Before We Were Strangers

by Renee Carlino

  “I did, but . . .” She started fidgeting. “I, uh, never had the discipline she had. She was always better.”

  “I don’t think so at all.”

  “To the trained ear, Tatiana has more talent.” She smiled. “Last bite?” She held a fork full of peanut butter pie up to my mouth.

  I grabbed her wrist, leaned in, and took the bite. The instant intimacy between us felt too familiar.

  “I’m so sorry, but I have to get back. This has been so nice. It was good to see you again, looking so well and healthy,” she said.

  “Let me walk you home.”

  “It’s not necessary.” She moved to the edge of the booth to stand.

  “It’s late, and I would feel better if you’d let me walk you.”

  She hesitated. “Okay. You can walk me to my street.”

  On the walk over, she twisted her hair up into a bun, exposing her tattoo. Green-eyed Lovebird. I couldn’t resist reaching out and running my fingers across the back of her neck. So it really happened. She flinched. “What are you doing?”

  “I just wanted to touch it, to see if it was still there.”

  She laughed. “Tattoos are pretty permanent.”

  “I just wondered if you had it lasered off in anger.”

  “I was more heartbroken than angry.”

  Ouch.

  I took her hands in mine. “I’m sorry. You don’t know how sorry I am.”

  “I know. I am too. You still have yours, I assume?”

  I stretched the neck of my black T-shirt, pulling it down to reveal the tattoo over my heart. “Yep, still there.”

  She ran her fingers over it and whispered, “Just the ash.”

  Her head dropped to the ground. I lifted her chin to look at me and her eyes were full of tears. “We were victims of bad timing. But here we are again.”

  She smiled weakly. “I have to go.” Before I could stop her, she turned and rushed quickly down the street. I waited until I saw her walk up the steps of a brownstone, and then I headed home, pissed at the world, wanting to murder Elizabeth for screwing up my life in more ways than one.

  As soon as I got home, I called my brother. It was only nine o’clock on the West Coast. Monica answered. “Hello?”

  “Is Alexander there?”

  “Hello to you too, Matthias. Alexander’s not here. He’s filing a big motion tomorrow so he’s still at the office.”

  “Monica, you said you and Elizabeth were like sisters, right?”

  “Well, we were family for eight years.”

  “Uh-huh, sure. Did you know that Grace tried to contact me, and each time, Elizabeth found a way to keep that information from me?” My voice was harsh, accusatory. “Did you help her with these little deceptions, by any chance?”

  “Stop.”

  “No. You gave her the fucking family bassinet. You talked to her all the time. You told me yourself that she said things to you about how I was hung up on Grace. You didn’t like Grace from the beginning, and I knew that. You were both so jealous of her.”

  “I’m going to hang up in two seconds if you don’t stop.”

  I was breathing heavily, my pulse racing. There was nothing left inside of me but pure anger and adrenaline.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was never jealous of Grace. She was in your life for five minutes, and now you accuse me of this? Elizabeth never said anything to me except that you had a bunch of pictures of Grace that you refused to get rid of.”

  “Elizabeth is the main reason I haven’t talked to Grace in fifteen years. Elizabeth is probably the reason I’m not married to Grace at this very moment.”

  She sighed heavily. “Matt, you’re being melodramatic.”

  “I don’t even know why I’m telling you all of this.”

  She was quiet for a moment. “I think you’re telling me because we’re family.” Her words surprised me. “You should get some sleep, Matt. You sound torn up. I’m sorry if what you said is true. I never saw Elizabeth as a conniver.”

  “Me neither. But she did it.”

  “I’ll let Alexander know and have him call you, okay?”

  “Okay. Thanks, Monica. Goodnight.”

  I was still staring out the window at two in the morning. My head was foggy, so I decided to take a walk. Before I knew it, I was drifting toward Grace’s street. It was totally quiet as I stood staring up at four brownstones. I didn’t know which one was hers—they were completely identical.

