If You Only Knew, page 32
I clear my throat. "Um...how are you?"
"Good. And you?"
"Fine! Great. Good. Um...I wanted you to have this."
He looks down at the pink Loki. A faint smile comes to his face, and my whole soul seems to expand. "Thank you, Jenny."
"Leo!" Austin bellows. "I'm bored!"
"Don't yell, Austin," his mother says in a singsong voice.
"Hang in there, buddy," Leo calls over his shoulder. He looks back at me. "How's apartment hunting going?"
"Good. Listen. Leo. I just want to tell you this one thing."
"Okay." His eyes are such a pure blue today.
"You didn't break my heart," I say. "You filled it up. And I do love you, but I also understand what you can and can't do. I just hope that I'm a happy memory for you. That's what you are for me. I'll always think of you and smile and be glad that I was with you and got to know you."
His mouth opens slightly.
"I'm! So! Bored!" Austin roars, punctuating each word with a fist-bang.
"He's bored," I say. Leo's smile is fast and then gone. "You get back to it," I say. "I just wanted to tell you. And to give you Loki."
"Thank you, Jenny." His voice is achingly deep and gentle.
"You bet. I know how you love pink." I give a shaky smile and get while the getting's good.
Evander's mom pulls up as I'm heading up the stairs. "Miss Jenny," the little guy calls as he gets out of the car.
"Hey, buddy." If he sees the tears in my eyes, he doesn't comment. "How's practice coming along?"
"Fine, thank you." He has such nice manners. "Leo says I'm ready for my audition."
"Then I bet you are."
"Would you come?" he asks. "To Juilliard?"
I'm momentarily shocked out of my sorrow. "Um...wow! Thank you, honey!" He beams. "Just make sure it's okay with Leo and your parents."
"My parents can't go. They have to work."
My sore heart tugs. "Well, you ask Leo, and if he says yes, I'd love to. But either way, I know you'll be great. Because you already are."
He has the smile of an angel, this kid. My throat tightens even more as he goes into Leo's. I'm going to miss Evander. A lot.
I go inside my own apartment.
It seems so long ago that I moved in. All my furniture loves it here. I love it here. The brick walls, the bang of the radiators, the arched doorways, the claw-foot tub, the tin ceiling in the kitchen, the black-and-white tile floors in the bathroom... I wish in one sharp, abrupt swell, that I could stay.
What a beautiful word that is. Stay with me. Stay home. Stay alive.
In another impulsive move, I pick up my phone and call the Realtor. "Hey, Jill," I say. "I think I'm ready to buy something. Let's forget about renting, okay?"
She's thrilled, of course. She promises to email me some listings and schedule some visits.
After I hang up, I take one long look around, trying to etch the feeling of living here on to my heart so I won't forget.
There's a picture of my nieces as newborns on my mantel, the three of them in soft pink sleepers. Rachel kept them in the same crib for three or four months. They're touching in this picture; Grace in the middle, one hand on Rose's, her arm looped through Charlotte's.
I want kids. I want a daughter or a son. I want to be a mother. I also want to be a wife, but it doesn't seem fair to try to find a husband when I'm pretty sure I'll be in love with Leo for a long, long time.
I Google a few terms, find a phone number and dial it. When a woman picks up the phone and says, "Department of Children and Families," I say, "Hi. I'm interested in becoming a foster parent. Can you tell me how to get more information?"
Rachel
Jenny stayed with us for ten days. She seems different in her heartbreak over Leo than she was with Owen. With Owen, she was stunned, like an animal clipped by a car.
Now, she seems...gentled. Her edge is gone when she talks to our mom, and though she's so, so sad, there's something else, there, too. Kindness. Grace. I'm not sure, exactly.
When she told me about Leo's wife and baby, I slept in the girls' room that night, cuddling with each girl in turn, crying into my pillow. It certainly puts my issues with Adam in perspective. If I lost the girls...well. There are some thoughts that are intolerable, to which suicide truly seems like a happy alternative.
Poor Jenny. She wants so much to fix things for everyone--me, Mom, now Leo. But some things are unfixable.
