Dumping Billy

by Olivia Goldsmith

  “Did you know that there are more calories in that coconut frappuccino than three Big Macs?” Kate asked.

  “Speaking of Max,” Elliot said, ignoring her concern, “is he still sniffing around? And is he sniffing around you or Bina?”

  Kate made a dismissive gesture. Like a good mom, Elliot always thought every man was in love with Kate, and if they weren’t, he was offended. “He seems to be busy carrying news about Jack to anyone who’ll listen. I think he still feels guilty because he introduced Bina to him. Anyway, he’s harmless.” Kate grimaced as Elliot used his straw to suck up every last molecule of liquid at the very bottom of his cup. “That is truly disgusting,” she said.

  “Well, I promise not to do it in front of your friends at the shower.”

  “Bev’s shower?” Kate asked, her voice rising. “You’re invited to Bev’s shower?”

  “You sound surprised,” Elliot said. Then, in a mocking tone, he added, “You know, Bev and Brice and I are very close.” Kate merely rolled her eyes.

  “Hey, I saw Brian Conroy at lunch today, and he was actually laughing with two other little bandits,” he continued. “I think they were slinging tunafish salad at the girls’ table, but I didn’t catch them at it. You might actually be doing some good work,” he said.

  They looked at each other for a long moment, Elliot smiling at her, his brown eyes warm and affectionate, and Kate basked in his approval. Then, as was their custom, they simultaneously shook their heads and bleated, “Nah!!”

  “So what is it with you and Michael?” Kate asked, returning to the subject. “He’s the kind of stable, nice guy you’ve wanted for me. And he likes me.” As she looked down at the bracelet hanging from her wrist, her cell phone rang. She was expecting a call from Rita about drinks after Rita got out of work, which wasn’t usually until six or seven o’clock. She pulled out her cell phone and, without even glancing at the caller ID, hit the green button.

  “Hi,” she said cheerfully, fully expecting Rita’s nasal voice.

  “Hi back atchya,” said Steven’s voice.

  Kate felt her stomach contract and drop. Suddenly there wasn’t enough air in her lungs. “Oh. Steven. Hello.” She opened her eyes wide, but not as wide as Elliot’s.

  “Steven? The Steven?” he mouthed.

  Kate, already rattled, looked away. She could feel her throat tighten.

  “Am I getting you at a bad time?” Steven asked.

  She wanted to say, “No. The bad time was the six months after you stopped calling,” but needless to say, she didn’t. Any time was a bad time to talk to Steven, as far as she was concerned. “No,” she said. “I’m just having coffee with Elliot.” She could have bitten her tongue. Why couldn’t she have said she was with a date?

  “Good old Elliot,” Steven said, which made Kate even more annoyed with herself. “I miss him.” His voice dropped a half register. “I miss you, too,” he said.

  Kate felt a flush spreading to her neck and chest. Meanwhile, Elliot was crouching in front of her, pulling his index finger across his throat to get her to cut off the conversation. She turned her head to the right.

  Kate didn’t need to be reminded of how dangerous Steven was. She had really loved him, and he had encouraged her attachment. Long ago, Kate had made a rule never to care for any man more than he cared for her. But Steven had cared for her—at least as long as the early lust stage had lasted. Then, after eighteen months his ardor and his commitment had dropped off. Kate hadn’t felt it at first, and by the time she had realized that he was not still focused on her, she had run into him walking with the woman to whom his focus had shifted. When Kate, humiliated, had confronted him, he had been reluctant to admit the truth and had reassured her that nothing had happened between him and Sabrina, but after Kate broke up with him, a miserable six weeks later, he and Sabrina had hooked up. Now, the question Kate longed to ask was, “What’s happened to Sabrina?” But she wouldn’t let her curiosity overwhelm her common sense and pride.

  “Look, I thought we might meet for a coffee or something,” Steven said.

  “I don’t think so,” Kate said. “I’m having coffee right now.”

  “You’re not making this easy,” Steven said, and the depth of feeling in his voice gave Kate a little thrill. All at once she realized what she had felt was missing in Michael—access to deeper feelings or the ability to express them.

