Love-Lines

by Sheri Langer

  “A leopard doesn’t change its spots, Fordham,” he said in an unexpected echo of Dorie’s philosophical dictum. She knew Abe hadn’t spoken with her mother, though it wouldn’t have surprised her if Dorie had sent out a newsletter.

  Suddenly, everyone was so protective of her love life. She’d been on dates with musicians, politicians, ex-cons, and possible hit men, and the reaction had been nowhere near as perverse. Aaron was a doctor. He was smart, financially stable, attractive, and almost available. There was no reason for him to be held up to such intense scrutiny. Nor was there a reason for her to be so vehemently defensive.

  Lunch. They were going out for lunch. Fordham had to make a concerted effort to block out all the nagging and twisted assertions and simply follow her head and heart. She had to count on herself and only herself to determine what was best for her. So what if her mother had been right in the past? That was a long time ago, and a quick review of Dorie’s relationships did not exactly promote faith in her choices or guidance. The best thing Fordham could do was check on the weather and, if it was warm enough, ask Aaron if he wanted to eat hot dogs in the park.

  Fordham was coming out of the supply closet with a new pack of sticky notes when Aaron arrived at the front desk a little earlier than they had arranged. It was lunchtime, and the office was almost empty, which had led Aaron to wander. He looked so cute out of his element, and she was getting a kick out of surreptitiously watching him. She was about to greet him when Abe popped into the hall, apple in hand, and struck up a conversation with him that Fordham could hear from where she was standing.

  “Can I help you?” Abe asked, munching.

  “Yes. Where can I find Fordham Price?”

  “Who are you?” Abe said, sending a spritz of apple juice at Aaron’s face.

  “Aaron Karp. Dr. Aaron Karp, a friend of hers,” he responded, politely ignoring the drip on his cheek.

  “The guy from high school?”

  “Yes. I take it you two are friends,” Aaron said.

  “I’m Abe, her boss. She tells me everything.”

  “That’s good. She’s expecting me. We have plans for lunch.”

  “I know,” Abe said.

  “Is she ready?”

  “For lunch, yes. For anything else, I’m not sure, but if you hurt her, you’ll have to answer to me.”

  As much as Fordham was horrified by Abe’s brazenness, she felt heartened to have someone like a dad protecting her.

  “Are you a friend of her mother’s?” Aaron asked.

  “No. Why?”

  “Just curious.”

  “I haven’t met Dorie, but from what I’ve heard, she’s quite something,” Abe said, tossing the apple core into a nearby wastebasket.

  “Yes, she is.”

  Once Dorie’s name entered the conversation, Fordham quickly went to greet Aaron. “Hey, guys. Glad you two had a chance to meet.” She gave Aaron a peck on the cheek. “When did you get here?”

  “A few minutes ago. Abe and I have just been making small talk. You ready?”

  Fordham realized she was still holding the sticky notes. “Yes. I’m just going to throw these on my desk,” she said, holding up the package, “and get my bag.”

  She returned to her office but kept checking on Abe and Aaron. They seemed to have reached some kind of understanding that she couldn’t ascertain from the conversation. As she came out of the office, they were shaking hands, a sign that Abe would offer his approval. The only person left to tackle was Dorie. Fordham sighed. And Whitty. It would be easier to win on Survivor than to get Whitty’s support for dating Aaron.

  Aaron took her hand as they left Haskins and headed out of the building. Holding hands had been such a big deal in the halls of high school, and it felt like an even bigger deal in the halls of the Starrett-Lehigh Building. The park was crowded for a fall weekday. The balmy temperature had everyone thinking summer was back for a command performance. Fordham was glad to get out of the office and away from the words and stale coffee that made up most of her day. She considered leaving work early to enjoy the warmth, but things were going well, and she didn’t want to get off her game by letting the moment seduce her.

