by Flora Lanoux
“Hi, Rachel,” she says. Then she sees that I’m not alone. “Oh! Hi, Bryan.” Giving me a bright smile, she says, “I wanted to know if I could get a lift into town with you this morning, Rachel. I have a doctor’s appointment.”
“Of course. Are you ready now?”
“I just have to get my purse.”
After she leaves, Bryan touches my arm. “Do you want to do something tonight?” he asks.
My stomach tenses when I remember where I’ll be instead. “I’d love to, but I can’t. I have a previous commitment. How about going to the market early tomorrow morning, around seven?”
“Sure. I’ll bring my bike.”
When I get to the clinic, Lucy is looking pretty glum.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“You know that budgie we were boarding for Mrs Jennings?”
“You mean Micky?”
She nods. “That’s the one. I found him dead in his cage.”
My heart sinks. “We’ve got to stop billeting birds,” I tell her. The last time we boarded budgies, a cat got loose from his crate and ate them.
“I know. Mike’s pretty upset. He sent Shane out to get another one.”
When I get to my office, I turn on the computer. As I’m emailing Jean Paul about traveling to the conference alone, Mike walks by.
“Mike,” I call out, bringing him to a stop. “After dinner, I’d like for us to talk about things.”
He nods. “Sure, I’d like that.” Then he continues on his way to the kennel room.
Later that morning, as I’m catching up on paperwork, I hear Mike and Shane talking in Mike’s office.
“But Shane, hers was blue; this one’s green.”
They’re talking about Mrs Jennings’ dead budgie.
“I know, but I figured it was better than nothing. I checked every place in town, Mike. This is the closest I could get.”
Mike sits down heavily on his chair. “Will you bring it over to her when she calls today?”
Shane groans. “Why me?”
“What are you afraid of?” Mike asks.
“She might get hysterical if she realizes it’s not her bird. If I go, I want a towel draped over the cage, and I’m taking off as soon as I drop it off. Last time, she asked me in for milk and cookies.”
“Just tell her you’re in a hurry.”
“I get all the shit jobs.”
Mike laughs. “You do not. You’re practically a free agent.”
“Hmmm, a free agent,” Shane says. “I like that.”
Mike’s kindness makes what I have to do later on even more difficult.
At lunchtime, Mike comes to see me before he leaves to get started on dinner. Hugging me, he says, “I’ll see you later, Rach.”
“Of course,” I tell him.
With the surgeries done, there are only clinic visits for the afternoon. Around three o’clock, Mrs Jennings calls to have us return Micky.
“She’s going to find that her bird has a long life span,” Tim says, when Shane leaves with her new budgie. “Her old one pops off and we replace it with a young one.”
The day turns out to be pretty routine, which I appreciate; it’s been a long week.
At five o’clock, when I’m alone in the clinic, the phone rings. It’s Mrs Jennings. Already, I’m sweating.
“I’m calling to thank you for keeping care of Micky,” Mrs Jennings says.
“It was our pleasure,” I tell her.
“I was wondering, did you feed Micky some of that colored birdseed?”
Surprised, I say, “Yes. I think we did.”
“Well, that explains it,” she says. “The color in the food must have changed his feather color. He’s such a pretty green now.”
Unbelievable. “He is a pretty green,” I tell her.
“Well, thanks again. Goodbye, dear.”
Before leaving for the day, I check for emails. There’s one from Jean Paul.
Dear Rachel:
I, too, have had a change in plans. Unfortunately, I will be unable to meet with you on Monday. Due to the death of my uncle, I will be out of town until Friday. Kind regards, JP
I’m surprised by the disappointment I feel.
When I get home, I take a long shower. Mike always makes a special effort for his dinners, so I choose an elegant white dress for the evening. Since it’s cool out, I grab a white sweater.
When I get to Mike’s place, Gordon and Vanessa are already there. I don’t feel good about this evening. Mike meets me at the door.
“Hi, beautiful,” he says, kissing me.
I want to run away.
Gordon and Vanessa look at me as I walk in.