  “Grace!” I called out. I could have phoned her and said, “Gracie! Grace, please, I need to talk to you!” but if you’re going to insist on talking to someone at two in the morning, you might as well pay them a visit. “Grace, please!”

  A man across the street opened a window and yelled, “Get out of here or I’m gonna call the police.”

  “Do it!” I yelled back.

  “He’s fine, Charlie!” It was Grace’s voice. I turned back to see her standing in the doorway of one of the brownstones. I ran up the five steps to the door, my chest heaving. I was inches away from her face as she looked up at me. She was wearing a pink flannel pajama set with Christmas trees on it. It was May. I smiled.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  I took her hands in mine and stared down at them between us. “I wanted to kiss you earlier but I was too chicken.” I leaned in and kissed her slowly, tenderly. Her lips were soft but her movements were eager. She kissed the way she always kissed, with passion. She threw her arms around my neck, pressing our bodies together as we deepened the kiss. She moved her hands to my sides, then to my waist, and under my T-shirt. Her fingers traced the designs on my belt.

  She pulled away and whispered near my ear. “You still have this?”

  “You were always with me, Grace. I never found a way to let you go.”

  She dropped her head to rest on my shoulder. “What are we going to do?”

  “Date?”

  She laughed. “You want to date me?”

  I’d marry you right now if you’d let me.

  “Yeah, I want to date you. You’re my favorite ex-wife.” She lifted her head and I searched her eyes. I was relieved to find amusement in them.

  “I’m free on Tuesday after class.”

  “Want to meet in front of Senior House around three?”

  She laughed again but her tears shone in the moonlight. I had made Grace cry too much for one night. “Yeah. I’ll see you there.”

  I leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. “Sorry I woke you up. Go back to sleep, young lady.” I kissed her nose, turned, and jogged down the steps. “Tuesday at three,” I called back. “I’ll see you.”

  “Keep it down,” Charlie shouted from the window.

  “Go to bed, Charlie!” Grace yelled.

  22. Why Not Now?

  MATT

  My entire weekend was devoted to buying things for my apartment and making it feel lived in, just in case Grace came over.

  When I woke up Monday morning, I could already feel the anger boiling over in me as I prepared to see Elizabeth at work. I went for a run to blow off some steam, took a shower, and headed to the office. I saw Scott in the hallway as I headed to my cubicle.

  “Hey, can I talk to you?” I asked.

  “What’s up, man?”

  “Can we go into your office?”

  “Sure.”

  We sat across from each other at his desk. “I can’t be in this office anymore. Can I work from home?”

  Scott leaned back in his hair. “Bro, you’ve hit me with a lot of requests in the last couple of years.”

  “I know, and I’m sorry, but I can’t handle this office bullshit.”

  “You and Elizabeth made the decision to leave the field and settle down here.” He arched his eyebrows, as if to say¸ Remember?

  “Scott, I’m going to be frank with you. It’s not about working in an office. I think it would be in everyone’s best interest that I not work in the same building as her.”

&nbs
p; “Really? I thought you handled the divorce surprisingly well. And it’s been over a year already. Are you really that hung up on her?”

  “New information has surfaced. I can’t work with that psychopath anymore.” I smiled, which probably made me look like the psychopath.

  “Come on, Matt, let’s be reasonable.”

  “I’ll go freelance, Scott. I did it before, and I won a goddamn Pulitzer.”

  Scott narrowed his eyes. “Don’t fucking threaten me, Matt.”

  “I’m not threatening you, and I’m not going to go into detail about what she did. Suffice it to say, she ruined my life and I can’t work with her anymore, okay? And I don’t think it’s unreasonable for me to not want to work with my pregnant ex-wife and her new husband. I put in a fucking request months ago and I’m still here. It’s either her or me.”

  He signed heavily. “We want you on our team, but you know Elizabeth’s not going anywhere. She’s pregnant; she’d sue our asses off if we tried to get rid of her.”

  I threw my hands up. “I don’t care, man. I’ll walk.”

