by Sheri Langer
Fordham signaled David to open his window. “This is David Prince, Whitty’s principal. And this is his daughter, Lily. Whitty stayed at David’s house last night, remember?”
“You mentioned that, but what took all day?”
He sounded like her father, demanding an explanation for her misbehavior. That didn’t suit her at all. She dropped the thought before it could infect their evening.
“David, this is Aaron.”
David got out of the car and shook Aaron’s hand. Fordham was surprised at how easygoing he was. Then she reminded herself that there was no reason for him to be anxious. They were friends. And even though she’d slept in his bed, she’d been alone the whole time. Except for when she might have kissed him, which she still wasn’t sure had happened.
“When Fordham came to pick up Whitty, a moving van hit her car while she was in my house. It’s in the shop now,” David offered.
“Why no phone call?” Aaron asked Fordham.
She had to think about it. Maybe he had a valid reason to be upset. She’d never even tried to call him.
“There wasn’t much time between the car and the kids,” David said before Fordham could offer a reply.
He didn’t say anything about her nap. If nothing had happened, there’d have been no need for either of them to keep it a secret. The uncertainty was making her head swim, but considering how angry Aaron was, leaving out that piece of information seemed like a good idea.
“Well, then, thanks for taking care of my girl,” Aaron said, not coming across as all that appreciative.
Fordham noticed that he said “girl” and not “girls.” But then she considered the fact that Aaron didn’t really know Whitty all that well yet. It would take time for them to build a relationship.
“Fordie, the show starts in an hour. Can we just go, please?” Aaron said.
“Fine.” Fordham sighed, wishing he would give her time to change her clothes.
“I’m going to go,” David said as if he were a third wheel. “Lily’s getting hungry. Enjoy your show.”
He got into his car and glanced back at Fordham. She caught his eye as he pulled away and wondered if he was going to take Lily for chicken nuggets without her.
Chapter Twenty: Journey to the Center of the Dearth
Her relationship with Aaron remained hopeful. They enjoyed the show—a silly farce about relationships, involving an obsessive-compulsive magician and a hairstylist turned veterinarian—then walked a few blocks under the bright half-moon to Playwright Bar & Restaurant for Irish coffee and cheesecake. They were seated at a romantic candlelit table near the bar, and a server with short black hair tinged with magenta tips promptly took their order. Fordham was glad Aaron hadn’t said a word about David in the car as they were going into the city. She figured she was home free.
“This is fun,” she said, taking a sip of water. “It’s nice to be in the city for pleasure instead of business, for a change.”
“The show was pretty ridiculous, but it was nice not having to share you.”
Fordham wriggled in her seat and was thankful when the server came with their order. “Yum.” She poked at the huge swirl of whipped cream with her long spoon.
“What’s the deal with the principal?” Aaron asked.
“He’s a principal with a sweet little daughter that Whitty likes. They’re friends.”
Fordham picked up the cocktail menu.
“They’re friends? What about the two of you?”
“We’re friends too, I guess,” Fordham answered. “I haven’t known him very long.”
“No, you haven’t. I could tell. Be careful, Fordham. This guy wants something.” Aaron picked up his fork and helped himself to her cheesecake as if it were his.
So much for keeping their conversation light. At least he hadn’t brought up anything about the night to remember or the fact that they still hadn’t consummated their new relationship.
FORDHAM WAS UP AT THE crack of dawn and toyed with the idea of taking the day off. With everything going on, she was entitled to some time to herself. It had been the weekend from hell when all she’d wanted was an easy transition from the disappointing past to the promising future. And if she went in early and left early, she wouldn’t have to see Abe, who’d sent a company email saying he’d be in late. The idea of another day between them and that ridiculous night was comforting. Try as she might, she wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to look at him the same way again. As if the thought of him in those silly boxers, sharing pleasures with her mother, wasn’t enough, she had to hold onto the image of herself in a bare-breasted frenzy, like Florence Nightingale performing triage on The Love Boat.
She went to the kitchen, found her Fordham University mug, and boiled water for a cup of Roastaroma tea, hoping for some soul-soothing magic. As was often the case, David came to mind. He was a good man. Pam was lucky. He was a bit of a flirt, but she didn’t think it was in him to be calculating and hurtful. Sometimes, nice men with no particular agenda gave women the wrong idea. They didn’t realize that by being attentive, they were sending out vibes that said they were interested. Even if he had kissed her that day—she still hadn’t had any breakthroughs on that—it was probably just to calm her down. There was no legitimate reason to try to turn David into a bastard just so she wouldn’t have to think about him. But it didn’t matter anyway. He was probably counting his blessings that he had Pam, especially after Aaron’s little scene.
The facts were clear. She was with Aaron now, and it was time to put everything in the proper perspective, which also meant addressing why their timing was always off. Sure, she was appreciative that he wasn’t pressuring her to be more available. He was easy that way—so involved in his business that he didn’t have the chance to dwell on her stuff or their stuff for very long. That was a good thing. This way, she could be her own person and never have to worry about getting swallowed up by his identity. If the key to independence was sharing a little bit less, she was headed in the right direction.
