Forks, Knives, and Spoons

  Andrew rocked from one foot to the other. He was too far away, but he swung a fist in Matt’s direction, a last posture of intimidation. Matt’s arm shot out in front of Amy like he was protecting her from stepping into traffic.

  Andrew walked past them toward the door. Papers were strewn where he had dropped his briefcase; it lay half zipped on its side spilling its contents. He stooped to gather the files into messy heaps. As he jammed dangling papers into his case, a streak of her Christmas wrapping paper toppled out. Andrew snatched up the small box, threw it in, and pressed the briefcase closed without trying to zip it shut. Balancing the jumble on his knee, he opened the door, kicked it with his foot, and slid out, letting the door bang closed behind him.

  Inside Amy, everything was rushing and darting about, but outside, her only movement was a tremor in her hand. They stood until the distant chime of the elevator stirred Amy. She ran to the door, turned the deadbolt with a definitive clank, and threaded the chain lock into place. Matt was beside her as she slid down the door and collapsed to the ground, crying and shivering. He stroked her hair, peeling it off her face and smoothing it down her neck and back. Her ribs opened with her breath and slowly she quieted, comforted by Matt’s arms around her, wishing him not to stop. His chest vibrated with his words so that she felt them in her face before hearing them.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  She held her hand to his heart. “But, why?”

  “Because that was completely awful for you and I’m sorry.”

  “I’m sorry I made you a part of that but I’m glad I kissed you.”

  “Me, too. I’ve wanted to kiss you since you first bumped into me freshman year.” He smiled, tucking a ribbon of hair behind her ear.

  “I didn’t know it, but I wanted that, too.”

  ON CHRISTMAS EVE MORNING, Amy haphazardly filled the brown boxes and luggage Thomas York had brought into the city. Sam secured a spot in front of the building entrance and, in hurried trips, Matt, Veronica, and her father carted Amy’s things into his waiting car and shuttled them to Veronica’s apartment.

  She and Matt had talked and dozed on the couch throughout the night, connecting in a new way. Years of unspoken feelings surfaced and Amy viewed the past with a refocused lens. The predawn hours filled with realizations, reversed perspectives, and shared stories retold with the filter removed. Amy was awed by the simple touch of Matt’s hand on hers and overwhelmed by his kiss. His devotion flooded her with wonder and she felt at home in his presence. By the time they were awakened by Sam buzzing her father up, Amy’s face was crisscrossed with indents from Matt’s shirt.

  Armfuls of clothes still on hangers, suitcases of books, and boxes filled with toiletries and shoes returned to Third Avenue. They laid her few framed posters across the top and tucked in garbage bags of throw pillows and a year’s worth of acquisitions. Amy made quick decisions, leaving their shared items and most of the household things she’d brought, working to finish before Andrew came back.

  She had righted the Christmas tree and given it some water, leaving the lights plugged in overnight. Her home of the past year felt foreign. The dreams and expectations the apartment had held were tarnished like her perception of Andrew. This wasn’t the romantic comedy ending she’d scripted.

  On the bookshelf, she studied what had been one of her favorite pictures of the two of them, taken when neither was aware of the camera. Andrew draped his arm over Amy’s shoulders, his face full with a smile, bonfire flames casting it golden. I thought he looked like a movie star. In the photo, she was staring at his face, contentment brimming from her eyes and her smile. Amy tilted the frame in her hand as if seeing the image for the first time. In it she was completely riveted by him, love stamped all over her, and Andrew was looking away, holding her to him, claiming her, but smiling elsewhere.

  “Any more stuff, Amy?” Veronica asked, dragging the handcart Sam had lent them behind her.

  Amy put the picture back in its place. “Nope, I think I’ve got everything I want to take. I’m glad you’re here, V.”

  “I’m always here for you. I guess your Santa guy was right after all. Deciding to leave Andrew after all these years—that’s a big one.”

  “No kidding. I’m pretty rattled by the whole thing”—Amy shook her head—“but it’s the right thing.”

  “I’m giving you back your BELIEVE stone. It’s your turn to use it.”

