Forks, Knives, and Spoons

  “Oh no, honey, he loves you. That I know, he truly loves you, but think about what you want and need in a relationship—”

  Before she could go on, Andrew thumped down the stairs. Mrs. Gabel touched Amy’s hand and whispered, “Roger and I love you, too. Give it some thought.”

  “Ready to go, Amy?”

  “Go where?”

  “We’re going over to my buddy Brian’s house, he’s got some new Sega games. Some guys you know from last time will be there and you know Bree. Ready?”

  Amy gathered her things as Mrs. Gabel hugged her son and then Amy, giving her a light squeeze on the shoulder.

  At Brian’s, Amy sat on the basement couch and watched the guys battle one another, grunting and cheering like middle school boys. She was the only girl and rolled her eyes to herself, thinking of their day jobs. Besides Andrew’s intense finance job, one was in med school, another worked for an accounting firm, and Brian was in sales for a pharmaceutical company. With the joysticks in their palms, they all looked, and acted, fourteen.

  “Hey, guys,” Bree’s sweet voice sang out as she came downstairs.

  Andrew looked up and away from the screen, and sounds cried from the game and the fourteen-year-olds chorused, “You’re out of the tournament, Gabel!” Bree made the rounds, kissing the guys, then plopped on the cushion next to Amy. “Looks like the usual fun.”

  “Yup. We haven’t seen you in ages. How’s D.C.?”

  “Pretty good, I’m learning a lot, but I’m not sure politics and the world of lobbying is for me. I’m considering a move. How’s life as a big-time New York journalist?”

  “Oh, very glamorous, you know, waiting for court decisions, sitting through city council meetings, begging for interviews and anything quotable. But I love it and my boss is incredible. She’s always encouraging me and has taught me so much about writing and the business.”

  “You’re lucky, my boss is an arrogant pig. Total fork. You know, I still use that. Taught it to all of my roommates.”

  “I still do, too, and Veronica still won’t admit that it works. Have you found any good knives?”

  “Our capital is filled with forks, poking and jabbing anyone that gets in the way of their ambitions. I haven’t had many good dates.” She lowered her voice and fixed her eyes to Andrew’s back. “You’re lucky you’ve got Andrew. I blew it with him in high school. Sorry. That was so long ago it’s not even worth talking about, but it’s hard to find a great guy like him. Hang on to him, Amy.”

  Conflicting ideas fought like video game ninjas in her mind. Mrs. Gabel’s words challenged Bree’s, whose thoughts contested Mrs. Gabel’s, and to Amy there were no clear winners. Orbiting around him, not had to commit, truly loves you, hard to find, hang on to him, my steak knife, someday. She was fighting on both sides of the ring, her own dreams and wishes struggling to be contenders.

  “THIS PLACE IS SO cute,” Veronica said as they pulled into the gravel drive of the loaned cottage.

  “My buddy said the beach is just a few blocks’ walk, it must be over there.” Joey had a sharp sense of direction and turned his head like a compass, discerning the way. “I’ll get the bags, you go ahead and have a look inside.” He tossed her the single key dangling from a pewter anchor key chain. An anchor, the symbol of hope that graced the Rhode Island state flag, she noted.

  Veronica skipped up the few wooden steps and crossed the front porch. She fiddled with the lock and creaked the door open. A closed-up, damp smell greeted her as she stepped into the main room with its sand-worn wood floors and a stone fireplace. The walls and ceiling were made of narrow interlocking wood slats painted a crisp white. The living room was open to a small kitchen and two bedrooms were to the sides. Veronica pulled the tab on the white wooden louvered shades, letting in the early April light and puffs of dust.

  “How do you like it?” Joey asked, plunking down their weekend duffels and three brown paper bags of groceries.

  “It’s perfect.”

  She peeped out each window, circling the perimeter of the house. For their room, she chose the pale yellow bedroom with its iron bed, cream-colored bedspread, and mountain of yellow and blue throw pillows.