  She watched Aaron go over to a vendor to get their hot dogs. He seemed content and more comfortable in his skin then he had been as a kid—a reasonable product of time and accomplishment. She’d been surprised when she found out that he’d become a doctor after all his talk of being a record producer. He seemed too wild and creative to be willing to yield to the rigorous demands of medical school and too rebellious to deal with administrators or anyone who could utter the word no in his direction. Maybe something had happened in Spain that made him think he had a greater aptitude to change lives than to revolutionize music. Whatever the reason, Aaron’s life had taken off in another direction, and she was cautiously happy that the road still seemed to point back to her.

  “Baby, do you realize how difficult you’ve made it for me to work?” Aaron said, handing her a wrapped hot dog with extra relish. “You’re on my mind twenty-four seven. The other day at the clinic, I ordered a dozen cases of dinner napkins instead of sanitary napkins.”

  Fordham laughed so hard mustard spewed out of her nose. Aaron laughed, too, but had the presence to grab a napkin and wipe her face. It was a move that said he cared, something she hadn’t experienced from a man in a very long time.

  “Aaron, do you know how we got here?”

  “Taxi.”

  “I mean it.” She jabbed his arm. “I’ve been thinking about you, too, and I’m not even sure what I’m feeling. Maybe I want to be excited about us because I used to be.”

  “And this is bad because...?”

  “Because we’re not the same people anymore. We chose different paths that didn’t include each other.”

  “Have you ever wondered if that was a mistake?” he asked.

  “Yes. But not in a very long time.”

  “I didn’t know what I wanted then.”

  “And you know what you want now?” she asked.

  “Yes. What about you? What do you want?”

  “I want... ice cream,” she said, not wanting to sound committal before she had the chance to think all this through.

  “Okay. Chocolate with chocolate sprinkles it is,” he said, beaming. “See? I remember.”

  BACK IN HER OFFICE, she couldn’t concentrate. Lunch with Aaron could have been called a mild concussion because once again, her head was spinning, and this time there hadn’t been a sip of alcohol involved. Aaron said he’d be in touch, and she fought a feeling of disappointment that they hadn’t cemented a plan. Abe dropped in to ask her if she’d had fun, and she gave him a quick nod to avoid a more complicated conversation. The moment he left, she brought up more submissions on her computer and began to mechanically go through each one.

  “Fraudman?” a man bellowed from the corridor. “Anyone here named Fraudman?”

  Fordham opened her door to a well-coiffed man in his forties wearing a white three-piece leisure suit, a black shirt with two buttons undone, and a guitar slung in front of his slight frame. He could have been auditioning to be the host of Dance Fever, a show her friends had forced on her when they had Saturday-night sleepovers.

  “Are you Fraudman?” he said, staring her down, sounding miffed.

  “Excuse me?” she said, taken aback by his impatience.

  “Honey, are you Fraudman Price?” he said more politely.

  “That depends. Did someone named Evie send you here?”

  “Evie...” He looked puzzled.

  If this was Evie’s idea of a date, she was going to post her friend’s impending grandmother status all over Facebook.

  “Who’s Evie?” the guitarist asked, bewildered.

  She let out a sigh of relief. “I’m Fordham.”

  “Fordham! Oh, yeah man, you’re right,” he said, consulting his note card. “I’m Jeff. Sorry about that. Forgot my specs at home.”

  “No problem,�
� she said, baffled. “So, Jeff, what can I do for you?”

  “Nothin’. Just listen.” He began strumming his guitar. “Fordham, this one’s for you.”

  At the first chord, she recognized the song. It was Chicago’s “Beginnings,” a song from Aaron’s parents’ record collection that she and Aaron had danced to in his den. People were coming out of their offices left and right as the guitarist solidly played every note. A small crowd was huddled around her by the time he finished. Fordham was too flustered to know if she was flattered or unnerved.

  Before he left, Jeff handed her a greeting card. The crowd let out a chorus of oohs and aahs. Fordham stood blushing, almost paralyzed. Abe handed him a tip and sent everyone back to work. She dashed back to her office with Abe at her heels.

  “Not my style, but the guy sure knows how to make a statement,” Abe said, closing her door. “You do know this could be a rebound deal, considering he has a divorce in the works.”

  Fordham swallowed hard and noticed her hands were trembling. Abe looked concerned.

  “Well, what does the card say?” Abe asked.

