Eliza Starts a Rumor

by Jane L. Rosen

  “Remind me to thank Spencer for this awesome ‘lose the baby weight’ diet that this torture has inspired.”

  Alison smiled and moved the granola back and forth without taking a bite. Olivia noticed.

  “You might as well spill it while we wait.”

  Alison was happy for the release. “Should I start with the good or the bad?”

  “Your choice.”

  “OK, I will start with the good because I don’t want the sperminator to take any more away from me than he already has. My date was so great and so hot. Is it possible that this gorgeous, smart, funny, sweet guy was just waiting for me in the suburbs to spice up my mundane life?”

  She realized she might have gone too far, considering what Olivia was currently dealing with. It felt like buying a pair of Manolos, two pairs actually, in front of an unemployed friend. Olivia’s face assuaged her concern. She even saw a hint of that old sparkle in her eye.

  “Wow! That’s amazing, Alison. I’m so happy for you!”

  Alison felt embarrassed. Gushing over a guy was so out of character for her. She backpedaled. “It was just a date. Who knows if I’ll even see him again?”

  “Of course you will. It’s good for you to do stuff like this. Circle Time can’t be your only weekly thrill,” she added sarcastically.

  Before Alison could tell her the night didn’t exactly end as she hoped, her phone vibrated, signaling that Andie had responded to her text. She read it out loud:

  Does it have touch ID?

  “I don’t know,” Olivia responded. “How would we know that?”

  Alison dutifully typed:

  How would we know that?

  You don’t until you try it. Sleep hack him.

  Olivia looked confused when Alison read it out loud. She explained, “I’ve heard of people doing this before. When he’s sleeping you put his thumb on his phone and if he uses it, voilà—you’re in. Is he a heavy sleeper?”

  “Only when he wants to be. If he wakes up, I’m totally caught.”

  “Yes, but I think we are past worrying about that so much, right? If he had come clean about his missing second phone, I would be all Team Happy Marriage. But this behavior is extremely suspect.”

  Olivia took a beat as Alison’s phone vibrated again. She read it out loud:

  Once in, she should register her own fingerprint on his phone as well. Then she can slip it back to him and gather more evidence.

  “You can do that?” Olivia asked.

  “If Andie says so, then absolutely.”

  Olivia felt overwhelmed. “Let’s just take it one step at a time. I will overserve him at dinner and take it from there.”

  “OK, call me as soon as you know.”

  “It’s going to be in the middle of the night. Are you sure?”

  “Yes! I’m up and down all night with the baby anyway.”

  Olivia promised to do so and went on her way.

  * * *

  —

  At dinner that night, Olivia nursed a glass of Merlot while discreetly pouring Spencer three. Add in the fact that he was up at 6:00 a.m. to “run” and he barely made it through the nightly selection process of their ten o’clock television show. Of course, it didn’t stop him from insisting he got his choice. Things that had hardly bothered her about Spencer before were suddenly all-consuming. She wondered if it was a defense mechanism. Maybe the less she liked him at the time of implosion, the less it would hurt? She doubted that was true.

  Within minutes of the opening credits he was out cold. She changed the channel to a mindless reality show and noted the time. She had researched when the deepest sleep should occur and decided to proceed in an hour; right after her show was over.

  Between exhaustion and anger, there was little room for fear. She took his thumb in her hand and placed it on the phone—presto, just as Andie had said. She went downstairs with it, poured herself the remnants of the bottle of wine from dinner, and got down to business.

  The phone’s home screen was quite sparse. It had his old AOL account with a bunch of junk mail on it; an app called Map My Run, which does just that; and another called Charity Miles that turns your miles into charitable donations. There was an iTunes account with his running playlist, and even the photos were of nothing more than early-morning sunrises and random shots of bridges and landscapes. So far it looked like it was just a phone for running—odd, yes, but also oddly plausible for Spencer. She wondered why, if that were the case, he hadn’t taken it running the day she found it. She assumed it was because of his work call. She finished the glass of wine and braced herself for what she knew would be the final word on guilt or innocence. Her delay in not diving into the text messages right off the bat made her wonder just what she wanted to find. Before she dug in, she clarified her thoughts out loud: “Please let him be innocent.”

  She breathed in deeply and pressed on the green thought bubble at the bottom of the screen.

  All of the texts were to and from one name: Steven Beck.

  She collapsed onto the table in complete relief. “Steven Beck! Steven Beck!” she chanted. She had always loved that guy. She called Alison on her own phone. Alison answered right away as if she’d been waiting up for the call. She had.

  “All the texts are to or from his college roommate, Steven Beck, who lives up here somewhere, too.”

  “He’s gay?”

  “No, what? Wait a second.”

  Olivia began to look through the chain of texts. They were all about running. She read them to Alison in a tone that rose from giddy to ecstatic.

  I’m running 10 minutes late. Sorry.

  Hurry up! I’m raring to go.

  Feel free to start without me.

  I’ll have to warm up before you get here.

