Mom joined Rina at the oval serving table cluttered with decanters and crystal-cut bottles. As Rina prepared two tumblers of ice-cooled liquid, Phoenix could overhear parts of his mother’s cross-examination.
“How did you meet Phoenix?”
“In a coffee shop.”
“How long ago was that?”
“Sunday.”
“This week?”
After a longer conversation that Phoenix couldn’t hear, Rina returned, handing Phoenix an amber colored liquid.
“Chivas,” she said, pointing to his beverage. “Water,” she explained, lifting hers. She sat and touched her glass to his. “Do all your dates get the third degree?” she asked.
“It must be a new hobby of Mom’s,” he said, noting the frequency with which his mom glanced at them. Then, making the connection, he added, “She’s been hyper-protective since my accident.”
“Yeah, she told me a little about it. Well, Happy Thanksgiving.”
The reference to the occasion again reminded Phoenix of his father. This was the second Thanksgiving without Dad. I wonder what Orchid is doing for the holiday.
She had confessed that holidays without family were hard for her, too. There’d been no calls or contact with her in the two and a half months since they last spoke. He doused the dull ache with a mouthful of Scotch.
“Dinner is served,” Betsy announced.
Seated between Rina and Caleb, Phoenix swigged some wine.
He tried cutting his meat with his fork. “So how long will you be in New York?” he asked Rina.
“Um, I’m on a six-month leadership assignment.” She stared at his plate. “Do you want a hand with that?”
“No, thanks,” he blurted, his automatic reply.
“Don’t they make artificial arms?” Rina asked.
“Yeah, they do.”
“And if you had one, you’d be able to cut your own food?”
“Yeah, I would.”
“So why don’t you have one?”
“What’s left still hurts. And I seem to be able to get by without one. Mostly.”
She nodded at the logic. “So, what do you think I should see while I’m on assignment here?”
“Hmm, what do you like?”
“Watching sports, hockey, live country music.”
“There you go. Check out the Rangers, sports bars and Madison Square Garden.”
“You’re the first person not to tell me to go to the opera and Broadway shows.”
“Those are super, but I didn’t hear fine arts on your list.”
“I might like them. I’ve just never tried them.”
“Would you like to go to a show? I can get tickets. We just need to head there soon or after the holidays. Everything’s booked mid-December through New Year’s.”
She smoothed her silken bob. “I’ll tell you what, you bring me to a fancy show and I’ll take you to a Canadian hockey game.”
CHAPTER 32
FREEDOM AT 21
Orchid
The chaos in Mandy’s apartment assaulted every sense. At least Orchid felt at home.
Mandy’s son Matty shrieked and brought tiny pea-smeared fists to his hair.
A small dog twisted beneath the highchair, catching food as it fell.
Mandy aimed another spoon of mush toward her son while directing her husband.
“There’s no need to baste. That’s what the oven bag does,” she explained to her apron-and hot-mitt-outfitted spouse.
Then Mandy swiveled back toward Matty, whose rigidity surpassed comical. Stiff legged, he used the leverage of the tray to press one cheek against the cushioned back, avoiding the contents of the spoon.
“Now that it’s calm, tell me again about this uncle of yours?”
“This is calm?” Orchid registered the explosion of cranberry red on the stove’s backsplash, and crowded dishes on top of the microwave and toaster oven.
“‘Bout as good as it gets in a household with a one-year-old!”
Orchid pulled out her phone. “Okay, so you know my dad’s brother messaged me months ago, all ‘sorry I’ve been lax’ and ‘oh by the way, you have a new baby cousin, aren’t you happy for me?’ Well, today, he sends me this.
Dear Orchid,
Just wanted to let you know we’re thinking of you on Thanksgiving. Hope we can see you soon.
Love, Uncle Zach, Aunt Esty and Baby Quentin
What do you think he wants?”
“I don’t know. What do you know about him?”
Orchid shrugged. “My dad always seemed fond of his little brother. We didn’t see each other much, because he went to school in LA. Uncle Zach seems really excited about being a new father. But don’t forget, after my parents died, I didn’t hear from my uncle for sixteen years.”
“Well, you know I think that totally stinks. You don’t owe him anything. But maybe he’s okay. He sounds like he’s trying to be nice. What does it hurt to call him?”
“I don’t know. I don’t trust him.”
“You don’t trust any guys,” Mandy reminded her.
“I trust Matty.”
“Babies don’t count. Name another.”
“Well, I trusted Phoenix. And look where it got me.”
“Aww, honey. Don’t.”
Orchid sat on Mandy’s couch. The space between the cushions revealed crumbs where her weight compressed the sofa. Her dad would want her to give him a chance. Zach was his only brother, after all, and had suffered his own grief at the loss of family at a young age.
“Uncle Zach?”
“Orchid! Hang on a sec. Let me get to a quiet spot.”
“Okay.”
His voice sounded the same, its warm timbre suffusing her with a feeling of familiarity.
“Sorry about that. It’s a zoo here.”
“If this isn’t a good time—”
“Oh no, that’s not what I meant. Don’t go. How was your Thanksgiving?”
