Dumping Billy

by Olivia Goldsmith

  She had been waiting for a moment when he would ask her her opinion about what he should do or, at least, tell her his plans and ask if she might consider joining him. But it didn’t seem to happen. He continued talking and it was hard for her to tell whether he had no intention of asking her to come or if he was simply taking her for granted.

  After dinner they walked to her apartment. It was a balmy night, and Michael, swinging his briefcase with one hand, held her hand with the other. When they got to her door he reached into his pocket and took out the keys. “Allow me,” he said, and opened the door for her. As they walked up the steps, Kate reached into her bag. For some reason she wanted to open her own apartment door, and she managed to beat him to it.

  When they entered the living room, Michael threw his briefcase onto the sofa and immediately pulled off his tie. Kate thought he might be a little bit high from the bit of champagne that he had drunk. She, on the other hand, was as sober as a judge. In fact, she felt like a judge, busy weighing the pros and cons of the situation before her. When Michael took her hand and led her to her bedroom, she simply followed.

  He began unbuttoning his shirt, sitting on the side of her bed. He took off his shoes, unsheathed his feet from their socks, and tucked the socks carefully into his shoes. When he stood up and undid his belt buckle, his chest bare, he looked over at her and smiled. “Do I have to undress you?” he asked.

  Kate smiled back and hoped the smile didn’t reveal her uneasiness. She wasn’t uneasy because Michael would leave her. His great good humor was certainly inappropriate, and Michael was not an insensitive man.

  Yet, like most men, he didn’t feel her mood as he began to make love to her. She felt his hands on her waist, then lower, and he slipped her panties off. Then he moved his hands upward to cover her breasts. He kissed her, long and deeply, but Kate felt unmoved. When he began to touch her, she realized there was no way she could possibly have an orgasm. Ashamed to reveal herself, she simply eased herself into position over him and worked to make sure he achieved pleasure. But later, when they were finished, Michael sighed and dropped his head deep into the pillow. “You’ll like Austin,” he said.

  Kate wasn’t sure she’d heard the words. “What?” she asked.

  “You’ll like Austin,” he said. “It’s really great.” Then he turned on his side and after a few deep breaths she knew he was sleeping.

  She lay there silently but a storm of feelings swept through her. Had she just been proposed to? Clearly, Michael assumed not only that she was coming with him but that he didn’t need to ask her to do it. He had talked plenty about the Sagerman chair and what it meant to him but never about what it might mean to her. She supposed that was because he knew it meant nothing. To him she meant nothing. She was someone who would go where he wanted. She couldn’t believe his presumption or how little he knew her. Suddenly she felt deep shame, though she wasn’t sure if it was for him or for her. How could she be sleeping with a man—how could he be intimate with her—when they didn’t know each other at all?

  Kate looked over his head at the dresser and the statue of the Virgin on it and wondered what was wrong with her.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  It had been a few days since Kate had heard from Bina. When Bina did call, she just chattered on, not leaving a moment’s opening for Kate’s news. Apparently, she had been kept pretty busy by Billy. Kate supposed that was a good thing, since she needed time to figure out her own emotional landscape.

  Still, after a few moments, Kate found herself feeling oddly resentful of Bina’s harmless blather. She went on and on about Billy: how funny he was, what a good time they’d had over dinner, how sophisticated he seemed to be, and, last, what a gentleman he was. This, Kate knew, was Bina talk for him not jumping her bones when he said good night. “I can see why he gets all the girls,” Bina said. “He just seems to really listen when you talk. You know how guys are so busy talking or else they kind of glaze over when you start talking?” Kate, thinking of Michael, reluctantly had to admit she knew. “Well, he doesn’t do that.”

  “How refreshing,” Kate said dryly. “So all is going well.” Not that she was coming to believe in Elliot’s ridiculous plan, but Billy’s attentions must at the very least be a welcome break from the recent drama of Bina’s life.

  “Oh, we had the best time,” Bina was saying. “He’s just so much fun. When we went to this club that he knew, he . . .”

