The Rooftop Party

by Ellen Meister

  Dana was glad to see that tonight Eleanor looked cheerful and relaxed, in a flowing black dress with ivory piping, a patterned silk scarf and an arm full of bracelets. Her husband, in a wool sweater, button-down shirt and broad smile, looked like someone who had just won Jeopardy—a little dorky and decidedly happy. Dana wondered if exposing their dark secret had a freeing effect on the couple.

  They thanked her for inviting them and complimented the apartment, but Dana glossed over the small talk and asked them how they were coping with everything.

  “Not too bad,” Eleanor said. “I got a call from my friends at Reluven this week. They offered me a position as marketing VP.”

  Now that was a welcome surprise. Dana smiled. She knew that Eleanor wasn’t ready to retire, and they had spoken about how hard it could be for a woman her age to get a new job, especially after a scandal.

  “Are you going to take it?” Dana asked.

  “I’m seriously considering it.”

  Dana continued chatting with her guests. Everyone wanted to toast her, and all those sips of champagne eventually sneaked up on her. Dana found herself getting a little woozy, so she went into the kitchen for a glass of water, and had to remind herself that she had a new, full-size refrigerator with a water dispenser. In her old place, the fridge had been a tiny relic of another era, when appliances were built ruggedly enough to roll into war.

  Dana pressed a glass into the dispenser and watched it fill like she was a time-traveling anthropologist paying her first visit to twenty-first-century America.

  “How are you doing?” said a male voice, and Dana looked up to see Lorenzo.

  “A little too much to drink,” she said.

  “You’re overflowing.”

  She squinted at him, confused.

  “Your glass,” he said, pointing.

  Dana turned and saw that she was spilling water all over the floor. “Shit,” she said, pulling out the glass. She glanced around, not sure where she had put the paper towels. Lorenzo found them and stooped to clean up the mess.

  “You don’t have to do that,” she said.

  “It’s okay.” He looked around for a place to deposit the wet paper towels and she showed him where the trash can was hidden. He stuffed it in the garbage and washed his hands.

  “Thank you,” she said, and fought a wave of melancholy at the ordinary domesticity of the scene. It should have been Ari standing in the kitchen with her.

  “You look a little sad,” he said.

  Dana didn’t want to get into it. “It’s the champagne,” she said. “And New Year’s Eve. I seem to be on the brink of maudlin.”

  “Brink of maudlin,” he repeated, “could have been the name of a grunge band.”

  “I think I had their first album.”

  He smiled. “Feeling better?”

  Dana shrugged.

  “Are you expecting Ari?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “I invited him. A last-ditch effort.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  Dana studied him. Lorenzo wasn’t exactly handsome, with his crooked nose and narrow face, but he was virile and sexy. More important, he was fundamentally decent. And sure, he carried a boatload of baggage—a criminal record, drugs, a history with batshit crazy women that colored his view of the world. And that was just the stuff she knew about. But if she was going to move on from Ari, maybe he was the one. She could see in his face that he still liked her. And lusted for her. His eyes lingered on her throat and her body responded to his desire. This night, she thought, could be a new start.

  Standing inches apart from her now in this space, he had to sense that something was stirring. But he was too respectful to make a move. And that was even hotter than his longing. Dana decided she would kiss him at midnight. Only it wouldn’t be like that day in his apartment, where she changed her mind. Because if Ari didn’t arrive by midnight, it meant that things were over.

  So yes, she would press her body against his and let herself melt into him. The thought of it made the heat rise up in her neck. She might even ask him to stay overnight. When they were dating, that wasn’t possible. But now that Sophie’s mom was back in the picture, everything would be different. Dana thought of that big bed she had slept in alone last night. It would be so comforting to share it.

  She knew, of course, there was a risk she’d feel heartbroken in the morning that the man next to her wasn’t Ari. But maybe this was exactly what she needed to convince herself the final note had been played.

  They moved into the living room, with Dana clutching a glass of water.

  By eleven thirty, a few more people had arrived. Her theater friend, Tyrel, had taken over door duty, so Dana only became aware of new guests when she saw them floating around. She realized it was too late to expect Ari. He wasn’t going to show up just before midnight like in some rom-com. Unless, of course, he wanted to make a dramatic entrance. Don’t get your hopes up, she told herself. Yet she kept glancing at the door.

  And then, Lorenzo was at her side again. So be it, she thought. At midnight, they would kiss.

  “Dana,” he said, “I’d like you to meet Rafaella.”

  She turned to look, and there, at his side, was a petite woman with shiny black hair and a silver nose ring. She was young. Pretty. He put his arm around her. Lorenzo had invited a plus-one, after all.

  “Thank you so much for having me,” Rafaella said, shaking Dana’s hand.

  Dana braved the introduction with a polite smile, and then grabbed a glass of champagne and downed it like a shot. She burped into her hand and grabbed another.

  At midnight, the group counted down and cheered. Couples kissed, friends hugged. Dana was surrounded with well wishes by dozens of people who loved her, and never felt lonelier.