She decided to hang tough. She was going to get dressed, run a few errands, work through lunch and dinner, and not ruminate over what had happened with Abe and her mother. Just because they were older didn’t mean they weren’t entitled to a booty call every now and then. At least someone under her roof was finding the time for sex. It was a win-win situation, and Fordham was old enough and young enough to accept it and mind her own business.
She got a text from Aaron saying he’d be tied up. Had she wanted to engage in sexy banter, she might have asked him by whom. Instead, she responded with a benign np and got ready for work.
The trip to the office was therapeutic. The roads were as clear as the skies, and the leaves clung to the trees in pretty shades of purple, red, and yellow. If she had any artistic ability at all, this day would inspire her to paint. Things were good. The universe was telling her to relax and let life move her gently where she needed to go. She was more resolved than ever and ready to meet whatever the rest of the day would bring...
But when she arrived and found a note from Abe requesting her to come to his office, she stopped feeling ready. There was no sense in prolonging the inevitable or trying to hold onto the autumnal palette that had her smiling seconds before. She walked to Abe’s office as resolutely as possible, hoping that her professionalism would usurp her tendency to get emotional. She was in no mood to confront Abe about his cavorting with her mother.
Myra stopped her. “You just missed him. He’s meeting with Voltage Press. He should be back by three.” She cleared her throat. “He asked me to make sure you wait for him,” she said, taking out an extra-large box of cough drops. She offered one to Fordham, who declined. Myra needed whatever she had left.
Fordham went back to her office. She gazed out the window and watched the toddlers playing in Hudson Park. They were cute, climbing up and down little metal ladders and beams. Their first hurdles. Others would follow, but that day, they would conquer these steps and decide whet
her to choose Cheerios or Kix with their milk.
Maybe we never grow up. We’re always checking out the lay of the land in search of ground that feels safe and steady. Fordham closed her eyes and imagined being on a swing as she munched on trail mix from a bag in her desk drawer.
There was a stack of submissions she’d printed out sitting on her desk, and she methodically read through each, reworking some of the text for flow and editing content when necessary. She had passed the point of feeling overwhelmed, and at times she actually had fun bringing these stories to life.
She checked her watch—almost four. If she wanted to make a run for it, she still could. Myra would be too consumed by phlegm to stop her. Or she could stay and be the responsible adult she was supposed to be, armed with a bevy of excuses if she needed any. The decision was made for her when Abe came through the door, calling for Myra.
Myra knocked and let herself into Fordham’s office. “Please go talk to him,” she choked. “He’s a wreck, and I need Nyquil.” She wiped her nose with a spent tissue. “I’ll see you tomorrow, or whenever.” She sneezed and left.
Fordham put her work away and finished off a few fortifying sips of exceptionally stale coffee. As she walked down the hall, she noticed there were only a few people still in the office. Maybe four o’clock was the new six o’clock. She was usually too busy to notice.
Abe was sitting at his desk, and for the first time since she’d met him, she noticed he had warm green eyes. Maybe that’s why he wore the green boxers, she mused and instantly regretted that she’d let her mind wander in that direction.
“First things first,” he said, handing her a postcard while she was still standing. It was from Margo.
Dearest One and All,
Exciting news—I am having twins! Yes, a boy and a girl. So now I am twice as thrilled and twice as bloated. We’ve decided to postpone the wedding until we don’t have to buy a tent to dress me. I will keep you posted and will Skype as soon as my face doesn’t take up the screen. Love You! M.
“That’s interesting news,” Fordham said. “She’ll love all the shopping options. But I don’t think she’s coming back to work anytime soon.”
Abe was stoic. Maybe he was going to tell her he needed a hearing aid.
“Have a seat, Fordham,” he said in a low voice as he floundered for more words. If she was being laid off, this would be the worst timing in the history of timing. “I’m sorry about the other night.”
“Forget about it,” she said. “I’m certainly trying to.”
Abe was pacing in the small area between the bookcase and the file cabinet. “Well, that’s... kind of the point.”
“What is?”
“I can’t forget about it. And I don’t want to. I’m not sure how to say this.” Abe’s pale had become a light shade of crimson, and he perched himself on the corner of the desk to face her.
It dawned on her that he might not be able to deal with seeing her every day, knowing what he had done with her mother. “You’re going to fire me because you had sex with my mother?”
“No! Of course not.”
“Okay, well... if you want my blessing,” she cajoled, “you have it.” She’d already resolved that she was fine with him and her mother spending intimate time together.
“Really?” he said with more gratitude than she’d anticipated.
“You’re serious? You want my mother?”
“I love her. Really.” He nodded. “I, who swore on my late wife’s wedding ring that there could never be another.”
“I’ve heard you say that.” Fordham glimpsed at Abe’s hand and noticed his ring was off.
“Last night, I went to the cemetery to tell Harriet about your mother. I asked her for her blessing and some kind of sign.”
“You did?”
“Yes. I had to. Harriet was my best friend. It was only right. Later on, your mother and I were playing Scrabble online. It was the end of the game. I laid down my seven-letter word and picked up the last seven tiles.”