  I only have an hour this morning.

  I’m so worn out from yesterday, I don’t know if I can do it again.

  She felt satisfied. “You get the picture. He is meeting his friend to run.”

  “You must be relieved,” Alison said, in a tone that made Olivia wonder if it were a question.

  “I feel like you’re not saying something.”

  Alison paused to collect her thoughts. She was feeling very tired and didn’t want to put doubt in Olivia’s mind if it no longer existed.

  “It’s just, why didn’t he tell you that?”

  “I don’t know.” Now Olivia paused to think. “Should I ask him?”

  “I don’t know. Do you care?”

  “More out of curiosity. But I would rather stop torturing myself than know his reasoning. I’m going to stash this phone somewhere he will find it and never snoop again!”

  “I agree. I’m happy for you. Are you happy?”

  “Yes. And excited for a good night’s sleep.”

  Olivia realized that she had been so self-absorbed that she’d forgotten to ask Alison about the bad part of her night. But she hadn’t really slept in days and it was nearing midnight. She would ask her tomorrow.

  “Thanks again, Alison, for everything.”

  As they hung up, Alison couldn’t help but wonder why Spencer needed a second phone for running. She decided to just follow Olivia’s lead and move on.

  CHAPTER 29

  Jackie & Jack & Alison & Marc

  Jackie jumped on board the 5:49 with a little extra spring in his step. It did not go unnoticed.

  “So, how was your date?” Lee asked.

  “No hello?”

  “We say hello every day. How many times do we get to say, ‘How was your date?’”

  “Fine. It went great.”

  “You kissed her?” Skip asked.

  “I don’t kiss and tell.”

  “That’s because you need to kiss to tell, and my gut says you didn’t,” Skip chided. Lee elbowed Skip and continued in a kinder fashion.

  “S
o you didn’t kiss her?”

  “No, I didn’t kiss her.”

  Skip chimed back in, “Then it wasn’t great. Everyone knows that’s the sign of a great first date.”

  “Are you two still in a fraternity? Do you leave work and go to secret meetings where you haze each other and play beer pong?”

  “How long has it been since you’ve been on a first date? Leave him alone,” Lee defended Jackie.

  “He doesn’t bother me. I know it went great because I just know, and we held hands.”

  “Oooh, you held hands,” Skip mocked. “You better get tested.”

  “Don’t listen to him. I think you should text her over the weekend and ask her out again.”

  “I already texted her.”

  “Already! And?”

  “And nothing. I haven’t heard back.”

  “When did you send it?”

  “This morning on the way in.”

  Lee was worried. “And you haven’t heard back? That can’t be good. Ask her how the date went online, as Jackie.”

  “No way. I’m not talking to her as Jackie ever again.”

  “Jackie is gonna ghost her?” Skip asked.

  “I don’t know. You’re making me nuts. I’m tired, and word is we have lots of algebra homework this weekend. I’m gonna close my eyes.”

  Jackie should have known better. As soon as he nodded off, Skip took his phone and went to town.

  How was your date?

  “He’s gonna kill you.”

  “It’s for his own good. What could happen?”

  “She could say terrible. Then what?”

  “Then he’ll know and not make an even bigger fool of himself. It will be a learning experience.”

  “Who are you?” Lee laughed. Skip laughed, too. But then she answered. And they stopped.

  Forget my date! You’re not going to believe who was waiting for me when I got home!

  “Shit.”

  “Crap.”

  “What do I do?”

  Lee grabbed the phone. “Give it to me.” He typed:

  Who?

  Zach’s “father.” I think he wants back in. I just don’t know how far in to let him.

  They looked at each other.

  “Now what?” Lee asked.

  “I have no idea.”

  “We have to write something. How’s this?”

  No one can tell you what to do with this but you.

  “No way. Tell her what to do. Jackie can’t compete with the father of her baby.”

  “We don’t know that.”

  Jackie let out a weird-sounding snore, like a snort confirming their fears. Skip grabbed back the phone, deleted Lee’s post, and wrote:

  You owe it to yourself to go out with the guy from the train again.

  “Don’t send that. It’s ridiculous.”

  Lee grabbed back the phone, deleted it, and wrote:

  Follow your heart.

  Jackie stirred. He added “GTG,” pressed Send, and slipped the phone back onto Jackie’s lap.

  “Yeah. That was a bad idea,” Skip admitted.

  “No shit.”

  * * *

  —

  There were two unanswered texts on Alison’s phone. One from Jack:

  Last night was fun. Hope we can do it again soon.

  And one from Marc:

  Sorry to have barged in on you. When is a good time for us to talk?

  She thought about Jackie’s simple advice, Follow your heart. At first it seemed a bit lame, especially since she was always one to follow her head, but maybe not. She followed her heart.

  Hi Jack! It was so much fun, thank you again. I’m free this weekend if you are.

  She thought it over. It was perhaps a little bold to suggest the weekend, but she sensed that with him there was no need to play games. His quick response affirmed it.

