by MJ Howson
“Not even close.” Jacob stood up and met Dawn near the staircase. He took her hands in his. “You look beautiful.”
The pair took the express elevator to the main floor. When they exited the building, Dawn was shocked to see a fire-engine-red Dodge Challenger limousine waiting for them outside. The unique conversion stood out from the usual Escalades and Town Cars that filled the streets. The driver, dressed in a NASCAR pit crew outfit, stood by the back of the limo with the door open.
“What . . . is . . . this?” Dawn asked.
“It’s our ride.”
Dawn frowned as her eyes inspected the car’s sleek lines. She looked at Jacob and asked, “Isn’t it a bit, uh, tacky?”
“Tacky? There’s nothing else like it.”
Dawn smiled and nodded, although she still found the limo to be an odd choice. As they stepped closer, she turned to Jacob and asked, “Why red?”
“You live in a world of black and white. I thought this would be a nice change for you.”
Dawn stepped inside. The black and red leather interior glowed from overhead LED lighting. A bottle of chilled Louis Roederer Cristal awaited them. Once seated, Jacob popped the cork and poured them each a glass of bubbly. The car aggressively pulled into traffic, causing Dawn to spill some of her drink. Jacob pulled her close, and they laughed as they clinked their glasses together.
“Happy birthday, Dawn.”
“This is all too much, Jacob. I’ve told you to stop going overboard on me.”
“Nonsense. This is a special day.”
“Where are we headed?”
“The driver knows the schedule.” Jacob took another sip of champagne and smiled. “I thought it’d be nice to start things off with a drive through Central Park.”
Dawn stared at Jacob and smiled. She noticed a droplet of champagne clinging to the scar on Jacob’s lip. She wiped it away with her finger and asked, “Why haven’t you told me how you got this?”
“The scar?” Jacob tensed up and stared out the window. “I don’t like talking about it. Another time, maybe. Tonight’s all about you.”
Dawn and Jacob spent the next twenty minutes enjoying their drinks and catching up on things. The weather was gorgeous, and every so often, they’d lower the windows to take in the fresh air. Jacob tried to get Dawn to open the sunroof and stick her head out, but she refused. Traffic proved to be bumper to bumper, making their cruise through the park rather brief.
The car soon glided to a halt outside of Daniel on East 65th Street. Specializing in French cuisine, the highly regarded restaurant was a popular place for celebrating special events such as this evening’s.
Dawn felt a bit tipsy from the champagne as Jacob helped her exit their limo. She followed him inside. The room’s ivory-colored columns, arches, and coffered ceiling made Dawn instantly feel comfortable. Waiters passed by, carrying dishes filled with exquisite mouth-watering meals. Dawn’s stomach rumbled from the avalanche of scents surrounding her. The hostess brought them to a table for two abutting a half wall between two soaring columns.
“Are you up for another drink?” Jacob asked as they sat down. “Or have you had too much? Doesn’t your doc have you on something? Maybe you should switch to water.”
“I can take one night off,” Dawn said.
Jacob took the liberty of ordering them a pair of dirty martinis with olives stuffed with blue cheese. From there, they proceeded to do a wine sampling paired with a three-course prix-fixe menu.
The next two hours were truly decadent. Dawn surprised herself by how much food she consumed. When making the reservation, Jacob had notified the restaurant that it was Dawn’s birthday, and they received a special dessert to end their evening.
The conversation all night had been light-hearted and upbeat. Jacob did most of the talking, entertaining Dawn with stories from his modeling days, as well as the latest drama from a recent private event held at the Harbor View lounge. Rose Garden had attempted to crash the event and had to be removed by the police.
As the waiter placed a second cup of coffee in front of Dawn, all she could think was it had been one of the best nights of her life. Dawn took a sip of coffee and smiled. She looked across the table at Jacob and said, “Thank you. Your generosity is endless.”
“It’s your birthday,” Jacob said. “And you’ve had a rough year.”
“We . . . we both have.” Dawn reached across the table and took hold of Jacob’s hand. “Hopefully, we can get back to where we were earlier this year.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.” Jacob smiled. “Things were so much better before the pregnancy.”
