by Amy Brent
Who was I going to call? Roger? No. I never wanted to talk to him again.
Veronica? She would be even worse. After all this time, she turned out to be right – Roger was only interested in the sex. Look how easily he had turned to fuck Veronica.
And what other friends did I have in New York City?
As I hesitated, my phone being to buzz in my hands, and I jumped so high I practically spilled the drink the waitress had just handed me. I glanced at it, saw it was Roger, and promptly hung up.
No, I thought. You’ll not trick me anymore. I’m done with you, and everyone like you.
Which finally gave me an idea of whom to call.
I didn’t need another friend in New York. I needed friends outside it. Fuck New York. And everyone in it.
I held up my phone again and dialed for Jacob.
“Hey, Danielle! What’s up? Conquering the world?”
“No,” I said simply, and in an instant he sensed something was wrong.
“Oh, no. What happened?”
With tears in my eyes and a lump in my throat, threatening to choke me, I launched into my story.
Jacob listened attentively, and by the time I reached the scene in Roger’s apartment, he gasped aloud.
“Danielle,” he interrupted gently, “I think maybe Veronica was tricking you somehow. Obviously, she wanted you to come into the apartment right when you did.”
“So?” I shouted back, too upset to really think about what he was saying. “It doesn’t matter why they were together! Just that they were together!”
“Okay,” Jacob said, in a small voice. He always knew when to push me, and when to back off. The thought made my heart swell with love for him and the rest of my family, which cemented my decision.
“Come take me home, Jacob,” I said. “Take me back to Vermont.”
* * *
I went back to the apartment to pack. I hadn’t arrived with much, so it didn’t take long, and I was so angry and sad that there were several things I just decided to ignore. Thankfully, Veronica did not return while I was working. Part of me wondered if it was her actually being nice – she must have known how upset I’d be – but the rest of me was too weary to care.
I went out and waited on the couch for Jacob to arrive. It would be hours, I knew, but I didn’t care. I was too tired to do anything else – read or watch TV or go anywhere or anything – but I also could not have closed my eyes and slept right then, even if someone had paid me. Instead, I just stared and stared, sometimes crying, sometimes my eyes itching with dryness, and waited.
Am I right in leaving? Every now and again my frazzled mind would offer. Think of all you’re giving up.
That was true. Technically, Roger hadn’t fired me from my new job. In fact, he probably wanted to keep me there, in case I was ever interested in fucking him again. I’m sure he had a whole slew of pretty young girls who felt like they owed him a favor. It seemed crazy to me that I could even think about Roger in such a light – not yesterday, I was half-convinced I loved him – but now I had seen his real colors. He was exactly what everyone would expect.
And even though I probably could have kept my job, I would not want to face him, day in and day out. Not because I was worried I’d be angry and sad the whole time – I could handle that – but because I was afraid that, deep down, that smile and those eyes would have me begging to go back with him.
No. Absolutely not.
So if I didn’t have a job, I also couldn’t afford to rent for much longer. And I could not rely on Veronica’s generosity. Hell, I’d have just as much a hard time facing her as Roger – though for different reasons. I was mad at her, yes. She betrayed me by sleeping with him. But most of all, I was mad at her for being right. She had read Roger’s motives truly, and that made me feel not only sad, but stupid and weak.
All of this left me only one choice, really:
I needed to go back to Vermont.
At last, Jacob arrived. He stood at the curb, and looked me right in the eye.
“Are you sure?” He asked.
I nodded.
After that, he didn’t say anything. He just swept me right up into a hug that told me everything I needed to know. My tears stained the soft fabric of his shirt, but I managed not to sob. Together, we loaded the car in silence, and then we were heading home.
Goodbye, New York, and good riddance, I thought, as the city lights faded and the empty roads of upstate unfolded before us. I won’t miss you.
But deep down, I knew that was a lie.
Chapter 21
Roger
Danielle hung up three times on me before I finally stopped calling her. What was the point? She had made it pretty clear that she wanted nothing to do with me anymore.
Still, when I showed up to work the next day, I was hoping to see her.
All morning, I waited in the lobby. No Danielle.
After a while, Rita spotted me and accosted me at once. “What happened last night?” She asked. “Danielle running around in tears, that crazy girl who looked like a whore. What the hell was going on in your apartment last night? What, did you have a party?”
I let her finish her sardonic tirade before meeting her eyes. In an instant, she knew something terrible had happened.
“Oh, Roger, I’m so sorry,” she murmured. “I liked Danielle a lot, despite her age. You two were good together.”
“I thought so, too,” I said. “But apparently not good enough.” I sighed, and Rita clapped my shoulder. After a moment, and a deep breath, I took on a businesslike air and said, “Keep up the search for a nanny for Maggie. And also, begin looking for someone to replace Danielle in her position. I…I don’t think she’s coming back.”