  She opened it. “Fordham, we met in ‘September.’ I know you remember. We’re gonna have ‘Fun, Fun, Fun’ ’cause ‘You’re Still the One’ who ‘Knocks Me Off My Feet.’ Baby—it’s prom night. Again. Meet me at the front of the school tonight at eight. Aaron.”

  Abe snickered. “It sure sounds like you’ve got an admirer.”

  Chapter Sixteen: Of Advice and Men

  If she was going to meet Aaron at their old high school, she didn’t want to show up dressed like a lunch lady. She knew all too well what was in her closet, and there was nothing there that would stir him to think about her when their evening was over. After a brief chat with Abe, who told her to get lost for the rest of the day, she called Evie to meet her at Messengers, a privately owned unisex boutique whose name implied they should be able to deliver something. Their clothes and accessories were upscale and pricey but the promise of the evening was worth it.

  The shop was more crowded than Fordham expected. She’d never realized how many people were free to shop midday. She had already tried and rejected a bunch of dresses from the sale racks when Evie came in looking pale and depressed. Her typical dewy shimmer was missing, and Fordham realized that without foundation, Evie just didn’t glow the same way. It certainly wasn’t worth mentioning. But Evie mentioned it anyway.

  “I swear, Fordham, this menopause crap is for the birds,” she said, blotting her face with an already wet tissue. “Look at me. My makeup is sweating all over my face.” She consulted a mirror. “I look like Bette Davis in Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?”

  “Don’t be silly,” Fordham said. “You’re beautiful. But menopause? Really?”

  “Really. All the women in my family started young. I think my hormones found out that Dylan is expecting and just assumed that I have a rocking chair and dentures on layaway. But don’t worry. I plan to fight back.” She dabbed at her face again, this time with a fresh tissue. “Do me a favor—let’s not talk about it. It just makes me want to cry.” She shoved the tissue in her purse, took out the compact of dewy foundation, reapplied it to her satisfaction, and started going through the dresses as though nothing had happened. Glowy Evie was back with the same vigor she’d had when Fordham first told her why she needed a new dress. She thought sending the guitar guy was the most romantic gesture she’d ever heard of. Fordham wasn’t going to argue, even if she still wasn’t quite sure how she felt about it. She felt reassured knowing she could count on Evie to root for Team Aaron.

  Fordham was thankful she wasn’t dealing with menopause yet, especially since she was still contemplating the idea of having another baby. She promised herself not to say a word about it to anyone, especially Evie, who was still in shock about Margo’s pregnancy and in denial about Dylan’s. Maybe that was part of the allure of Aaron being back in her life. Maybe the grand plan was that they were supposed to be parents together.

  “What about this one?” Evie asked, holding up a strapless cocktail dress in a metallic fuchsia with a matching boa that Ray Charles wouldn’t have missed.

  “It’s a date, Evie. He’s not paying me to be Miss Piggy for the evening,” she said, wincing, and continued her search on another rack.

  “Fine. Be that way. But we both know how long it’s been since you’ve—”

  “Actually looked forward to going out,” she said. Evie let the subject slide, and they went back to their search. Nothing was grabbing either one of them. Fordham was scanning a clearance rack when she noticed a familiar face shopping in the men’s department.

  “Evie!” Fordham squealed.

  “What?” Evie jumped, and Fordham was grateful to see the tangerine jumpsuit she wanted Fordham to try on fall to the floor.

  “That’s Pam Lesley,” Fordham said.

  “Gil’s old secretary?”

  “No! I told you. The one Whitty’s principal is seeing.”

  Evie followed Fordham’s instructions to locate the woman and check her out. “No way. How did they meet—she was selling him Girl Scout cookies?”

  “I told you she was young.”

  “Young is one thing, but I don’t think she can vote yet. Fordham, are you sure they’re dating?”

  “She was ready to scratch my eyes out when she saw the two of us talking that night at the catering hall. Plus, I’ve seen them together at school. Oh, and this.”

  Fordham showed Evie an Instagram picture that Pam had posted of Lily, Pam, and David celebrating Lily’s birthday, with the hashtags, #mommypammy and #luvinlifewithdavid.