  She smiled, “And we get to be roommates again. Chelsea won’t mind?”

  “She’ll be fine, she’s out a lot. We can share my room.”

  “Are you even there anymore?”

  Veronica grinned and shrugged. “Now and then. It’ll mostly be your room and I’ll just use it as my closet. Joey and I are heading to his family’s tonight for Christmas Eve, then driving to Newport tomorrow. Call me at my parents’ house.”

  “All set, kiddo?” Amy’s dad and Matt entered the propped door.

  Hearing her dad call her “kiddo,” having her loyal friends beside her, and leaving behind a history, tears sprang from Amy’s eyes. All three stepped forward with arms spread to comfort her, then paused to allow the others space. Amy laughed with tears still dripping. She pulled them all into an embrace.

  Taking Veronica into a solo hug, Amy said, “Enjoy spending your first Christmas together.”

  “My turn,” said her father, pulling Amy into him. “I’m proud of you, honey, this can’t be easy. Come on, Aunt Joanie and Uncle Arthur are already in Newtown waiting for us with a Christmas Eve dinner.”

  He turned to Matt, clapping him on the back. “Let’s go.”

  Amy twisted the apartment key off her key chain and placed it on the small table by the door. She scanned the dim apartment by the light of the tree and stepped out. She swallowed hard as the door closed behind her. She was locked out for the last time.

  “Bye, Amy, sorry to see you go,” the doorman said.

  “Merry Christmas, thanks for everything, Sam,” she said handing him an envelope.

  Matt opened the passenger door for Amy and gave her a sweet, clandestine kiss as her father walked to the driver’s side. She felt desperate to keep him close; she didn’t want to say good-bye or wait until Tuesday when she would see him again. He closed the door, framing her pleading eyes in the window, then opened the backseat door and slid into a small cubicle of space among the things Amy chose to bring back to Connecticut.

  “What are you doing?” Amy asked, spinning around and peeking between the seats at Matt.

  Her father answered, turning on the ignition. “We’re taking Matt home on our way.”

  At least I still have him to Tuckahoe, Amy thought, knowing she would have to feel that longing at his departure again in a short time.

  ON THE DAY AFTER Christmas, Amy found her dad reading the paper. “Come on, Dad, let’s go for a drive.”

  His eyes twinkled as he rose from his seat. “Hmm, what’s going on here? Are you old enough now that you’re turning things around on your father?”

  She grinned, leading the way to the garage. Behind the wheel, she lowered the radio, leaving the Top 40 of 1993 counting down in the background. She navigated the familiar Newtown roads, deciding how to begin.

  “Dad, I want you to know that I’ve really taken your advice seriously all these years.”

  “What advice would that be? I’m quite sure I’ve given you a lot.” Her dad chuckled.

  “Since you told me about the forks, knives, and spoons, I’d been looking for my perfect knife and I thought I’d found him. I know you worry and want me to find someone. I’ve thought about that a lot.” She glanced at her dad, who was turned toward her with an affectionate look of concern on his face. “This whole thing with Andrew has made me realize that I’d been clinging to an idealistic view of him, of us as a couple. I’d always labeled him as my perfect steak knife and I couldn’t let that go. I had this image of what our relationship should be, of how Andrew should be, and I kept trying to make it work even
when so much around me said it wasn’t right. I still compromised and gave up my needs to stay together and make it work.”

  “Compromising doesn’t mean giving up part of yourself. You both need to be fulfilled and work together toward common goals.”

  She nodded. “I suddenly see that. I see a lot of things in a new way now. While I was waiting for Andrew, Matt was waiting for me. I can’t believe that I never saw it before. Andrew wasn’t going to commit to me and I took Matt’s friendship for granted. I kept insisting that we were just friends. Yeah, I know, stop laughing, Dad, I get it now. But what I didn’t understand before was that the relationship I’ve been searching for happens between best friends. I think I’ve gotten the whole fork, knife, and spoon thing wrong. Maybe Veronica is right.”

  Amy’s dad reached across the seat and rested his hand on her shoulder. “Amy, that talk at Bella’s was never meant to stifle you or to narrow your views, it was your old dad’s way of helping you navigate college boys without me.”

