Living Single

by Holly Chamberlin

  Chapter Fifty-six

  E—think i can pay you back soon—going in on a surefire venture with nice man i met at local bar. always wanted to own my own business. will keep you posted. M.

  The offer from Trident was still on the table. I called Jack Nugent to confirm that and to let him know I was still considering. I apologized for taking so much time with my decision. He told me there was nothing for which to apologize. He wished me a great day.

  Face it, Erin, I told myself. The more you imagine working with big corporate clients, the more you pull away from taking the job.

  Am I crazy, I wondered. Crazy to reject an opportunity for serious money and corporate power? Reason weighed in with an opinion. No, not crazy. But examine your motives. Are you really satisfied with what you’re doing and what you have? Or is fear holding you back from taking this step? Say, fear of success? Fear of something new and challenging?

  Romance had an opinion, too. Consider this, Erin: Maybe it’s crazy to turn your back on work you’ve always found fulfilling. You make enough money now to support a comfortable lifestyle. Is it worth giving up work about which you feel passionate for a few thousand dollars?

  Several thousand dollars, Reason corrected.

  On the other hand, Romance said musingly, if you accept the position at Trident you’ll get to see Doug every day and it just might provide an oppportunity for the relationship to grow and flourish.

  A traitorous thought erupted: Did I want to see Doug five days a week? Did I want the relationship to grow and flourish?

  Reason seems not to have heard. Is choosing your lover to be your boss wise, Erin, it asked.

  What would happen if we broke up, I thought, suddenly panicked. Would Doug try to get me fired?

  Again, Reason ignored me. It said: How realistic is it to expect to maintain a true separation between your personal and professional life—especially since everyone at Trident knows—or will know—that you’re sleeping with the boss?

  No one knows anything! I protested. Doug and I have been very discreet.

  Oh, Erin, your love shines from every inch of you! Romance cried. You’ve proclaimed your love to the world!

  Yeah, and rumor has it that Erin Weston is sleeping her way to the top. Reason was very smug.

  It does not! I protested. It’s not true.

  Prove that to your colleagues, Erin. Take the job at Trident. Go ahead. I dare you.

  I called Doug at the office for no reason other than the desire to hear his voice. But when I heard it, I wished I hadn’t succumbed to such a nonprofessional desire. Especially after the scene I’d made about his anniversary weekend with Carol. I’d clamped down on my anger, grasped at rationality, and apologized. Still, the memory rankled.

  “What is it Erin? I’m busy.”

  “Oh, sure, sorry. I just wanted to say a quick hi.”

  “Okay.”

  “So, hi.”

  “Is this about our offer?” he said, with a distinct change in tone. Suddenly, Doug sounded interested in talking to me.

  “No, no. I haven’t made a decision yet. I ...”

  “Trident can’t wait forever for you to make up your mind, Erin. Honestly, it doesn’t say much for your decision-making ability to be fooling around with us all this time.”

  I was shocked. “I’m not fooling around with you!” I cried, then cringed and lowered my voice. “Doug, this is a huge decision. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to ...”

  “Erin, I’ve got to go, there’s a meeting. Just focus, okay, and if you’re holding out for more money than we’ve offered, tell me, don’t play games. Trident wants you on board by the end of the year.”

  “Yeah, okay ...”

  The line went dead.

  He could at least have been polite, I thought, and tears pricked at my eyes.

  My boss called a meeting the following morning. A few months earlier I’d talked to him about the Women’s Lunch Place and about Maggie’s involvement. As far as I knew, Terry hadn’t given the place another thought after our brief conversation.

  I thought wrong. Seems Terry had spoken to the people at WLP, done some research about their past involvement with public relations and publicity, checked out their financials. Finally, Terry had come to a decision. He wanted EastWind to offer its services to WLP pro bono.