  Scott swiveled around in his seat while I stared him down. He ran his hand over his shiny bald head and then crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back. “Okay, you can work from home. We never do this, by the way—I need you to know that you’re getting special treatment here. But it’s only until we get you going on something else. You’ll need an assistant to be your proxy at the production meetings if you really can’t stand to drag your ass back into this building. Maybe Kitty?” He grinned.

  I stood up and clapped once. “That’s a great fucking plan, Scott. I love you.” I walked over, grabbed his face, and kissed him on the cheek. “I’m outta here. Oh, and I’ll find my own assistant,” I called over my shoulder as I left his office.

  Moments later, I was cheerfully strutting down the hall with all my belongings in a cardboard box when I ran into Elizabeth. Just remember, Matt: if you kill her, you’ll go to jail.

  “What are you doing with all your stuff?” She put her hand on her hip, blocking my path.

  “Move.”

  “Why are you being so mean to me? I’m pregnant, you jerk.”

  “I’m aware, and so is every other person with their vision intact. And where I’m going is none of your business. Outta my way.”

  “Did you get fired?”

  As desperate as I was not to engage her, I couldn’t control myself. “I know about Grace’s calls and letters and how you hid them from me. Thank you for that.”

  She rolled her eyes and looked to the ceiling. “Oh, for God’s sake, I knew this would come up. Look, when you came back to New York in ’97 and she was gone, you were a fucking mess, Matt. I had to pick up your sorry ass and carry you for years. You think you’d have this job if it weren’t for me? You were an incipient alcoholic, fumbling around like a loser. I saved you from destroying yourself. And she wasn’t here for you.”

  I laughed. “Incipient alcoholic? Is that the narrative you created for yourself to justify your deception? That’s such bullshit. You and I never would have gotten married if I knew she was trying to get in touch with me.”

  “Do you know how pathetic that makes you sound?”

  “You always have to get your way, no matter what the cost. You wanted me, so you did what you had to do. You wanted a baby, and I wasn’t around to give one to you, so you went out and found the next willing participant, even at the expense of our marriage. You’re the pathetic one, Elizabeth. Not me.”

  She was tongue-tied. “I thought . . . I thought you loved me.” This was a typical fighting tactic for Elizabeth. She could do a 180 from angry and accusatory to self-pitying in one second flat.

  “I loved the person I thought you were, but I realize now she never existed. I have to go.” I tried to move past her but she blocked my way again.

  “Wait, Matt.”

  “Please move out of the way.”

  “Why was she still pursuing you after she knew we were married? I mean, it was public knowledge. Don’t you think there’s something wrong with that?”

  “Can you blame her for wanting closure? For wanting to know what happened between us? She was torn up inside, Elizabeth. Just like me.” Pausing, I looked down at her growing belly. “For the sake of that poor human being growing inside of you, I hope you learn something from this. Despite your every effort, we didn’t work out. We’re not together. It was all for nothing.” She started crying, but it didn’t phase me. “Please, Elizabeth, get out of my way.”

  I had hit the crest of my anger, and now everything seemed totally ridiculous. I was beyond yelling and screaming now; it was all a fucking joke, but the joke was on me. I could either take it and move on or I could give this life-sucking person another second she didn’t deserve.

  I brushed past her. “See you never.”

  It was spring in New York, and I was free to pursue what I wanted.

  The sun was shining down between the skyscrapers as I made my way to the subway, clutching a medium-sized box filled with career mementos. I was smiling on the train as I tried to recall every detail of my kiss with Grace the Friday before. How soft her hair felt between my fingers, how she always, even fifteen years later, kept her eyes closed seconds after the kiss was over, like she was savoring it.

  I couldn’t let anyone, or anything, get in my way again.

