One Night In Amsterdam

by Nadia C. Kavanagh

  I arrived in Montauk late at night. I was looking for a motel to stay at when I saw a flyer “beach front property, for sale by owner” on the window of a seafood restaurant. I called the owner right away and told him I wanted to buy the house. Aaron, the owner, replied back incredulously, asking if I had seen the house, not believing I was serious about buying it. I explained to him that I didn’t see it but I didn’t care what the house looked like. It was by the beach, furnished, and ready to live in. That was enough for me. Confused and befuddled, he agreed to show me the house right away. He told me to wait for him at the restaurant ‘Bonefish Grill’. I found out soon enough that it belonged to his fiancé.

  Aaron lived with Jane in the apartment above the restaurant. He came down after a few minutes while I was eating and talking to Jane, his shirt buttoned wrong and his hair all messed up. Aaron was a young, carefree guy in his twenties. Obviously, he wasn’t expecting to meet someone interested in buying his house late on a Sunday night. He explained more about the house to me quickly… It was built in 1940 and belonged to his grandfather who passed away two years ago, it had been vacant ever since. He frankly admitted that I was the only one who showed any interest in buying it since he put the house up for sale a year ago. He even told me that we could negotiate the price after I saw the house. He warned me about some minor problems like a couple of broken windows, stained carpets and cracked wood, just in case I wasn’t serious and wanted to back out. I told him I didn’t mind a few broken things and he told me to follow him, shaking his head and smiling doubtfully.

  We drove about ten minutes on Montauk Highway and arrived at a small, single story house with two bedrooms. The entire house was smaller than the living room of my penthouse. A shabby little place, obviously in need of a lot of work. There were no marble countertops or expensive hardwood floors. No big walk-in closets or a wine cellar. Nothing luxury. However, all the basics worked; plumbing, heating and appliances, and it had a great view of the beach. I could hear the waves crashing, the whooshing sound of the water. It was the perfect place for me. Quiet. Small. Isolated.

  I wrote him a check for ten thousand dollars as a deposit and told him my personal assistant would handle the rest of the sale and the paperwork. Then I requested if I could stay in the house for the night. Aaron was shocked to see I was going through with it. He agreed eagerly and allowed me to stay the night.

  The next day, I called Rose and told her that I was going to be out of town for a while. I gave her the full responsibility to represent me and make decisions on my behalf at work. I explained to her about the house, the purchase, and how I wanted to keep it a secret, and she did. Rose, my wonderful, humble assistant, took care of everything for me while I tried to nurse myself back to life without Emma. She didn’t tell anyone about my whereabouts.

  Things were going according to plan. I was having a calm, quiet life. I even found a little inner peace. I kept busy working in the house and fixing things by myself. I started with the broken windows and the cabinets were next. I even pulled the stained carpets out and purchased some hardwood. I laid them over the areas I cleared and then nailed them to the floor by hand. It was a slow and back breaking process. I did it for couple of hours and realized soon enough that it was too god damn hard to do it by hand. I rented a nail gun and a compressor from the local hardware store. After that, I completed the entire kitchen in a day and moved on to the living room. Thanks to all the work I did around the house, my days passed quickly. I didn’t have time to sit idly, thinking about things and being miserable. By the time it was dark, I was completely exhausted. Working out in a gym was nothing compared to a day spent doing heavy labor. All the nailing, lifting, sanding and painting made my muscles hurt so bad that I would crash out on the sofa immediately after dinner, hardly making it to my bed. Once I put my head down, I fell asleep almost instantly. I wasn’t haunted by the same horrible dreams and awful images every night. I was doing alright… surviving… at least until this morning. This morning I woke up to the usual quietness, which was unfortunately ruined by the loud yelling and banging on the door. Then I heard Max’s voice with his usual profanities.

  I opened the door slowly, showing my obvious discontent for seeing him. “Max! What are you doing here?”

  “I should be the one asking you that question, you idiot!” He growled, standing only a couple of inches away from my face. “You are the one who disappeared without a word, or any explanation.”