  Great! Want to go to the fall fair in town on Saturday?

  She had seen the flyers and pictured herself walking around with Zach in his stroller. She’d wondered if it would feel lonely. She didn’t usually feel lonely with Zach; mostly she felt solid, like they were a family unit of their own. But she imagined the fair would be teeming with traditional families.

  Would it be OK if I bring Zach?

  Of course. I figured you would.

  She was glad that she didn’t have to worry about when was the right time to introduce her son to a guy, for now at least, although introducing him to Marc would be a much bigger deal than to Jack, for sure. Still, she couldn’t exactly justify keeping a child from his father. She didn’t think Marc would be an every-other-weekend kind of dad. She couldn’t imagine him even wanting to be alone with Zach. She called Andie to discuss. An hour later, and with a list of worries like, What if he gets married and they want to spend more time with Zach?, she texted Marc back. Suddenly she felt she needed to know what he was thinking.

  Anytime works for me. Let me know what’s good.

  The answer came back quickly.

  How about now?

  Zach was sleeping. She was awake. Now was as good a time as any. She called his cell.

  “Hi.”

  “Hi.”

  There was a pause, which she purposefully did not try to fill. He asked to talk; she was not going to be first chair.

  “I just want to say again that I’m sorry. I’m really embarrassed about how I behaved and reacted to your pregnancy. I’d like to discuss having some part in Zachary’s life, if you would allow it.”

  Even though his mayoral-vetting committee was directing his every move, there was truth to his words. Seeing his son in person had shifted something in him—something he wasn’t all that comfortable with. He’d reached out to the committee after visiting Alison and explained that he was confident he could repair things with the baby’s mother, to the benefit of his candidacy. In his heart he knew it was for his own benefit as well.

  “How far would you like it to go?” he’d asked.

  They knew Marc Sugarman’s drawback: He was not a very amiable guy. But the public is fickle. To see an extremely handsome, Ivy League–educated man with a stellar record standing next to his fiancée and baby boy would surely induce visions of Camelot in Gracie Mansion. What was originally thought of as his cross to bear could actually nail down his win. They’d answered, “As far as you are willing to take it.”

  “Would you consider coming into the city this weekend? We can take the baby to the Central Park Zoo.”

  She wanted to fully understand what Marc wanted from them, and from experience she knew that he was much easier to read in person. Plus, the zoo did sound nice, and she was free on Sunday.

  “How about Sunday? Meet by the seals at eleven o’clock,” she suggested.

  “That would be great. Thank you for considering my appeal.”

  She wasn’t sure if he meant it to be a joke, but she laughed all the same.

  CHAPTER 30

  Amanda

  Mr. Barr had texted Amanda the night of their first meeting and suggested they get coffee at the Café Karma Sutra over the weekend to come up with a game plan. She knew it was ridiculous, but she was so nervous that she tried on three different outfits, running back and forth across the street for Eliza to give her her opinion. By the third time, her hair was starting to frizz.

  “We really need to deal with this,” Amanda softly berated her. “You’re not going to be able to pull off never leaving the house over Thanksgiving break.”

  “Oh yeah, watch me,” her friend said, smiling confidently. “I thought about it, and last year we spent all of Wednesday cooking, Thursday having Thanksgiving, and most of the weekend eating leftovers and watching football.”

  “You’re not going to see Pippa in the play? That will be suspect, don’t you think?”

  Eliza became mor
e serious. The thought of sitting in the high school auditorium again caused her hands to visibly shake. “It’s not what I want, Mandy.”

  Amanda felt bad for pushing her there. “I know, I’m sorry. Maybe you should consider telling Luke and the kids over the holiday.”

  “Absolutely not. I can’t send them back to school with that worry. If it doesn’t go away, I will tell them by Christmas.”

  Amanda knew she was being tough on her, but coddling her as she had been didn’t seem to be doing any good.

  “You need to help it go away. Like last time.”

  “I’m still hopeful that it will just go away on its own. That looks great; wear that.”

  Amanda wasn’t sure if Eliza was being her honest self or just wanted her to go back home and leave her alone. Either way she stuck with the outfit: jeans, a gray cashmere sweater, and low boots—pretty much her go-to.

  She met Mr. Barr, Dean, at two o’clock in the afternoon. It was a low-traffic time for the bustling coffee shop, making it a great time to sit for an hour without any pressure to relinquish their table. Butterflies again danced in her belly upon seeing him, but the sensation was quickly doused by a particularly delicious muffin and the excitement of once again being part of a theatrical production. They talked about everything from set designs to soliloquies, and the first time that Amanda glanced at her watch she was shocked to see that two hours had gone by. She placed her hand on his arm to announce the time and her need to go and was again reminded of her old feelings for him. Until then she had been too caught up in the play to think about anything else. She was sure of one thing: He wasn’t looking at her like a kid anymore, but more like an equal than a conquest. That was fine with Amanda; feeling like someone’s equal in the theater satisfied an even greater fantasy.