“What a shame,” Rita replied. It struck me that Veronica had said almost exactly the same thing. How different it sounded, coming out from those two women. I nodded, and, mercifully, Rita left. Then, I went to my office, and locked myself inside.
Another man – perhaps a younger one – would have chased after her, but I knew better. If she was still interested, she would have called me by now. Besides, I thought grimly, there really is only one woman for me.
Victoria.
And she’s been dead in the ground for years.
I found this thought, though macabre, to be oddly soothing. It’s not that I wasn’t made for love, I told myself. It’s just that I already found my one.
And as much as I knew that Danielle would be devastated, I was also sure that she would be okay. She was young, vivacious, optimistic. She’d be sad for a while, but then would bounce right back. It was one of those things I really liked about her.
Had liked, I thought. Had liked.
The person I was most worried about was Maggie. How could I explain what happened? What would she think, once she finally did understand? I couldn’t possibly say. It’s not that I didn’t know my daughter well. It’s that she had never encountered a situation like this before.
I have to find a way to make her understand without hurting her, I promised myself. But I knew, deep down, that that was probably impossible.
I’ve been a horrible father to her, I realized in a sudden pang. Parading around with woman. Screwing her nanny. Getting so lost in my grief that her studies suffered. I’ve been terrible. Absolutely terrible.
So what should I do?
By the end of that workday, I knew what needed to be done. Maggie wasn’t going to like it, but in the end, I thought that this little bit of pain would be far better than the lifelong problems I was surely giving her be being irresponsible, grief-stricken, and negligent.
I took comfort in the fact that, though my plan would hurt her terribly, it would hurt me far worse.
And I deserved that.
As usual, she was already home when I arrived. Even without her nanny, she was studiously working on her homework, and looked practically angelic sitting there in my kitchen.
I took a deep breath and swallowed. It has to be done, I
kept telling myself. It has to be done. In my pocket, a squeezed a crumbled piece of paper, over and over.
“Maggie?” I said.
“Yes, dad?”
“You know that Danielle and I broke up.”
“Yes,” she said. “I still don’t understand why though.”
“I’m not sure I do, either,” I admitted. “Maybe one day, we’ll both understand.”
There was an awkward silence.
“Is there something else?” Maggie ventured.
“Yes, dear. There is. You see, I…I have been doing a lot of thinking, and I’ve realized several things.”
She waited for me to go on.
“First of all, my behavior towards you has been unforgivable. I got lost in my grief for your mother, when I should have been looking after you. I’m so sorry.”
She nodded. “That’s okay, dad.”
“I was also really irresponsible with Danielle. I liked her a lot, but that still doesn’t change the fact that I shouldn’t have gotten involved with your nanny. It was selfish and unprofessional of me.”
Maggie chuckled. “I’m glad you two dated,” she said. “She made you happy, at least for a bit.”
I was glad she was taking all of this so well so far. Because the heart of the matter – what I knew would hurt her the most – was yet to come.
I took a deep breath and said, “And that brings me to my third thing. I…I’ve shown that I am not capable of raising you properly right now, even with a nanny. That’s why…I’ve decided to send you to Brookdale.”
Maggie stared. Her grip on her pencil went slack, and it fell loosely to the tabletop. She didn’t seem to notice.
“Brook…Brookdale?”
“Yes, dear. I think it’s the best option.”
“B-but you promised! You said if I got my grades up and behaved well, we could stay together!”
Her voice cracked as she spoke, and I could see tears forming in her eyes. I felt my own sadness welling up in me as well, and I fought it back. I needed to be strong. For Maggie.
“I know, Mags,” I said, “but things are different now. I know how smart you are, and that you’ll excel at Brookdale. I have no doubt of that.
“But dad, it would mean being apart. You don’t want that, do you?”
She sounded so small and plaintive that I rushed over to her, sweeping her into a hug.
“Of course not, my dear, but I really think it would be the best for both of us. I have a lot of thinking to do, and you need a good place to grow up.”
“You’re leaving me! Daddy, no! You’re leaving me! You promised you wouldn’t and now you’re leaving me!”
Her tears broke into full out sobs, and she spasmed against me, pounding my chest with her fists.
“I’m so sorry, Mags,” I whispered. “So, so sorry – ”
“No, you’re not! You jerk! You meanie! You…you…bastard!”
It was an adult rage that flung that last word out, and she gasped right after she said it. She stopped trembling, and I loosened my arms so that she could lean back.
But she didn’t just lean. She bolted, slipping from my embrace and sprinting to her bedroom.
“I hate you!” She cried, then:
Slam!
Her bedroom door closed like the clash of thunder, and I was left alone at the kitchen table, heartbroken but resolved that, ultimately, I had done to right thing.
Like a lost soul, I wandered over to the living room, clicked on the television, and poured myself a drink.