  40

  When her buzzer rang the next morning, Dana was in such a dead sleep she had no idea where she was. She opened her eyes, expecting to see her familiar cramped bedroom, and it took her a minute to remember. She was in a large bright room that didn’t yet have window coverings. Her throat burned, her sinuses pounded, and she realized it was New Year’s Day. She had finished the night by polishing off what was left in several open bottles of champagne, and had fallen asleep on top of the quilted white bedspread on her king-size mattress. She let out a breath and glanced down. She had gotten a lipstick smear on her brand new bedding. Damn.

  The buzzer rang again. Dana wondered who would be visiting at this hour of the morning and glanced at the time. It was almost noon.

  She padded over to the intercom and pressed the button. “Who is it?” she asked, trying to blink herself into full consciousness.

  She didn’t hear anything so she pressed the Talk button again. “Who the hell is it?”

  When she heard nothing, Dana realized this new intercom actually had a volume knob, and it was dialed all the way down. She turned it up.

  “Sorry,” she said. “Can you repeat?”

  “It’s Ari, Dana.”

  Ari?

  Dana was stunned, but there was no time to process it. She dashed into the bathroom to brush her teeth and wipe the mascara smears from under her eyes. The buzzer rang again, and she realized she hadn’t let him in. She ran back to the intercom and pressed the button to unlock the building’s front door. She hurried to her bedroom to change into a fresh shirt, and run her fingers through her hair.

  “Hello,” she said, when she opened the door. She had no idea what to expect, and studied his face. Her head was still pounding, making it hard to concentrate.

  “I bought you a housewarming gift,” he said, holding up a white paper bag.

  “Thank you.” She took it from him. It was warm and smelled of bagels. An odd gift. If he had brought flowers, she would have melted into his arms. But this? It seemed more about moving on than forgiveness. Dana was determined to be st
oic, but her eyes burned from the effort.

  He stood rigidly in the doorway, as if he needed an invitation to cross the threshold. So she swallowed against a knot and asked, “Will you come in?”

  He nodded, and she led him into the living room. “I didn’t think you were going to come,” she said.

  He exhaled. “I didn’t think so either. But...I changed my mind.”

  “Why didn’t you come last night, then?” Dana asked, realizing this could have played out very differently. If Lorenzo hadn’t invited a girl to the party, he’d probably be in her bed right now.

  “I considered it,” he said. “But to be honest, I thought it might be awkward to show up at the party—making small talk with everyone. I figured it was probably better to see you alone.”

  “How did you know I’d be alone?” she said.

  Ari’s eyes turned serious. “Are you?” he asked, glancing from corner to corner.

  “Would you care if I wasn’t?”

  It was an earnest question, and it seemed to rattle him. Dana saw him go deep into himself to find the answer. “Of course I’d care,” he finally said, and his eyes roamed the room again, as if scanning for a clue to another man’s presence. The place was still a mess from the party, and she knew he was in detective mode, analyzing the scene.

  “I’m alone,” she finally said. It was meant to appease him, but the words felt thick with meaning, and Dana’s throat tightened. She had to turn away from him. She wasn’t going to break down in tears now. She wasn’t.

  “So what do you think of the apartment?” she said, changing the subject. With a sweep of her arm, she indicated the entirety of the living room. There were no shades here yet, either, and the space was flooded with morning light. She knew that despite the mess, it was impressive.

  “Wow,” he remarked. “Windows.”

  “And walls,” she replied. “Floors and ceilings, too.” Dana was trying to keep things light so she wouldn’t cry. This might be the last time they would be alone together. Once he walked out the door, it was really and truly over.

  Ari’s eyes landed on the sofa. He looked at her and back at the couch. “The one from IKEA?” He seemed confused.

  She shrugged.

  “I thought you didn’t like it that much,” he said.

  “I don’t.”

  “So why did you...” He trailed off and looked at her.

  Dana said nothing, and the silence throbbed in her temples as she considered shrugging it off. After all, the truth would do nothing to change the situation, and might just leave her more vulnerable. But when she looked up and met his gaze, something shifted. This was Ari, and she still wanted him. So it was worth telling him the truth, even if it meant another rejection, more stress on a wound that wouldn’t heal.

  “I needed to do something,” she said. “I didn’t feel like we were over and I thought you might take it as some kind of symbol of what I was willing to do for you. For us.”

  The atmosphere went thick as her words hung between them, and she knew what his silence meant. He was looking for a way to let her down kindly.

  Ari did a loop around the room, inspecting it like a real estate agent. Or like a cop. But Dana sensed he was just buying time, trying to find the right words.

  “You don’t have to say anything,” she told him.

  “But I want to,” he said, inspecting an empty champagne bottle as if there might be answers inside. He put it down and turned to her, straightening his posture. He was backlit from the window, making it hard to see his face, so she walked toward him and stood by his side.

  “Okay,” she said, looking into his eyes. “I’m ready.” Dana took a steadying breath. If he was going to give a speech—one last lecture on her unforgivable behavior—she would take it head-on, no matter how painful. And then she would let him go.

  “Remember that day you told me how brave I was?” he said. “It was right after that kid pulled a gun.”