  “Wait, what? You mean you don’t believe in the UCS, either? After all this time, I’ve been so sure it worked.”

  “Well, I still think you can put most fellas into one of those categories, but, honey, it was a guideline, a metaphor. I wanted to help you but I’m afraid that maybe you’ve held on to it a bit too tightly. If I gave you the impression that you needed to find someone for my sake, I am so sorry. What I want most is your happiness, whoever that is with. Sure, I’m getting up there and would love to walk my girl down the aisle before I kick the bucket—”

  “Cut it out, Dad, I need you around.”

  “But this is your life and you don’t need a man to make you happy. You have to be happy and whole without a man first. Having a boyfriend or husband isn’t your end point, and when the time works out, you’ll know the right man for you, even without using a labeling system I made up.”

  “Now I can see all the times you and Veronica tried to point things out to me over the years. Some reporter I’ve been, I dismissed it all, always justifying things and standing up for Andrew. It’s time to stand up for myself.”

  “It sure sounds like you’ve done a lot of growing up, sweetheart, I see a lot of your mother in the woman you’ve become.”

  “That means so much, Dad.” Amy took a deep breath, bracing to ask him one of the biggest questions on her heart. She pulled the car into the Blue Colony Diner, parking so she could completely focus.

  “Do you think it’s crazy that I want to be with Matt now, so soon after breaking up with Andrew?”

  He paused, framing his thoughts. “You’ve known and cared for each other for many years and it’s clear to see that Matt adores you. If you feel that way about him, I don’t see why the timing should matter too much, though a little time for yourself would be a good thing, I think. But, honey—”

  “Yes?”

  “Be sure you know yourself and what’s in your heart. Remember, you have to value and love yourself first.”

  “That’s just it, Dad, I see that I wasn’t being true to myself during a lot of my time with Andrew, and I’m comfortable with Matt like with no one else. I’m really me with him. I’ve never felt like I had to pretend or sacrifice anything. It’s like the lights went on after a movie, and now that my eyes are adjusted, I can see it all so clearly.”

  Her father smiled. “I’m behind you whatever you decide.”

  As they started to drive home, number thirty-two on the charts came on the radio. Rod Stewart sang as if just for Amy: Fill my heart with gladness, take away all my sadness, ease my troubles that’s what you do.

  CHELSEA WAS AT HOME in Maryland for the week and Veronica and Joey weren’t returning to the city until sometime on New Year’s Day. The Warrens had invited Joey and Veronica to a private New Year’s Eve party at Marble House, the historical summer cottage of Cornelius Vanderbilt’s grandson and his wife. Their plans left Amy the apartment to herself for the week.

  Amy’s train from Connecticut arrived in Grand Central at lunchtime on Monday. To accommodate the extra bags from Christmas, she hailed a cab instead of walking the few blocks to her old apartment. She felt the comfort of being home alone and the strangeness of being alone in someone else’s home. From the countless hours she’d spent there with Veronica, she was accustomed to Chelsea’s additions, her furnishings and framed prints on the walls, but it felt different in their absence. It was like going back in time to a new beginning.

  Amy went right to work moving and organizing the heap of boxes and clothes they had stacked hastily in the entry on Christmas Eve day. Veronica offered Amy her bedroom until she figured out where she would live. Secretly, Amy wished that Chelsea would move out, leaving Veronica and her to be roommates again, but she also wondered how long it would be before Veronica and Joey would make the decision to live together. Life was changing for both of them.

  Once she was settled, Amy heated herself a can of soup and sat at the table in front of Chelsea’s stack of entertainment magazines. Thumbing through a July issue of Entertainment Weekly featuring “Tom Hanks Grows Up” on the cover, she glanced at stories about the movie The Firm, U2, and Clint Eastwood. The phone rang and she lifted from her chair to answer, then realized it wasn’t for her to answer anymore. She lowered herself, and as the phone kept ringing, she rejected an October issue of People with a shirtless Fabio on the cover and skimmed November headlines: “Michael Jackson Cracks Up: Sex, Drugs and the Fall of the World’s Biggest Star” and “Oprah Opens Her Heart in a Tough TV Movie.”