  “I had my reasons, obviously. I had to get away from the city.” I spoke slowly.

  “I get that… but we could have done that together if you had just told me. Nobody knew where you were, or what happened to you. We have been partners for nine years, damn it! You cannot just bail on me like that…”

  “Phliant is in great shape, Max. It is steady and stable. You have many smart people working for you. Jason, Ben, Adam… they are good kids, eager to make money. You also have Rose. She is good, meticulous, detail oriented… I told her everything she needed to know and she was supposed to take care of things in my absence. You really don’t need me to run the company.” I explained, trying to reason with him since he made me feel like I abandoned the company, which I literally built from scratch.

  “The hell with Jason, Ben, Adam and Rose. I’m not talking about just work. I missed you man…” He admitted openly, completely catching me off guard with his unusual frankness. Max wasn’t an emotional person, and this was the first time he was sort of sharing his feelings. He paused a minute, then he groused again, switching back to his usual vulgar attitude. “You’re an asshole, you know…God damn it Dylan! We have been friends for twenty years. You can’t just disappear on me like that. I thought you were dead or something.”

  “Stop exaggerating Max. I was fine. I just needed some time alone!” I said. I stepped out to the porch and sat on an old wooden chair. Max took the other chair across the table. Staring at the horizon, he pulled a cigarette out of its pack. He lit it with his original 1933 Gold Zippo, a precious $100,000 graduation gift from his grandfather, he then offered me one.

  “You know I quit.” I rejected it kindly.

  “Yeah, I know, but I thought maybe you started again. You know, after… ”

  “After Emma you mean. No, actually I’ve been living healthier since I moved here. I am not smoking or drinking. No cigarettes, no hard liquor, no stress…I feel alright.”

  “You feel alright?! Are kidding me? Have you looked at yourself in the mirror? You look like fucking Bin Laden, living in this shit hole for a month.”

  “It is not a shit hole. It’s a small, quiet place, right by the beach. I have good neighbors, clean air. No crazy traffic, no rude drivers, no car honks; and I’m close to great local food…” I kept on going.

  “Whatever, Dylan…” He interrupted me. “Why didn’t you call me? I’ve heard nothing from you for over a month. I was seriously worried about you. I talked to Rose. She didn’t say a thing. She kept saying she didn’t know. Then I called Rachel, then your mom. I even called Emma.”

  “You did what?” I exclaimed, and got really mad at him for butting into my private life.

  “Calm down! It isn’t like you think. I called Sydney, but Emma answered the phone instead. I didn’t know she was staying with her. I was very surprised to talk to her. ”

  “What did she say? What did she sound like?” I asked. I couldn’t help my curiosity. Any news about Emma was exciting but also unsettling.

  “Not much… she didn’t sound too good, either she was sick or dejected. All she said was that she hadn’t heard from you for weeks and she didn’t know where you were. That’s when I really got worried and called Nolan two days ago and he figured out where you were hiding. Tell me what the hell are you doing here? In this stupid house…”

  “Hey… Stop insulting my house. I happen to love this old place.” I pushed my chair back and its legs lifted up a little. I turned my head to the ocean, enjoyed the beautiful view with waves crashing on t
he sand and sun glittering on the water in the horizon. It was a beautiful spring day and it looked more beautiful from my deck.

  “I guess the view isn’t so bad.” Max finally smiled and spoke a bit calmer. “Do you have something to drink?”

  “Yeah, coffee should be ready soon.”

  “I sure need some.” He agreed and continued with his usual fuss. “I woke up so goddamn early to get here. I drove two hours in morning traffic just to check on you, you know.”

  I rolled my eyes and took a deep breath. After a month of quietness and solitude, Max’s whining was unbearable. “You know Max, you didn’t have to drive up here.” I said. Then, without waiting for his next complaint, I went back inside. I grabbed the coffee pot, now full of freshly percolated coffee, and two mugs. I poured Max a cup of dark coffee, no cream, no sugar, in a chipped ceramic mug. “Here you go…this should wake you up. Looks like you need a kick.” I teased him.