I did not hear a single word it said all night.
Chapter 22
Danielle
Everyone at home was positively joyous to see me. I guess that’s one of the good things about growing up with a bunch of boys: they were quick to anger, quick to love, and quick to forget. While they were concerned for a little while over my abrupt and unexplained return, treating me like an extra special guest the first night or two I was there, they almost immediately settled back into our old routine:
Jacob and I made dinner, while they cleaned and rough-housed at the same time.
I glanced around our modest, rustic kitchen and gave a little sigh. It was beautiful, and reminded me poignantly of my parents, but it was also so small and cramped.
Nothing like the huge kitchens and the sense of endless activity I had had when working at the hotel. And as I labored away on our measly dinner – measly, that is, by restaurant standards; there was nothing measly about feeding a horde of growing boys – I realized how much I had given up, and how, though wonderful, Vermont would never be quite the same again.
“You miss it, don’t you?” Jacob asked, as I scrubbed the same spot on a dinner plate for about the twelfth time.
“Yes,” I admitted. “It was just…such an adventure, you know? Every day was different, exciting, challenging. But here…”
I glanced into the living room, where my younger brothers were hooting and racing to see who could scrub the fasted.
“Well, here it feels like nothing ever changes,” I finished.
“You did,” Jacob said. “You have definitely changed. I don’t know quite how to describe it, but you seem, I don’t know…worldly.”
Weary, more like, I thought, but I didn’t say it. I appreciated his compliment. I guess I was a little wiser now. I certainly felt less naive.
After a moment, Jacob said gently, “You could go back, you know.”
I smiled at him, my heart tor equally between sadness and love. It was no little thing, driving all the way to New York City and back a million times, and it’s not like Jacob wasn’t busy.
“Thank you, Jacob,” I murmured. “Maybe…”
I thought about it: the ritzy Clifton Hotel, the sense of endless opportunity. So what if Roger had turned out to be a jerk? If I made sure to stay strong, perhaps I…
But just then, my phone rang.
I wiped off my sodden hands with a dishtowel and rushed over, curious to see who was calling. Nobody but my family knew I was back in town, yet. I frowned, however, when I saw who it was.
“Roger,” I muttered, and ignored the call.
“Anything the matter?” Asked Jacob.
“Nothing,” I said, and returned to the dishes. What was I thinking? I asked myself. Wanting to go back? Even across New England, he is still insufferable!
My phone rang again. Not bothering to dry myself this time, I stomped over, saw that it was Roger again, and promptly ignored the call – leaving a big old dollop of water on my screen while I was at it.
Jacob looked up from his spot near the drying rack. “Who is that?” He asked. “Roger?”
“Yes,” I groaned. “I don’t know why he won’t stop calling me! Can’t he take a hint?”
Jacob offered me a tentative smile. “I don’t think bigtime New York billionaires are used to not getting their way,” he said. My phone began to ring again, and his smile grew. “See?”
“Enough of this!” I snapped, snatching my phone from the table. This time, instead of simply ignoring the call, I pressed the power button until the phone shut down.
“Try getting ahold of me now,” I muttered.
Jacob raised his eyebrows, and then returned to doing the dishes without a word.
* * *
Jacob and I finished up our chores. My brothers closed the night with a rousing game of “paper hockey,” where they use their winter hockey sticks to bat a crumpled wad of paper all over the house. Anything that could have been broken had been broken a long time ago, so I wasn’t worried.
At last, the younger ones shuffled off to bed (Joey, who was fourteen, took some cajoling) and Jacob and I opened up a pair of beers and sagged, content but exhausted, onto the couch. For the moment, I was feeling really good about things. I had realized that, while my home was not nearly as luxurious as Roger’s, it was wonderful nonetheless. Jacob even lit a fire – something usually reserved only for the coldest of winter’s nights – and we basked in its heat, enjoying the
silence and the beer.
We chatted a bit. Jacob, about some girl he had been chasing the last few months, and me, about how much I had missed home, and was so pleased to be back. The warmth from the fireplace was so nice that we soon both found ourselves drifting off, content to listen to the flames crackling as it died down.
We were terrible startled, therefore, when there was a knock on our door at about four in the morning.
“Wuzzgoinon?” Jacob mumbled, leaping to his feet and looking stupidly bleary-eyed. I was sure I looked no better, my ruffed hair all raised like a startled cat, my empty beer bottle still in my hand.
Knock. Knock.
“Who the fuck could that be at this time of night?” Jacob grumbled, glancing at the clock. He switched on the lights and stomped to the door, while I hung back a little, feeling nervous. No good news ever arrives this late, I thought.
Jacob opened the door, and we both gasped as the huge outline of a man filled to doorway. Shadows masked his face, and it took me several long seconds to recognize who it was.
“Roger!” I gasped.