by Robyn Carr
“As you know, that can happen even to people with commitments,” she said. “Even to people who have been married a long time.”
“Not to everyone,” he argued. “Some people of great courage and integrity say, ‘No thank you, I have a commitment.’ And you know what happens then? They pay attention to the relationship they have with their partner and make it good if they can. Maybe that temptation goes away if they don’t feed it. That’s my bet. And if they can’t hold true, if they have to part ways, they haven’t done so because of another person.”
“I don’t even know what to say,” she said. She was acutely aware that she hadn’t said, “I love you, too.”
“Ever since you first came over here to see my house, ever since you started feeling a little crowded in your house, things between us have been heating up. I like it. I like it more than you realize. But I suggest we take a little break while you think about where you want to go with me. Because I don’t want to be your Friday night guy forever.”
“You act like you think I’m using you!”
“Nah, I know you’re not that kind of person, Addie. But you take a long time to make a decision, y’know. And I’ve been hanging around a long time now. We gotta shit or get off the pot. Don’t you think?”
“I don’t know what to think,” she said. “I have to process this.”
He smiled indulgently. “That’s my girl. You process. I’ll walk you home.”
* * *
During the rest of October, the leaves turned and the hillsides east of the Pacific were aflame with colorful beauty. Justine’s house sold, and some of her furniture appeared in Addie’s house. Their house. The large yellow sectional replaced the old sofa and love seat that had been there for too many years to count, and while the piece was beautiful, it felt very awkward to Addie.
Every few days Justine brought home paint color samples, tile samples, flooring blocks or strips of wallpaper. Adele found it all overwhelming and was noncommittal.
“Really, Addie, if you don’t give me your opinion...” Justine said.
“You’re moving a little fast for me, that’s all,” she said.
“But you wanted to fix up the house. You talked about it for years. And I have some money from the sale of the San Jose house to apply to a little restoration. The big jobs will be the kitchen and bathrooms, so we might leave those for after the holidays. There’s a guy in town that Sam swears by who can do a kitchen in ten days. He promises it! Once the kitchen is remodeled, it’ll be easier to do new flooring. Will you at least look at some of these pictures I printed off the internet?”
“What if I’m not in the mood?” Addie asked.
Justine sat down at the table—her beautiful dining room table from San Jose—and said, “What’s really wrong? Don’t you like my ideas? Am I crowding you and making you uncomfortable? Are we too much for you here—the three of us?”
“No, I love having you here,” she said. “I think I’m having trouble with change.”
“Well, that’s not good since you’re making a lot of changes. Work, school, living arrangements...”
She doesn’t know the half, Adele thought. There was that little skirmish with Hadley. He hadn’t called or turned up since, so that was finally really over. She thought so, anyway. Then there was the ultimatum from Jake. He had stopped by the house a couple of times, bearing gifts of wine, fruit and cheese. He was his friendly old self, as sweet and lovable as ever. But they hadn’t had any further discussions about the status of their relationship.
“Of course I love him,” Adele told Ross. “I always have. But I never thought of him romantically, except to wonder could we be...you know...”
“Friends with benefits?” Ross said.
“Well, that’s the only way I can put it. I mean, lately we’ve been getting much closer and I thought it might lead to something physical, but that’s as far as I thought about it. But he wanted me to know that that kind of arrangement wasn’t enough for him.”
“And you interpreted that to mean?” Ross asked.
“Well, shit. He said he’d been in love with me for years. And here I always thought he loved me like a friend. Like a brother.”
“Hmm,” Ross said. “Do brothers usually act like that in your neighborhood?”
“I guess I just wasn’t thinking,” Adele said.
“Or listening,” Ross said.
“I don’t know what to make of this,” Addie said.
“Then tell me something,” Ross said. “Describe love to me.”
She had to think about it for a moment. “Well, being in love with Hadley didn’t really feel great, but I remember thinking it was great at the time. My heart seemed uncomfortably large in my chest, I was all aflutter, I couldn’t think straight and my very existence seemed to balance on whether or not the phone would ring. I could barely express myself, and I didn’t know what to do or say. It was kind of like a delicious torture. He said all the things I wanted to hear, like that I’d taken over his mind and he couldn’t think of anyone else. That he wanted us to be together.”
“Together how?” Ross asked.
“Well, together to have sex, as it turned out. But I wanted to live happily-ever-after. And he did say he’d be divorcing his wife. Soon.”
“Hmm. Did you ever ask yourself if you could bear that feeling of quivering and having an enlarged heart forever?”
“I supposed it wouldn’t feel like that forever, that it would calm down and become a warm and comfortable feeling of love and trust and dependability.”
“That sounds very nice. Tell me what love looks like.”
The picture that came to mind was one of Hadley standing on the front porch with his wife, kissing her deeply and running a hand over her swollen tummy, proud of the baby his wife carried. Tears came to her eyes. “I always wanted to be in love. You know, that love that’s sure and strong and beyond doubt. And of course, filled with helpless passion.”
