After Happily Ever After, page 6
I dialed Jim’s number. “Hey,” he said when he answered.
“Did you have lunch with Jerry last week?”
“Not exactly. I was at the deli, and he came in. He asked if he could sit with me.”
“And you said yes?”
“What was I supposed to say?”
“How about, I can’t sit with you because you’re a terrible ogre who gives my wife shit.” Even through the phone I could tell he was rolling his eyes at me.
“I don’t know why I didn’t think to say that,” he said.
“Jerry said you agreed with him that when it comes to my mom, I’m insensitive.”
“He said that. All I said was that you two had a complicated relationship.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you saw him?”
“Because I didn’t want to fight about it. Kind of like we’re doing now.”
He was right. Why was I starting a fight when we were already not connecting? So what did I ask? “Is there anything else you’re keeping from me?” I should’ve kept my mouth shut, but I sometimes blurted out what I was thinking.
“Did you call just to yell at me?” Jim asked.
“Of course not.” I had, but I was starting to feel bad. “I called to see if you wanted tacos for dinner. I got all the ingredients at the market yesterday.”
“Not really. How about that shrimp thing you make with the garlic and lemon?”
“We don’t have any shrimp.”
“Oh.”
“I guess I could go back to the market,” I said, trying to sound as unhappy as I could so he would tell me not to.
“Great, thanks,” he said.
“Fine, I’ll go back on the condition that you don’t have lunch with my brother again.”
“Got it. I’ll talk to you later. Bye.” He hung up, and I realized I was doing the very thing I worried Gia was doing. I was bowing to what my man wanted.
I had my keys in my hand and was heading out the door when the phone rang again. When I saw it was my mom, I let it go to voicemail.
Since it was Tuesday, I planned to go see my dad, and then I’d get a workout in before going back to the market. When I got to Dad’s room, he was sitting in bed watching television. There was an oxygen machine next to him with a long tube running under his nose. He’d never needed oxygen before. Panic bubbled inside me as I thought about what would happen if he stopped breathing. How would I survive losing him? I pushed down my inclination to go to a dark place because it was adding to my overactive anxiety. I kissed him on the cheek and muted the football game he was watching. He greeted me happily, and even with his labored breathing, his eyes had their usual sparkle.
“I’ve never seen you using one of these machines before,” I said, pointing to the black rectangle next to him that looked like a paper shredder. The whooshing coming from it wasn’t loud, but it invaded my brain.
“It’s nothing. I just had a little trouble breathing last night. You know how nurses are: you have a little issue, and they make you use a stupid machine.”
The skin on his face was ashen, so it didn’t look like a little issue. I knew he wasn’t going to say much more though. “How’s the football game? Who’s playing?” I asked.
He stared at the television. “Uh, the Eagles and the Vikings?”
I looked at the television. “You mean the Seahawks and the Giants?”
“Oh, yeah.” How could he not know who was playing, especially since the Giants were his favorite team. Could the lack of oxygen be making things foggier? He asked when Gia’s history project was going to be done. He’d helped her with some of the research. I told him she had to finish by tonight. He closed his eyes.
“Are you tired?” I asked.
“No, I’m fine.” He opened his eyes and stared at the television a moment. “So, when will Gia finish her … her thing?” he asked again.
“Her project?” I asked. He nodded. “Tonight.” I leaned down and kissed him on the cheek. “Dad, you rest.” He was relieved and closed his eyes again. Within moments he was breathing in a steady rhythm along with the oxygen machine. He was so peaceful. I watched him sleep the way I used to watch Gia. When I turned away from his bed to leave, he began yelling and thrashing in the bed so forcefully that he knocked his pillow on the floor. I was alarmed but didn’t think I should wake him. I picked up the pillow and waited for him to be calm again, but just as I was about to put the pillow under his head, his arms began flailing so wildly that I was afraid if I got too close, he’d accidentally hit me. I placed the pillow on a chair and wandered out, feeling uneasy.
I found Julia near the nurses’ station. “Is my father on any new medications? He seems more forgetful, and he was just having some crazy dream.”
