The Secrets She Keeps

by Jolie Moore

  “Maybe if you’d invited me, this wouldn’t have happened.”

  I knew Daisy would go there. But I didn’t want to talk about Hawaii or Andrew.

  “Can’t go back,” was all I said, closing the subject.

  Daisy leaned forward. “So what about the second time?”

  “I was drunk. He drove me home.”

  Impeccable manners forgotten, Daisy’s elbows hit the table with an audible thud, palms bracketing her face. “When are you doing all this drinking? Since…Owen, you haven’t really had a drink. You’re like a MADD zealot. You hate it when anyone drinks who could possibly be getting behind a wheel.”

  I wanted to shake Daisy and make her say his name. “I still never drink and drive,” I said instead, underscoring what she was avoiding.

  “You’re ducking the question. When are you drinking?” Her voice had gone all Al-Anon.

  “Sometimes I need to blow off steam,” I said. Not everyone is an alcoholic. But saying that aloud would have been cruel.

  Daisy looked hurt even without my candor. “Why didn’t you call me? You know I’d do anything for you.”

  And that was the rub. Daisy was my friend. I had no doubt the girl would have taken a bullet for me. Yet I didn’t trust my friend with my biggest secrets. I was the only one who knew everything, had all the puzzle pieces. I’d made sure to dole out information among friends and family on an as needed basis. A few knew about the wedding, only my mother about the baby. No one knew about my particular twice-yearly brand of solace, except maybe Lucas now. But the whole story? I’d probably take that secret to the grave.

  “It’s about Andrew,” I finally revealed.

  Daisy abandoned her chopsticks. That’s how Nari knew her friend was taking this seriously. “I thought we were talking about Lucas.”

  “I slept with Lucas on the anniversary of Andrew’s death.”

  “Oh, Nari.” She got up from the bench across from me and scooted next to me instead. It was Yankee awkward, but my friend slipped an arm around my shoulders anyway. “I didn’t know you still had a hard time in March. You haven’t said anything for years.”

  “It was the tenth anniversary. That’s what was hard,” I said, swallowing before the lump closed up my throat.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “This is one of those cases where talking about it doesn’t make it better.”

  “So you drowned your sorrows in alcohol and Lucas took advantage of you. So typical of men—”

  I stopped Daisy before she went on one of her little tirades about the horrors of the half of our species with a penis. Without stopping her, she’d spew her dad’s crap for a good long time. Instead of saying it was all me, I equivocated. “It was mutual.”

  “What happened after that?”

  “We went our separate ways. Things were fine at work…until the second time.”

  “The second time? How’d that happen?”

  “I was at a bar with someone from work and he came in. She got a better offer so he volunteered to drive me home.” I said in my version of the truth. “I may have come on to him. But the wine made it a little hazy.”

  “You obviously like something about him.”

  “So last weekend he invited me over for dinner,” I continued. If Daisy had been sitting any closer to the edge of her chair, her linen covered butt would have hit the floor. “One thing led to another.”

  “Out of bed, what’s he like? Do you have a lot in common?”

  More than I would ever let on. But what Lucas and I had in common wasn’t the kind of thing that would make for fun car trips or romantic dinners. “We haven’t really talked about music or books or television.” The normal bricks that made up the foundation of a relationship. “He’s been going through a hard time.”

  “Why? Please don’t tell me he’s in the middle of a breakup. Rebound men are the worst. They—”

  “He’s not on the rebound that I know of. He’s adopted.”

  “Okay.” Daisy drew out the syllables like there was a joke in there somewhere and she was in search of a punch line.

  “He’s been looking for his birth mom,” I said with some finality.

  “Wowza. That’s heavy. And he wants a relationship on top of that?”

  “I have no idea on that last one.” But that wasn’t entirely true. It was the fact that he wanted a relationship that was scaring the hell out of me.

  “Sounds like it, though. Maybe you should try normal dating. Dinners, movies, walks on the beach,” Daisy said in a perfectly reasonable tone.