“Hi, Rachel,” Vanessa says. “How’s it going?” Gordon nods.
“Things are going good. Your hair looks great.”
She has gotten her long strawberry-blonde hair cut shoulder-length with layers, and it really does look great.
“Nice of someone to notice,” she says, looking pointedly at the other two.
“Dinner’s ready,” Mike says. “Let’s eat.”
He has made his special spaghetti sauce and has set a very nice table in the dining room with a spectacular flower arrangement in the center. He has a real talent for flower arranging.
Mike recruits us to carry bowls and plates of food to the table; then he opens a bottle of wine and passes it to Gordon.
“Will you do the honors?”
Gordon pours a glassful for his father, then Vanessa, and then walks around the table to my side. Pouring the wine too quickly, he spills some onto the tablecloth. In his haste to right the bottle, he knocks over the glass, and red wine splashes all over my white dress. Looking down, I’m reminded of vet school field trips to the slaughterhouse, which always left me faint.
“Sorry,” Gordon says, trying not to laugh.
Vanessa openly laughs. “You’re such a klutz.”
“It’s alright,” I tell him. “Don’t worry about it.”
Mike rushes over with a napkin and tries to mop some of it up. “Do you want some of my clothes to change into?” he asks.
“Dad!” Vanessa cries, as if her father has done something perverted. Even though she’s twenty-one, she behaves like a twelve-year-old about sexual matters.
“Yeah, I’d love to change,” I tell him.
Mike takes my hand and leads me down the hall to his bedroom. After closing the door, he puts his hands on my shoulders. “Are you okay, Rachel?”
Looking into his eyes, I get lost for a moment. “Of course. Really, it’s no big deal.”
Leaning forward, he gently skims his lips against mine. It unnerves me that I don’t have the same feelings for him.
“I miss you, Rachel. I miss you so much.”
“Mike, the dinner. It’ll get cold. I have to change.”
He pulls me close. “Don’t push me out, Rachel. You can talk to me about anything.”
I swallow hard. “I didn’t push you out, Mike. There was no room for me to get in.”
“But I’m changing all that. Please, talk to me Rachel.”
“Later.”
“Okay,” he says, and lets me go. “I’ll let you change.”
After he’s gone, I choose a pair of his black dress pants, a white shirt, and one of his patterned wool sweaters that I used to like so much. I’m not catwalk material, but I don’t look too bad.
“You look great,” Mike says, when I get back to the table.
Vanessa and Gordon exchange glances. Gordon looks like he’d like to laugh. The tablecloth has been removed, and a new glass of wine has been poured for me. After helping me with my chair, Mike serves the food and reminisces with Vanessa and Gordon about their favorite childhood meals: mustard and lettuce sandwiches, cinnamon toast, peanut butter pancakes.
When I take my first bite of spaghetti, its tangy, sweet taste evokes my own childhood memories. On days when my mother was happiest, she would get up early to cook a pot of her special spaghetti sauce. After a w
hole day of simmering, the sauce’s tangy smell saturated the whole house and flooded my senses, making me feel that I, too, might overcome.
“The dinner’s really nice,” I tell Mike.
“I was motivated.”
Vanessa and Gordon shift uneasily.
Turning to Gordon, I say, “Gordon, your dad was telling me that you’re working for a lawn care company.”
“Yeah.”
“What kind of things do you do this time of the year?”
“Lots of things. Wrap up trees and bushes for the winter. Cover plants with leaves to overwinter. We’re still doing fences and stuff.”
“Do you like it?”
“It’s alright. I’d rather be my own boss.”
“Wouldn’t we all?” I say, smiling.
“Well,” Vanessa says, “you’re sleeping with the boss. That’s almost the same thing, isn’t it?”
Gordon bursts out laughing.
“Vanessa!” Mike cries out. “Stop!”
She turns to him. “What? It’s true, isn’t it?”
Looking more angry than I’ve ever seen him, he says, “It’s unkind, Vanessa, and I didn’t raise you to be unkind.”