He got a piece of paper, wrote, “I, H, T, Z, O, H, K,” and handed it to Fordham. She stared at the page, confused.
“Ihtzohk? Like Perlman? Harriet played the violin?”
“Read it again. He doesn’t spell it that way.”
“Oh,” she said.
“Correct! There is an O,” Abe said enthusiastically.
Fordham tried sounding it out again, this time even less intelligently. If he wasn’t firing her, she didn’t understand the need for all the cryptic clues. Abe shook his head.
“I stink at this,” she said, “but it’s okay—I’m great at crossword puzzles.”
“There! You said it!”
“What did I say?”
“It’s okay!”
“Abe, this is becoming Who’s on First. Just tell me: What’s okay?”
“It. Fordham, that’s what the letters spell out. It’s okay.”
Fordham read it again excitedly. “Ah, I get it! But what’s okay?”
“To ask her to marry me.”
“What?” She wondered if her shock was visible. “Why?”
Fordham’s thoughts were as jumbled as the tiles shaken in a Scrabble bag. Her mother said she and Abe were talking all the time and seeing a lot of each other. Still, it was one thing to be a bed partner and quite another to be a life partner. Dorie had never been an impulsive decision maker with the exception of marrying Arnie—and even that had been out of necessity. Maybe a year of being alone had been enough to teach her that she didn’t prefer it. Maybe some people could fall in love at first sight.
“Because I love her,” Abe said. “Just don’t ask me where or when, because that’ll be up to her, if she’ll have me.”
Her state of having a lot to process had just become a whole new territory. Fordham didn’t think she could handle the terrain. She hugged Abe. “Congratulations... Dad.”
“It’s about time.” Abe gave her a hug. “I’ve always felt like you were my daughter.”
She left his office, but she really didn’t know what to think or feel. She just knew she had to run. She grabbed her bag and sped out to the elevator. It was atypically empty, and she was relieved to not have to make idle chitchat. All she wanted was to escape to the cushioned leather seats of her mother’s car.
My car. She didn’t even have that. She missed the welcoming scent of musky vanilla that emanated from the air freshener hanging on the rearview mirror. She also missed the chocolate stashed in the glove compartment. Dorie would never do that. Dorie would bake cookies, take one bite, and say she had to stop or she’d spoil her dinner. Fordham dissected the glove compartment anyway. Nothing but registration and insurance cards and... yes! In what must have been a moment of delirium, Dorie had caved and bought a roll of chocolate antacid tablets. No surprise, it was still unopened. Fordham sighed. Oddly, she was thinking about how much she wanted to talk to David.
A WEEK LATER, DORIE, having had what her orthopedist called a “miraculous recovery,” was almost herself again. She’d left Fordham a note on the fridge, saying she’d be gone for the day and would pick Whitty up after school to get her a dress for the Poetry Awards.
Whitty had won first prize and still refused to let Fordham read her poem. “Mom, it’s a surprise,” she’d said.
Great, another surprise. Take a number. So much had already changed in a few short months. For the most part, she didn’t like change. At least with Gil, she’d known with certainty that every day was going to be a depressing challenge. She didn’t really want that life back, but she did crave terra firma.
There were more cars in the school parking lot for the Poetry Awards than there had been on the West Side Highway earlier that afternoon. Fordham had wanted to take the day off, but she’d had too much to do, and if she began taking more liberties, surely there would be gossip at the coffee counter. She didn’t want her colleagues to start crying “nepotism.” Although, the more she pondered it, the more she was enjoying the idea of Abe be
ing her stepfather. The hard part was over. They knew each other, they liked each other, and they had already seen each other in compromising positions.
After combing the parking lot several times, Fordham finally got a spot and went into the auditorium alone. Aaron texted that his meeting was running late and asked her to save him a seat. Dorie left her a message saying she and Abe were on their way and to save two seats. If the requests kept up, she could start a company. There were surprisingly more seats than the traffic indicated, and she found a row of empties near the stage. Whitty had stayed after school for rehearsal and was nowhere to be seen. Fordham scanned the room. There was no sign of David, either. She hadn’t had the chance to see him since the day of the Was I dreaming? kiss and found herself missing him. She wasn’t proud of it, but she wasn’t going to lie to herself.
With nothing to do but wait, Fordham checked her email. There was a text from Margo.
Fordham, darling, major update... we’re exchanging vows at the Taj Mahal before the twins arrive. So much fabric my sari wants an apology. Miss you... and Abe. Kisses.
For a moment, Fordham found herself actually missing her spirited friend. So much was happening that she wanted Margo’s inimitable take on. Some of the news was work related. A couple of stray submissions had caught her attention, but for the most part, she was satisfied with what she had. She was still perplexed about what to do with her Prince Charming entry. There was a part of her that didn’t even want to include it in the book. It felt too personal, as if it was hers and too private to share. She was in the middle of reading it when Aaron arrived, and she quickly threw it in her bag.
He gave her a peck on the cheek and slung his coat over his seat. “Oh, good—your mother’s not here yet,” he said like a naughty child.
“What does that mean?”
“It means I get to have you to myself for a few minutes.” He kissed her again.
“That’s not what you meant, but I’ll go with it.”