by J B Glazer
I look to Gayle, who has an odd expression.
“Do you think marriage is based on an equal partnership?” Melanie asks her mom.
“What do you mean?”
“Do you think there’s always one person who loves the other one more? I’m asking because in my experience it seems like there’s always someone who’s doing everything they can to impress the other. Win over their affections. And the other person loves being loved. Is it ever really equal?”
“I don’t know. I’m not the best person to ask.”
“But you’ve been married to dad for over twenty years.”
“We’re separating,” she says.
“What?” Melanie is stunned. So am I.
“Do Rachel and Riley know?”
“Not yet. We’ll tell them. It’s been a long time coming. Your father and I just grew apart. We’ve been leading separate lives, connected only by our children. But now that Riley’s almost graduated, it felt like the right time. We wanted to stay together for our family. But you’re all old enough now that we thought you could handle it.”
I wonder if there will ever come an age where you’re old enough to handle learning your parents are getting divorced. Even though Melanie is a grown adult, she takes the news hard.
“Your dad and I still love each other and always will. But we’re not in love anymore. And while we may seem old, we still have lots of time. We don’t want to go through the rest of our lives without seeing if we can find it with someone else. I promise you we’ll still do things as a family. We’ve both agreed to this and we’re on good terms. But for now we think we’re better off apart.”
This does little to alleviate Melanie’s angst. I excuse myself from going to dinner. Normally Melanie would protest, but under the circumstances she wants to be alone with her mom. I get it. As much as I’d like to think I’m part of their family, I’m not. They head out and I clear away the wine glasses, emptying the remaining contents in the sink. Melanie didn’t even finish hers.
I’ve always believed in the sanctity of marriage. If after twenty years it can fall apart, then what’s to say anything is sacred? I want to console Melanie, but what is there to say? That when things seem too good to be true they often are? That even when you find love it leaves you, no matter how hard you want it to come back. I don’t need to tell her these things, because she already knows.
As if to prove me wrong, Juliet creeps into the room. Her eyes land on Romeo and she stills. They watch each other, assessing the other. Slowly she makes her way toward where he’s nestled on the couch. Just when I think she’s going to run away, she jumps up and settles down beside him. He lets out a soft “meow” and rubs his cheek against hers. They stay there huddled together, like a sign of solidarity, for the rest of the night. Perhaps there’s hope after all.
Chapter 22
When I arrive for class the following week James is already seated at our usual table. The redhead who was making eyes at him walked in just ahead of me and makes a beeline for James. She strides over and sets her things down in my spot. She has a lot of nerve. I cross the room until I’m standing behind her. James looks at me and mouths, “Sorry.”
“I think you’re in my seat,” I tell her.
She turns around and looks at me with wide-eyed innocence.
“Oh, I didn’t realize we had assigned seats.”
“It’s just that James and I usually sit together.”
“I know. I thought we’d change things up this week. Is that OK with you, James?”
James shifts uncomfortably.
“I guess just for this week. Lucy and I are friends and signed up to take this class together.”
“I wasn’t aware you two already knew each other. I could’ve sworn I saw you shake hands on the first day.”
She’s very observant, this one, unlike me because I don’t remember her from our first class.
James shrugs and I find a seat at another table. As I’m walking away I hear her introduce herself as Laurel. I know she put him in an awkward situation, but I wish he had told her the seat was taken before she parked herself in my spot. I don’t know why I’m so territorial about it. We’ve only sat together for two classes. And in his defense I was standoffish before we parted ways last week.
I sit in Laurel’s old seat next to a man named Charles. He’s polite but keeps to himself. Class isn’t as fun without James as my partner. I steal glances in their direction and she’s definitely upping her game. There’s lots of laughing and hair tossing, which frankly doesn’t seem very sanitary when food’s involved. And every time she laughs she grabs hold of his arm. Too bad this isn’t the knife skills class. I find Laurel extremely irritating.
As soon as class wraps up I head straight for the door.
“Lucy, wait up,” James calls. I slow my pace and he and Laurel fall in step next to me. “See you, Laurel,” he says.
She seems surprised and I try to hide my delight at her dismissal.
Once she’s gone he turns to me and says, “We need to make a game plan for next week.”
“A game plan?”
“Yeah. You know, a strategy to reclaim our table.”
I like that he referred to it as our table.
“Oh, wasn’t Laurel a fun partner?”
“She was OK. A bit on the touchy side.”
“I noticed.”
“Did you?” He raises his eyebrows at me.
“It was hard to miss. What, with that laugh.”
He puts his hand to his temple and says, “I do have a bit of a headache. So, should we meet outside and walk in together?”
“We could do that. But what if she comes early?”
“Then we’ll grab a different table.”
“OK. What time should we meet?”
“How about six forty-five,” he says. “And Lucy, why don’t you give me your number so I can text you if something comes up.”
I hesitate.
He watches me, waiting for an answer. “Or if you’d rather not we can just meet here as planned,” he says quietly.
I don’t know why but I nod. “That sounds good.”