“The pregnancy?” Dawn withdrew her hand. “I was talking about before the miscarriage. We . . . we need to try again.”
“What?” Jacob asked, his voice almost booming with surprise. He ignored the stares aimed at him. In a softer tone, he said, “Dawn, that was your fifth miscarriage.”
“How many times have I told you this time was different? I know if we just tried again, we’d–”
“We were never trying.” Jacob sighed and looked around the dining room, seemingly lost in his thoughts. “Where’s all this coming from?”
“Don’t you want kids?”
The waiter walked over and placed the bill beside Jacob and said, “No rush.”
Jacob ignored him. Instead, he stared long and hard at Dawn. He asked, “And you do?”
“Of course.”
“Since when?” Jacob shook his head and glanced at the bill. He groaned as he retrieved his wallet. “When we met, you told me you couldn’t get pregnant.”
“But I never said I didn’t want kids.”
Jacob placed his credit card with the bill and then leaned across the table. The smile he’d displayed for most of the evening was long gone. He glared at Dawn, and in a hushed tone, asked, “And the difference is?”
Dawn’s beautiful chocolate flourless birthday cake suddenly looked unappetizing. She took another sip of coffee as she pushed the plate away. Dawn found it difficult to look at Jacob. She stared into her coffee and said, “Well, I’d given up on having kids long ago. I’ve told you that before. But . . . when we got pregnant, I assumed it was a sign.”
“A sign?”
“That we were meant to raise a family.”
“Dawn, you told me we didn’t need to use protection because you couldn’t conceive.”
“That’s what the doctors told me.” Dawn bit her upper lip as she looked around the restaurant, trying to avoid Jacob’s judgmental glare. “Honestly, Jacob. Eve was just as much a shock to me as she was to you.”
“Eve.” Jacob leaned back in his chair. He still had half a glass of Chateau Bellisle Mondotte in front of him. Jacob held the goblet to his nose and briefly enjoyed the scent before chugging some of it back. The deep red liquid clung to the scar on his lip. Jacob asked, “Why are you in therapy?”
“What?” Dawn found herself taken aback by the question. “You’re the one who insisted I go.”
“Right. To get over the loss. But what are you getting out of it?”
“Honestly, Jacob, not much.” Dawn stole another bite of chocolate cake. The sweet frosting did little to lift her spirits. “The doctor said I’m making progress, but I don’t see it.”
“Where do you hope to be when therapy ends? What’s your goal?”
“Goal? I . . . I don’t know.” Dawn sighed and tossed her fork on her plate. “I just want to be happy again.”
“Is your doctor telling you that your goal is to get pregnant?”
“What? No. No, he’s . . . .”
“If you ask me, getting pregnant again and raising a family should be the last thing on your mind,” Jacob said. “But I’m no doctor. He’s the expert. Follow his advice, Dawn.”
Dawn stared at Jacob, her mind a flurry of conflicting thoughts. All summer, Jacob had been supportive of her therapy sessions. But also more and more distant as each week passed. On the rare occasion that they made love, Jacob
always ended things abruptly.
“You never answered my question,” Dawn said. “About wanting kids. Is that why you always pull out?”
“What?”
“When we have sex. You never . . . .” Dawn glanced around at the tables scattered around them. She lowered her voice to a whisper and leaned forward. “It’s like you’re afraid you’ll get me pregnant again.”
Jacob shifted uncomfortably in his chair and ran a fingernail against the scar on his lip. He sighed and said, “Like I just said, a baby is the last thing you should be thinking about right now. I’m doing what’s best for you.”
“What’s best for me?” Dawn glared at Jacob, taken aback by his comment. “So, you don’t want kids, do you?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “Go ahead. Say it!”
“Can you please lower your voice?”
Dawn looked around the restaurant as even more eyes settled on their table. The excess booze, coupled with Jacob’s disappointing reaction, caused Dawn to become quite upset. She sighed as she took another sip of coffee. A shadow slowly loomed over her. Dawn looked up to see their waiter standing there smiling.