  The stab of betrayal nearly stopped my heart. “But what about Andrew?”

  “What about Andrew?”

  “He was my husband, Daisy.”

  “He’s dead, Nari.”

  “Dead doesn’t mean I don’t love him anymore.”

  Daisy was quiet for a long time. I could practically see my best friend fighting not to throw out all the old clichés about getting over it, about what Andrew would want for my future, about moving on. Instead Daisy wrapped two hands around the ceramic cup and drank deeply.

  “He can’t love you back from the grave, Nari,” she said. The words hit me like a kick in the gut.

  “Daisy, that’s not—”

  “Do you ever plan to get married or have children?”

  Daisy had forgotten the operative word—again. Been there, done that, I wanted to scream, wail, shout from the rooftops. But I knew Daisy was asking about the future, not the past.

  “I don’t know.” Until recently, I had never thought about trying again. I’d gotten my chance, lost the two people most precious. I didn’t deserve to try again.

  “That’s a pretty basic question. Most people know where they fall on this.”

  “Where do you fall?” Despite all the linen, khaki, and summer wool she owned, Daisy wasn’t exactly little-miss-traditional-Connecticut. If my best friend could ignore her doom and gloom father, and see past her own dysfunctional family, maybe there was hope for me.

  “I’m not sure I want either. Pushing a stroller through Griffith Park seems a little bit boring. I’d take adult conversation over talking to a toddler any day.”

  “Does Raphael want to get married?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. We haven’t talked about it, ever. But you’re avoiding the question.”

  “Why do I have to answer it?”

  “Because it’s probably not fair to fuck this guy—fuck with this guy—until you know what you really want.”

  “I thought you of all people understood casual sex.” It was an unfair dig. But Daisy wasn’t dishing up enough empathy. She didn’t rise to the bait. It was very mature of her.

  “If both parties are on board,” Daisy said, stating the obvious rules of the hookup.

  I sat back in my seat, frustrated. I didn’t need a primer on normal relationship progression. I’d fallen way too far outside normal boundaries. This wasn’t helping. Maybe I needed to know how to talk to Lucas. How to make Daisy understand that while I wasn’t ready to leave this man alone, neither was I ready to date and talk about the future like so many of our peers did. I signaled the waitress and asked for a doggy bag and the check. This wasn’t going how I’d imagined. Maybe I’d been watching too many Sex and the City reruns. Daisy wasn’t full of sage advice or wisdom. Not that she’d ever been—about love or relationships. She gave great investment advice, though.

  I pulled my Burberry tote bag from the purse hanger I carried everywhere. I tucked the heavy brass disc discreetly in an inner pocket. Little metal purse feet were not great at keeping the canvas free from the flotsam and jetsam of restaurant floors. What was the point of having a dust bag, keeping everything clean in the closet if I didn’t keep it clean anywhere else? Not to mention the superstition of having your handbag on the floor.

  “You can’t just leave because I’m not saying what you want to hear,” Daisy said, scooping leftover rice into a Styrofoam container.

  “That�
��s not why I’m leaving,” I lied. I pulled the thin jacket around my shoulders, ready to brave the cool desert night. Daisy’s phone rang as she stood, and despite all her play-it-cool nonsense, she was smiling and whispering into her phone. I suspected it was some kind of secret conversation between her and that comedian. With a twinge, I remembered having those kinds of whispered conversations with Andrew. For hours, days, or weeks at a time, a new relationship is impervious to the outside world.

  It’s a girl, her lover, and nothing else in the bubble. A sharp pang of envy sliced through my heart. Even after three years, Andrew and I had rarely left that bubble. Then with the single careless act of a drunk driver, our bubble burst.

  Still on the phone, Daisy snatched up the doggy bag, and waved good-bye when the valet handed her some car keys. Patiently I waited my turn. After tipping the vested guy, I rolled up my windows, shutting out the noise and smell of Koreatown. At the stop light on Sixth, I looked around the cavernously empty SUV.