  But Steven’s feelings, deep or not, had not been dependable. He was either an excellent actor (Elliot’s opinion) or a man afraid of his own emotions, longing for connection and then backing away from it (Kate’s theory). Kate still believed that Steven had loved her but had been afraid.

  “Was it my job to make it easy?” Kate asked. Elliot rolled his eyes and put a hand over his own mouth to indicate that she should shut up—as if she didn’t know that already. She swatted at him.

  “Kate, you have every right to be pissed at me. But I swear that a day hasn’t gone by that I haven’t thought of you, or missed you, or even tried to get up the courage to phone you.”

  “It must have been a tough year,” Kate said.

  “Don’t tell me you haven’t thought of me,” Steven said, and all of it—the miserable nights, the lonely weekends, the mornings she woke up alone and missing him—came rushing back.

  “I’ve been pretty busy,” she said. “And I’m about to get engaged. . . .”

  Elliot bolted upright, gave her a thumbs-up with both hands, and then sank back into his chair as if exhausted.

  There was silence at the other end of the phone, and Kate was torn between two emotions: She wanted Steven to give up and feel just a little bit of pain on her account. She also wanted him to try harder, and she was ashamed and embarrassed by that.

  “Would that stop you from just having a drink with me?” Steven asked. “I really feel as if I need to tell you what happened. I mean, I’m in therapy now and . . . I just understand a few things that I didn’t know before.”

  Kate wasn’t sure she wanted to know what Steven had learned about himself. And she knew it wasn’t a good idea to see him. But she felt an irresistible pull toward him. “How about next Monday,” she said. “About four o’clock.”

  “That would be great,” Steven said. “Onieal’s?” It was a restaurant on Grand Street, a cool but lush bar and dining room. It had been a place they often went to, not far from his loft.

  “No,” she said. She didn’t want to be seduced into drinks followed by dinner followed by anything else. It was out of the question. She thought as quickly as she could about a more neutral site. “How about Starbucks?” And after he agreed she hung up and threw her phone into her purse.

  “You are not going!” Elliot said. “You know why you’re not going? Because I cannot hear one more word about that stupid fucking ass-fuck. Do you know how much Steven I had to live with last year? How many times can a man—even a gay man—sing ‘I Will Survive’ with you?”

  Kate didn’t know if she wanted to laugh or cry. They did actually sing Gloria Gaynor’s song a few times, but only at Elliot’s demand and because it always made her laugh.

  “We wore out three CDs, and speaking of wearing out, you might be self-destructive, but I have a life and I can’t go through another Steven bout. Maybe you don’t remember what it did to you, but I do. And I just can’t take it. Neither can you.”

  “I’m not going to go through another Steven ‘bout,’” Kate snapped. “But he’s in therapy and he probably needs some closure.”

  “What he probably needs is some pussy,” Elliot said. “And that’s fine with me as long as it isn’t yours.”

  “Elliot!”

  “I can’t believe he calls you for the first time in a year in the middle of the afternoon on your cell phone and you make a date with him. Have you no pride?” Elliot asked, then continued without waiting for an answer: “You’re a disgrace to your sex. It’s because of you that women need to read The Rules and those other stupid self-help books.” He moved
his arms in a spasm of disgust and completely upset Kate’s drink. “Oh, shit,” he said, and Kate wasn’t sure if he was referring to the spill or her mistake.

  Because it was a mistake. Wasn’t it?

  Chapter Thirty

  It was crowded in Bunny and Arnie’s new apartment; everyone sat or stood in perfect silence in the dark. Which was quite a trick when Kate considered the compulsive talkers she was there with. Bunny, Barbie, Mrs. Horowitz, Bina, two of Bev’s cousins, Bev’s mom and two aunts, assorted friends from work, and Bev’s astrologist, not to mention Elliot and Brice, were all there and quiet. But only for a moment.

  “Surprise!” the entire crowd shouted as the door opened. The lights went on and pink and blue balloons—big, but not as big as Bev’s third-trimester belly—cascaded from the ceiling. Flashbulbs went off all around the room, capturing forever Bev’s rictus of fear as she screamed and jumped. Guests screamed and jumped as well. After the explosions were over, Kate watched as a palpitating Bev leaned on her mother’s arm.

