by Julie Hyzy
“One of us will,” he said. “About the eggs.”
He untied his apron, and I could almost see the weight on his shoulders as he shrugged into his jacket and fixed a baseball cap on his head.
Impulsively, I said, “I’m going to do whatever I can to get this fixed.”
One corner of his mouth turned up. “I know you will.”
And then he was gone.
“We’ll never get through a whole week without help,” Cyan said after a long minute. “They’re not letting us hire any SBA chefs and now without Bucky…”
I had been thinking the same thing. Best-laid plans. When I had arranged for my mom and nana to come visit, I’d done so with the belief that with a contingent of help and our full staff, we would be in fine position to get everything done on time. But there was no way to get through an entire week with just the two of us, unless we were both willing to spend every waking hour here.
I sighed. Mom and Nana would be on their own for the next three days, at least. Maybe longer. This was not how I’d planned their visit.
I reached for my cell phone and dialed my apartment. Glancing at the clock, I tried to gauge how long it would be before I headed home. “Hi Nana,” I said. “Can I talk with Mom?”
“She’s not back yet.”
I looked at the clock again, as though it might have lied to me a moment earlier. “She went out hours ago.”
“They must be having a nice time.”
“But it’ll be dark soon.”
Nana laughed. “You sound like your mother did on your first date.”
“But that’s different. This is Washington, D.C. She doesn’t know her way around yet.”
“I’m sure Kap does.”
That’s exactly what I was afraid of. “Has she called?”
“Did you call us on your first date?”
“Nana,” I said, my tone serious, “aren’t you worried?”
“No. And you shouldn’t be either. Your mother’s a big girl.”
“When do you expect her back?”
“When the sun comes up.”
“Nana!”
She laughed. I made an exasperated noise. “Do me a favor-call me when you hear from her, okay?”
“I might be hard to get ahold of,” she said merrily. “Your neighbor’s teaching me a new card game, so I’m going over there now. Good thing you called when you did. Five more minutes and I’d have been gone.”
When I hung up, I stared at my little cell phone.
“What’s wrong?” Cyan asked.
It took me a minute to put it into words. “When I left my family to pursue a career, I guess I figured they would always just stay the way they were.” I looked up. Cyan shook her head, not understanding. “I mean, I knew I was changing, but I never expected them to do anything, or be anything different than my mother and my grandmother. But they are. They’ve grown-they’ve changed.”
“And that’s a bad thing?”
“No,” I said. “It’s a good thing. I’m just not adjusted to it yet. It’s my problem. Not theirs. I think I’ve been holding on to my memories of them-kinda like holding on to a bit of childhood. But now I’m realizing that’s gone.”
“I understand,” she said. And by the look in her eyes I knew she did. “Just remember to appreciate every moment you have them with you.”
I called Tom on my way to the Metro station, just a little bit perturbed that he hadn’t called me back like he’d promised.
“Ollie!” he said with such relief that my anger immediately dissolved.
“What’s wrong?”
“I was called in to a special meeting immediately after the seminar. And then after that, Craig needed to talk with me.”
The heaviness in his voice made me ask: “About?”
“Can’t say. I was going to call you in about ten minutes. But now that you called me, let’s talk. What’s on your mind that’s so important?”
I swallowed, but didn’t break stride. “Can we get together?”
“Tonight?”
I didn’t like the mild peevishness to his tone, nor did I look forward to what I knew would be a difficult conversation, but I persisted. “I think that would be a good idea.”
“Sounds ominous. What do we need to talk about?”
“I haven’t gotten to MacPherson yet,” I said, avoiding the question. Thinking quickly, I tried to come up with a place that would afford us a little privacy. “If you’re nearby, we can meet at that martini bar you’ve always wanted to try.”
“You want to go to a martini bar? What about Froggie’s?”
I didn’t want to tell him that I wanted to protect Froggie’s. That we’d had a lot of good memories there. I didn’t know exactly what I planned to say, but I did know that a conversation like this was best held elsewhere. “The martini bar is closer. I can be there in a few minutes.”
He made an odd noise. “I guess I have no choice.”
I didn’t order a martini. I opted for coffee instead. Tom looked over the tiny leather-bound menu and asked the waitress for a Sam Adams.
“I thought you were looking forward to trying something new,” I said.
We were seated at a tall table in the dark bar’s front window. He leaned forward on his arms. “So… why are we here, Ollie?”
All day I had been rehearsing options. How I would open, how I would progress, what I might expect Tom to say. How I would answer. But all my preparation went out the nearby window. I turned to watch a couple across the street. Arm in arm, they laughed. Little puffs of air curled in front of them as they turned the corner and strolled away.
Tom touched my arm. “Ollie?”
It didn’t help to look at him. Actually, it made it worse.
“This is hard,” I said.
“What is?”
Was that fear in his eyes, or just the reflection of a passing car’s headlights? I took a breath.
“Ollie, don’t do this.” He reached out and grabbed my hand. “I know you’re upset about my comments recently. I know you think I don’t understand you-”
“You don’t.”
He squeezed. “But I do.”
I tugged my hand back. “I want you to tell Craig that he can stop threatening you.”