On the marriage front, things are...fine. I'm feeling oddly neutral these days. Adam was furious that I went to see Emmanuelle. I found that rather uninteresting. When he asked why on earth I'd stalk her, I just shrugged and said I wanted to see where she lived, free country and all that. He seemed very concerned that I had "reopened a can of worms."
"Whatever, Adam," I said. "I don't care what you think. It was fun, spying on her."
"That's so unlike you," he said. "It's sneaky, Rach." His face was flushed with anger.
"Right. You're more the sneaky one, aren't you?" I smiled sweetly at him and left the room.
The girls will take swim classes this summer, and Donna will watch them one day a week so I can have Me Time for exciting things like grocery shopping, a nearly impossible job with three kids grabbing every sugary thing they can find. I can also get the car serviced. Repaint the porch. Clean out the cellar.
I've been talking with Kathleen a lot, bonded by our spy mission. She asked if I knew anyone who might house-sit for them while they're in Nantucket. Jenny volunteered, saying she didn't want to impose on Adam and me any longer. She still hates Adam, I know. Oddly, I appreciate it, since that luxury is denied to me, now that we're together again.
I got what I wanted, I guess. I'm here, in this home that I worked so hard to insulate from the problems of the world, our happy little bubble. The girls have their father every night. Adam has a newfound respect for me, the New Rachel, for the glittering, sharp edge that's emerged like a razor in the grass. When I think about my old self, I feel pity and yearning at the same time. Poor Old Rachel, the sweet, naive idiot. And lucky Old Rachel, so completely happy.
There's one niggling thought I can't shake, one that keeps me awake at night.
What would I tell my daughters if they came to me with the news that their husband had a mistress? That he told her, my precious daughter, that sex with the other woman was amazing? Stay and work things out. Oh, and get that STD panel ASAP, darlings! But do stay. Take all that hurt and betrayal and just ball it up and swallow it. Want to bake cookies?
When Owen told my sister he didn't want to stay married anymore, she was out of the apartment the next day. The next day! At the time, I thought she was being a drama queen, to be honest.
Now I have a very different view. He told her he wasn't in love with her anymore, and she left. Bing, bang, boom.
The first morning without Jenny, before I can think about it too much, I decide to update my resume. Then, on a whim, I check Craigslist.
There are three jobs for graphic designers in the COH area. Two are part-time.
I reply to all three. If they want to interview me, we'll take it from there. It might be nice to be something in addition to Mommy. After all, my own mom always worked, less when we were really small, more when we were older. I always loved picturing her at work at the nursing home, giving her clients a way to pass the hours that was filled with the good smells of paint, the rustle of paper and bright colors.
I loved working at Celery Stalk. I loved having coworkers despite my social anxiety, loved hearing their stories, going out for the occasional lunch.
Maybe I should call Gus and see if they could use me.
On second thought, no. If I'm going to have a job, I want to do it on my own. I want it to be new, where I can make a fresh start.
Later that day, when I'm doing errands, I run into Mrs. Brewster at the post office.
"Rachel, I've been meaning to talk to you," she says without preamble. "Do you have time for a coffee?"
This is certainly a first. "Sure."
We go to Starbucks, a place I'm sure Mrs. Brewster has never graced with her presence. I order a silly drink with lots of whipped cream and caramel sauce; she orders a cup of tea. No sugar, no cream, no milk, just lemon. It sums up her personality perfectly.
"What can I do for you?" I ask when we're sitting.
She wipes off the table with a napkin. "Well. I'll get right to the point. You and my son have been friends for many years."
"Yes." I take a sip of my mocha-whatever.
"I'm wondering if you're interested in him. Romantically. I always thought you'd make a lovely couple."
I choke. She hands me a napkin. "Excuse me?" I manage.
"You and Jared. You obviously have feelings for him."
"I-- What?"
"Women and men don't stay friends because they like each other, dear. You and Jared. It would be a vast improvement over that white trash he's smitten with."
"His fiancee, you mean? Your future daughter-in-law?"
"Yes."
I open my mouth, close it, then open it again. "Mrs. Brewster, first of all, Jared and I are only friends. Second, his wedding is in ten days! He loves Kimber. And third, I'm married!"
"I've heard things are not quite...happy...for you, Rachel."
Heat flares like sunspots on my chest and cheeks. "Did you. How nice of you to call and see how I was doing, in that case."