  “Hungry?” Joey asked while opening cabinets and pulling out cutting boards, knives, and pots. Soon he was chopping garlic and escarole. “I’ll start the sauce for dinner, and how about some pasta e fagioli for lunch?” He handed her a glass of wine and they toasted. “Happy Easter, dolcezza.”

  She smiled at the term of endearment he’d taken to calling her and sipped her wine, feeling everything in her body relax into the weekend holiday. She stood beside him and picked up a knife. “Give me something to chop.”

  “No, you sit. Seriously, these knives are terrible.” He slid two blades against each other in his never-ending quest for the sharpest knives. “You’re more likely to cut yourself—”

  “With a dull knife,” Veronica finished his sentence.

  “Oh, just you sit and tell me about your family while I cook.” He stopped midsharpening and looked straight into her eyes with a yearning in his own. “Tell me.”

  “What do you want to know? I’ve told you about them. My parents travel a lot since I’ve been out of the house, my dad’s retired and golfs a lot, and my mom is eternally entertaining or hosting some fundraiser or another.”

  “Yeah, you’ve told me those things, but I want more, Veronica, I want to know you. Really know you. You never talk about what your life was like growing up or anything about your brother. I don’t even know his name.”

  Veronica drew her knees up to her chest, hooking her heels on the edge of the seat. For a moment, she rested her head on her knees, then looked up and took a slow breath.

  “My brother’s name was Henry,” she spoke slowly, “he was four years older than me.”

  Joey stared at her wordlessly.

  “I was in sixth grade, he was a sophomore in high school when he got sick. At first it seemed like a bad cold or something, a virus; he couldn’t do anything but sleep, but he wasn’t getting better.” Without a sound, Joey stood beside her, his hand on her back.

  “The doctor said it was the flu, he was just supposed to rest and drink lots of fluids, you know, the typical recommendations for a bug. I remember strings of doctors, sitting in waiting rooms, and seeing him get sicker and sicker. In the shortest time, it seemed he changed from my athletic, fun big brother to a pale, withered sick person.” Joey didn’t move, his eyes locked on her, as if not wanting to interrupt the moment, and she went on. “He was throwing up a lot and he started acting strange, too, like he was really confused, but he was a smart kid and a good student. It wasn’t like Henry at all. He was in and out of the hospital a couple of times in the first week. They did a million tests but kept sending him back home with no answers. They guessed meningitis and one time they even suspected a drug overdose. My parents went crazy—Henry was a good kid.

  “The night he couldn’t stop throwing up, my dad called the ambulance.” Tears dripped down Veronica’s face as she relived it. She felt Joey’s arms wrap around her shoulders and knees, holding her together more than he knew. “My mom went with Henry in the ambulance and my dad and I followed the flashing red lights. The whole way to the hospital, I watched the lights looping around and around. It was February and I remember the way the red lights reflected against the snow on the ground.” Her voice was quiet and halting, caught on the memories and every vivid detail.

  “At the hospital, they told us that his liver was failing. They put him into a coma and on life support, but he kept getting worse. My parents didn’t let me see him. I think they thought it was better for me. No one let me see him. I wanted to hug Henry, to tell him I loved him, but they wouldn’t let me see him.” She let out a sob and let herself heave in Joey’s embrace.

  “It’s okay, go ahead,” Joey whispered, drying his own tears on his shoulder.

  They cried together, wrapped up in each other, freeing a loss that whipped around
and drew them closer. Time stretched backward and stopped completely as they clung together in the little cottage. Calming slowly, Veronica stood. She led Joey by the hand to the blue-and-white sofa. She leaned against his chest and nestled herself into his arms before speaking again.

  “We were at the hospital all day for the next two days. My parents took turns going into the ICU, but on the third day, he was brain-dead. He stopped breathing as soon as he was taken off life support. I was in the waiting room all alone when my dad came out to tell me.” Veronica pressed her face into Joey’s body, letting him absorb her tears. He stroked her hair rhythmically, tenderly. “I never got to see him. I never got to say good-bye.”

  When she eventually lifted her face, she dabbed at the wet mess she’d made across Joey’s shirt. He hugged her back to him.