“He’s not on any new meds, and the staff has been keeping an eye on him. He’s been having a rough time, especially when he sleeps.” It made my stomach lurch to hear the concern in her voice. “I’ll keep you posted,” she said.
I thanked her and was on my way out when she asked if I could assist a few of the residents before I left. Ever since I’d helped that one day, she’d ask me to do things for the residents. She’d flatter me and go on and on about how indispensable I was, but I enjoyed helping because it made me feel useful, and I wanted to check on my dad again later anyway. Besides, flattery always worked on me.
I spent an hour reading a few chapters of The Bridge over the River Kwai to two men, helping a woman write an email to her daughter, and walking three different people down to the dining room for lunch. I realized I hadn’t seen Dad at any of his usual spots. He hadn’t been in the activity room or movie time or even the dining room for lunch. I went back to his room to check on him, and he was still asleep. What kind of life was that for a man who used to love to golf and paint and play poker? I silently said goodbye and headed to my car.
I put my seatbelt on and turned the heater up to seventy-eight. My car’s thermostat read thirty-six, and I was not going to be able to drive until my hands warmed up. As I held my hands over the vents to feel the warmth, my phone vibrated. It was my mother calling again. Since I had ignored her previous voicemail, I knew I should answer it.
“Did you get my message?” she said, not bothering to say hello. “You didn’t call me back.”
“I didn’t have a chance.” I was irritated by her tone.
“Have you seen your father today?”
“I just came from there.”
“Did you notice how confused he was? Jerry asked the doctor to look into why.”
“He’s a little more confused, but I don’t think the doctor needs to do anything yet.” I didn’t want to deal with her worries when I was trying to push my own down.
“I need to know if there’s something wrong,” she said.
Maybe Jerry was right. Maybe I wasn’t sensitive enough when it came to my mother. Either way, I wanted to get off the phone. “I have to go, Mom. Gia’s walking toward me.” Gia was still at school, but she didn’t need to know that. “Hi, Gia, I’m right here,” I called out loudly. “Bye, Mom.” I hung up before she could ask to speak to my daughter.
I drove to the gym. As tired as I was, exercising would give me some much-needed endorphins, and I’d eaten a family-size bag of barbecue potato chips today. It was either work out or force myself to throw up, and throwing up was gross. I put all my things in a locker except for my towel and went to find an open treadmill. When I got on the treadmill, I started moving slowly and then increased my speed to a fast walk. I hated jogging, so a fast walk was all I would do. I pushed the incline button and went up to level three but quickly brought it back down because my knees instantly bothered me.
A man was walking toward me, bouncing in his shoes like a four-year-old who was excited to be going somewhere fun. As he got closer, he smiled, and I realized it was the Yankees cap guy I’d seen the other day. He was even cuter today than I remembered. Why did I keep running into him? Maybe he had been smiling at me. Why had he smiled at me?
He was wearing shorts and a T-shirt with Captain America fighting some villain I’d never heard of. He had a huge tattoo on his arm with an eagle, an American flag, and a heart interwoven. It was red, white, and blue, with the inscription “Death Before Dishonor.” I’d never been into tattoos before, but this one accentuated the muscles on his arm. I noticed he had a string hanging off the sleeve of his T-shirt. I wondered if I should tell him, but just thinking about talking to him made me nervous, so instead I stared at the television screen in front of me. I hoped he hadn’t noticed me blushing.
The next thing I knew, the hot guy was on the treadmill next to me. Out of all the empty treadmills, he got on the one closest to me? Oh God, did I say out loud how hot he was? He dropped his towel on the floor, so close to mine they were almost touching. Then he put on earphones and began jogging. The next thing I knew, my legs had started jogging also. As he jogged faster, I jogged faster. I hadn’t jogged since I’d fainted after only one lap in seventh grade. I was completely out of breath, but I was not going to show it. I wanted to look fit. He began sprinting. Holy crap, now I was sprinting. Why couldn’t he stay at jogging? I was about to hyperventilate and die when I lost my footing and tripped and fell off the treadmill. I must’ve startled him because then he lost his footing and fell off too. He was doubled over laughing, and I was trying to sound as if I wasn’t gasping for air.