"I would never pry."
"But you're...what? Pimping me your son? Or are you telling me to make a pass at him? I'm unclear."
She lifts an eyebrow. "I'm saying that I think he's making a terrible mistake, and if he were aware that you had romantic feelings for him--"
"Which I don't."
"--then he might be open to calling off the wedding to that ridiculous Kimber person." She pauses. "We're quite well off, you know."
"Oh. Okay. So if I do this, will you pay me? A lot? A million dollars?"
Her eyes harden. "Fine. Make light of the problem."
I put the lid on my coffee. "You're the only problem here, Eleanor. Have some faith in your son, for heaven's sake." With that, I stand up to leave. "I won't tell Jared about this little meeting--for now--but if I hear you bad-mouthing Kimber again, I will in a New York minute. I can only imagine how disappointed he'd be in you." I pick up my bag and my coffee and stride out of there.
My first thought in the car is to call Gus. To say, "So guess what? Someone just offered to pay me to seduce her son," and hear his wry answer, something like, "Welcome to my world."
But I don't. I like Gus, and it wouldn't be fair to lead him on in any way, not with Adam and me back together. So I call my mom instead. "Oh, good for you, Rachel!" she says when I'm done. "I always thought she was a condescending pain in the ass. Who'd have thought you had it in you?"
This New Rachel brings something to the party, after all.
And even though I didn't call him, the thought of Gus and his smiley eyes keeps me company for the rest of the day.
Jenny
I finally meet Owen for brunch.
I had suggested dinner up near me, but Owen, like so many New Yorkers, hemmed and hawed at the thought of driving "all the way" to Cambry-on-Hudson. He and Ana-Sofia have only come out the one time, for the opening of Bliss. So I caved. Later today is Evander's audition, and since I had to be in the city for that anyway, here I am.
We meet at a place we used to go to with friends in our old life. I haven't seen Owen in weeks and weeks now, and for a flash of a second, my eyes pass right over him as I scan the restaurant--woman in yellow Stella McCartney, check; Asian man with baby in stroller, check; hipster with wool hat on, check, it's July, buddy, isn't the hat a little ridiculous?--hang on, back to man with baby...
It's Owen. I smile and make my way to the table.
"It's so good to see you," he says, taking both my hands in his and kissing me on the cheek. "You look wonderful!"
"Thanks. You, too. Hi, Natalia! I didn't know you were coming today, pumpkin!"
She smiles up at me. She really is a beautiful baby.
"Ana-Sofia was supposed to have her today. I'm sorry."
"Are you kidding? Natalia's my favorite of all three of you. Aren't you, sweetie?"
"Would you like to hold her?"
"Yes, please. I even brought my own hand sanitizer." I slather up, then reach out for the baby.
Her head has that hypnotically wonderful baby smell, and her hair is silky. As she did when she was first born, she reminds me of a seal with her huge dark eyes and shock of black hair.
"Can I get you a drink?" the waitress asks. "Oh, your baby is so cute. She looks just like you."
She's talking to me.
"Oh, she's not mine. But she is cute," I say.
Owen is looking at me with a smile.
Kind of a dopey smile.
"I'll have a mimosa," I say.
"Same for me," my ex echoes.
"Coming up!" The waitress bustles away.
"So. How are you?" Owen asks.
"Good. Fine. I'm looking for a house," I say, kissing the baby's head. Really, I kind of wish Owen would go away and leave me to inhale his daughter's good smells.
"Excellent! A house! How wonderful!" he says, his abundant enthusiasm immediately irritating me.
"How's Ana-Sofia?" I ask.
"Oh, she's fine. The usual."
"Kind, hardworking, utterly beautiful?"
Owen looks uncertain. "Yes, I guess so." He sighs. "I don't know. All this happened so fast...getting married, the baby. My head is still spinning."
"Oh, well. That's life, right?"
"I don't know. Sometimes I miss us."
"Us? You mean, you and her before Natalia?"
He gives me that slightly bemused smile. "I mean you and me."
"Is that right," I say, and my voice may be a little loud.
"Well, I've always missed us. We were never the problem."
What? Men are so... Natalia is starting to fuss a little, so I turn her toward me, and with a sigh, she settles against my neck.