  Evie shook her head in disbelief and picked out a silver dress that had been a crumpled lasagna tin in a previous life.

  “That’s it, Evie?” Fordham asked. “No reaction?”

  “Years ago, pictures were worth a thousand words. Today, they’re worth a thousand questions.”

  Fordham continued to eye Pam, who was happily preoccupied with her own shopping. “Evie! She’s buying him a tie. A nice tie. Oh. And a package of boxers. Funny, I pictured him as more of a briefs kind of guy. This is bad. I feel like a voyeur.”

  “So stop looking,” Evie suggested. “Or go talk to her and do some digging.”

  Fordham went over to the section where Pam was shopping and began to poke around in men’s wear.

  “Mrs. Presser?” Pam asked, a blue robe slung over her arm and a lacy thong dangling from her wrist.

  Fordham cringed. Pam could have just screamed You’re old to address her.

  “Oh, hi, Pam. What are you doing here?” Fordham could feel her cheeks redden. Obviously, the girl was shopping.

  “Getting a few things for David.” She giggled as if Fordham were an idiot for not knowing. “He loves when I shop for him.”

  “Is it his birthday?” Fordham asked, thinking she might pick something up for him too.

  “No, it’s kind of our anniversary,” she gushed. “But what are you doing in this department? Whitty said you’re divorced.”

  Fordham wanted to beat her with a hanger, but she didn’t have the bail money. She was hoping for a supportive glance from her friend, but Evie wasn’t in range. “I am,” she said, forcing herself to stay calm. “My boss asked me to check something out for him.”

  “That’s very smart of you,” Pam said flippantly. “It’s always a good idea to make your boss happy.”

  Fordham wasn’t sure what the implication was, but she still wanted to beat Pam with a hanger.

  “It’s been a pleasure, Mrs. Presser, but I have to get going. David wants ziti for dinner.”

  “It’s Fordham. Have a lovely evening.”

  She watched as Pam went to the register, the word anniversary screaming in her head. Then she went to catch up with Evie. She found her in the Scandalous section, picking out dresses that would make a prostitute blush.

  “You shouldn’t have made me do that,” Fordham chided.

  “I didn’t make you do anything you d
idn’t want to do.” Evie admired a see-through lavender gown before returning it to the rack. “So what did you find out?”

  “Nothing I wanted to know,” Fordham said dejectedly. “They’re together, period, end of story.”

  “I don’t understand. What difference does it make, anyway? You want Aaron. Don’t you?”

  “Of course. I’m just playing around.”

  That wasn’t entirely true. She did want Aaron. He was exactly what she needed in her life. But David was undeniably attractive, and Fordham resented that he had a girlfriend, even though she had absolutely no right to feel that way.

  “Anything?” Fordham asked Evie, knowing they had exhausted every possibility.

  “Nothing you’d be caught sober in,” Evie said, motioning that she was going to the lingerie section.

  Fordham went through one more section then spotted the perfect dress, which was exactly like the one she’d worn on her date with Paul Nudelman. The answer to her fashion dilemma was sitting in her closet after all. Evie came back with a couple of items for herself—two kinky black silk teddies and a peekaboo bra. Apparently, fighting back meant she was planning to take menopause lying down.

  THE WHOLE RIDE HOME, Fordham was playing out the evening in her mind. Aaron probably wanted to meet at the school so they could sit in the parking lot and reminisce. It was a romantic notion, but she had so many mixed feelings about their past relationship that she preferred looking ahead to looking back. Sure, they had good times, but in the end, he broke up with her, saying they were too young to make that kind of commitment and that he needed to focus on school and had too many things to do that didn’t include taking care of a girlfriend. She needed to get serious about her future, too, and it would be unfair of him to tie her down.

  Blah, blah, blah. Evie and Marv had made it work, and if Aaron had really loved her, they could have worked through all their issues too. She spent days crying, puking, and torturing herself, listening to “It’s Too Late” until it started to skip and incessantly repeat the same plaintive line over and over. At the height of Fordham’s despondency, Dorie had sworn that she would never let “that nasty bastard” back in the house as long as she could breathe.