  Kate found it hard to listen. Besides, she had her own tribulations. She hated to admit it, but she was beginning to believe that Elliot’s assessment of Michael had been right. Although sweet and caring in some ways, Michael was self-involved, and lately she had found him . . . dull. In the past week, he had called her daily, giving her updates in what Kate was beginning to think of as the “Sagerman Situation.” Since their dinner, he had spent most of their time together talking about nothing else.

  “. . . So then he goes, ‘I would if I was crazy,’ and I go, ‘You are crazy. . . .’”

  Kate had spent only a half day at Andrew Country Day today as the school year was winding down, and she had another half day tomorrow. She’d asked Michael over, but he had to attend a business lecture. Suddenly it came to her that tonight would be the perfect evening to take a break from her own relationship and catch up with Bina’s. And as a psychologist, she was interested in seeing how well Billy was handling himself with Bina. So far all seemed well, but she would find out this evening, if Bina had the time and inclination to see her.

  “Hey,” she said, breaking into Bina’s monologue, “you wanna walk the bridge?”

  Since they were teenagers, Kate and Bina had found pleasure in walking from one side of the Brooklyn Bridge to the other. Now, since Kate had moved across it, they occasionally met in the middle and then walked to one side or the other.

  “You kidding?” Bina said. “God, we haven’t done that in ages.”

  “Why not?” Kate asked. “I’ll buy you dinner in Brooklyn Heights. At Isobel’s.” They both loved the restaurant, and Kate knew it would be great bait.

  “Same old Kate,” Bina said. “Let’s go Dutch.”

  “Same old Bina.” Kate laughed, and they agreed to meet in the middle of the bridge.

  The walk was good for Kate. It felt as if it blew some of the cotton out of her clogged head. She thought about some of the children and how they might get through the summer; she thought about Michael and his “proposal”; but mostly she thought about herself. She had to be prepared to talk to Michael. She felt as if she should be happy. After all, wasn’t this possibility what she had been hoping for? Even if it was, though, something nagged her about the way Michael was going about it. It wasn’t that he was cold, exactly. It was more self-centered—but then weren’t all men? If she was brutally honest with herself, she also had to admit that she didn’t like the idea that he might be assuming she would just drop everything and go with him. Still, she had no one to blame but herself for that. And why shouldn’t he assume (if he was assuming) that she would be willing to go to Texas with him? Unfortunately, there were plenty of dysfunctional families and a need for child psychologists everywhere. She could set up her own practice. She would be the first member of her family not only to become a doctor, but also to marry one. The Horowitzes would be so proud! And if there was something, well, something missing in her relationship with Michael, wasn’t everything imperfect in some way or other? Relationships were built over time, with both people willing to listen and try to understand each other. Michael would certainly listen.

  Kate, her thoughts tumbling about in her head, walked faster than she expected. When she hit the midpoint of the bridge, she was alone and couldn’t even see Bina in the distance. She stopped for a moment, turned north, and looked up the East River. The water looked almost blue, and the Williamsburg and Triboro Bridges sandwiching Manhattan created a magical illusion. When she looked to the right, Brooklyn seemed flat and dull in comparison. Kate felt a little tug on her h
eart. She looked back at Manhattan. There, small as it was, she had a place of her own, a place she had created and lived in. Could she leave it? Why should she? She was so deep in thought that she didn’t hear Bina until her friend was beside her and put her hand on Kate’s shoulder.

  “A nickel for your thoughts,” Bina said.

  “A nickel? I thought it was a penny.”

  “Inflation. Plus your thoughts are better than other people’s.”

  Bina took her hand and led her away from Manhattan, just the way they used to do.

  “So how’s it going?” Kate asked. “Have you been proposed to?”

  Bina laughed. With the wind catching her hair and the sunlight glancing off the blond streaks, she looked almost as good as a shampoo ad.

  “That guy is crazy,” she said. “We went to this club where they know him. Well, they know him everywhere. So everyone was saying hello. We didn’t even have to wait to get in.” She began to ramble on with details that Kate found tedious. “. . . and then they start playing ‘Flavor of the Week’ . . . you know the song?” she asked Kate.