“Uh, good I guess. How was yours?”
“Esty made the best tofu turkey this side of LA. Listen, I’m really glad you called. I feel terrible that we haven’t talked in so long. It’s totally my fault. What a terrible uncle. Your dad would kill me, he really would.”
“Hey, no sweat,” she interrupted. “Congratulations on your little boy.”
“Thanks! You should meet him. Especially since he brought us together and all.”
“What?”
“I guess, more accurately, it was Esty. You know, my wife?”
“Yeah?”
“She just couldn’t get over that I had this niece I never spoke to. And I’d thought about you, really. It’s just after a while, so much time passed, and I didn’t know how to just call out of the blue anymore.”
“Guess you figured out a way.”
“Ha. Well, once we got pregnant, Esty was like, ‘you see how important family is?’”
“Uh-huh.”
“Seriously. Then he came. And he was so perfect. We were so proud. Just like your parents were so proud when you were born.”
He waited a beat then nailed her exact thought. “I feel terrible I haven’t been around to tell you things like that about your parents.”
She exhaled slowly as if meditating. “Right.”
“So, um, are you doing well? Tell me all about you.” His tone indicated that he found it as awkward as she did, being family and strangers all at the same time.
“I don’t know what to tell you. I got my MBA and ended up working in marketing, which I love. I’m at Estée Lauder working on a global project.”
“Wow, I’m impressed. Does global mean you travel?”
“Sometimes, though we hold a lot of video conferences too.”
“Well, if you’re ever in L.A, you’ve got to
call me.”
Quentin sounded a shriek in the background.
“Are you married? Do you have kids?”
“Nope,” she said.
“Well, you have plenty of time.”
Orchid puffed up her cheeks. “I know. It’s just . . . it’s just that I fell for a guy who wants nothing to do with me.”
“Aw, I’m sorry. Want me to come kill him for you?”
The ridiculous offer cheered her. “Yeah, actually, that’d be great. We were getting along super. Then I came back after a month and a half to China and boom. He says we shouldn’t see each other anymore.”
“Ouch. Guy’s got no taste. He’s not good enough for you.”
Orchid stared at the ceiling. Entrepreneur, model-ready dance fiend with a touch of European. That’s what family’s for, to boost spirits by saying the opposite of the truth.
CHAPTER 33
STEADY AS SHE GOES
Phoenix
SATURDAY DECEMBER 1—DECEMBER 8
“Do you want me to calculate the chances of you laughing at me before we arrive at the Marquis?” Rina asked from the back of the car.
“One hundred percent?” Phoenix said.
She followed him into the theater. First time in a crowd on a custom-made stilt made him feel vulnerable. “Think I need a second crutch,” he said, putting his left arm around her.
“Would you like sparkling water or something?” he asked at the concessions stand.
She shook her head. “I don’t want to have to go to the bathroom during the performance.”
Which, of course, elicited guffaws of laughter from Phoenix.
Clutching both Playbill programs, Rina followed Phoenix to their seats, located stage right. A young couple slouched in two seats adjacent to theirs. The woman looked at Phoenix’s cane and stepped into the aisle, pulling the guy with her.
“Sorry,” she said. Phoenix followed her stare down toward his feet.
“It’s okay,” he mumbled. When did the aisles get so damn narrow? And he had never noticed the slant before.
He managed to land in the upholstery, not on the ground. The older gentleman on the other side touched his elbow.
“Thank you for your service. Were you in Iraq? Or Afghanistan?”
“Neither. This was just a bad accident.”
The man’s wife craned her neck towards them. “Frank served in Vietnam. He always wants to make sure our military are appreciated, unlike the Vietnam vets.”
“Well, then, thank you for your service.” Phoenix leaned forward to lay his cane beneath his and Rina’s seats.
“What happened? If I may ask?”
“You know that exhibition of mechanical dinosaurs they’ve built over in Jersey?” he asked the couple.
The wife put a hand over her mouth. “You don’t mean?” her voice trailed off, her expression reflecting some imagined horror.
Rina smacked his arm.
The theater dimmed. Phoenix turned to face front. The stage lights shone to reveal a minimalist set: a blood-red sofa, plain table with hard-backed chairs and a Ming dynasty porcelain dog. Three characters played out a love triangle, where each party pined for an impossible relationship. The girl’s heart belonged to her best guy friend, who mainly hung around to be with her roommate. The roommate, in turn, was in love with the girl.
“Unrequited love. That sucked,” Phoenix joked as the final curtain fell. He pushed to a standing position.
The Vietnam vet extended a hand, forcing Phoenix to tuck his cane under his left elbow to grasp it.
“You’re a nice-looking couple.” The veteran’s wife twisted around the guys to tell Rina.
“Thanks,” she returned, smoothing her ash-shaded suit.
They shuffled out into the street with the crowd, his left arm around her. The driver awaited them curbside, as planned.
In the back of the car, Rina leaned against him.
“So, how’d you like your first show?”
“It was an experience. Artsy. Live theater is definitely different than a movie.”