  “It’s my firm, I know I can do what I want,” he said, with a grin. “But I don’t want us to offer ourselves if we’re not all in agreement. I don’t want to force anyone to participate. Some of you have kids at home, some of you are already putting in too-long hours. All of you have lots of responsibilities. I don’t want to force you to accept another set. But I do want you to consider EastWind’s doing everything we can for this shelter.”

  “I’m in,” I said, surprising myself. The words had come without thought and they felt right.

  “Just so we’re clear,” Terry said. “It might mean some long hours with no compensation. No monetary compensation, anyway.”

  “What’s their annual operating budget?” Hank asked.

  Terry passed him a piece of paper.

  “Ow. How they get anything done is a miracle. Okay, I’m in.”

  And it went like that around the table.

  “Me, too,” said Edmund.

  “I don’t see how we can say no.” That was Maureen.

  Each and every one of us made the commitment.

  “Good,” Terry said, grinning broadly now. “I’ll call WLP right now. Thanks, everyone. You people are the best.”

  I looked around the table at my colleagues. Yeah, they were the best.

  Chapter Fifty-seven

  E—business venture fell thru. lost abt $1,000. cld have been worse. how is yr job? still no man? M

  I needed to see Doug. I’d made up my mind. The formal note to Jack Nugent was already written, signed, and sealed, waiting to be mailed. I wanted Doug to know first. I thought he had the right.

  I asked that we meet at Radius. That first lunch, back in March, had gone well for us. Maybe there was still some good fortune in the air.

  Doug was agitated.

  “I don’t want to talk about work,” he said, before even saying hello. “It’s been a hell of a morning.”

  That did not bode well for the success of my planned topic.

  I kept my mouth shut until our entrées were served. But then I had to get on with things.

  “Doug,” I said, “I know you don’t want to talk about work. But I really need to talk about Trident’s offer.”

  Doug looked up as if he were stunned I’d broken his command.

  “I’m eating. And you heard what I said. Do we need to discuss this now?”

  “If not now, when?”

  “How about never? Is never okay with you?”

  Blood rushed to my face. “Stop quoting New Yorker cartoons at me. Come on, we need to talk about this.”

  Doug sighed and made a production of putting down his fork. “Okay, so talk.”

  “I’m not taking the job at Trident.”

  The look on his face frightened me. For a moment I thought of retracting madly. But I didn’t.

  “What?”

  “I’ve decided to stay at EastWind. I know what you’re going to say ...”

  “Oh, you have no idea.” Doug pushed his plate away and took a gulp of his water with ice.

  “It was a really hard decision to make, Doug, and I’m sorry it took me so long ...”

  “You’re making a big mistake.” Doug’s voice was cold. And angry.

  Oh, yes, I’ve been making a big mistake for a long time now, I answered silently. But not for much longer.

  “Why can’t you support me on this?” I asked uselessly.

  Doug didn’t answer my question. “You’re not going to be happy, Erin.”

  Oh, yes. I was. If it killed me, I was going to get happy.

  I laughed nervously. In the privacy of my own head I felt brave. The hard part was translating that feeling to words and actio
ns.

  “I hope ... I hope you’re wrong,” I said.

  It was Maggie and Jan’s housewarming, a celebration of their having moved in together and making the big commitment.

  Abby and I stood alone by one of the many bookshelves stuffed with books of all sizes and knicknacks of all kinds.

  “Are we ...” Abby began and then stopped with a look of confusion. Or was it surprise?

  “Oh, yeah, I’d say so.”

  JoAnne joined us with a small plate of goodies. “You’d say what?”

  I gave a quick and hopefully unnoticed glance around the room. “The three of us are—I think—the only straight people here.”

  “I’m not sure we should say ‘straight,’ ” JoAnne said nonchalantly. “It implies that homosexuals are crooked and wrong.”

  “Whatever, fine.”

  “It’s kind of—weird,” Abby whispered. She took a miniquiche from JoAnne’s plate and popped it into her mouth whole.

  “Being the minority?” I said and Abby nodded. “I know. It gives you a teeny glimpse into what, say, Jan or Damion, must feel almost all the time.”

