Maddie and Sarah laughed while I scooped more parsnips into my mouth. My mother snorted and took another nip of scotch.
I wasn’t positive, but I thought I saw a slight smile play on my father’s face.
Peter went out of his way to avoid eye contact with everyone.
Then The Scotch-lady stared at me and blurted out, “So are you into bondage now?”
Maddie snorted and nearly choked to death on her wine as she tried to stop herself from laughing. Peter, in the act of cutting his turkey, froze, his knife and fork skewed in midair. And Sarah, poor Sarah, I didn’t have the heart to look in her direction.
“How does liking parsnips equate to being into bondage? I’m curious about your definition.” I stared at my mother.
She motioned to my arm.
I raised my left arm.
“Not that one. The other one.”
Sarah, Peter, Maddie and I all stared at my arm. No one said a word.
“All right, I give in,” I said eventually. “What about my arm suggests bondage to you?”
“The bracelet.” The Scotch-lady gestured to the bracelet Maddie had given me.
Even Peter couldn’t help himself. “What’s wrong with it?”
“It’s hideous.” She sighed and took a long swig of scotch. “For her to even wear it I thought it must be for something else.”
The mute man who was my father motioned for someone to pass him the parsnips.
The rest of the meal was eaten in silence.
Chapter Twenty-Three
I started to skip going to campus a few days after we returned from Thanksgiving. Since I now had high-speed Internet at home, I sat on the couch with my feet on the coffee table, my laptop on my knees and the TV tuned in to CNN. I was addicted to news updates.
I felt a newfound freedom, released from slaving away in my cramped office. The entire day, I kept telling myself how much I loved working from home, but as I gazed around my apartment, I started to wonder whether I could still call it “my apartment.” Should I start thinking of it as “our apartment?” Should I just accept the inevitable? My eyes wandered over all of the changes in the front room: candles, flowers, framed photos, books, DVDs, and so on. Yes, my place looked better. But was that the point.
The debate raged in my head for several minutes until Hank jumped onto the table, skidding on books and knocking over a cup of tea. All of my papers slid off the table and reshuffled themselves on the floor. Startled, Hank hissed and ran out onto the deck.
I chased after him and scooped him up before he realized he could jump off the second-story deck and explore a whole new city. Cuddling him tight, I took him back to the couch. I loved how my cat purred when I held him, but he only let me hold him briefly before he skittered off on another adventure. I started to wonder if Hank was “my cat” or “our cat?” Sarah found him, so maybe he was “her cat,” even though he was living at my place and I was the one who took care of him.
I decided to head to Petco and get Hank a nametag, just in case he did escape. I picked out a bright purple collar and a nametag and had it engraved with his name and my phone number.
By the time Sarah returned from work, Hank was “my cat.” He hated the little bell that jingled every time he moved, so he had hid himself in the bathroom.
Sarah and I fixed some drinks and sat on the couch to watch a rerun of The Office. Hank stepped tentatively out of the bathroom. He had developed a habit of sleeping on the rug in front of the heat vent, but this time he immediately jumped in Sarah’s lap.
She absentmindedly scratched his head. Then she felt the collar. For an instant, I thought she might get angry I didn’t let her help pick out the collar. Plus, her phone number was not on the nametag.
“Oh, my God. Did you pick this out?”
I nodded and hid behind my glass, waiting to see how it would play out.
“It’s adorable … and he has a nametag.” She scrutinized the tag.
Hank dashed off her lap, launched off of the back of the couch, and scurried out of the room.
I looked back at Sarah. Tears sparkled in her eyes. Not knowing what to do, I kissed her cheek.
“You make me so happy sometimes. I love the collar you picked out for our boy.”
I guess that settled it. He was our cat.
* * *
I sat across from Ethan in the coffee shop, feeling hopeless. “I’m getting tired of it, Ethan,” I blurted out. “Everything I do now she twists into something that I’m doing for ‘us.’” I made quote marks in the air.
“What are you complaining about? My wife spends ninety percent of her time telling me how much of a screw-up I am. At least Sarah praises you.”
“But how does buying a cat collar equate to settling down? I didn’t even put her cell phone number on the tag. In fact, I went to buy the collar to stop thinking about our situation.”
“What do you mean?”
“I was driving myself crazy, sitting at home thinking about how I can no longer call my apartment my apartment anymore, and then Hank dashed out onto the deck.” I explained my fears that I would never find Hank if he escaped and how I had wondered whose cat he was.
“Maybe Hank wanted to go to Taco Bell.”
I paused, but didn’t ask what he meant. “Everything I do, she sees as me settling into our relationship.”
Ethan tugged at the corner of his moustache and considered my words.
“If I go to the grocery store and pick up food she likes, I am shopping for us. If I pick up food on the way home, I am providing for us. I feel so trapped.”
“She isn’t trapping you—you are.”
I ignored his comment. “She’s even thrilled with our sex life. Lately, I’ve only put out for quickies, but she saw this expert on a morning talk show who said quickies are good for a relationship. So, once again, she thinks I’m a hero.”
“I need a refill. Do you want another chai?” He gestured to my empty cup.
I nodded.