  “What was it—why was he so sick? It wasn’t just from the flu . . .”

  “No, when they figured it out, it was too late. He had Reye’s syndrome.”

  Joey shook his head, questioning. “They think he must’ve taken a medication or used some acne cream that had an aspirin ingredient in it. They never really knew how he got it, but it was just too late when they finally figured it out.”

  “I’m so sorry, dolcezza. Thank you for telling me about Henry.”

  Veronica looked into his dark eyes, noticing every eyelash and the faint lines at their edges. She held his gaze and released the words.

  “I love you, Joey.”

  THE SUN HAD ALREADY TUCKED below the tall buildings on the June evening. A passing bus puffed out gray exhaust and a pigeon bobbed beside their feet, pecking at sidewalk crumbs. “Do you think he’s going to propose on vacation?” Veronica asked as she and Amy sat outside the Manhattan café.

  “It would be romantic, wouldn’t it?” Amy smiled. She leaned back and ran her fingers over the familiar charms dangling from her bracelet. “Though, sweet as he is, Andrew’s not always so clued in to grand gestures or to small details for that matter.”

  “I want to be the first to know if he does.”

  Amy played along with the what-ifs, allowing herself to believe it could happen. “I’ll call from the airport when we land. Wait, did he talk to you? Do you know something? Did he ask you about what kind of ring I want or something?” Amy fired questions to Veronica’s shaking head. “Hold on, do you know what kind of ring I want in case he does ask?”

  Veronica chuckled. “A round cut diamond, channel-set baguettes on the sides, platinum setting, got it.”

  “I haven’t talked about it that much.”

  “What about that magazine clipping you’ve had tucked in your jewelry box forever?”

  “Well, fine, you are my best friend and you’re supposed to know these things. Oh no, but I don’t know what you want. How do I not know what you want?” Amy gasped, sending Veronica into full laughter.

  “That’s because, my friend, I have no idea, and there’s not a chance of you needing to know any time soon anyway.”

  “You must know, or have some idea about what you’d like.”

  “I’d love something simple, something completely unshowy. I think a solitaire would be just right.”

  “There we go,” Amy said as the waitress set down their drinks. “Thank you. How are things going with Joey?”

  “Ever since I told him about Henry at Easter, I feel like we’ve gotten closer and closer.”

  “That’s great!”

  “Yeah, but . . .”

  “What?”

  “I still haven’t told my parents about him and I don’t know what to do.” Veronica twisted a red curl around her finger. “He’s been amazingly patient even though I really haven’t explained much.”

  “What’s to explain? You love him, he loves you.”

  “Always the romantic, but things aren’t that simple. You know my parents, they like things just so. They have certain expectations for me and my life, and I don’t want to let them down, but I also feel like I’m being unfair to Joey. How do I introduce him to them?”

  “You say, ‘Mom and Dad, this is my boyfriend, Joey.’ It’s been a long time and you love him. Your parents will understand because they love you.”

  “I’m scared to rock the boat and I also worry that, well, that—”

  “That you’re embarrassed of him?” Amy finished.

  Veronica bit her lip and nodded. “Everything’s okay here in our world, but stepping into my life in Newport just feels like a whole different thing. When I picture that scene, I avoid doing it. Even at our age, I still want their approval.”

  “I get that, I do, but you’re a grown-up now, making your own money and living on your own. They’ll be okay. You don’t have to follow their rules anymore, you know.”

  “Oh, my dolcezza, always the rule-follower.” Joey stepped between the neighboring tables and kissed both girls. “What rules are you worried about now?” He grinned at Veronica.

  “What rules isn’t she worried about?” Amy answered for her, secretly shaking her head at Veronica to convey that he hadn’t heard what they were talking about. Amy diverted him with another question. “What’s going on with you, Joey?”

  “Lighting up the world, kid.”

  “Bad one.” Amy laughed and Veronica playfully hit his chest with the back of her hand.

  “Where’s Andrew?” Joey asked, looking at his watch.

  “He should be here soon. He’s been working a lot. Our vacation next month will be good for him. He really needs to get away from this constant work and late nights.”

