Apotheosis

by Joshua Edward Smith

  Cynthia sat back in her chair and exhaled slowly. She swirled the wine in her glass and watched it drip slowly down the sides. “Maybe I was afraid of the answer?”

  Emma nodded, but didn’t say anything.

  “At first there was the shock of it. At first I believed what I read and thought he was lying to me. That’s why I blocked him from messaging me. But then as time went on, I got more and more confused about it. Trying to sort it out. That’s why I need to see him. I can’t just start texting again. If he was lying to me all along, how would I know if he was just lying some more?”

  “Men lie. It’s in their bones. Even my Phillip, rest his soul, could play a little fast and loose when it suited him.”

  “My ex lied to me big time. It’s really hard to trust someone after that.”

  Emma nodded. The two sat in silence awhile.

  “I want to trust him, though,” Cynthia continued. “I’m a fool. I know it. But what he said in that dream. What he told me online. What we had. I want all that to be the truth.”

  “I hope it is, honey,” Emma said, leaning forward and squeezing Cynthia’s knee. “I gotta pop the bread in the oven to crisp up. Come with me to the kitchen,” she ordered.

  Cynthia and Emma walked into the kitchen. Cynthia sat at the table, and Emma finished readying dinner.

  “Phillip was in the service?” Cynthia asked, looking at a picture on the wall of a handsome black man in uniform.

  “That’s right. He was lucky though. Came in after Korea was over, but before Vietnam started, so he never saw any action.”

  “He sure looks good in uniform,” Cynthia said.

  Emma turned to admire the picture on the wall. “You got that right. He was wearing that when he swept me off my feet.”

  “Wait. Really? You were together way back then?”

  “Yes, ma’am. He was my first and only. Married almost fifty years before he passed.”

  “Any children?”

  “Three. And three grandkids so far.”

  “Do they ever visit?”

  Emma pulled the lasagna out of the oven and placed it atop a trivet on the table. “They’re all over. It’s hard for them to get back to see me, I guess.”

  Cynthia refilled their wine glasses. “I’m sorry. That must be hard.”

  “It is what it is. I’m plenty busy with this place. Figure I’ll run it until I’m in the ground, and then it’ll be their problem.”

  “No retirement?” Cynthia asked, as Emma served dinner to their plates.

  “What would I do in retirement? And anyway, how would it be any different than what I’m doing right now?”

  “I suppose you’re right. This is fantastic!” Cynthia said.

  “Thank you, honey. I love cooking. And tending the gardens. If I could just get rid of the idiot guests, this job would be perfect,” she said with a broad smile.

  “Thank you so much for inviting me to dinner. I’m planning on finishing my trip tomorrow morning. I probably won’t need breakfast or lunch!”

  “You’re skin and bones, child. You need your three square every day,” Emma scolded.

  “Okay, okay. I’ll see what I can do. And thank you. But don’t think calling me skinny will get you into my pants,” Cynthia joked.

  Emma laughed heartily.

  ¤

  Cynthia arrived at her hotel outside Malibu around four in the afternoon. She had driven straight through, buoyed by a lunch that Emma insisted on packing for her. After checking in, finding her room, unpacking a few things, and freshening up, she headed back out. Her first stop was Evan’s office. Specifically his office parking lot. After navigating city streets awhile she found herself turning in and slowly casing the lot.

  She didn’t know what color Porsche he drove, but she knew the model and year from his credit report, and she had Googled before she left so she’d know what she was looking for. She came up empty. He wasn’t there. Since it was almost five, she wasn’t too surprised. She punched his home address into her GPS and headed over there.

  About twenty minutes later she rolled onto his street and parked about a block from his address. She got out of the car and crossed to the other side of the street. She walked the block and spotted his car in his driveway. The house was not what she was expecting at all. When she saw the size of his outstanding mortgage debt on his credit report, it conjured images of a mansion. But the house at his address was a small bungalow. She realized that of course, the housing prices down in Malibu were entirely different from what she was accustomed to. A million dollars near Portland bought a gorgeous home—here that much money might buy a condo or a townhouse, or maybe an empty lot.