Ross leaned back in her chair and crossed her hands over her chest. “I was in love with my husband,” she said. “I was in love with him so much my eyes crossed. Then he hit me and terrified me and begged for forgiveness and promised to never do it again, and all that lightheadedness came back and I loved him desperately again. And then we fought and made up and it wasn’t long before he hit me again.”
“Oh, Ross,” Addie said, sympathetic.
“I was so high on emotion I couldn’t see daylight. I was either afraid or maybe just cautious and nervous or helplessly in love, because when he wasn’t cruel he was so loving and sweet. It was the most terrible roller coaster. It took me such a long time to realize it wasn’t love at all. It was addiction and abuse and control and maybe a lot of things that weren’t healthy. Because, Adele, real love doesn’t always sparkle and rain glitter on your head. Real love can be a little like warm milk—not all that tasty but soothing and predictable. Real love is feeling trust and kindness toward someone who isn’t a prince all the time but is never a beast. Real love can be a little boring sometimes. Or at least not so pretty. Real love sits in the steam bath with a baby with the croup or changes the oil in your car before you go off on a long drive. Real love is someone you can call when you have the flu and he brings home chicken soup and changes the sheets on the bed. Real love sits by you on the couch while you weep at a silly chick flick... Or maybe real love endures yet one more football game and even throws some wings in the oven for him because he deserves it.”
“And if you get bored and just don’t feel that jazz anymore?”
“I guess that’s an individual thing,” Ross said. “I had an awful lot of jazz with my abusive husband. He used to say the best part of a good fight was the making up afterward. Eventually I began to really resent what I had to endure to get that good lovin’. It took me a long while to realize that all that sparkle wasn’t really love. It was infatuation
, and it wouldn’t turn into the calm, strong, enduring and dependable trust that could last.”
“I think, Adele, you have to figure out what love looks like to you. Can you imagine a life with the professor? Or do you think you’d just uncover a lot of lies and manipulation? Or, let me ask you this—how would it feel to not have Jake, your closest friend, in your life anymore?”
“That would be a terrible loss,” she said. “But I’m not sure I really love him.”
“Has there ever been a time in your relationship when you were uncomfortable with him?”
“No,” Adele said. “But what do I know? In spite of the agony of loss, I still thought I was in love with Hadley. He broke my heart, but I probably would have taken him back if he’d said all the right words.”
“You still haven’t decided what you really want your life to look like. Maybe you’re more like me and you just want your independence. I don’t really want to be married again. I don’t want some man’s rowing machine under my bed. I get my oil changed at the station on the corner, and I can install a ceiling fan just fine.”
“Thanks for the chat, Ross,” Adele said. One thing was sure—Ross always made Adele smile. And think.
* * *
Justine had asked her daughters if they were planning to be home for dinner. Both said yes. When they got home from school at nearly five, she was in the kitchen slicing and dicing vegetables. She had a skirt steak marinating in soy sauce, white wine and ginger. It was Friday. She had left work just a little early and was preparing a special dinner.
And the table was set for five.
“I’ve invited a friend for dinner so please, don’t throw your stuff around the living room and kitchen.”
“Who’s coming?” Amber asked, tossing her backpack and coat on the sofa.
Justine scowled at the backpack and coat, and Amber reluctantly picked them up. “Who?”
“Well, a friend. A man I know. I went to dinner with him a few times and talked to him on the phone several times, and I thought you might like to meet him. In the interest of transparency,” she added in her best lawyer tone.
“You’ve been dating him? Without saying a word?”
“Here’s the deal. I met him through a colleague in the San Jose office, and I had a drink with him. I wasn’t about to trot him home to my daughters after one drink. I wanted to get to know him first. I thought if we dated a little and I liked him, I’d introduce you. I’m not good at secrets, but this isn’t necessarily serious. For right now, we’ve had a good time and seem to have plenty in common. He’s nice.”
“You’re dating?” Olivia asked.
“I guess that’s what I’m doing,” she admitted.
“Without saying anything to us first?” Amber asked.
Justine went back to the island in the kitchen and resumed her chopping. “I was a little torn about that. The thing is, I have never done this before. I met your dad in college and was with him and only him from that moment on. This is a whole new experience for me—going on a date after a divorce. A divorce I didn’t want, at that. His name is Logan, he’s very interesting, he has a good sense of humor and is respectful. He not only has a good reputation, he’s a former police officer and a licensed private investigator, so you can be relatively sure he’s up to scrutiny.
“I like him,” she went on. “But let’s be clear—I’m not looking for a new husband. I have no intention of getting married again or even living with a guy. The only people I’m interested in living with are you two and Addie. And with Addie for as long as it works for her. Some days I get the impression we’re crowding her.”
“It’s just the remodel,” Livvie said. “You know how long it takes Addie to make some decisions. And you make them fast.”