  The trio chatted and waited for Andrew before ordering appetizers. After an hour, Amy left to call his office from the restaurant pay phone. No answer. She tried their apartment and his friend Buzz, but no answer at either. Amy returned to their table as Andrew arrived, out of breath.

  “You will not believe what just happened,” Andrew said as he slid out the iron chair next to Amy, pecked her on the cheek, and, with quick greetings across the table, launched into his story. “So I’m waiting in the subway for the damn six train and this guy walks over to me, slaps me on the back, acts like he knows me.”

  The server hovered, waiting for them to notice her. Andrew gave his order and dove back into his tale.

  “I’m sure I don’t know him, he’s not even a little familiar, but he acted so much like he knew me that I hesitated, thinking maybe it was a client or someone I should’ve remembered.” Andrew removed his suit jacket and hung it over the back of the chair. “He kept his arm on my shoulder as he was talking to me. It felt like he was holding me a little too long, so I pulled out of his grip and stepped backward into this other guy who was right behind me with his hand in my back pocket. By the time I understood what happened, the guys were already busting ass up the stairs and out to the street.”

  “Drew, are you okay?” Amy clutched his arm.

  “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine now. I bolted up after them but they were gone.”

  “What did you do? Did you go to the police?” Veronica asked.

  “There’s a precinct station right by the Fifty-First Street subway, so I went over there.”

  “What were you doing on the subway? You could walk here from your office,” Amy wondered.

  “Meeting. The police took a report and all, but I’m sure they’ll never get anything from it. They sat me at a desk with a phone book where I called my bank to report the stolen cards and I was able to get my credit card company’s number from information. Man, what a hassle, now I’ve got to go get a new driver’s license, new hotel rewards cards, and all that crap.” Andrew took a long draw of beer from the bottle as it was set down before him.

  “Well, that’s one way to get out of paying the bill,” Joey joked.

  Even as she laughed along, an uneasiness settled into Amy’s chest that she couldn’t explain.

  ANDREW WAS EDGY AS THEY packed for vacation. He sighed intermittently, tossed clothes together instead of folding them in his usual neat manner, and even snapped at Amy whe
n she suggested he bring a light sweater for the evenings.

  “I know how to pack, Amy. I’m a big boy now.”

  Quietly, she left him alone, reasoning that he must be stressed preparing to be away from work for a week. She struggled to ignore the nudge in her gut and the little stab at her heart. Is this what being together for nearly five years looks like? Does it just become ordinary and testy? Her optimist’s heart lifted her spirit. Everyone has tough days and grumpy moods, she thought, or maybe Andrew is nervous because he’s planning something big while we’re away. Maybe he’s trying to figure out how to pack the ring without me seeing it.

  Their flight left at 7:05 p.m., and they had two hours before leaving for the airport. She still had a few things to pack, but she plopped on the couch and sat with a magazine to give him some distance.

  “I’ll be right back,” Andrew said, slipping into flip-flops and heading out the door.

  “Wait, what? Where are you going? We’re leaving soon.” Amy dropped the July Vanity Fair on the cushion beside her, hearing herself spew the checking-on-you words that guys resist. A memory of the banter at Owen’s wedding made her inhale sharply.

  “I’ll be right back,” he repeated, softening his tone. “I’m just running to the store.”

  When he’d gone, Amy returned to their bedroom to throw in final accessories, her makeup, and toiletries. On Andrew’s dresser, she noticed he’d left things askew: drawers were left with clothes spilling out and the handsome mahogany box, where he left his coins at the end of the day, stood open. Amy wondered whether to tidy it for him or leave it, and she smiled at the backwardness of the situation. She tucked the clothes into the drawers, then went to shut his box. Inside, she saw the watch she’d given him for graduation. He never wears that anymore, Amy thought, remembering how excited she was to give it to him. Without touching it, she slowly closed the lid, thinking of their years and the hidden words inside, For All Time.

  “THERE’S OUR CHECK-IN LINE,” Amy said, rolling her suitcase toward the counter.