"What do you mean, we were never the problem?" I say, my voice low because of the baby, and hard--because really! "You didn't want to be married to me anymore, Owen. That was actually a very big problem."
He has on his Dr. Wonderful face. Compassionate yet concerned yet reassuring. "I just wonder if Ana and I rushed things."
"Well, of course you did. That's hardly news."
He smiles. "I know. It just... It seemed fated at the time."
"And now?"
"Not so fated." I blink. "Things were so perfect at first. It really did seem like it was meant to be. But now...I don't know. We barely talk anymore. She's always tired and acting like a martyr because she's nursing, and I say just bottle-feed--it won't kill her--and she acts like I suggested throwing the baby in the Hudson. And Natalia doesn't sleep for more than a couple of hours at a stretch. I actually fell asleep in my office the other day. Me. Can you imagine?"
I'd respond, but I'm too stunned. Owen is whining. Owen. Whining. He of the Perfect Life.
His hair is starting to thin.
"Sometimes I just wish I could go back in time and be with you, that's all." He gives me a sad smile.
I put the baby back in her stroller/car seat/cappuccino maker, since I think my glaring would have more effect if it wasn't over the head of a beautiful sleeping child.
"You don't get to say shit like that, Owen," I say.
His eyebrows jump in surprise.
The waitress brings our drinks, and while I'd like to toss mine in his face, I might get the baby wet, and also I'm quite thirsty. I chug it down. "Would you like to order now?" the waitress asks.
Owen smiles at her. "I'll have the--"
I hold my hand up. "I'm sorry," I say to the waitress. "We're in the middle of something. Sorry. Can you come back in ten minutes?"
"I'm really hungry," he says, and you know, I've forgotten that. Owen has to be fed every four hours or he gets a little bitchy. That's the only word for it.
"Ten minutes," I tell the waitress.
"I'll have the salmon Benedi--"
"Owen!"
"I'll give you ten minutes," she says and backs away from the table.
"You're upset," he says.
"Yes, Owen. I am." I take a deep breath. "Look. You divorced me. You found me lacking somehow."
"No, I didn't."
"Yes. You did." The words come out from behind clenched teeth. "And then you found your soul mate and you have this perfect baby, but you whine to me? Me? How dare you?"
"Jenny, all I meant was--"
"I don't think we can be friends anymore."
The words surprise us both.
But in the nicest way. For me, anyway.
Suddenly, I feel a lot lighter than I have in a long time.
"Look," I say more gently. "I'm sure that being a new dad is hard. And now that you and Ana-Sofia have been married a little while, reality is setting in. But you don't get to complain about that to me. You left me. I wanted kids, and you didn't, and now I don't have any and you do. So you're a little tired. So Ana's boobs are used for something other than your recreation. Grow up."
He starts to speak, but I don't let him. I'm kind of on a roll, actually.
"And furthermore, I don't think it's healthy for me to stay close with you. I'm tired of pretending it's all happy and great and the three of us are friends. We're not. You're my ex-husband. She's the woman who took my place. I don't care if you're both nice people. I'm tired of soothing your guilty conscience by appearing at dinner parties twice a year and getting a phone call every other day. Okay? You dumped me. It's fine. I'm fine. But enough already."
I stand up. So does he. "Jenny," he says, rubbing his hand over his mouth. "I--I'm so sorry."
"I accept your apology." I look down at the baby, this beautiful child I helped into the world. "Keep me on your Christmas card list, okay?"
Then I give him a quick hug and leave, snagging a cheese danish from the pastry counter on the way out. "Put this on his tab," I tell our waitress.
"You bet, sister." She winks.
I wander down toward Lincoln Center, where Evander will be auditioning, eating my danish and eavesdropping, dodging the people who are engrossed in their phones, half hoping that Darwinism will take place and they'll fall down an open manhole. But it's a beautiful summer day, I'm walking along Central Park West and the pastry is excellent.
I'm happy, I realize.
It's good that Owen and I broke up, because the truth is, I never fit in that life. I loved it--and I loved him--but I didn't fit. It was a life meant for someone else--Ana-Sofia, I hope, because I truly do like her and don't want Owen to end up one of those sad, lonely cliches of a man, with three ex-wives and children he never sees.