  She found a place where she could see his house clearly without being obvious. She decided that while it wasn’t what she originally pictured, it would do nicely. She could imagine herself there. The sun was at an angle that kept her from seeing through the windows, despite her best efforts. After getting comfortable with the place, she continued her walk around the block and found her way back to her car.

  Cynthia drove back to her hotel and searched online for a place where she could get a good meal at the bar. She liked sitting at the bar when she traveled alone. She could talk to the bartender, or read a book, or make conversation with whatever random people showed up. She changed out of her yoga pants and tank top, into a dress. She fixed up her hair and makeup and headed to the restaurant she chose, which was within walking distance of the hotel.

  The place had a nice atmosphere, as she expected from the reviews she read. There was a TV, but only one and the sound was off. She ordered a glass of wine and looked over the menu. The bartender was quite busy, so she decided to let her book keep her company through her meal.

  After dinner, as she sat reading and occasionally sipping her wine, a man moved over to sit next to her. He cleared his throat. Cynthia looked at him.

  “Sorry. I know it’s rude to interrupt while you’re reading, so just say the word and I’m gone,” he said.

  “Oh, no!” she protested. “It’s absolutely fine.” She closed her book and placed it on the bar. “The rule is headphones. You aren’t allowed to talk to a girl who is wearing headphones. Talking to a girl with a book is allowed.”

  He smiled and offered his hand. “Ah. See, I don’t think I’ll ever get these rules. I’m Ernest.”

  “Cynthia,” she said, shaking his hand. “Do you come here a lot, Ernest?”

  “First time,” he said. “Wife is away on a business trip,” he held up his left hand to show off his wedding ring. “Figured I’d live it up a little instead of just sitting home and watching the game or whatever.”

  “Did you eat?” she asked.

  “Yes, I had the hanger steak. It was terrific. I saw you had oysters?”

  “Mussels, actually. They did sort of a Thai preparation. They were very good.”

  “Spicy?”

  “Just a little. Not too much.”

  Ernest nodded. “I love spicy food, but it doesn’t love me. I need to stick with the basics these days.”

  “I hear you,” she said. “So how long is the wife away?”

  “Just tonight. She has a class early tomorrow, clear over on the other side of LA, and decided it would be easier to get a hotel room than fight traffic and maybe be late.”

  “That makes sense. So what are your plans tonight, Ernest?”

  He shrugged. “Talk to a pretty girl at the bar. That’s about the extent of my plan.”

  Cynthia smiled. “And how long have you been hatching this plot?”

  “Since I saw you. I’ve been watching you all night. But you’ve had your nose in that book, so I guess you didn’t notice.”

  “Is it proper for a married man to be watching a girl all night like that, Ernest?”

  He flushed. Cynthia tried to keep a straight face, but had difficulty containing her impish grin. “I suppose it isn’t,” he said.

  Cynthia squeezed his arm. “I’m just teasing you. Don’t
worry, I won’t tell. Just do me a favor, Ernest.”

  “What’s that?” he asked.

  “Don’t cheat on her. Never cheat on her.”

  He nodded. “Yeah. I never have. Tempted, I’ll tell you. The girls out here. I spent a good portion of my life in the Midwest—Indiana—and things are just different out here. It’s a lot easier being monogamous in Indiana is what I’m saying, I guess.”

  Cynthia shook her head. “Oh Ernest. I’m sure your wife is just lovely.”

  “Oh! She is. Don’t get me wrong. It’s not about that. It’s just, oh never mind. I have no idea how we got onto this topic of conversation, but anything I say is going to make me sound like a dick.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. It’s just I used to be married, and he cheated, and I don’t want any other girl to ever have to go through what I went through.”