“Not this time,” she said. “I talked to Logan on the phone for weeks, maybe a couple of months, before I agreed to meet him for dinner.”
The doorbell rang. Justine felt a jab of panic.
“Okay, look—I just want to introduce him to you so you are completely aware of who I’m going out with. And I’m not going out that much. You are and always will be my priority. You don’t have to like him, you don’t have to approve of him, you only have to be nice to him.”
The doorbell rang again.
“We can be nice,” Amber said. “You better let him in.”
“Right,” Justine said.
“Does Addie know he’s coming over?” Livvie asked.
“I called her and told her. She didn’t seem that happy about it. I promised he wouldn’t stay late.” She smoothed her supershort hair and went to the door.
Logan stood there, two bottles of wine and a bouquet of flowers in his hands. “I was starting to think you changed your mind,” he said.
“No, just briefing the girls.”
He handed her the wine. “Am I allowed in?”
“Of course. Come in.” She stepped aside and said, “Logan, this is Amber and this is Olivia. Girls, this is Logan.”
“You’re my mom’s boyfriend?” Amber asked.
“I am,” he said.
“Well, now...” Justine began.
“Lighten up, Justine, we’ve spent months on the phone and have been out for drinks, coffee, dinner and even a town fair. I didn’t say fiancé, life partner or future wife, but if it takes more to make me a boyfriend...” He whistled. He looked at the girls and winked. “It’s early in the relationship. I might be pushing it to claim boyfriend, but I’m up to the job. Nice to meet you.”
“I’ll pour you a glass of wine,” Justine said. “Red or white?”
He asked for red and then looked at the table. “Nice,” he said, handing the flowers to Amber. Then he looked around the living room, dining room and kitchen. “Just like you described it,” he said. “This looks like a good old house.”
“It’s at least old,” Amber said.
“I live in an old house, renovated and turned into four apartments,” he said. “It’s small but perfect for one person, and I can hear the ocean from my patio.”
“Mom said you’re a cop or something,” Amber said.
“Or something. I was a cop, a detective actually. Robbery. Retired. Now I work as an investigator.” He watched as Amber put the flowers in a vase, then he accepted a glass of wine from Justine. He wandered into the living room and sat on the far end of the sectional. Livvie was wedged into the opposite corner. “Now I do similar work but as a civilian rather than a civil servant. So, which one of you is the senior and which one is the junior?”
“I’m the senior,” Amber said, joining them in the living room. “I’ll graduate this year.”
“Planning on college?” he asked.
“Cal State Berkeley,” Amber said.
“Are you looking forward to it?” he asked.
“I think so,” she said. “I’m glad to be staying in California, but I hope to live on campus eventually. We’re going to need another car. Livvie will still go to our old high school in San Jose, and we won’t be able to ride together anymore.”
“And I’m thinking about the community college for my first year,” Livvie put it. “A lot of people are doing that.”
“Do either of you know what you want to do after college? I had three majors in my first couple of years and still turned out to be a cop, so it’s definitely not required.”
“I have no idea,” Livvie said. “I’ve been saying librarian for a long time because I love to read, but things change. Amber likes clothes.”
“I wish I could find a job wearing them,” she said, making him laugh.
Justine couldn’t have choreographed it any better. He got them talking about themselves first and then before long they were asking him what it was like to be a cop. He spoke freely and openly about some of his experiences while keeping the conversation and stories age appropriate. He told them a
bout a robbery he’d working—the robber had a weapon and forced his way into an occupied home and there was no indication he’d left, yet they couldn’t find him. He was hiding inside the dirty old furnace in the basement and gave himself away, very loudly, when the homeowner turned on the heat. Then there was a bank robbery where the thief made a wrong turn, right into the safe.
“But really my favorite of all time was the thief who led us on a chase and didn’t get very far because he took a turn too tight, drove through a neighborhood backyard wall and landed, car and all, in the homeowner’s swimming pool. I think I have a picture if you want to see.”
They wanted to see and he got out his phone, scrolling through the pictures.
Justine was just about to give up on Addie when she walked in. Introductions were made, and they all sat down so dinner could be served.
Justine didn’t exactly find Addie’s regard for Logan to be cool, but it took ten or fifteen minutes for her to warm up while Justine served dinner. Once everyone was eating, Addie became fully engaged in the conversation.
“When did you two first meet?” Addie asked.
“Hmm,” he said, pausing before answering. “I was doing some work for Justine’s company last winter. I think it was a workman’s comp claim or something like that. Then I was recommended to her for one of her own cases.”
“You worked together?” Addie asked.
“I’m a detective for hire. I investigate everything under the sun, including corporate background checks, bankruptcies, potential hires, anything and everything. So, I met her, found out she was divorced, asked her to meet me for a drink.” He shrugged. “That has to be six months ago or so.”
“Almost five,” Justine said. “We met for coffee, had a few phone chats, went to Carmel for a town art fair... Eventually we had dinner.”