  “Yeah. I know it,” Kate said.

  “Well, it must be like his theme song. And everyone in the bar starts shouting: ‘Billy! Billy!’ And at first he’s like brushing it off, you know what I mean?” Bina asked.

  “Yeah. I know,” Kate replied. She was feeling odd, as if Bina’s simple story were upsetting her on some high school level.

  “Anyway, they won’t stop. So he gets on the bar and starts singing at the top of his lungs. It was such a riot.” Bina laughed at the memory.

  “Sounds like one,” Kate said dryly.

  “He’s so not like Jack!” Bina said. “Can you imagine Jack . . .” A look came over her face, as if she had just heard her own words.

  Kate knew her friend well enough to recognize conflict. Could Bina be falling for Billy? “Thank God he’s not,” she said, looking at Bina. “Right?” Bina nodded, but she looked slightly dejected.

  Max had dropped by several times to inform Kate of Jack’s latest bulletins. It was hard to tell if he did it because he was trying to be helpful, was horrified, or was just gossiping. Certainly he seemed outraged as he told her about Jack’s barhopping and his delight in the beauty and apparent availability of Hong Kong women, both Asian and Caucasian. She wondered whether Bina had heard anything, but she guessed that Bina still hadn’t heard from Jack, who had been gone for so many weeks now.

  They had come to the end of the bridge. “Do you want to walk on the promenade before we eat?” Kate asked.

  “Sure,” Bina said, and they made a right, crossed Cadman Plaza, passed Isobel’s, and walked up Cranberry Street. This was the charming part of Brooklyn, which looked virtually unchanged since the late 1800s. Brownstones lined the blocks, complete with little gardens in the front, and the trees arched overhead. “So how are things with the fruits and nuts?” Bina asked.

  Kate raised her eyebrows, taking Bina’s remark as a comment on Elliot as well as her little clients. Then she realized that Bina probably didn’t know the connotation that “fruit” had. “They’re not nuts,” she said. “Although their parents sometimes are.”

  “Sorry,” Bina said. “Didn’t mean to hurt your feelers.”

  Kate had to smile. She and Bina had replaced the word feelings with feelers when they were ten years old, and Bina still used the joke. Kate decided to change the subject. “What have you bought Bev for the shower?” she asked.

  “Omigod! Omigod!” Bina exclaimed, a new level of animation lighting up her face. “I went with my mother to the Macy’s on Flatbush. We got the most adorable outfit you’ve ever seen. Tiny little booties, a matching sweater, and a bonnet. You should see the stitches, they’re tiny. You know, everyone’s knitting now. You think Bev would believe me if I told her I knit it myself?” Kate shook her head. “I showed them to Billy and you should’ve seen the look on his face. I don’t think he believed a real person could be that small.”

  “Why in the world would you show baby clothes to Billy?” Kate asked, and was surprised by the irritation in her voice.

  They reached the promenade, and Kate looked around appreciatively. Bina didn’t pay much attention. She chatted on about the shower and then suggested they walk back to Isobel’s to eat.

  Brooklyn Heights was not really part of Brooklyn, Kate had always thought. It was Manhattan once removed, and the view of the island from the promenade was breathtaking. They were quiet for a little while, and then Bina broke the silence. “All I’ve been doing is talking about myself. So,” she said with contrived casualness, “where did you and Michael go last night?”

  “We went to a movie,” Kate informed her friend, and realized she had said it with about as much enthusiasm as if they had gone to a funeral.

  “The new George Clooney?” Bina asked, her eyes lighting up. To Bina, George Clooney was a walking god.

  “Not exactly,” Kate began. How could she explain their visit to the Film Forum? “We went to see a documentary.”

  “Oh,” Bina said. “About what?”

  “Afghan women and their struggle for literacy,” Kate said flatly.

  Bina looked confused by the very thought. Kate figured that the last documentary Bina had seen was something they’d had to watch in grade school.

  “That sounds . . . serious,” Bina stammered, apparently unsure how to respond. She paused and looked across the bay at the Empire State Building, whose red, white, and blue lights had just been lit. “So, are you two getting serious?”