  Ernest nodded. “I hear you. Yeah, I’ll keep behaving myself. Honestly, I’m too nervous around girls anyway to ever get myself into any real trouble. Even my wife. She teases me about it. We’ve been together, I don’t know, twenty years or something? And she can still turn me into a babbling idiot with just a look.”

  Cynthia smiled. “That’s adorable. It sounds like she loves you very much.”

  “That’s what she says. God knows why.”

  “Let’s get out of here, Ernest. Show me the sights. I promise I won’t do anything to injure your virtue.”

  Ernest drained his beer and waved the bartender over.

  TEN

  Cynthia was up early the next morning so she could catch Evan before he left for yoga. She parked in the same spot she had the previous day, up the street from his place. She picked up her book and read while she waited. An hour passed. Then another. Finally, a little after eight she heard his Porsche roar to life. She figured at this hour he must be skipping yoga and going straight to work, so she tailed him at a good distance. If she lost him, she knew she’d be able to pick him back up. He eventually turned right into his office parking lot, and Cynthia turned left into a lot across the street.

  She positioned the car so that she had a clear view of the main entrance. She watched him walk into his building and then picked her book back up and went back to reading—peering up any time she noticed any movement in her peripheral vision. Around half past ten, he came out of his building. He walked across the parking lot directly toward her car. He crossed the street and Cynthia lifted the book to conceal her face. He walked right by her car and into a coffee shop behind her. Cynthia let out the breath she had been holding and started her car.

  Cynthia knew that Evan was a creature of habit. He did the same things at the same times every day. Although she was a bit puzzled about why he didn’t go to yoga. Now that she knew his morning routine, she drove back to her hotel and put on a swimsuit. The rest of her day would be spent enjoying the beach.

  She looked at reviews on Yelp and settled on a small beach that was not crowded because it was a little hard to get to. And what she read proved true. There were only a few people there, and the sand was clean, and the ocean mesmerizing. She threw her towel down and stretched out to soak in the sun.

  After a half hour, her phone alarm went off and she covered up. She loved the sun, but she didn’t want to burn. She packed up her things and took a walk. The beach had easily climbable rocks along one side, which offered her a spectacular view when she reached the summit. She closed her eyes and leaned into the wind coming onshore. She imagined Evan with her again. Beside her. Holding her and making her feel safe and warm against the cool ocean breeze.

  She hiked back down and walked to her car. She didn’t feel like changing, so she found a fast food restaurant with drive-through service. She ate her lunch in the parking lot of the restaurant and then went to a more popular beach to do some people watching. She found a shady spot and spent the rest of the afternoon alternately reading and watching the crowds and the surfers.

  Late in the afternoon she packed up and drove back to her hotel. She took a long soak in the tub, listening to music. This was the perfect vacation for Cynthia. No plans, no deadlines. Simply time to read, relax, and exist.

  Soaking in the tub, she thought about the nice time she had with Ernest the night before, wandering the streets of downtown Santa Monica. She learned from him that Malibu didn’t have the kind of downtown one explored. So they went to the town next door and took in the tourist attractions there. At the end of the night, she had kissed his cheek and watched as he shrank and blushed.

  After her bath she went back to the same bar she had visited the night before. The same bartender was working, but he didn’t indicate that he recognized her. He had been quite busy, so she wasn’t surprised. Tonight was not as busy, though, so she did manage to chat with him and with some other people at the bar.

  After a nice meal, she headed back to her hotel room to get some sleep. Tomorrow would be the big day. She was nervous and excited and ready.

  ¤

  Cynthia ordered a coffee and an enormous blueberry muffin and took up her station at the corner of the coffee shop. It was a little before ten. She read her book and glanced up whenever the bell over the door rang to announce a new arrival. At ten-thirty sharp the bell introduced a pretty young woman, followed closely by Evan. Cynthia’s heart raced as she watched the two of them approach the counter, and then her stomach dropped as it became clear they were there together.