He leaned back, looking hurt. “I’m not afraid of Craig.”
“I’m afraid of what he can do to you. And to your career.”
Tom waved his hand as though brushing away a fly. “I can handle him.”
“You’re not going to have to.”
The hurt look came back.
My stomach flip-flopped, and my heart raced with panic. My words came out fast, almost as though I was afraid that if I took my time, I wouldn’t have the courage to say them. “I want you to tell Craig that we’ve broken up.” I swallowed. “I want you to tell him we’re not a couple anymore.”
He was shaking his head. “This is all wrong,” he said, staring out the window. “We can’t let Craig-or even this investigation-dictate how we live our lives.” He made eye contact again. “We have to be true to ourselves.”
I nodded. “That’s the other part of it.”
He looked confused.
“I can’t be the person you want me to be.”
He said nothing.
I folded my hands on the table then dropped them to my lap before continuing. “I can’t let this go.”
“You can’t let us go?”
“No,” I said sadly. “I can’t let all these kitchen accusations continue without doing anything. Without defending myself.”
“But, Ollie. You’re not authorized-”
“I know I’m not,” I snapped. “And I never intended to throw myself into the middle of the investigation, but I can’t just stare in from the sidelines, either. Every move I make, I worry: Will this be construed as getting involved? Am I putting Tom’s career at risk? Will Tom get mad at me because I talked with Ruth Minkus? Because I met with Suzie and Steve? Because I studied Minkus’s dossier? It
’s making me crazy.”
“Where did you get Minkus’s dossier?”
Now I waved him off.
The coffee grew cold and the beer warm as I told Tom exactly how I had been feeling since he made me promise not to poke my nose into the investigation. “I never intend to get involved in these things. You know that. But I can’t keep second-guessing myself. I can’t keep worrying that I’m stepping out of bounds somehow.” I met his gaze. “I have to be who I am, Tom. I have to be true to myself. And our circumstances are such that I can’t be myself-not really-if you’re part of my life.”
He pursed his lips, not meeting my eyes. Finally, when he did, he said, “That’s it then?”
“Is there anything you want to say? Anything else you want to talk about?”
His expression grew tight. “No. I think you made yourself clear.” With that, he pulled out his wallet, tossed cash on the table, and stood up. “Do you want me to walk you to the Metro station?” he asked with no emotion whatsoever. “It’s late.”
I had expected questions, even hoped for him to argue me out of it. But instead, my now-former boyfriend stood next to the tall table, waiting for me to alight from my chair. “That’s okay,” I said. “I’ll be fine.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. “Let me rephrase that. I will walk you to the Metro unless you tell me I can’t.”
“Thank you,” I said. When in doubt, always be polite, my mom advised. A sad thought flashed through my mind. Mom was on a first date-and I was on a last. “I appreciate it.”
We walked in silence the entire way. Tom didn’t accompany me down into the station, and at the top of the stairs, I was prepared for an awkward good-bye. But when I turned to him, he had already started away. “Tom,” I called to his back.
He waved a hand, and half turned in acknowledgment. But he kept walking.
CHAPTER 19
I STARED OUT THE WINDOW OF THE METRO train, seeing nothing. My conversation with Tom replayed itself in my mind, like a wretched scene from a sad movie. I analyzed every movement, every nuance. Not that there was much to decode. Once I’d told him what was on my mind, Tom had made it clear he couldn’t get away from me fast enough. Had I done the right thing? Was I inadvertently punishing him for not supporting me? Was I being selfish with my need for the freedom to poke my nose where I wanted to poke it?
My heart seemed to beat more slowly than it ever had, every lub-dub a crushing ache. The relationship might have ended, but that didn’t mean my feelings for Tom had. I still cared deeply for him, and probably always would. I wondered again if I’d made the right decision. But Tom had been asking me to be someone I wasn’t. He wanted a girlfriend who would follow the rules of life that made sense to him, but were anathema to me.
In his life, he was right-just as I was in mine. No fault to be assigned. But no happy ending, either. I looked out into the darkness.
I sighed again. Just because this was the right thing to do didn’t make it easy.
“You’re back,” Nana said when I came through the door. Her face was bright with excitement, but I couldn’t find it in me to smile back.
“Where’s Mom?” I asked.
“She had a wonderful time,” Nana went on, unmindful of my mood. “They only got back about a half hour ago.”
Instinctively I looked at my watch, but the time didn’t register. Still, I knew it was late. “Just a half hour ago?” I asked, still standing in my little foyer. My mind was slow to process her words. “But it’s after midnight.”
Nana grinned.
“Whatever,” I said. My conversation with Tom was still fresh in my mind, and still stung. I wanted to crawl into my bed and sleep away my disappointment. I desperately wanted to be alone.
“Ollie,” Mom said, coming in from the kitchen. She, too, looked at her watch. “I thought you’d be home by now.”
Looking away, I said. “Lots of catch-up work.”
Nana continued to beam at her daughter, but my mom was staring at me. “Is there something wrong?”
Making a face that said, “Nah,” I lied, shaking my head. “Just a long day. That, and the fact that they’ve suspended Bucky.”
