then,” my mother chimed in. “If only Ryan would have had the good sense to see what was right in front of him all along.”

  I clenched my jaw muscles at her well-timed dig, but I didn’t respond. Any chance she got to remind me of what a fuck-up I’d been for years, she took it, and responding in defense of myself would get me nowhere. At least she couldn’t slight me for anything now. I was living the life she’d always wanted me to live, and I was engaged to a girl she loved. She had no pull except to yank crap out of the past and lord it over me.

  “Well, I’m just glad he finally noticed me,” Trish said, looking up at me adoringly.

  I smiled at her, glad she was on my side.

  “Shall we sit?” I asked, gesturing to the table, desperate not to dwell on this topic any further.

  If I let my mother get going, she’d be taking jabs at me all afternoon. It seemed a decade of mistakes could not be erased in a year, and I’d be paying for my decisions for years to come.

  “Oh good, you do have plans to feed us today,” my mother responded snidely. “I was wondering if we might all just stand around the table and hope food made its way to our mouths.”

  “Please sit, Lydia,” Trish said softly. I knew she was somewhat intimidated by my mom. Most people were.

  “Thank you, Trisha. That’s so kind of you.”

  At least she liked Trish.

  The meal continued much in the same fashion, and thankfully I wasn’t asked to contribute much as the women were discussing wedding plans, and my job was basically to show up on the day of the event in my tux. Occasionally Trish or her mom would ask me a question, but it was rare.

  “So, when can we expect grandchildren,” Felicity asked as the waiter cleared away our plates.

  Thankfully everyone had liked the restaurant.

  “Soon,” Trish said, taking my hand under the table. I smiled at her.

  “We’ve talked about starting a family in the near future,” I told them, feeling uncomfortable talking about having sex in front of my mother.

  Granted, sex made babies, but I didn’t exactly want them knowing that we were going to be trying, because that meant sex, and it was a visual I didn’t want either of them to have.

  “Will you move back after you have kids?” Felicity asked, and I saw my mother glance at me expectantly. I knew she’d wanted to ask the same thing.

  Neither of them had been thrilled when we’d taken off across the country, but I’d assured them it was to further my career which hadn’t been met with an argument even if it wasn’t completely true. I’d taken the position I’d been offered because I needed to get away.

  I hated fearing that I would run into Courtney and her new boyfriend or that I would see things that invariably reminded me of our relationship and her indiscretions. After what happened, leaving had felt right, and Trish had been more than willing to accompany me.

  But even though our families knew we’d moved for good reasons, I also knew that the assumption that we would eventually settle back in Boston was there. They didn’t want us across the country, and the pressure to move back would be even greater after we had kids. And knowing this, I was afraid to even bring up what I was considering from a career standpoint since I’d been looking at Stanford and Berkley as places where I could do my PhD. I had no desire to leave San Francisco just yet.

  Trish looked at me expectantly, waiting for me to take the lead and answer her mother’s question. “It’s definitely something we’re considering,” I said, and both our mother’s beamed.

  Crisis averted.

  “Well, I need to use the ladies room,” Felicity said. “Trisha, will you accompany me?”

  “Sure, Mother,” she said, rising from her seat, leaving me alone with my mother.

  I took a deep breath, knowing this was the only chance we’d get to talk in person before the wedding, so I needed to tell her that Harper was coming to the wedding. She’d hate it, and I’d been dreading this conversation.

  But I wasn’t ready to tell her just yet.

  “So how is everyone?” I asked, buying time. “How’s Lisa. I haven’t talked to her in a while.”

  My sister Lisa and I didn’t
have the greatest of relationships, because she was a stuck up bitch most of the time, but I liked her kids, so I made time to see her whenever I was in town. She had four of them, Madeline was ten, Henry was seven, Ruby was four, and Carson was almost a year old. They were a handful, but they were cute.

  My mother rearranged her folded napkin on her lap. “Well, you should call her. She’s your sister, after all. And she has her hands full with the kids since James has been traveling more than ever. Madeline has a dance recital coming up, so we’re all going to that, and Henry is playing soccer. Ruby is going through a phase where she throws food, and it’s not pleasant for any of us. Your brother is the only one who can get her to behave since she thinks he walks on water. And the baby is getting big and crawling everywhere.”

  “How is John?”

  I’d talked to my younger brother just the week before, but she didn’t know that, and I was still stalling.

  “John is wonderful,” she said brightly. “Law school is going well, he’s dating a new girl, and she’s perfect for him.”

  Great.

  I wondered how my brother who’d blown half of his trust fund fucking women on every continent could be deemed the good son, and I was the black sheep of the family because of a string of incidents that my parents didn’t approve of that all added up together probably were no worse than what John had done. It was completely hypocritical.

  “Mom,” I finally said, knowing Trish and her mom would be back soon. “I actually need to tell you something.”

  “Yes,” she said expectantly, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. She always expected the worst from me.

  “You should know that Harper is coming to the wedding.”

  “Who?”

  “Harper Connelly, my girlfriend from high school,” I said, knowing once I clarified my statement she’d know exactly who I was talking about.

  Her eyes narrowed. “You mean the girl you got pregnant,” she said, and I glanced toward the restrooms just to be sure that Trish wasn’t walking toward us. She didn’t know about my past with Harper, and I wanted to keep it that way.

  “Yes.”

  There wasn’t much else I could say. I wasn’t about to defend what had happened. Been there, done that, and it hadn’t worked.