  * * *

  ON TUESDAY, I went for a run in the morning and counted down the minutes until three p.m., when I was supposed to meet Grace. I arrived way too early and sat on the steps of Senior House until she came striding up, right on time. She seemed revived since I’d last seen her, and she had a Grace-like bounce in her step. She was wearing a flowery skirt with tights and a sweater. It was a slightly more grown-up version of her college style. Glancing down at myself, I realized my style hadn’t changed much either: jeans, T-shirts, and Chucks. Had that much time really passed? If it had, there was little physical evidence beyond a few wrinkles on our faces.

  I stood up and shoved my hands into my pockets.

  “Have you eaten?” she asked.

  “I’m starving.” I lied. I wanted to do whatever she wanted to do. “What do you feel like?”

  “How about a hot dog and a walk in the park?” I smiled. Nothing had ever sounded better. Granted, she could have said, “How about a gondola ride through the Venice canals?” or “How about we sit in Death Valley with no water?” and it all would have sounded equally good to me, as long as she was there.

  “Sounds good.”

  We walked shoulder to shoulder as we exchanged small talk. I told her about my job, skimming lightly over the confrontation with Elizabeth.

  “How are your parents?” I asked her.

  “The same, except my dad is sober now and my mom is remarried. My brother and sisters have all grown up and moved away. I’m closest with my youngest sister. She lives in Philadelphia and I see her often. I thought about moving back to Arizona after Dan died, but I love New York so much. I have friends here and I could never sell the brownstone.”

  I felt an ache in my heart. I wished I had been the one to buy her the brownstone.

  We ate our hot dogs on the fountain steps in Washington Square Park and watched two toddlers splash around in the water. One tiny blonde girl, about three years old, was laughing hysterically. I mean, really belly-laughing for, like, five minutes straight as her little brother splashed her.

  “That kid is adorable.”

  “Yep. Got any pot?” she asked, casually.

  “Abrupt subject change, no?” I squinted at her for a moment. “Wait, are you serious?”

  “Why not?” She reached up and wiped mustard from my lip with her index finger, then stuck it in her mouth.

  Jesus Christ, woman.

  “I can get us some pot,” I said in a daze.

  “Maybe next time.” She shrugged goofily, a flash of Grace from the past.

  “Aren’t you worried one of your students will see you?”r />
  “I was thinking we could go back to your place.”

  “Uh, sure. We can.” I nodded vigorously, like an overeager schoolboy. “Yeah, not a problem.”

  “Look!” She pointed to a young guy giving his girlfriend a piggyback ride, running in circles as she screamed joyously.

  Grace smiled up at me and then her eyes filled with tears. Fuck, don’t cry, Grace. Please. I’ll die.

  “I can still do that. I’m not that old,” I told her.

  She started laughing as tears ran down her face. “Well, Old Man Shore, I’d let you try, but I’m wearing a skirt.”

  “You were saying something about going back to my place?” I tried to pull off an innocent look.

  “Yeah, if you want. I’d like to see your place.”

  “You would?”

  “Of course. I want to see where you live; I’m not offering to sleep with you.”

  “Pfft. I know. . . . I wasn’t thinking that.” Though I was totally thinking that.

  The subway was crowded during rush hour. Grace stood with her back to my front and leaned against me. I wondered if her eyes were closed. I bent and whispered near her ear, “We could have taken a cab or walked. I forget that we’re grown-ups now.”

  “I like taking the subway with you.”

  I pulled her closer against my body. It felt like all the years I’d lost with her never existed.

  When we got to my building, the elevator opened to my loft on the fourth floor and Grace stepped out in front of me. She immediately looked up to the exposed-beam ceiling. I flipped on the lights. “This is gorgeous, Matt.”

  “I like it.”

  There was still a little bit of light left in the sky, casting a nice glow throughout the room. Grace walked to windows. “You can probably see the top of my house from here.”

  “No, you can’t.” She turned and smiled. “Can I get you a glass of wine?” I asked.

  “That would be great.”

  She walked around my sparse loft as I went into the kitchen. The bedroom, kitchen, and living room flowed into each other within a large, high-ceilinged, open space, separated only by a few beams. As I poured the wine, I watched her run her hand across my white comforter.