  Max made a wry face after he took a sip. I handed him some cream and sugar, sensing he needed it. He took another sip after adding some and blurted out with a grimace “This coffee tastes like shit,” and then asked, “Isn’t there a place like Cafés Verlet or Lantana in this God forsaken town where we can get some good coffee?”

  “No. There isn’t one and it tastes fine to me.” I chuckled and took a big bite of my leftover donut with my dark coffee. And suddenly, I realized how I got used to things in Montauk. Manhattan, with its luxurious, pampering lifestyle, expensive restaurants and fancy dinners felt so far away from me. It was strange to realize how I didn’t miss any of it. My life was simpler in Montauk, everything from my coffee to my dinner. I got so used to this simple lifestyle that I didn’t want to go back to the city again.

  “So…you hired Nolan to find me, eh?” I asked, smiling.

  “Damn right, I did,” Max snickered back.

  “I guess I should feel special.”

  “Don’t be so smug! I was worried about you. Tell me what are you doing here? What have you been up to?”

  “Not much actually. Fixing the house takes up most of my time. I get so tired after working all day, I basically just crash at night.”

  “Why in the hell you are fixing this house? It doesn’t even have a decent deck to enjoy the beach. You want a house by the beach, call Shelly my realtor, she’ll fix you up with a great place in The Hamptons.”

  “I don’t want a place in The Hamptons.”

  “The best beach front properties are there. I think there will be a great one up for sale soon, and it’s next to my house. Grumpy old Donald Sherman, one of my father’s old business associates, is selling his house. You should make an offer. We’d be neighbors. It would be awesome. You and me, taking on The Hamptons together, we could party like we used to.”

  I took a deep breath, “You don’t get it Max.” I said, trying to express my frustration with a scowl.

  “What don’t I get?”

  “I don’t want a million dollar mansion by the beach. I don’t want to party, or take on The Hamptons, or Manhattan for that matter. I don’t want to be part of New York’s rich, hypocrite and arrogant socialites anymore.”

  “You are rich. Like it or not, those rich, hypocritical and arrogant people make up eighty percent of our clients. So, suck it up and deal with it. I need you back.”

  I took another big gulp of my coffee and shook my head. “I can’t take it anymore. That life… The life in the city, all the bullshit things we have to do, the business parties with clients, the girls we hire for them, the lies we have to be a part of to win the account…it is disgusting. I can’t be part of it anymore!”

  “We do what we have to do. Everybody does it. It is part of the business. Plus, you weren’t in it as much as you used to be since… you know… since Emma.”

  “Maybe. Still, the last couple months do not erase the sins of my past. It never should have been like this. We live and work in this corrupt world, full of hypocrisy and lies. Things that we used to do Max, they still haunt me. I came here to escape all that.” I confided to him finally, the way I had never done before. “Our past ruined the one thing that was so precious and irreplaceable for me. I want out Max…and I mean it.”

  “What do you mean you want out?”

  “I’m not coming back.”

  “You can’t tell me that you are not coming back. What about the company?”

  “Those young accountants we have, they are good. They haven’t been spoiled with money and success like us yet. They are clean and honest. They’ll take care of the business for you. I… I’d like to sell my share. Hopefully to you. That way you don’t have to deal with an outsider.

  “Fuck you, Dylan! You can’t do that.”

  “Yes, I can.”

  “No. I can’t let you ruin the business that we built so hard together. You need time, I get that. Take all the time you need, but don’t rush into making irrational decisions. You are acting emotionally and not making any sense.”

  “I am not acting emotionally. I know what I want and do not want.”

  “I know what you want. You want Emma and all this ‘getting out and selling your business crap’ is because you can’t have one girl, but guess what! None of this bullshit will bring her back. If you want her back, grow up and be the determined, strong willed, strong minded person you’ve always been. Do something. Instead of staying in this god damn house, living like a loser, come back and win her back.”