  JoAnne rolled her eyes in the direction of a particularly fierce, macho-looking woman in a black leather jacket. “Scared. Like you’re about to get your butt kicked.”

  “Looks are deceiving.” It was Maggie, joining us with a coffeepot. “Sally’s a kindergarten teacher, one of the best. She’s a total softy.”

  “Sorry, Maggie,” I said.

  She shrugged. “Why? Sally scared the life out of me the first time I met her. Refill, anyone?”

  Abby held out her cup.

  “Why don’t you guys mingle?” Maggie suggested as she poured. “You kind of—um, stand out—huddled over here by yourselves.”

  “Like we don’t belong?”

  “You belong, JoAnne,” Maggie said. “You’re my friends.”

  Maggie moved off to serve others. JoAnne went right and Abby went left. I went for more food.

  Just as I popped a mini-quiche in my mouth ...

  “Hi, Erin.”

  It was Jan. I gestured to my stuffed cheeks and put up my hand to say, Wait just one minute while I finish gulping my food.

  “Sorry,” I said and wiped my mouth.

  Jan laughed. She had a nice laugh. “My fault. My timing has never been great.”

  “This is a wonderful party,” I said. “Did you make all the food?”

  Jan looked proud but not smug. “Yeah. I love to cook.”

  “So Maggie says. And she loves your cooking.”

  “So, she’s talked about me to you guys?”

  “Sure. Not a lot—Maggie’s kind of quiet about her personal life. But she feels comfortable talking about you, if that’s what you mean.”

  “I guess I do. I ... I wondered what her friends’ reactions would be when she told them about me.”

  I considered. “Honestly, I wasn’t totally surprised. I mean, I’d kind of suspected she’d met someone and was just being extremely cautious about the whole thing. I just didn’t think the someone would be a woman.”

  “Not that there’s anything wrong with that.”

  I laughed. “That’s my line, but yeah. Seriously, Maggie seems really happy. And she looks better than she’s ever looked, since I’ve known her anyway.”

  “So, I must be doing something right?”

  I liked this woman. “Yeah. I’d say you’re definitely doing something right. And could you invite me to dinner sometime? The spicy shrimp is awesome.”

  We left the housewarming a half hour later.

  “It’s a little—weird—isn’t it?” Abby said. “Not Maggie and Jan’s being gay but their being together. It’s almost like we’re losing her.”

  “I know. I feel the same way,” I admitted. “Like one of us grew up and left home. I’m happy for her and all but ... I’m kind of sad, too.”

  “And angry.”

  That was a surprise from JoAnne.

  “Uh,” I said, “why?”

  “I admit it. I’m angry that she’s more mature than I am. The very fact that I’m angry shows just how immature I am. Maggie’s settled into a loving, monogamous relationship—which takes plenty of guts—and where am I? Maggie took the lead. I’ve fallen behind.”

  “Think of Maggie’s relationship with Jan as a personal challenge,” I suggested, only half jokingly. JoAnne loved a good competition. “Now you’ve got to prove you can be just as mature as she is.”

  Pay attention, Erin. That was Reason. This might just be an opportunity for you, too.

  I woke up that night in a cold sweat. I must have been dreaming, caught in a nightmare, but the moment I woke, my mind was blank.

  I stared up at the ceiling and took deep, calming breaths. I wondered if I was getting sick. I wondered why I felt so depressed.

  Because you are depressed, Reason suggested, not unkindly.

  I know, I admitted. Depressed and unhappy and downright miserable.

  And whose fault was it?

  The truth was ugly. The fault was my own.

  It occurred to me as I lay there that maybe there was truth in what Maggie had gently suggested to me once. Maybe I was afraid to find real love, the kind I talked about wanting and yet the kind I was not in the least pursuing by having an affair with a married man.