  “Maybe I can try again,” I whispered to the wood and leather cocooning me. At the green light I accelerated dangerously into the thick traffic, ignoring the blaring horns and squealing brakes. With that one thought, I felt like I’d cursed God. If lightning came from the cloudless sky and struck me dead, I wouldn’t have been the least bit surprised.

  I wanted Andrew and I wanted a future. I feared I couldn’t have both.

  Chapter 14

  Lucas

  Sometime between the end of medical school and now, my brain had left my body. Everything was upside down in my life and I couldn’t figure out how to tilt it back in the right direction.

  Spinning around in my chair, I stared at the map of the world. Lines blurred on the sand-colored map as my eyes crossed. But I could make out the curved edge of the continent where Los Angeles lay. Vermont was a smallish trapezoid well on the other side of the country.

  Standing, I decided I’d conquer the near before the far. I fished around in my closet and determined that casual was the way to go. Khakis and a two-tone sweater my sister had gotten me two Christmases ago made the final cut.

  I didn’t call until I was parked outside her building. Nari was a little flustered on the intercom, but buzzed me in nonetheless.

  The girl who answered the door looked about fifteen and was not Nari. Indecisive, I stood there for a long moment.

  “Are you Nari’s daughter?” I finally managed. Single-mom had not figured into the speech I’d rehearsed on the way over.

  Backing away from the door, the girl laughed behind her hand. “No.”

  I took two steps inside the apartment, and the girl closed the door behind me. “I’m Eun-ji, her cousin.”

  I noticed the accent then. This cousin hadn’t grown up anywhere near here. I thrust out my hand for a shake. It took a moment before she grasped it. “I’m Lucas Tucker,” I said. “I work with Nari at the clinic.”

  Eun-ji winked at me. “Riiiiight. Work. That’s why you’re here on a Sunday. All those primary care physician patient emergencies.”

  “My cousin was just leaving to head back to her dorm at USC. Isn’t that right?” Nari asked, full of “shove off, there are adults talking here” in her voice.

  “I’ve been in Los Angeles long enough to know that’s my cue,” the cousin said. She hefted a heavy backpack onto her shoulders, took an envelope from Nari and let herself out.

  “Did you just give her money?” I said, sticking my nose in where it didn’t belong.

  “She used to live with me. And now she doesn’t.”

  That was all the explanation I was going to get on that one. “Eun-ji.” I stumbled over the name. Mortified, I plowed on. “She looks like you. For a minute, I thought she might be your daughter.” My laugh was pathetic. Rewinding the clock fifteen minutes wouldn’t be a half bad idea. Why weren’t scientists working on time travel along with cancer treatments? At this moment both were equally important.

  “Is that because we’re both Asian?”

  I tried to bring her cousin’s face to mind. I was sure they’d shared the same cheeks and chin, Nari’s thinner, but still the same. I looked at faces and features every day at work. Maybe clinically or pathologically, but I thought I was more observant than the average guy. Backpedaling, I walked around the back of the couch. Gripped the cushions for support.

  “I, uh, wanted to talk about us.”

  “Us?”

  Five feet separated us, but it was more like a chasm as wide as the Grand Canyon. Though I knew she was the woman who’d lain under me, called my name while she’d come, this version of Nari looked as cool and out of reach as mist on a pond.

  “I…” I faltered. The rehearsed lines fell out of my head like an actor with stage fright. Unfortunately, I couldn’t call, ”line,” to the director. I cleared my empty throat. “I think we should go out, you know, date.”

  She looked over her shoulder out her kitchen window. I couldn’t see much beyond the blinds. Didn’t know if there was anything to look at. “As in go steady?” Nari asked, turning back, her eyes unblinking.

  I didn’t know if she was being snarky or serious. I decided to keep the conversation on the serious side. “I was hoping we could be exclusive, yes.”

  “Have you ever dated someone Asian before?”