“Is everything okay?” the waiter asked.
“My apologies,” Jacob said. “I think she’s had a bit too much to drink.” He handed the waiter the bill with his credit card. “Everything’s been lovely this evening.”
The waiter smiled, nodded, and walked away.
Dawn glanced across the table. Jacob was still staring at her. She looked away and sighed. Without looking at Jacob, she said, “I’m . . . I’m sorry I yelled.”
“Dawn, what if you got pregnant this month and had another miscarriage next month?”
“Don’t say that!” Dawn grabbed the napkin from her lap and wiped the tears that began spilling uncontrollably from her eyes. “How could you say such a thing?”
“To make my point.” Jacob reached across the table and took Dawn’s trembling hands into his. “If even the thought of a miscarriage sends you into tears, you aren’t ready to get pregnant.”
Dawn ran her thumbs across Jacob’s fingers. His grip was gentle yet firm. She nodded as she allowed his words to settle on her heart.
“Just focus on getting over the loss,” Jacob said. “Work with your doctor, okay? We can talk about this another time.”
“Sure.”
The waiter returned, surprising Dawn with a customized menu for her to take home. The menu contained a birthday wish along with everything they’d ordered to celebrate. Dawn smiled as she read through the details. She looked over at Jacob and said, “Thank you, Jacob. This . . . this evening was truly lovely.”
“You know I only want what’s best for you.”
The baritone burble of the Dodge Challenger’s 5.7-liter V8 engine greeted Dawn and Jacob curbside as they left the restaurant. The chauffeur smiled as he held the limo’s door open. Dawn found herself lightheaded from the amount of alcohol she’d consumed. She did her best to forget the argument that marked the end of their evening.
As the car pulled away, Dawn slid closer to Jacob. He put his arm around her and pulled her head against his chest. The woody scent of his Bulgari cologne always brought her a bit of comfort. Dawn closed her eyes and said, “We’ll get through this, Jacob. I know we will.”
Ten
Dreams
Dawn emerged from Mercado Little Spain, a coffee in one hand, a small bag with her miguelito pastry in the other. The crisp air should have refreshed her, but she felt no joy. She took the stairs up one level and entered the main public garden area beside Nieman Marcus. A mix of tourists and locals meandered throughout the huge plaza. As she approached the Vessel, she noticed Joe waving to get her attention.
The Vessel, as always, gave Dawn pause. She flipped her Prada sunglasses atop her head and stared at the towering copper beehive structure, wondering if she’d ever go inside. There was a romance about the multi-level design. Dawn found the interlocking layers mesmerizing. Perhaps it was how the light played off the complex twisting copper surfaces. Maybe it was the couples she often noticed enjoying a warm embrace on one of the upper levels. She made a mental note to consider painting it someday.
“Good morning, Miss Easton,” Joe said, waking Dawn from her trance. “Summer’s gone, isn’t it?”
“What?” Dawn replied. “Oh. The weather.”
“We’ve still got a couple of weeks left, but every year like clockwork Mother Nature just kills the warmth after Labor Day.”
A thin insulated jacket complimented Joe’s typical summertime security uniform this morning. The temperature hovered around sixty degrees, with a strong breeze coming in from the river. He looked Dawn up and down, inspecting her full-length black raincoat.
“Are we getting rain today?” Joe asked.
“No. No, I . . . I just felt like wearing this.”
“I haven’t seen you in a while. You doing okay?”
For some reason, Dawn always found it easy to talk with Joe. He never judged her, and she found that comforting.
“I’ve . . . I’ve been better.” Dawn motioned toward a nearby set of stairs. Sadly there weren’t any benches in the plaza. Joe followed her and stood nearby, keeping an eye on the passersby. Dawn took a seat, resting her coffee by her side. She reached into the bag, grabbed her pastry, and took a small bite. “It’s these dreams. They come and go. I can go days and sleep great. Weeks even. But then, for no reason, I wake up screaming. I had one again last night.”
“Screaming? They sound more like nightmares.”
“It’s . . . it’s my daughter. She’s haunting me.”
“Daughter?”
“The baby I lost back in May.”