They chorused their disapproval and started to ask me questions, but I really couldn’t handle explaining everything right then. Cranky, tired, and feeling as though my hands were tied, I realized it was better to let someone else talk for a while. “How did Kap behave?” I asked.
“Behave?” There was levity in Mom’s voice, but I could sense her displeasure at my choice of words. “Perfectly, of course. We went to a lovely restaurant for dinner.” When she told me about the upscale seafood restaurant, I interrupted.
“You have that chain in Chicago. I’ve seen at least one of them downtown. And in Schaumburg. Probably Oak Brook, too.”
Mom’s smile faltered only slightly. “You may be right, but this was a new experience for me.”
“It’s a decent restaurant,” I said against rising anger I knew I should contain, but couldn’t. “But why not take you somewhere unique to D.C.?”
She blinked. “The restaurant didn’t matter. What mattered was the company.”
“The company of a man who was on a date with you instead of at his best friend’s funeral?”
“Olivia!” Mom snapped.
“I’m sorry,” I said. Although I meant it, I was not able to stand there and talk a moment longer. I didn’t blame her. I blamed myself. But that didn’t mean I had control over my emotions right now. I wanted to find a familiar hole and hide, letting the rest of the world go on without me. Every thread of my soul panged with disappointment. All I wanted was to be alone.
The looks Mom and Nana gave me were less of anger and more of concern. “I’m sorry,” I said again.
“Something is wrong, isn’t it?” Mom asked.
One thing about people who have known you since birth: You can rely on them to be your strongest allies when times get really tough, even if they don’t fully understand. I knew they would cut me the slack I needed tonight. And despite my desire for solitude, I was glad they were there. “There’s a lot wrong,” I said finally. “But right now I better go to bed before I make things worse.” I tried to smile, but I wasn’t fooling anyone. “I’m going to put an end to this horrible day, and start fresh tomorrow.”
Nana and Mom exchanged glances.
“That’s probably best,” Mom said.
I lay awake for a long time, staring up into the darkness until my eyes adjusted and everything in the room seemed clear again. If only life were like that, I thought. Look at something long enough, and see it for what it really is.
Mom and Nana sat in the kitchen, talking. I couldn’t make out their words, but the soft murmurings-which I knew were full of concerns about me-reminded me of nights in my bed when I was a little girl at home and the comforting sound of their quiet conversation lulled me to sleep. Oh that I could return to those days, just for an instant… Just for tonight.
Sleep continued to dance in the darkness, just out of reach. As I stared at the ceiling and reshuffled my last conversation with Tom, I watched the dull luminescence of the clock. Its digital numbers inched upward with painful precision.
Tomorrow would be a better day, I promised myself. Until I realized it was already tomorrow.
CHAPTER 20
DESPITE MY PRONOUNCEMENT NEVER TO READ Liss Is More again, the man’s appearance on the Metro yesterday spooked me enough to check if he had made good on his promise to “out” my relationship with Tom. Just wait until he found out we were no longer a couple. I’d scooped him on one story at least. But there was no joy in it.
I scanned the page quickly. Today’s column made no mention of me, and none of Tom, thank goodness. Today, Liss seemed focused on Carl Minkus’s next targets. He wrote extensively about Alicia Parker and Phil Cooper and why Minkus might have had reason to suspect them of consorting with terrorists in their free time.
Happy that he hadn’t targ
eted me again, and convinced that Liss was certifiable, I shoved the newspaper away, and decided that this was a very positive omen. A very good way to start the day.
I made coffee, started breakfast, and resolved to beat away any negative thoughts-if not for myself, then for my family. I owed them that much. My behavior yesterday after Mom’s date was inexcusable.
Homemade waffles, topped with bananas, strawberries, and blueberries would make a good start, I decided. The mixed scents floated above my head, and I knew-with a kitchen as small as mine-it wouldn’t be long before the delicious aromas woke up my sleeping family.
A few minutes later Mom wandered into the kitchen. “What’s the occasion?” Still in her bathrobe, she blinked at the kitchen clock. “You’re up early.”
“I have to be at work in about an hour,” I said. “But I wanted time to visit before I left.”
She looked at me quizzically. “Need any help?”
“No,” I said. “Sit. Let me take care of you this time.”
She sat, and turned the newspaper around to read. “Anything I should be aware of in here?”
“We’re flying under the radar today,” I said in a cheery tone. “So far, so good.”
I poured her a cup of coffee and set out the half-and-half. “So…” I said.
She dragged her attention away from the newspaper. “So?”
I was at the counter, half facing her. Taking a breath, I messed with some of the waffle fixings and said, “I was out of line yesterday.”
She nodded, but didn’t say anything for a long moment. Then: “Yes, you were.”
“I am sorry. Truly sorry.”
“I know,” she said, turning back to the news. “And you should be.”
I sprinkled powdered sugar over a strawberry-topped waffle and placed it in front of her. “Did you want blueberries? Bananas?”
“No. This is just perfect.”
Strawberries were always Mom’s favorite. At least some things hadn’t changed. “Whipped cream?”
She laughed. “You trying to fatten me up?”
“No, just trying to apologize.”