  And there it was, my greatest fear realized before I’d even been invited to take a seat. Forget the invitation, I sat heavily on her couch, placing my shoes on her all white rug. I could see the slightest frown lines between her eyes. My crimes were stacking up this morning. If she were judge, jury, and executioner, I’d be dead before lunch.

  “No,” I answered honestly. I leaned forward, my elbows on my knees. “What difference does that make?”

  “Cultural differences can be hard to overcome.”

  I racked my brain for what was different about us, other than the superficial traits like different eye color and hair texture. She was tan, I wasn’t. But in my family, I was used to that. “Like what?”

  “I eat mostly Korean food,” she said.

  “I thought your lunch was good.”

  “You nearly died from the kimchi.”

  “Spicy food isn’t what I grew up with in New England, but I’m open. What else, Nari?” I hoped she could tell from the tone of my voice that I wasn’t convinced.

  “Do you know what it’s like being a Korean woman in Los Angeles?”

  “That’s a rhetorical question, right?”

  “There’s not a day that goes by when some guy isn’t hitting on me. At gas stations, they’ll pay to fill up my car. I’ve had men pay for my parking. In bars, they buy me drinks. I could have gone through my twenties never buying a single thing for myself.”

  “You’re an attractive woman.”

  “You think that’s it? My best friend is cute, and men aren’t falling all over themselves to pay her way through life.”

  “Is she blond? Is she, um, endowed up top?”

  Nari looked at me sharply. “No. Why?”

  “Sometimes men like to look.”

  “And what, if she doesn’t have breasts the size of melons, she isn’t worthy of a second glance?”

  “I didn’t say that. All I was saying is that you’re very pretty.” I wanted to kick myself for the backhanded compliment.

  “I think it’s more than looking. I think they want to take me home. They have some fantasy of a docile comfort woman catering to their every whim in and out of bed.”

  I wanted to say she should talk to them for five minutes. They’d know in an instant that she wasn’t that kind of woman and wander off in search of easier prey. I was starting to wonder why I wasn’t one of those men.

  “So if this is all so awful, what are you in bars looking for?”

  Her nose flared and her eyes shifted away back toward the window again. “That’s not fair.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m there to make myself forget,” she whispered. “You know that.”

  I stood and walked o
ver to comfort her from the low blow I’d delivered. She was perched on the kitchen stool again, though this time she was dressed in skintight jeans and a blouse that was made for a man’s easy access. But I didn’t say that. Prying my foot out of my mouth, I spoke. “This isn’t going at all like I planned.” I took her hands in mine. “I really like you. I want to explore this.”

  “But…”

  “But what?” I’d come ready to refute all her excuses. “You’re Korean. I get that. We work together. I get that too. We’re adults who get along and have…” I swallowed. “…great sex. We know all of each other’s secrets. That’s a better start than most couples get.”

  I nearly let go of her hands and patted myself on the back. One by one I’d knocked down her defenses. I’d even taken on the mammoth in the room, Andrew. I wasn’t afraid of him anymore. On the way here, I realized a very important difference between us. He was dead. I was very much alive, very much here, and very much in like with Nari.

  “Are you here only because you want to sleep with me?”

  I could feel the heat creeping along the sides of my neck. At this moment, I hated being pale. I’d grown up with an open, liberal, sex-positive family. Enjoying melding my body with Nari’s was one thing. Talking about it was something else altogether. But she was baiting me, and I needed to rise to it. Embarrassment be damned. “That’s not the only reason.” Damn, I’d punted. “I’d be lying if I didn’t tell you that I was very much physically attracted to you. But that’s not the only part of you I want to know better.”

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  Finally something had gone according to plan. She’d said the one thing I had known she was going to say. Now I leaned in and did the one thing I was planning to do to convince her. I’d never been one of those guys who kissed a woman without invitation. Asking first was a drumbeat from my mother to my college resident advisor. But today wasn’t about asking.

  I pulled her to me, reveling in the fact that she was tall enough to kiss without breaking my neck. I looked down, taking my time. We were both sober, and I wanted us to both be present in the moment.