“You okay?” he asked. He was breathing without a hint of exhaustion.
“I think so.” I pulled my tank top down, making sure nothing was showing that shouldn’t be. This cute thirty-something-year-old man was talking to me. Did he know I had to be way over ten years older than him?
He got up and then reached his hand out to help me stand. “I just joined this gym and have been forcing myself to run on the treadmill for forty-five minutes a day,” he said. “I’m punishing myself for something I did in a past life.”
“Then I must’ve done something criminal because I’m usually on this machine more than that,” I said, yelling over the sound of our running treadmills. I wasn’t going to tell him I hadn’t been to the gym in months. He reached around me to turn my treadmill off. I worried he’d notice I was ogling him, so I forced my gaze up and looked into his big green eyes. How long could you stare into someone’s eyes without looking creepy? I was running out of other places to look.
He rested his arm on the treadmill. His biceps were the size of grapefruits, and the muscles in his thighs were toned and defined. “With the lousy day I’ve been having, I’m happy I didn’t just break something. I’m Michael.” He bent over in an adorable, exaggerated bow.
“Maggie,” I said and tried to curtsy, which didn’t come off as cute as I wanted it to. Even though I didn’t normally have conversations with strange men, the warmth in his voice made me want to talk to him more. “Why are you having such a bad day?” I asked. My day was now so much better.
He told me he was a writer, and an article he’d written was supposed to be in a magazine, but today he found out the magazine was folding. He worked freelance writing, mostly travel pieces, profiles of people, and human-interest stories. He sometimes taught writing classes at the community college, and someday he wanted to write a book. As the treadmills around us filled up, I shared with him how I used to be in publishing, and we discussed his writing process and what I used to look for as a senior editor. When he asked me what I did now, I faltered. How could I tell him about my boring life? I started out with the truth, about how I had a daughter and I volunteered at her school. Then I told him that I often visited my father at his senior living facility. As I heard myself talking, I realized that none of this was interesting, so I started making things up.
“I’m a freelance photographer, I rescue animals from bad situations, and I set up fundraisers for charities.” I made myself sound like a saint … a saint who lied through her teeth.
He was impressed. “Wow, it’s amazing you can still get in a workout.”
Even though he was standing so close to me, my nerves had subsided. I hated to admit it, but this was fun. Great, now I was one of those women who’d get giddy when a cute guy talked to her. I hated those women; they were so obvious. I wondered if he talked to every woman in here or if I was special. I looked down and realized I’d left my wedding ring in my locker. Was he trying to pick me up? Did he think I was single? Just in case, I thought I should cut it short.
I made a show of looking at my watch. “I better go. I need to take my dog to the vet.”
He leaned down and picked up his towel. “I work out most days around this time. Hopefully we’ll meet again, Maggie.” He exaggerated my name, or at least that’s how I heard it.
“I look forward to it, Michael.” I tried to exaggerate his name, but I sounded more like a dolt than I usually did. I made a promise to myself that I was going to get to the gym as often as I could, and it had nothing to do with this guy. Well, it did, but I needed to get in shape too. As I crossed to the locker room, I took a quick look over my shoulder. He’d finally noticed that string hanging from the hem of his sleeve and was biting it off.
DAD
Maggie usually comes on Tuesdays, so when she came in my room on a Thursday, I was surprised to see her. I think she came back to check up on me. My breakfast tray is next to the bed. I left most of the scrambled eggs and half the toast. Lately, I’m not very hungry.
“Dad, you didn’t eat much.” She pulls up a chair next to me. I love when she visits. She asks me how I am, and I tell her I’m fine and ask what’s new with her.
“I went to see Mom,” she says and takes the piece of toast, spreads orange marmalade on it, and hands it to me. I shake my head, so she takes a bite.
“She told me you stopped by. How was it?” I ask.