  “I remember,” she said. It was at the beginning of their relationship, and it had terrified her, thinking of how close he had come to getting shot.

  “I don’t think I’m nearly as brave as you,” he said. “If they gave awards for emotional courage, you’d take all the prizes. Me? I’m just a coward.”

  “No,” she protested, but he held up his hand to stop her.

  “It’s true. I mean, you hurt me—you know that. I responded by shutting it down. I didn’t want to revisit it, didn’t want to risk feeling like that again. But you were hurt, too. I walked out, and you were heartbroken. I know that. But you didn’t give up. You faced it again and again, Dana.”

  “Because I still love you.”

  “And I still love you,” he said. “That’s not news to you. You know it. You’ve always known it. The difference is that you’ve been braver about all this than I have.”

  Dana picked up a used cocktail napkin and wiped her face, then blew her nose. “So where does that leave us?”

  “When you called to invite me to your housewarming, I was nearly knocked out. I thought for sure I’d hurt you so much you couldn’t possibly try again. But there you were, like a soldier who charges into a hail of bullets.”

  “Reckless?” she asked.

  “Maybe a little,” he said. “But mostly determined. And fearless. It inspired me. I thought, God, this woman. I must be crazy. She’s so strong. And she loves me so much. How can I walk away from that?”

  Dana knew her eyes were wet, but she didn’t care anymore. She looked straight at him. “So it wasn’t the couch?”

  He looked at the sofa and back at her. “Are you having buyer’s remorse?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Look at it this way,” he said. “If we get a dog, you’re not going to care if he gets hair all over it.”

  We. It was all she needed to hear. “If we get a dog,” she said, “he can slobber on that thing and bury his kibbles in the cushions.”

  He took a long moment to respond. “Are you hungry?” he asked. “Because I am.”

  “Was it the slobber and the kibbles?”

  Ari laughed. “In a way,” he said. And she knew what he meant. He’d said we. And she’d responded without hesitating.

  So they pulled stools up to the bistro table she had brought from her old apartment. Her new kitchen table and chairs hadn’t yet been delivered, so it would have to do.

  It felt a little disappointing, having this auspicious meal at her rickety old table. It was, after all, their first meal of the New Year, and they were having it together. She wondered if there was something she could do to make it more special. Because they had sat at this very table dozens of times eating bagels.

  “Should I heat them up?” she asked.

  Ari touched the bag, testing the temperature. “Not necessary.”

  She reached out to see for herself, and realized he was right. The warmth was still there. And when she thought about it, that was all she really wanted.

  Epilogue

  They named him Ham. The rescue dog was a two-year-old black lab mix with a white stripe on his head and a worldview that love was all. It was clear Ham believed he could get anyone to love him, if they would just stop long enough to be sniffed. His tail was in constant motion, thwacking back and forth in joy. Nothing thrilled him more than his long walks on the Upper West Side, because every stranger was just a friend he hadn’t met. A new opportunity for love.

  Ari had moved in with Dana shortly after New Year’s Day, and his promotion came through a few months later. That was when they started visiting shelters.

  On a Saturday afternoon in April, as the three of them walked back from the West Seventy-Second Street Dog Run, Dana got a call. It was her brother-in-law, Brandon. Chelsea had gone into labor—three weeks early.

  “Nothing to worry about,” Brandon assured her.
/>   Dana wanted to go to the hospital immediately, but Brandon asked her to stay put.

  So they kept their plans for that evening—dinner with Megan and Jamie at a neighborhood Italian restaurant. Dana was distracted, checking her cell phone every five minutes. She was excited, but also nervous. It had been a difficult pregnancy, and it was hard to be entirely confident.

  By the time they went to bed that night, the baby still hadn’t arrived. Dana texted Brandon to say they could call her even if it was the middle of the night.

  And it was. Dana’s cell phone rang at 2:48 a.m.

  “I’m holding her in my arms right now,” Chelsea whispered. “She’s perfect.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Beatrice Jade Schiff. Six pounds, fifteen ounces.”

  “I love her already.”

  Dana and Ari arrived at the hospital the next day bearing gifts—clothes for the baby, a toy for Wesley and flowers for Chelsea.

  “Nothing for me?” Brandon joked.

  “You got everything, man,” Ari said.

  Brandon’s eyes went wet. “I do,” he said, looking down at the small bundle in his arms.

  Dana peered over his shoulder at the baby’s peaceful face. “Can I hold her?”

  “Wash your hands,” Chelsea said, pointing to a stainless steel sink in the corner of the room.

  Dana had already washed her hands and used the sanitizer pump on the wall outside the room, but she wasn’t going to argue. She scrubbed in like a surgeon and sat in the orange vinyl chair next to Chelsea’s bed. Brandon lowered the burrito-wrapped infant into her arms.

  The newborn’s smell took her by surprise. It was so intoxicating she leaned in for more, taking a long sniff off the baby’s head. She didn’t normally think of heat itself as having a scent, but that’s what the infant smelled like. It was so profoundly familiar that Dana could only assume the recognition was built deep into her DNA.