  It occurred to me that I was afraid that what my mother had told me when I was a kid was right, that I wasn’t cut out for marriage after all. Maybe I’d been deceiving myself by thinking otherwise. If I did manage to pull off a wedding I’d soon after ruin the marriage. Should I have continued to listen to my mother?

  No. I threw off the covers, disturbing Fuzzer, and sat on the edge of the bed. No. My mother was wrong. I did want to be married and I knew somewhere deep down that I could make it work. It would be hard but—I could do it. I wanted to do it.

  But first, I had to get off the going-nowhere path I had taken when I’d started the affair with Doug. And in the dead of night, alone and growing cold, that seemed a Herculean task I just wasn’t up to undertaking.

  Chapter Fifty-eight

  I liked my father’s Back Bay apartment. It was cozy in that men’s club sort of way, but without the mournful heads of long-dead elks and the moldy skins of long-dead bears. And here I was about to get thrown out of it for good.

  We each settled in a high-backed leather armchair with a glass of wine.

  “How’s work, Erin?”

  “Okay. Fine. Look, Dad, I know it’s none of my business—I really know that—but ...”

  “But you’re going to ask me anyway,” he said with an indulgent smile.

  “Yes,” I said, looking down at my clasped hands. “And you have to know that Abby has nothing to do with this, honestly. She’d die if she knew I was talking about this with you ...”

  “Erin, before I run away in trepidation, what is it?”

  “Okay. Well, see ...” I hesitated. It really was none of my business, what was going on in my father’s head about Abby.

  Oh, but, Erin, it is your business, Romance cried. These are two people quite dear to you and their happiness does concern you!

  You’re butting in, Erin, and you know it, Reason countered, with a voice like a slap.

  Yeah, well, it wouldn’t be the first time.

  “Dad,” I said, looking steadily at his face, “are you serious about Abby? Because she said things seemed a bit—off—be-tween you two lately and I know she was so excited about your relationship and ...”

  “Yes, Erin, I’m serious about Abby. I care about her. Which is why I’m going to have to end our relationship.”

  What?

  “You’re breaking up with her?” I said, though I’d heard him just fine. “I don’t believe it!”

  Dad smiled, a bit sadly. “Why? Because I’m old and should be grateful that a younger woman is in love with me?”

  Well, yeah, for starters, I thought. But I said nothing.

  “Erin, Abby’s a wonderful wom
an. She’s beautiful and smart and caring. But ... she’s too young for me. We’re just not at the same place in our lives. I know she wants to get married—it’s written all over her—and in all good conscience I can’t let her continue to hope—to believe—I’m going to marry her.”

  This is what you get for being a buttinski, Reason said. I thought I heard a note of gloating in its voice.

  “Did you ...” Oh, Lord. I had to ask, didn’t I? “Did you ever tell her ... Did you do anything to make her believe there was a possibility of marriage?”

  “Erin, you know Abby. I’m a man. Therefore, I’m a possible husband. I promise you, I never mentioned the subject. I never talked about the future.”

  “She did,” I said glumly.

  Dad sighed. “I know. She’s been dropping hints since October. At first, I ignored them and then when the hints got broader, I tried to confront her with my feelings but ... Well, you know Abby. She doesn’t always hear what she doesn’t want to hear.”

  Yes, that much was true.

  “Is there another woman?” I said, hoping there was because I was angry and needed a better excuse to be pissed off at my father than his trying to spare Abby’s feelings.

  “Yes.”

  Bingo.

  “I met her just last week. We haven’t dated yet, just had lunch once with some other people. But I intend to ask her out.”

  It just got worse and worse.

  “So, you weren’t cheating on Abby with her?”

  “Lord, no. Erin, I was faithful in word and deed to your mother for over thirty years. And I’ve been faithful to Abby since we met at the party. I’m happy being faithful. It’s who I am. I want to marry again. Just, not Abby.”

  “You think this other woman—”

  “Marilyn.”

  At least it isn’t Tiffany, I thought.

  “Marilyn. You think she might be the one.”