  She took a seat, from where she surveyed the scene of laughing friends and relatives. She clutched her face and screamed, “Aah, you guys,” as soon as she could speak. “I swear my water almost broke! You shouldn’t have.” She’d been told to “drop over at Bunny’s new apartment for a look-see.”

  Kate agreed with that. There was something sadistic about surprise parties, but, “Yes, we should have and we did,” Barbie told Bev, joining her on the sofa, a hideous blue three seater.

  In fact, virtually all of Bunny’s new apartment was in blue, and most of it was hideous. Kate had forgotten that nobody in Brooklyn south of Prospect Park believed in antiques—things were either new or junk. Kate considered the royal blue rayon-damask upholstered furniture in the living room new and junk, but everyone else had oohed and aahed over Bunny’s new marital home on the obligatory tour before Bev’s arrival. Even Elliot, not only color-blind but largely tasteless, had raised his eyebrows at the smoked mirror framed with golden cherubs and the Museum Shop lamps with fake busts of antiquity mounted under the shades. Brice, however, was in ecstasy. “Just like Picasso,” he had murmured to Kate and Elliot. “She’s having her blue period.”

  The wall-to-wall carpet was a peacock blue in the living room, a Madonna blue in the master bedroom, and a royal blue in the second bedroom. The bathrooms, one full and one half, were also, needless to say, blue. One was papered in periwinkle with green vines and matching green towels, “the essential accent” (as Bunny had explained). The other was done in navy foil. “I wanted something masculine for Arnie,” she’d told them, though why shiny dark walls were manly was something Kate couldn’t fathom.

  “I didn’t know they still made foil,” Brice had said, marveling.

  “I know. I had to go on-line to find it,” Bunny had confided.

  But Kate wasn’t looking around only at the apartment, she was also looking at her friends. Each one was committed to a life that would almost inevitably include children, PTA meetings, family holidays, trips to Disney World, and all the trimmings that came not only on the Christmas tree (or Hanukkah bush), but also with the comfy order of family life. She wondered if she would ever leave the little nest she had carved out for herself in Manhattan and, if she did, what she would trade it for. Somehow the prospect of doing it in Austin without either her Manhattan or her Brooklyn friends to support or encourage her seemed grim. At least when she had been with Steven she knew that her future—if there was one—would be in New York.

  Once Bev got over her surprise, all of the guests felt free to tear into the platters of food. Set out on the dining table and credenza (both covered with sky blue cloths, with napkins to match) was a truly impressive spread. Everything from bagels with four varieties of cream cheese to pasta salads, Thai sate, canapés, and cannolis was arrayed in overwhelming profusion. Elliot picked up a plate and heaved a big sigh of happiness. “I love it here,” he said.

  “Oops. He’s up another waist size,” Brice said, and patted Elliot lovingly.

  Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves enormously, except Bina. Kate didn’t want another recitation of Billy Nolan’s charms, so she had avoided Bina just a little. But it didn’t seem necessary: Kate realized that Bina was avoiding her. She was sitting, her plate heaped high, next to one of Bev’s cousins, but she wasn’t talking or eating. Only Bev’s nephew, a four-year-old who sat on the floor dutifully chewing whatever his grandma or mother put in his mouth, seemed capable of bringing a smile to her lips.

  “Okay. Let’s get down to business,” Barbie told everyone once the food frenzy had subsided. “Open the presents! Open the presents!”

  Everyone cheered and agreed except Bina. Kate kept an eye on her as box after box was unwrapped.

  All the gifts had been opened, and Bev’s mother was wrestling in the wrapping paper as if it were a pile of leaves that had been raked up in the fall. Bev was holding up a tiny sweater and examining the knitted bonnet that went with it.

  Kate touched the tiny piece of hand-knit material, and all at once, she was almost overcome by a wave of feeling so unexpected and so strong that she had to sit down. Up till now, for some inexplicable reason, Bev’s pregnancy had been just that— a swelling stomach, a few inappropriate outfits, and some complaints. Holding the tiny sweater, Kate realized that very soon, Bev—and Johnny, of course—would have a new person as tiny as the little bit of wool, to hold and love and care about for the rest of their lives. Kate felt so very far from that reality that tears of envy and despair filmed her eyes. She had to turn her head away so no one would notice her sudden rush of emotion.