  But it wasn’t the author, so that was something. She waited as they ordered their coffees and watched as they took a seat at a table. They sat across from each other, and as near as Cynthia could tell, Evan had not noticed her yet. She gave it a couple minutes and then casually walked to a station with napkins in the middle of the dining area. She lingered there watching. Evan was looking in her direction, but clearly focused only on the young thing in front of him.

  Cynthia waited until she caught his eye and then flashed him a big smile. He looked at her slightly puzzled for a moment and then returned the same generic smile he used in that picture on Alice’s desk. Then he immediately turned back to his companion.

  Deflated, Cynthia went back to her table and picked up her book. She surreptitiously watched them until they left. She gathered her things and cleaned off her table and went to sit in her car. She wasn’t sure what to expect from this meeting, but being completely ignored was not anywhere near the list of options.

  She pulled out her phone and unblocked Evan’s ability to message her in Twitter. Then she sent a simple message, “Hey.”

  She waited. No response. She decided to kill time scrolling her feed, reading tweets. After a few minutes Evan responded with, “Hey yourself.”

  “So what was that?” she messaged.

  “What?” he replied.

  “You ignored me.”

  “I ignored you? You blocked me. We were talking every day, becoming pretty close friends (I thought) and then suddenly I can’t message you. Then weeks later you pop up with ‘Hey’ and say I’m ignoring you? Fuck you.”

  Cynthia read the message and felt physically ill. She took a deep breath and calmed herself. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “Correct,” he replied.

  “It was just the shock of seeing you were dating.”

  “What are you talking about?” he asked.

  “I saw a picture of you with an author. The caption said things were serious.”

  There was a delay. A long one. Cynthia stared at her phone, waiting for his reply. It seemed to take forever. Finally he replied, “Oh her. That’s nothing. Just a publicity thing for her new book.”

  She felt a wave of relief fall over her and then embarrassment. “Oh my God. I’m such an idiot. I’m so sorry. I should have just asked you right away when I saw the picture.”

  “Yes. You should have.”

  “Is that why you ignored me?”

  “I don’t understand why you keep saying that,” he replied. “How could I be igno
ring you when I don’t even have the ability to send you a message?”

  “No. Not online. Just now, in the coffee shop.”

  There was another long pause. “I’m so confused,” he finally messaged.

  “I was in the coffee shop across from your office. You came in with a girl and looked right at me and pretended I wasn’t there.”

  “That was you?”

  “Yes! I’ve sent you a ton of pictures. How could you not have recognized me?”

  There was another long delay. She watched as the dots came on showing that Evan was typing, then they went away, then they appeared, and then went. “I see at least a dozen people a week. There are more faces in my life than you can imagine. I guess since it’s been so long, you just didn’t register.”

  “Oh. I thought maybe it was because of the girl you were with. Is she someone special?”

  Another delay. “She was a consult. Sometimes I take them to coffee, when I think the office setting is making them uncomfortable.”

  “I see. That makes sense, I guess.”

  “What were you doing in a coffee shop across from my office?”

  “I was in town, and I thought I’d surprise you.”

  “How do you even know where I work?”

  “Google. I’m sorry. Was that stalkerish?”

  “A little.”

  Good lord. If that’s out of bounds, thank God he doesn’t know what else I know about him, she thought. “I’m sorry. I just thought it would be a fun surprise.”

  “After not talking to me for weeks?”

  “I’m so sorry about that. I was an idiot.”

  After another long delay, he messaged, “I think you should leave me alone for a while. I need to process this.”

  “Okay. I’m sorry,” Cynthia wrote.

  She put down her phone, started her car, and drove back to the hotel. She got into her room and the tears started flowing. Oh my God, I am such a fuck-up, she thought. She flopped down onto her bed face-first and let the tears pour out. She thought about how perfect he had been and how horrible she had been. She wanted to blame him for something, but he had done nothing wrong. Not a damn thing. He was perfect and she was a fuck-up and she didn’t deserve him.