  “She was pretty damn clear Max. She doesn’t want me or anything to do with me.”

  “Since when has Dylan Hamilton accepted ‘no’ for an answer?”

  I couldn’t reply. He was right. I’ve never accepted defeat or taken ‘no’ for answer, until Emma. With her, I was helpless. Defenseless. Yes, I wanted her more than anything else in my life; however, I wasn’t ready to go back to the city yet.

  Hours after Max left, I was still thinking about our conversation. Could I win her back? Did I still have a chance with her? I wasn’t sure what to do. I was ambivalent about everything, work, company, my family, my future. So, instead of contemplating my painful life, I did what I’d been doing best for five weeks, I grabbed my sledgehammer and started knocking down old cabinets, and it felt so good!

  CHAPTER 19

  EMMA

  I was sitting in the very back row of the big auditorium, pretending I was listening. Professor Bissette, a visiting scholar from France, started his seminar on principles of intradural spine surgery with a video compilation of his past surgeries. He was one of the most highly praised, esteemed neurosurgeons in Europe, also teaching at Faculte de Medecine Pierre et Marie Curie in Paris. Since he was extremely busy year round, he was very selective about the seminars he presented at. It was rumored that our dean, Professor Harris, was Professor Bissette’s old college roommate and that he used his close ties to convince him to participate in our ‘end of the year’ seminar. It was a privilege to have him at our university, even if it was only for one day. Students, residents, and even faculty members filled up the auditorium half an hour before he arrived. Completely engaged with his presentation, I could see everyone around me taking notes. Everybody was excited to be part of this rare opportunity, listening to him attentively. Well, almost everybody, there was one exception: me.

  I was staring blankly through the tall windows of the auditorium and scribbling circles in my notepad instead of paying attention. Amy, Sam, Chris…all my classmates were asking questions about his non-traditional surgery techniques. Even the most introverted, reserved person in our group, Adam, raised his hand and asked about the professor’s approach to unruptured intracranial aneurysms. I, on the other hand, looked down and stayed quiet during the entire lecture.

  I was at the end of this long, tiring journey. My life as a medical student was almost over. My dissertation was complete. I was done with my defense too, in spite of Kyle’s, my ex-fiancé’s, presence and many hard, challenging questions. I was nervous about Kyle attending my defense at first. I hated
that he was selected to be part of my research committee, however, he was kind. More than kind, he was very helpful. He shared his past experiences with Doctor Reuben, the toughest professor in my committee, and helped me finish my experiments and present the results in the format Doctor Reuben liked. All my grades were posted. I earned a 3.88 GPA, which put me in the top ten in my class. Everybody was telling me that with my credentials, GPA and recommendations, I could get accepted to any residency program in the States.

  So, as far as work and school were concerned, everything was going well. On the outside, my life seemed to be perfect, or so my friends thought. Maybe they were right. I was about to achieve what I had wanted for years. Soon, I would be Doctor Collins. Doctor Emma Collins… such an impressive, fascinating title in front of my name. Something I wanted since I was a kid, playing ‘operation’. Considering the last ten years, pre-med, med school, PhD program and just a week away from graduation, I should have been feeling more excited, joyful. Then, why was I feeling so dejected and sad? Why wasn’t this, the most important success of my life giving me the satisfaction I desired for years?

  It was disheartening and demoralizing to realize, after longing for this day for years, I felt nothing. It was as if I lost all my emotions. After I told Dylan that it was over between us, my life continued as usual, however, nothing felt the same.

  Ending our relationship was my decision. I listened to all of his messages on my phone. Some of them over and over again. He was sincere, open and honest, declaring his love for me, begging for me to forgive him. The problem was that there wasn’t anything to forgive. He didn’t cheat on me, or lie to me. He didn’t do anything to me personally to forgive him for. From the beginning, he had been honest with me and told me what he felt for me, and what I meant for him. I was certain that I was the only woman in his life that he loved with such deep affection. My problem was neither about his feelings for me, nor about forgiving him for what he did. It was about him.