  Kate could hear Mrs. Horowitz’s voice channeled through Bina’s lips. “I’m not sure,” she said.

  “There’s not a serious bone in Billy’s body . . . and what a body,” Bina added.

  “Bina!” Kate exclaimed. She looked over at her friend, whose change since Jack’s departure seemed to be a lot more than physical. “You didn’t . . . I mean, you wouldn’t . . .” The thought of Bina with Billy disturbed her deeply. She tried to decide whether it was fear for Bina or envy.

  “Of course not. I still love Jack,” Bina said. Kate breathed a sigh of relief. “But I’ve got eyes. And he’s got hands.” Bina raised her brows playfully.

  Kate was not sure this talk was as lighthearted as Bina was making it out to be. She herself had felt Billy’s devastating, if shallow, charm, and Bina was nothing if not inexperienced. “Bina, remember you are not supposed to be getting attached to this guy. He’s only a means to an end—at least according to you and Elliot.”

  “I know. Believe me, I know. This whole plan is going to work. I just have a feeling.” Bina paused. “And there’s something else. Billy makes me feel . . . well, it’s like I feel prettier when I’m with him.” She looked away for a minute, and her face reddened. “I mean, I know people are probably looking at him, not me. But it makes me feel special, too.” She smiled as if remembering something. “He always tells me how nice I look, and he notices things, like if I wear a barrette.” She paused again. Then she lowered her voice, as if what she had to say were fragile and could be broken easily. “You know how much I love Jack.” Kate nodded. “Well, I saw Max—you know, he’s so nice. I don’t understand why he isn’t hooked up with someone. Anyway, he told me that Jack was sending him e-mails.”

  Kate managed not to gasp or show any emotion. A single one of those pictures would break Bina’s heart.

  “Anyway, I’m certain he misses me. And when he comes back, I’m sure he’ll ask me to marry him.”

  The two of them walked down Henry Street. Kate was afraid to say a word to her friend. She didn’t want to encourage her about Jack, and though she did want to discourage her about any attachment to Billy Nolan, she was not sure of her motives. They came to Henry’s End restaurant, which was already bustling even though it was early for dinner. Well, Kate reminded herself, people ate earlier on this side of the river. “Are you hungry?” she asked. “Shall we eat here instead of Isobel’s?”

  “Sure,” Bina told her. “Just
don’t make me eat a Bambi—and don’t you eat Thumper.” Henry’s End was famous for wild game, though Kate would settle for steak.

  “You can trust me on that,” she told Bina.

  Her friend took her arm. “I’ll always trust you, Katie.” They paused for a moment. “Hey, maybe you and Michael will get married and we could have a double wedding. My parents would love that.”

  Kate had a flash of an overdone ceremony, with the two of them walking down the aisle on Dr. Horowitz’s arm. After that it would be a life full of documentaries, talks of anthropological discoveries, and Texas cocktail parties.

  “Please, Bina,” Kate said. “Not when we are near a very high bridge with a lot of cold water underneath it.”

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  There’s a possibility you’re actually going to get engaged?” Elliot asked Kate, his face pruning up with disapproval. They were sitting in the Starbucks located exactly halfway between his apartment and hers.

  “You better stop disliking him,” Kate told Elliot. “If I do marry him, and you stay snotty, I won’t be able to see you anymore.”

  “Wedding bells are breaking up that old gang of mine,” Elliot warbled. Kate shook her head. “Like I’m really threatened that you’d give up our friendship,” he continued. “Who else do you have to talk about every detail of your emotional seismograph and Barbara Pym, too?”

  Kate smiled. It was true she described every tremor to Elliot, and like a geophysicist, he had predicted when the earthquakes were coming to rock her world. And Barbara Pym, a British author she and Elliot both reread frequently, was one of her secret addictions. Kate found her novels soothing because almost nothing happened in them; no one’s feelings were hurt, and very little changed. A big event was a visit from the vicar, and most chapters ended with someone having a hot, milky drink. Which reminded Kate about Elliot’s beverage.