  The answering machine picked up. Amy took a spoonful of soup as she listened to the familiar greeting and looked for the page with the cover story on “The Richest Women in Show Biz.” After the beep there was silence, but she could tell someone was on the line. Then she heard a throat clearing: “Um, Veronica, hi, um . . .” Amy dropped her spoon, splashing chicken noodle soup onto Madonna’s face. She stood over the machine not breathing as the message continued. “It’s Andrew again, and um, I was checking to see if you were back yet. I tried to call Amy at her dad’s house but I got the answering machine and I don’t want to leave a message there. Um, I’m just wondering if you know where she is. I need to talk to her. Please tell her I need to talk to her.” Sadness leaked from his voice and she could picture him weaving his fingers into his hairline. There was another pause. She heard him inhale and sigh before he hung up the phone.

  Amy watched the red light blink. She hadn’t noticed, but it must have already been blinking when she arrived; the digital number on the machine showed 3. She hadn’t pictured talking with Andrew; she hadn’t thought about having to see him. There was nothing he could say to erase all he had said, repair all he had revealed. There was nothing that would change the truth that she now saw clearly.

  She got a napkin to wipe up Chelsea’s magazine and the phone rang again. She froze, feeling like Andrew could see her, like he knew she was there. Laughing at herself, she realized it was the doorman ringing, the bell much more pleasant than the crass buzzer at Andrew’s apartment. She had already shifted back to labeling the place as his alone. Walking to respond, she hesitated. What if it was Andrew? What if he was there? The tingling call rang out again. She pressed the button. “Yes?” she asked carefully.

  “You have a visitor.”

  “Who is it, please?” Amy had the presence of mind to ask instead of giving her usual, careless response of “Send ’em up.”

  She waited, holding the button down. There was a shuffling as the doorman covered the receiver, then he returned. “He says his name is Matt.”

  Again, she stood in the doorway like she had at Andrew’s only four days before. She held the door open with her body, impatient for him, but this time she waited. Waited like he had for years. He jogged to her and swept her into the apartment with an unwavering hug. The door clanked closed and they were locked in.

  “You’re here a whole day early.” Amy jumped into his arms and linked her legs around his waist.

  “
I couldn’t wait another day to see you. I’m only off until the second and I want to spend every moment I can with you.”

  They had talked on Christmas Eve after midnight church services into the wee hours of Christmas morning, and again later on Christmas Day, and twice the following day. It was as though Matt had stepped into her view, and now that she could see him, she couldn’t bear to be apart.

  “Six nights and days all to ourselves,” Amy tabulated between kisses.

  He carried her to the living room, her legs still clasped around him. Kissing with the passion of the reunited, no one and nothing else existed. Heat and energy vibrated between them, crescendoing. Without timidness, Amy shimmied out of her jeans, pulled her shirt over her head and threw it to the floor. She stood before him as an invitation, a gift. Wordlessly, Matt unlatched her bra and ran his fingertips along her collarbones, the outside contours of her breasts, down her ribcage. He barely touched her but created a storm of emotions in Amy. It was the most sensuous thing she had ever felt and a tickle fluttered through her from her solar plexus to the swell between her legs.

  She wanted more of him and slid her hands under his shirt, gliding them across his chest as she lifted it over his head. He unbuttoned his Levi’s, stepped out of them closer to Amy, and pressed his body into hers. Her breath caught at the sensation of his skin against hers and she leaned into him, inhaling his scent as it mixed with her own.

  She touched his taut abdomen and trailed her finger from his navel along the hairline to beneath the band of his boxers, remembering the glimpse years before. Now it was hers to touch, she thought, allowing her hands to explore all of the man whom she knew so well but hardly knew at all. Matt shuddered and cradled her face between his palms, kissing her deeply.

  He carried her down the hall and rested her on the bed like a precious stone on a velvet pillow. Amy felt dizzy as Matt’s finger traced her belly button, her hips, and her pubic bone before slipping beneath it. She arched into his fingers, which touched her in just the right place, in just the right way.