They arrived at her rented brownstone on a quiet street. Phoenix pulled himself out of the car to accompany Rina to the door and kissed her cheek.
“Wouldn’t things be easier without that cane?” she asked.
“Yeah, that’d be great.”
She turned to him. “Next time, it’s my turn to take you to a hockey game.”
The next weekend, they sat bundled in coats just behind the protective glass at Madison Square Garden’s ice rink. Phoenix swigged beer from a plastic cup.
“This place is packed,” Rina noted, swiveling her head to take in the crowd of thousands in the arena.
“Did you know the Knicks play basketball here?”
“On ice?”
“That’d be a sight, but no. Stadiums have some high-tech floor that they disassemble between sports. Sometimes they get a double header and have to change right from one to the other.”
“That’s inventive.”
After a particularly vicious goal and a loud shout of approval from Rina, Phoenix turned to her. “This is fun.”
“Yup, Canadian actuaries are a laugh a minute.”
He downed the rest of the beer and put his hand up for another one, then turned to her. “You know, it’s only fair to let you know that it’s not just my arm that was injured—I’m a double-amputee.” Despite the alcohol-induced buzz, Phoenix was gripped by a sudden reluctance to see her reaction.
“No shit, Sherlock.”
“You mean you already knew?”
“Yeah. Your mom filled me in pretty good. Why?”
“Well, doesn’t it matter to you?”
“Nope.” She stood to shout at the referee then sat and turned to Phoenix. “Did you see how unfair that call was?”
“Yeah, totally unfair.”
“You’re not even watching the game.”
“And you don’t even care about my leg.”
“Um, you know, actuaries don’t make great therapists. Are you having a PTSD moment or something?”
He nearly choked laughing, floored by her lack of compunction over the thing he thought would be deal-breaking for any woman.
“This game is totally wasted on you,” Rina said.
They shared an uber home that night. He told her about his new account. “So, the VP says that he’s choosing between us and one of the Big Four ad agencies. And I tell him that going boutique gives you individualized service, fresh thinking and breakthrough creativity.”
Rina nodded.
“What are you thinking?” he asked her.
“I cannot believe we lost. That was brutal.”
“Yea, brutal,” he echoed. “So, we find out next week if we won the pitch.”
“Who wouldn’t hire you?”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
She stared out the window. “Did you want to talk about your leg or something?” she asked.
“Nah, I’m fine.”
She said goodbye with an admonition that he’d have to try harder to take the game seriously if he wanted to attend more hockey matches. Then, she put a hand on his forearm, before exiting the car. “Next time, you’ll have to come up to my place.”
At home, as Phoenix contemplated Rina, his mind drifted to Orchid. He shook his head. If only Orchid could be as nonchalant over his injuries. . . .
CHAPTER 34
YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT LOVE IS
Orchid
THURSDAY DECEMBER 20
Agency holiday shindig. Just my cup of hell.
Orchid removed her faux-fur shrug to reveal a rhinestone and pleather dress with geometric cutouts at the collarbone, nape of the neck and one downward-pointing triangle just above her cleavage.
“Wh-oa,” admired her
co-worker.
She dodged his undeservedly possessive hand in the small of her back, and steered towards the bartender. “Shall we get a drink?” she asked.
The media agency event filled the oak wood bar of the upscale Midtown hotel, every group speaking louder to hear the other until the whole area echoed with their din.
Burgundy-clad waitstaff squeezed between narrow alleyways of space to offer silver trays of small bites: fresh figs with a triangle of brie, curry samosas, beef Wellington in puff pastry, tuna tartare on cucumber rounds. She swiped a vegetarian mini quiche from a passing tray. Dimly lit, the bar area melded together in dark shades, neutrals and an occasional splash of holiday red of the guests’ attire.
Before Orchid could navigate a path to the guests milling around the tap, she felt the burn of familiar eyes.
“Phoenix.”
The name she’d often thought, yet had no occasion to speak, formed with reverence.
He stepped forwards, the corners of his eyes crinkling in that way she loved. In her platform boots, they were nearly eye-to-eye.
“Orchid.” Her name sounded lyrical in his deep rumble.
She studied the familiar features, drinking in his refined cheekbones, chiseled jawbone and dark brows. He leaned in to brush her cheek with his lips and she caught his scent of clean soap swirled with spiced cologne.
“Hey there,” she murmured, losing herself in blue irises that had the power to transport her.
When he moved his arm to shake hands with her co-worker, she gaped at a petite woman tucked at his side. As introductions were made, jealousy replaced her delight in seeing him. What does she have that I don’t?
The pretty brunette was young, really young, barely legal to drink. She was birdlike with smooth hair slicked back into a bun. Stylish glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. Her eyes narrowed as she reached out to take Orchid’s outstretched hand. “Liv,” came the clipped voice with a decided edge. A pang pierced Orchid as Liv tightened her left arm around Phoenix’s waist when they shook hands.
Phoenix looked right at her. “How’ve you been?” he asked, sounding like he really cared.
“I’m good,” she said. Her face flushed with the shame of rejection. She looked down, blinking to clear the unexpected emotion.
Goodbye, Orchid Page 13