Ethan made his way to the counter while I stared at the foothills of the Rocky Mountains in the distance. How could I feel so trapped when there was so much space out there? I needed to move. I needed to move far away.
He handed me my chai and took his seat again. “So, how’s the hero?”
“I’m not a hero. I’m a cad. No … wait … I am a piece of shit.”
“I don’t think you are.”
“Seriously, Ethan. Is this all life has to offer? Do all of us settle down just because we are too scared, or too tired, to go after what we want? Do we buy a house, buy a car, and get a pet?”
“And what do you want?”
“Not to be a piece of shit, I guess. Hey, do you think Starbucks sells courage? I could use a few shots in my chai.”
“Can I ask you a question?”
I nodded.
“Is being with Sarah so bad? What is it you dislike so much?”
“She likes me, and I don’t deserve it.” I shrugged. “I’m not used to being liked. What do you dislike so much about your marriage?”
“I can’t provide everything she needs and wants from me.”
Both of us fell silent and sipped our drinks.
Then I smiled. “Why did you have to bring up Taco Bell? Now I’m craving a bean burrito.”
“You better not cave in. You might fart more than normal in your sleep.”
I laughed. “Don’t be a jerk. Can I tempt you with a taco? It’s right across the street. My treat.”
“Sure, why not? I don’t have to worry about farting in bed; I want to turn her off.”
Sitting down at a table with our burritos, I asked Ethan, “What did you mean, about Hank wanting to go to Taco Bell?”
“It’s a song.” He bit into his burrito and cheese oozed onto his hand.
“There’s a song about a cat going to Taco Bell?”
“No. A beaver.”
I whipped my head up to meet his eyes. “A beaver!”
He laugh
ed and dabbed his hand with a paper napkin. “The song is called ‘Wynona’s Big Brown Beaver.’”
Shaking my head, I said, “Seriously, Ethan. You listen to weird shit.”
“Oh, don’t be so uptight all of the time. I’ll bring the CD in next week. You might like it.”
“Okay, I’ll give it a listen … would you mind if I ripped it?” I removed my second bean burrito from its wrapper and doused it with hot sauce.
Ethan placed his hand on my shoulder. “Look at you tossing around new lingo! I’ve never been prouder.”
I threw a hot sauce packet at him.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“On your right, you’ll see the new high school. This is a great neighbourhood for kids.”
“Oh, that’s great. I teach high school English. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to get a job across the street from home?” Sarah turned to me and smiled.
Sarah’s real estate agent prattled on about the neighbourhood. I sat silently in the backseat of the agent’s car as we drove from one house to the next. Sarah and the woman chatted incessantly about this and that. I stared out the window, pretending to care about the surrounding neighborhood. Inside, I was fuming that we were looking at houses on a Friday night, but I would smile and nod occasionally when Sarah turned to look in my direction.
When we wandered around the houses, I feigned interest. Sometimes, I asked questions, but I mostly just kept a huge fake smile plastered across my face.
Afterwards, I took Sarah out to dinner to her favorite Vietnamese restaurant. She was glowing, immensely happy, but I was suffocating inside. I kept pouring Sriracha hot chili sauce into my noodle bowl. Each time, Sarah would laugh at me, because I was already in tears, my mouth was on fire, and my nose kept running. The more she laughed, the less we talked about finding a place together, so the indigestion would be well worth it, I figured.
The next morning, I rolled out of bed early for what turned out to be an extremely cold bike ride. I stayed out long enough to avoid Sarah until she left to go shopping with her mom. Rose’s car pulled out of the parking lot just as I was carrying my bike upstairs. She honked, smiled, and waved. I waved back.
I stripped down and stood under the hot shower for as long as I could stand it, stepping out only once my entire body was parboiled and red.
Dressing in sweats and a sweatshirt, I then went into the front room. Despite the hot shower, I still felt chilled to the bone, so I sat in front of the fireplace with my laptop. CNN was on, but I had it muted. Sometimes I preferred reading the scrolling news at the bottom of the screen.
Sarah had asked me to look up some properties online while she and her mom shopped. I was not sure why, since we were working with a real estate agent anyway, but I’d said I would. Instead, I found myself surfing random sites—reading about cities on the East Coast. I had always considered moving out east, which had so much more to offer history lovers. Fort Collins was not a place in which I wanted to settle. Colorado was steeped in Western history and Native American history, but neither of those fields floated my boat.
By the time Sarah arrived home, I hadn’t completed anything for her; in fact, I didn’t even hear her enter.
“Don’t you look studious over there.” Her smile was wide, sincere.
“I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t hear you come in.” I slammed the laptop shut and rose to help her with her bags. “Wow, did you guys leave anything in the stores?” I gave her a peck on the cheek.
I grabbed all of the bags and carried them into the bedroom. After poking around in the bags a little bit, I returned to the front room—and stopped in my tracks. Sarah was looking at my laptop.
I had slammed it shut without closing the window I was looking at, but I still decided to act quickly. “Hey there, you snoop, what are you up to?” I sat on the ground behind her and put my legs around her.
“I wanted to check my email. Are you going on a trip or something?” Her voice quivered.