She pushes away her plate. “Sorry, but I can’t play happy dinner with Dad’s bit of stuff anymore.”
Mike looks truly shocked. “Vanessa, who taught you such hateful words? Rachel’s someone I care about.”
Vanessa rolls her eyes. “She’s my age, Dad. I think what you’re going through is called male menopause.”
Mike stands up. “I’m very sorry, Rachel. I’ll walk you to your car.” Before heading out, I go to his room to collect my dress and sweater. When we’re standing by my car, he puts his hands on my shoulders. “I’ll call you tonight. I’m sorry, Rachel. I don’t know where all this stuff is coming from. I’m so sorry.”
Driving home, I feel like a prostitute. After a long shower, I decide to head out to a movie or two. By the time I leave the theatre, it’s eleven thirty. On my way home, I drive past Michelle’s apartment to see if the lights are on, and smile when I see that there’s a party in full swing. There are twenty apartments in Michelle’s building and she invites all the neighbors to her parties, to avoid complaints. Walking up to her floor, I hear a Mae West song playing, A Guy What Takes His Time. Even her music cracks me up. The place is filled with people. Never before have I been so glad to see someone as I am at that moment to see Bryan. Putting an arm around me, he says, “Oh dear. You look like you need a drink. What’ll you have?”
“A double of something strong. I want to go to the moon.”
Moments later, he hands me a large rum and coke. “I didn’t think I had a hope of seeing you here tonight,” he says.
I smile. “My good luck. I didn’t know Michelle was having people over.”
“She decided to have a party sometime this afternoon and left messages on everyone’s machine. She’s calling it her machine party.”
“I didn’t check my messages.”
Michelle spots me. “Where the hell have you been?” she asks, and then grabs my arm and drags me into the kitchen.
“To two movies,” I tell her.
She gives me a surprised look. “Who with?”
“By myself.”
“That bad?”
“Worse, Michelle. Much, much worse.”
She gives me a look that is all sympathy. “How about staying over for the night?”
“Thanks. I think I will. Don’t worry, I’m not going to be sad and gloomy. I want to lighten up. Your party looks like the perfect antidote.”
“Why don’t you hang out on the balcony for a while? I put chairs and a bench out there with blankets.”
I take her advice, choosing the bench. The night is clear, the moon is full, and the sky is filled with stars; perfect for a flight to the moon. A couple of minutes later, Bryan joins me.
“Have you left orbit, yet?”
I smile. “Just lifting off.”
“Then I’m just in time.” He sits down beside me. “So, how’s life, Dr Wiley?”
“I shouldn’t have stopped riding my bike.”
He laughs. “Looks like you didn’t have a good night.”
“No, but that’s in the past. Right now, I’m having a great time.”
For over an hour, we stay put on our bench, except for Bryan’s occasional trips indoors for refills. Lazily, we chat about traveling, life, old times, his job, my job, and countless other things that seem more interesting the more we drink and the later it gets. Just as I’m looking at the moon and thinking life couldn’t get any better, I feel the heat of Bryan’s mouth against my cheek. When he reaches my lips, he kisses me with such emotion that I give myself up to it. For minutes, we lose ourselves in the taste and feel of one another. When Bryan slips his tongue into my mouth, my breath catches.
“Do you want to go to my place?” he says.
“Aren’t you afraid it’ll change things, Bryan?”
“Rach, things already changed for me the day I saw you at the clinic. I’ve thought of you every day since then.”
While Bryan calls a taxi, I look for Michelle and find her in the kitchen pigging out on tacos.
“What have you been up to?” she asks. “I haven’t seen you all night.”
I feel guilty about what I’ve been up to. “Nothing much. Bryan and I are going to take off,” I tell her as light-hearted as I can manage.
“Where to?”
I don’t lie to Michelle. “To his place.”
“Why? What can you guys do there that you can’t do here?” As soon as the words are out of her mouth, she chokes on a piece of taco. After a coughing fit, she hauls me into her bedroom. “Rachel, just what the hell are you playing at?”