We say our goodbyes and I can’t help feeling as if I disappointed him. And I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t feeling disappointed myself.
It’s Thursday and I have a last-minute meeting with Robica. I should’ve taken James up on his offer. Now I’ll probably be late and he’ll think I’ve blown him off. And worse, Laurel will once again claim my seat, making it that much harder to keep my status as his partner. I don’t know why it bothers me, but it does. Partly because I don’t want Laurel to think she’s won. But partly because I enjoy James’s company. Then the realization hits me that tonight is our last class together. I feel a stab of disappointment knowing I won’t see James again. He’s easygoing and kind. And he makes me laugh. But enough about James—I need to be focusing on musicians. Veronica initially was going to have a string quartet, but now they’ve decided they want a band. I’ve gathered demo tapes from the top wedding bands in Chicago and pulled clips from the web of recent performances.
Robica are always very punctual, but as luck would have it today they are running late. Veronica apologizes profusely and I dismiss her protests to cut the meeting short. She offers to reschedule and I tell her we’ll do no such thing, when in reality I’d love nothing more. We review the tapes and narrow down their top choices. I tell them I’ll arrange for us to go see them live once I get a schedule of their upcoming bookings. Just when I think things are wrapping up Veronica wavers about not going with the string quartet. I suggest we do the string quartet for the ceremony and the band for the party. She and Rob like the idea and they leave feeling good about the decision.
I glance at my watch and it’s ten past six. I can still make it. With more efficiency than usual (if that’s even possible) I respond to my outstanding emails. After freshening up I head out and catch a cab to Bon Appetit. I arrive at six forty and James is waiting on a b
ench out front.
“Hi,” I say, glad to see him.
“Hey. You made it,” he says as he gathers his stuff.
“I did. I had a last minute meeting so I worried I was going to be late. You were right to suggest we swap numbers.” I pull out my phone and say, “Ready?”
I rattle off my number and he says he’ll text me so I have his. My phone buzzes seconds later and I glance at my screen.
James: Chef James ☺
Me: That’s a stretch ☺
James: Aww, come on! Cut a guy some slack.
Me: You do realize I’m standing right here?
He looks up and laughs. “We’re like my students. They can all be sitting next to each other and they’d rather chat by text than have a conversation.”
“I just thought we should head in before Laurel. You know, save your ears and my sanity.”
He grins and offers his arm. I accept and we walk in together. Fortunately Laurel hasn’t arrived so we claim our usual table. She breezes in a few minutes later and scowls when she sees me next to James. She strides over anyway.
“Hi, James.” She chats with him without even acknowledging my presence. So I text him.
Me: Mission accomplished?
James keeps talking so I text him again.
Me: Saving you. Do you want to be saved?
I see him glance down at his screen.
“Sorry, I need to take this. Work,” he says.
Laurel takes her seat next to Charles.
James: Thx 4 the save. We thwarted her
Me: We make a good team
James: We do. Would you go out w/me sometime?
I look at him and he’s watching me, waiting for my reaction. This time it’s my turn to be saved. Will says it’s time to start class. Now why do I feel like I need saving?
James doesn’t press the issue further. We banter through our lesson as usual. But his question is the elephant in the room. I’m just not sure what I want my answer to be. Yes. I’m leaning toward yes. But the fact that I’m hesitating makes me feel like I should say no. God, I hate this. James isn’t Mr. Anonymous, I remind myself. To be honest they’re nothing alike. Aside from their confidence, perhaps. But James’s confidence is more understated, not like the brazenness that bordered on cocky. But it worked for him. I shake my head to clear it. I don’t know why I’m even comparing the two. One is in my present and the other in my past. And if I want a future with James I’d better stop.
“Are you OK?” he asks.
“Fine.”
As we’re dicing chicken I give him my answer. “Yes.”
“What?”
“Sorry. Yes, to the question you asked me before. But you should know my last relationship ended badly. So all I can handle right now is being friends.” Where did that part come from? I thought I was ready to date, but now I realize I’m not quite ready. “But we’ll see where it leads,” I add. There. I’ve left an open door.
“I understand. I like you, Lucy. I’ll take what I can get. Friends,” he says as he extends a hand.
I shake it and laugh as we realize we’ve both touched raw chicken. We head to the sink to wash our hands and I sense Laurel’s eyes on me. I glance in her direction and I swear she shoots daggers at me. As we’re heading back to our table I touch James on the arm and throw back my hair. At least I’m doing it away from the food. Laurel is watching us so I give her a big smile. I’m usually not this catty but I can’t help myself. I’m entitled to this one small victory, plus, she started it. As we finish preparing our chicken I look over at James, deep in concentration. He really is so cute. Had I never met Mr. Anonymous there’d be no question that we’d be dating. While I can’t rewrite history, I’m going to try to keep him from ruining my future. Because I can definitely see James in it.
Chapter 23
James invited me to chaperone the senior prom with him. My first instinct was to tell him no. I didn’t even go to my own prom. When he heard that he insisted I come. “You’ve got to attend at least one prom in your lifetime,” he said. If I had an invite from a guy like him in high school, I would’ve said yes. So I decide to live a little. James wants to know if I have something to wear. I assure him I have a dress for every occasion. That’s one of the perks of being an event planner.