“Fine.” I can tell she’s lying. She takes a bite of the eggs, then makes a face and spits them into a napkin.
“I wish you’d give her more of a chance.”
“She doesn’t like me.”
“That’s not true. She loves you.” Maggie rolls her eyes. Over the years I’ve tried to bridge the relationship between Maggie and Dorothy, but it hasn’t worked out well. From the beginning, Maggie and I were so much alike that I doted on her. Then when Maggie was five, I made the mistake of coming home from a business trip with a turquoise ring for her and nothing for Dorothy. Dorothy said she understood and didn’t need anything, but the competition between the two of them for my attention got worse until Jerry was born. After that Dorothy gravitated toward him, and Maggie felt abandoned by her. I wish I could go back and do things differently.
“I took your advice, and I switched from a PC to a Mac,” she says. “You were right. It wasn’t that hard to make the change.”
“What’s a Mac?” I ask, having no idea what she’s talking about.
“An Apple?” she says, as if I’m crazy.
“Like the fruit?” I ask.
“Are you playing with me?” She laughs. I look at her blankly, my brain foggy. She stops laughing. “Are you okay?” she asks in a worried tone.
“Of course, an Apple computer, right?” She nods. “Stop worrying. It was just one of those senior moments.” I try to make light of it, but I’m wondering if something’s wrong with me. To calm her down, I say, “It’s this place. You put someone around old people, and they act like one.”
Maggie isn’t convinced, and I don’t like that I’m upsetting her. I tell her that I’m tired, even though I woke up not long ago. Then I close my eyes and breathe as if I’m falling asleep. I try not to move at all, until finally she kisses me and leaves. I wait a moment to ensure that she’s gone, then I open my eyes and push the power button on the remote that turns the television on.
Ten minutes later, Julia comes in to check on me. “Mr. Rubin, how’re you doing?”
“I’m fine.”
“You sure?”
“Maggie told you what happened, didn’t she?”
“Yes, she’s a little worried about you.” She straightens me in the wheelchair because I’m slouching again.
“It was just a momentary lapse. I could use a glass of water though.”
“Of course.” She pours me a glass and holds it up so I can drink out of the straw. “Let me know if you need anything else,” she says.
“Please tell Maggie not to worry about me. I was probably dehydrated.” I watch the nurse leave, and all I can think is What a sweet woman. She’s always good to me. I only wish I could remember her name.
CHAPTER 6
I called Ellen to see if she was free to meet for lunch. We decided I’d come to her office, my old publishing firm, and then we’d figure out where to go. My old office was in Stamford, about thirty minutes away, but it felt like a different universe. It was a big city, unlike our little suburb.
I hadn’t been back to that office in years, because the last time, I came home depressed. My job used to be my identity, but when Gia was born, my identity became her mother. I fantasized about where I’d be if I hadn’t left publishing. Would I be an executive editor by now? Or maybe I would’ve started my own publishing company. That used to be my ultimate dream. A dream where I wouldn’t have driven a minivan. A dream where I would’ve gotten my hair colored when I first saw a strand of gray, not when I needed to wear a hat. A dream where Jim didn’t find me boring.
Everyone at my old job used to say I was a hard worker and a fast learner. I moved from editorial assistant to acquisitions editor quickly, and then before I left, I’d made it all the way up to senior editor. I sat down at the computer and searched publishing companies to look at their job listings. Each one seemed to want more qualifications than I had. How would I compete now with people half my age who knew software that didn’t exist the last time I worked? And was it realistic to think I could get back into publishing after seventeen years? Would anyone want to hire a middle-aged woman?
I felt my blood pressure rising, so I leaned down and rubbed Theo’s belly, which made both of us feel better, although he was the only one who howled. Then I went on Linkedin and looked up some old contacts, but everyone I used to work with had moved to New York publishing houses, although my former boss, Lorna, still worked at my old firm. Maybe when I went to see Ellen today, she’d remember how smart and talented I was and offer me a job. And of course, she’d give me the summers off to spend with Gia when she came home from college.