  I want a baby of my own, she thought, and realized at the same time that she was further away from that possibility than she had been for a long time. Because she suddenly knew, absolutely knew, as she held the little sweater, that she wouldn’t want to be putting it on Michael’s child. The very idea was . . . well, it just wasn’t possible.

  “Have some rugelach, Katie,” Mrs. Horowitz offered, and Kate looked up. She must have appeared as dazed as she felt, because Mrs. Horowitz exclaimed, “You’re so pale. Are you all right, darling?”

  The answer, of course, was no, but how could she explain that to kind, concerned, simple Myra Horowitz?

  Now that all the gifts had been opened, the women went back to the food. Soon, overfilled paper plates were being balanced precariously next to plastic cups of juice, margaritas, or New York State champagne. The Bitches, Brice, and Elliot gathered in a small group in the corner near the easy chair that Bev had settled into.

  “So, is it a girl or a boy?” Barbie asked, taking a bite of her bagel.

  Bev looked at her mother, than shrugged. “Johnny and I want a surprise,” she said, but Kate saw the look that passed between them and knew better.

  “I think you should name him William,” Elliot said.

  “After the prince?” Bev asked.

  “No. After Billy Nolan. The man who made all this possible,” Elliot told her.

  “See, Elliot’s theory works. Just think. You’re next,” Brice told Bina with frightening assurance.

  “That’s right, Bina,” Bunny agreed.

  “Jack’ll come around,” Bev’s mother told Bina in a comforting tone. “Remember how hard it was to get her Johnny to propose? I’m glad you stayed local, Bina, and didn’t go into Manhattan like Katie.”

  “Yeah,” Barbie echoed. “It’s even harder to get them to commit.”

  “That’s not true,” Kate began to protest, “I don’t think that location has—”

  “Kate’s doing okay,” Elliot cut in defensively.

  “Yeah,” Brice echoed. “She’s getting a proposal from this doctor guy.”

  Kate felt the blood leave her face.

  “Get outta town!” Barbie cried.

  “You sneak! You didn’t say a word,” Bunny squawked.

  “What’s his sign?” Bev demanded.

  Kate was kissed and pummeled for a few minutes, until she cou
ld get a word in. “I’m not ‘getting a proposal,’” she told them all, then gave Brice a dirty look. He shrugged an apology. Kate tried to find words to describe her situation with Michael and put out the blazing fire of curiosity around her. “We’re talking about options.”

  “Options, schmopshins,” said Mrs. Horowitz. “So what kind of doctor? Not a surgeon,” she warned. “Surgeons are cold, Katie.”

  “He’s not a medical doctor,” Kate said, then heard all the sighs of disappointment that moved through the room like a summer breeze.

  “It doesn’t matter if he’s not a real doctor,” she said to Kate, her voice low. “As long as you love him.” Kate managed a smile and took a pastry.

  Then she shot Elliot and Brice a murderous look. “They don’t know what they’re saying. Anyway, we were talking about Bina.”

  “Maybe we shouldn’t,” Bina said quietly.

  “Oh, everything is going to work out fine,” Bunny said, and she put her arm around Elliot. It seemed to Kate that the group had adopted Elliot and Brice as girlfriends in drag.

  “She’s got Dumping Billy on her side,” Barbie said.

  “He hasn’t dumped you yet, though, has he?” Bev asked Bina.

  “No. Not yet. But I’m really looking forward to it,” Bina said, obviously uncomfortable.

  “Well, it’s been a long time,” Barbie pointed out.

  “According to Elliot’s theory, that makes sense,” Barbie said.

  “No. Actually, it doesn’t. This whole thing doesn’t make sense, and it’s making me crazy,” Kate told the women irritably. Somehow everything seemed wrong: her with Michael, Bina with Billy, Jack with a bevy of foreign beauties, Steven calling her from out of the blue. It was like a French farce. Looking at Bina and suddenly feeling sorry for herself, Kate blinked back tears and took a piece of the shower cake to comfort herself.

  “Oh, well, it has to be at least two months or else it doesn’t work. And I’m a little uncomfortable,” Bina admitted.