He offered to pick me up but I said I’d meet him there. I’d rather have my own car in case things don’t work out and I want to leave. He reiterated that it wasn’t a date. He said my company would make the night more fun, and they need extra hands.
I choose a simple black dress and style my hair down, my long layer swept to the side, like I usually do. I don’t want to send the wrong message by looking as though I tried too hard. Then I make the drive to the outer edge of the city. When I arrive at Whiting High, I see buses and limos parked out front. Girls in short dresses and high heels hang on the arms of their dates, screaming at one another in delight as though they’re long-lost friends. It brings back memories of a time when I felt insecure and insignificant. It’s not that I hated high school. It’s just that I wasn’t as comfortable in my own skin back then. I almost turn around. But then I think of James and how disappointed he’d be. So I make my way to the gym. It’s not hard to find, what with the crowd and music that’s emanating from the speakers.
James smiles when he sees me and gives me a hug in greeting. I ask him what we need to do and he says to be on the lookout for any suspicious or inappropriate behavior. He looks nice in a suit and tie—quite a change from his typical casual attire. We make small talk and some of his students wander over. “What up, Coach Larsen?” one boy yells. “Who’s your date?”
“Aiden. You clean up nice. Usually when you want to meet someone, you introduce yourself first. Go on, shake her hand. Make sure it’s firm, but not too tight. Size up your audience so you get it right. But you never want a weak handshake, got it?”
“Got it.” He turns to me. “Sorry, that was rude of me. I’m Aiden,” he says, extending his hand.
“Lucy,” I say, taking it.
“How’d I do?” he asks. “With the handshake.”
“It was fine,” I say, smiling.
“Lucy’s a friend of mine. She’ll be helping me keep an eye on you,” James says.
“It’s all good.” Aiden and his friends talk to James for a few minutes, and I notice how he makes sure to include me in the conversation. I like that he does. There’s nothing worse than feeling awkward when people are talking and the person you’re with ignores you. I also like that he taught Aiden his question was rude and the right way to handle it. After they walk away I tease him about it. “Always a teacher.”
“Sometimes I take for granted what these kids know. I forget there’s basic etiquette they either haven’t learned or choose to forget. So I remind them.”
We keep an eye on things and I notice how James does a double take when a pretty teacher walks in.
“Who’s that?”
“That’s Amy. She’s the Psych teacher.”
“Oh.”
“Why do you ask?”
“No reason. You just seemed different when she walked in.”
“Did I? Hmm. Maybe I’m just not used to seeing her in a dress.”
“So, what’s the dating policy?” I ask, attempting to keep my tone playful.
“There isn’t one. Teachers marry one another all the time.”
“Really? Have you and Amy ever dated?”
“No. Don’t get me wrong, she’s pretty and fun to be around. But I don’t want to go there. If things didn’t work out, it would be awkward. I love my job and I don’t want work to become a place I’m self-conscious about seeing her.”
“But what if things worked out?”
“I guess the desire to try isn’t there. You know how there’s some people you meet and there’s an instant connection? A spark you feel that’s unexplainable. It may just be lust, but it’s as if you’re drawn to that person.”
I nod. Yes, I certainly know th
e feeling.
“I didn’t experience that when we met.”
“But don’t you think strong feelings can develop later?” I’m curious to know his stance because lately I’ve found myself wondering this very thing.
“Yes. But in this case it’s not worth the risk. As I said, I have no problem being friends with beautiful women.”
He smiles at me, his dimple full on display. I’ve noticed it’s only evident when he smiles big, like he’s really happy. And right now it’s being directed at me. It’s hard not to smile back. James points out other staff members and gives me the gossip on each. I’m fascinated by it. I don’t have this kind of drama at work. While we’re talking one of his students wanders over.
“Hi, Sierra.”
“Hi, Mr. Larsen. I wanted to let you know I’m missing our last meet. I have to take my dad to a follow-up appointment.”
“Well that’s unfortunate timing. Send him my best.”
“I will. And thanks again for everything.” She seems unsure but then she leans in and gives him a hug.
“And thank you. For an outstanding season and for being a role model to the team. As I said, there are things beyond our control. So we’ve gotta take charge of those we can. Always remember to channel your energy into the right outlets.”
“I will, Mr. Larsen. Can I get a selfie with you?”
They take the pic then she rejoins her group of friends.
“What was that about?” I ask.
“Sierra’s dad was diagnosed with cancer earlier this year. She was really angry about it, understandably so. I helped her realize she could use that anger. Direct it toward a goal. So we planned a fundraiser for her family.”
“That’s great advice. And really nice of you to step up like that. What kind of fundraiser was it?”
“She’s on my track team, so we created a race: 10 for Ten. I thought a marathon might be a bit much, so this was a 10k. Our goal was to raise ten thousand dollars, hence the name. We raised fifteen.”
“That’s amazing! How’s her dad doing?”