I wrapped my arms around her tighter. “Kinda.”
“Oh. What do you mean ‘kinda’?”
I paused, and then took the plunge. “You’ve always mentioned going out of town for a long weekend. Valentine’s Day is on a Thursday this year. I thought we could go out to New York, or Boston or something. I’m leaning towards New York, since you love to shop.” I gave her a squeeze.
Sarah just sat there, silent. I couldn’t tell if she bought the act or not.
“It was just a thought. We don’t have to.”
“What? Are you kidding? Of course I want to go. I just didn’t expect this.” She turned around and kissed me.
“Can you take that Friday off? I’m sure my kids wouldn’t mind not going to class that day. I’ll tell them I’m going to a conference. I thought we could fly in late on Thursday night. That would give us two full days. Then we can come back on Sunday.”
“We should start planning. It’s only a couple of months away.” She grabbed the laptop and her smile conveyed a sense of urgency.
Before I knew what was happening, I was handing over my credit card to pay for airfare and hotel charges. I had never been to New York City. First time for everything, I guess.
* * *
“I think I’m going to move to Boston.”
Ethan stirred his coffee well, and then responded, “Have you told Sarah yet?”
I glanced out the window and tried to spy the mountains through the falling snow.
“No, I haven’t. She may have suspected the other day, but I think I got around it.” I told him about the impending trip to New York City. The entire time I was talking, he stared at me directly but never said a word or showed any emotion.
“Why New York in February?” he finally asked.
“Unfortunately, I was looking at cities out east. I couldn’t say ‘Let’s go to Mexico.’ She wouldn’t buy that. Besides, it has Broadway and lots of shopping for her.”
“So why are you going to New York if you want to move to Boston?”
“I don’t want her to know anything about Boston.”
“It is a secret location that not many know of … ” he remarked dryly. “So are you going to disappear one day? Will you tell me, so I don’t have to sit around wasting a day waiting for you?” Something in his tone dripped with anger, or was it jealousy?
“Well, smartass, I haven’t thought about all of the details yet. But I’ll be sure to send you a memo.”
He put his hands up, palms out. “Don’t get mad at me. You’re the one being a coward. You’re willing to uproot your life and move 2,000 miles away rather than break it off. It’s pathetic.”
I felt my temperature rise. “For your information, I’m looking into colleges out there. There’re more teaching opportunities in Boston. I plan on finishing my dissertation within a year, and I’d like to get some connections out there. I’ve already been talking with some professors I met at conferences.”
“That’s right, Lizzie, keep telling yourself that. Soon enough you’ll believe it.”
“At least I’m not scared to chase my dreams. How’s your dissertation going? Oh wait, you quit your program and you are teaching high school English. You’re a babysitter.” I tucked some loose strands of hair behind my ear and glowered at him. Surely, my comment would get a rise out of him.
“Because teaching freshmen in college is a huge difference. People in glass houses, Lizzie.”
“I wish I had a glass house. I would throw the biggest rock through it and smash it all to pieces.”
“You already have a rock, you idiot. You are just too scared to heave the damn thing.”
“What are you talking about?” I pulled my jacket tighter around me to combat the chill in the air.
“Tell her the truth. Are you really this stupid?”
“What should I tell her? ‘Hey, I really like you, but I’m not sure about this long-term thing. In fact, it scares the crap out of me.’”
He rubbed his chin, and studied my face intently.
“If that’s how you feel, then yes.”
“But I would miss her.” I could tell that my words shocked both of us.
“Would you miss her, or would you miss having someone there?”
“How do you know the difference?”
He shook his head. “Only you can answer that question.”
I’ve always hated that response.
Later that night, I considered asking Sarah to move with me. What if she said yes? Wouldn’t that bind me even more? True, we wouldn’t have a mortgage together, but would I feel even more obliged to stay in the relationship, no matter what. If she moved, she would have to change her life completely. We would both be more dependent on each other. Dependent. I hated that word.
If she would agree to a long-distance relationship, that would be ideal. There would be an adjustment period when I moved to Boston, sure, but I thought it would work. Of course, convincing her might take some time.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Snow fluttered outside the window. There was not enough on the ground to stick, so once the flakes hit the wet cement, they blended into the sidewalk.
“Are you guys sticking around for Christmas this year?” Ethan causally glanced in my direction and then watched the snow falling again. “We’re going to my parents’ house. Are you guys going to Sarah’s mom’s house?”
I shook my head. “No, we’re going to Peter’s.” I never referred to the house as Maddie’s. The house was definitely Peter’s. It was large, over-bearing, and in poor taste; I couldn’t associate Maddie with those qualities.
“My, my, my, you’re spending a lot more quality time with your brother.” He gave me a knowing smile.
“Don’t you insinuate anything. Sarah’s mom is taking another cruise with friends, and Sarah insisted on accepting the invitation. Apparently, she prefers spending the holidays with any family, instead of just with me. I’m not sure whether to be insulted or not. I suggested spending the week in Breckenridge.”
He stirred his coffee. “What, you don’t want to go?” he said mockingly.
“I’m dreading it more than ever this year.”
A Woman Lost Page 14