“Oh.” Joe scratched his chin as he watched an unshaven teenager walk by with a backpack flung over his shoulder. He glanced down at Dawn. “And you’re sure the person in your dream is your unborn daughter?”
“I do. She looks like me. The dreams started after the miscarriage.” Dawn sighed and rubbed her temples. “I know. It sounds crazy. Right?”
“Not at all. If you ask me, dreams like those are your mind’s way of dealing with trauma. Maybe even guilt.” Joe looked around the plaza and then knelt down to be closer to Dawn. “I remember the first time I had someone die on my watch.”
“Here?” Dawn looked around in shock. “When?”
“Not here.” Joe let out a deep baritone chuckle over Dawn’s confusion. “Decades ago. I was in my twenties. I’d been an EMT for less than a week. We got a call about someone having a seizure. AIDS. Back then, a lot of it was unknown, you know? Those early days were scary. So, we get to this apartment and go inside. The guy was so frail. Barely any meat on him. But he was still alive. We got him on the stretcher, but by the time we rolled him outside, he . . . he was dead.”
“Why would that haunt you? There was nothing you could have done.”
“As soon as we arrived, we sat in that ambulance and argued for ten minutes. I didn’t want to go inside. I didn’t want to risk getting sick. Stupid, right?” Joe lowered his head and sighed. “That man’s partner yelled at us. Blamed us for taking too long. I got home that night and cried myself to sleep. All I could think was that if I’d gotten to him sooner, maybe he would’ve survived. Would . . . would those ten minutes have made a difference? I’ll never know.”
“And that . . . that gave you nightmares?”
“Yes, ma’am. For weeks. I’d wake up hearing his partner screaming his name. Carl! Carl!” Joe put a comforting hand on Dawn’s shoulder. “Time heals all wounds. Those dreams will disappear. You’ll get through this. I’m sure of it.”
“My therapist could learn a lesson or two from you.” Dawn squeezed Joe’s hand and smiled. “You’re a good man, Joe.”
“I just call them like I see them.” Joe stood up and stretched his back. “Are you headed there now? To see your doctor?”
“Yes.” Dawn grabbed her coffee and pastry bag and stood up. “It’s been three weeks since my last session. I’m su
pposed to go more often. But, honestly, I’m not getting much out of them.”
“Give it time. The doctor’s the expert.”
“You sound like my Jacob.” Dawn sighed as she thought back to the birthday dinner five days ago. “I’m doing this for him. For us. I want to get better. I want these nightmares to end.”
“They will. You take care of yourself, Miss Easton.”
“Thank you, Joe.”
∞∞∞
Dr. Cole adjusted his eyeglasses as he studied the notes from his last session–number six–with Dawn from last month. They’d ended the session with her speaking fondly of the nanny who ran the household while her parents worked all day. All his questions about her mother had been deflected. After her father’s death, Dawn saw little of her mother. Eventually, her mother moved away.
The ticking clock above the door showed the time as 11:43 a.m. Dawn’s three-week gap from her last session had annoyed him, and her lack of openness seemed to only slow her progress. Her body language throughout the session had alternated between defensive and depressed.
The notepad on the doctor’s desk read Easton-D 9/6/19 #7 across the top. He’d taken very few notes. The nearby recorder whirred loudly. Dr. Cole’s eyes settled on the last thing he’d written - Nanny as mother?
The windows in his office were cracked open, allowing a cool breeze to waft through his office. The fresh air helped alleviate the dusty smell of the room. Dawn was seated across from him, pensively twirling the belt on her raincoat. Dawn had removed it upon arrival, but mid-session began complaining about the temperature in the room. Despite her angst, her pale complexion made her appear lifeless as always.
“Are those new cufflinks?” Dawn asked.
“My wife got them for me last weekend.” Dr. Cole held his arm upright so that Dawn could get a better look at them. “At your recommendation.”
“I told you topaz was a good color for you.”
“You did. Thank you for the suggestion.” Dr. Cole smiled and nodded. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get back to your nanny.”
“Oh. Sure. Well, she . . . she was a wonderful caretaker.”