I feel my face heat up. “I’m just taking your advice and trying to have some fun.”
Her jaw drops. “Just where did you shove your morals tonight?”
Stung by her criticism, I say, “Don’t be a hypocrite, Michelle.”
Her eyes fly wide open. “I am not being a hypocrite, Rachel. And there’s a big difference in what I do and what you and Bryan are thinking about doing. I don’t sleep with my best friend’s brother, or my sister’s best friend.”
Instantly, I feel like the world’s biggest heel. “I’m sorry, Michelle. I know you’re not a hypocrite. It’s not a one-night thing. Bryan and I have been seeing a lot of each other lately. Tonight, we were having a really good time, and he kissed me, and it felt great.”
She lets out a long breath. “I know you guys care about each other, Rachel, but I think the booze might be confusing those feelings you’re having. If you still feel the same way tomorrow, fine. But don’t sleep with Bryan tonight, not when you’ve both been drinking.” She’s right about the drinking. “Have you taken care of things with Mike?”
“Almost. I know you’re right, Michelle. I’m sorry. I’ll go tell Bryan.”
“No,” she says. “I’ll go tell him. Why don’t you lie down in here? You look beat.”
Chapter 18
I wake up the next morning feeling awful. When I go out to the kitchen, Michelle is standing by the sink, drinking a glass of juice. Seeing the wall clock, I panic. It’s after ten o’clock.
“Relax,” she says. “I called work and told them you were sick.”
“You didn’t.”
“I did. And don’t look so worried. They took it very well. You’re not so important that people can’t do without you, Rachel. My mother had a saying: you realize your significance by realizing your insignificance.”
Michelle has a line for every occasion.
“And what did your mother mean by that statement?”
“She said that she was really nervous when she was pregnant with Bryan, until the day she heard on the radio that there were about a quarter of a million births a day in the world and about half as many deaths. Realizing that two hundred and fifty thousand other women would be giving birth at the same time as she would be giving
birth took the pressure off. Suddenly, she wasn’t so focused on herself anymore and she didn’t feel like she was the only one. She said that she felt a kinship with all those other women, and that she could better understand her part in the cycle of life.”
Leaning against a counter, I say, “So, what you’re trying to tell me is that at any given time there may be a quarter of a million people going through the exact same thing as I’m going through?”
She shrugs. “Give or take a few thousand.”
Strangely, I do find the thought comforting.
As my eyes start to focus better, I notice that Michelle isn’t looking very well.
“Are those the same clothes you had on last night?” I ask her. Then I notice her reddened eyes and the dark circles under her eyes. “You haven’t been to bed. Michelle, what’s going on?”
Without saying a word, she starts to cry.
Rushing over to her, I say, “Michelle, whatever’s the matter?”
“It’s something Bryan said last night.”
“What did he say?”
“The truth. I told him to cool down last night, and I hammered a few points home. I told him that you were vulnerable, that you’d been drinking, and that he’d just have to wait. He just kept looking at the floor. Then he said, ‘I’m really sorry, Michelle. You’re right. I’ve just been thinking about myself. Tell Rachel I’m sorry.’ As he was leaving, I asked him if he loved you. He turned around, gave me that half-smile of his, and said, ‘You know, Mich, ten years ago, you wouldn’t have had to ask me that.’” Then she starts sobbing. For minutes, she cries so hard that she can’t speak. All I can do is hold her.
“It’s all been a waste, Rach. Nothing means anything.”
With my arm around her, I bring her to the living room sofa, and we sit down.
“What did Bryan mean, Michelle?”
“I never told you about Grant. Things ended with him a few months before I met you.”
“Who’s Grant?”
“He was my guy. We went to the same summer camp when we were sixteen. We made love all summer: in the barn, under the stars, on the beach, and just about anywhere else interesting. People thought we were too young to be so crazy about each other, but they backed off when they saw how serious we were. For three years, we went out together. We had our whole lives planned out. But after we’d been living together for a year, I got a call from the hospital telling me that Grant had crashed on his motorcycle.”