by Violet Howe
I was standing in front of the shower waiting for the water to get warm when I glanced over my shoulder at my reflection in the mirror.
The change in my appearance caught me off guard. My skin was pale, and my eyes were sunken and surrounded by dark circles that spoke of days on end with no sunlight, a bare minimum of food, no exercise, and too much sorrow to contain. My cheeks seemed hollow, and I could see my ribs.
I turned to look at my back, and drew in a sharp breath at the clearly visible knobs of my spine. I’d always been lean, thin even. But I’d never looked so emaciated. I had twisted back to a profile view, ready to step into the water when I noticed my stomach.
It was rounded, not like a ball, but definitely more curved than I remembered.
I’d often had problems shopping for a swimsuit because my hip bones protruded higher than my abdomen, and if a bikini bottom wasn’t snug against my skin, it would stretch across my pelvic valley from bone to bone and leave my pubic mound exposed.
That problem no longer existed. The valley was gone. I laid my hand across it in disbelief, turning to face the mirror.
The loss of weight was obvious in my face, my waist, and my arms.
Why on earth would my abdomen have gained?
A sick feeling washed over me as I frantically tried to count back to the last time I remembered cramping.
I’d hit puberty later than most at seventeen, and even once it began, I’d never had a regular menstrual cycle. The doctor had assured my mother and me that it was no cause for alarm, and that many athletes with vigorous workout schedules and low body weights did not experience regular periods.
I’d never bled for more than a day or two at a time, and I sometimes went two or three months without a period, but I did usually have cramping with or without the outward signs of menstruation.
I didn’t remember having any cramps at all since I’d met Gerry, and certainly none since we’d first been intimate.
I turned off the water and wrapped a towel around me to sprint across the hallway to my bedroom, desperate to find a calendar.
My mother’s voice called out from downstairs when my bedroom door closed. “Maggie, are you out of the shower? You want a sandwich?”
I didn’t even bother to answer her as I shuffled through my nightstand and my desk in search of a calendar, knowing the entire time how unlikely it would be to find one in a room that had been largely unoccupied for several years.
When my search proved fruitless, I headed back across the hallway to the bathroom, whipping off the towel and examining my belly from every possible angle. By my mental calculations, it had only been eight weeks since Gerry and I had sex the first time. Was it possible that I would already be showing? I might not have seen it if I’d been at my normal weight, and it wasn’t a change that anyone else would have noticed, but I couldn’t deny the difference.
I stared at my breasts, wondering if it was my imagination that my nipples seemed darker. Larger.
My bust had never been ample, which was a blessing for dance, but the dwindling that had affected all of my body except my stomach had somehow also missed my breasts. They seemed to have the same fullness as before.
I’d been in a constant state of nausea and lethargy for weeks, but I’d assumed it was my body’s natural response to overwhelming emotional pain, disappointment, and depression.
Surely, that had been part of it, but something much bigger had been set into motion. It seemed the bad choices I’d made were going to be far more consequential than a painful break-up and the loss of my standing in the dance company.
28 LAKESIDE LUNCH
“Did you get in touch with Galen about Saturday?” I asked Alberto as we scanned the lunch menu at an outdoor cafe overlooking Lake Eola.
“Yes, the little minx finally called me back. I have a two-hour layover at JFK, so she’s going to drive out to the airport and meet me for a late lunch.”
“Excellent. I’m glad you two will get to visit.”
“She sounds happy,” he said as he closed the menu.
“I think she is. She definitely likes Manhattan. She’s excited about the wedding, and I know she’s thrilled that you’re gonna make it. Thanks for that, by the way.”
“Are you kidding me? I wouldn’t have missed Cabe’s if it hadn’t been right in the middle of opening weekend. I take my duties as godfather quite seriously, even if I haven’t been in the country to help out as much as I would have liked.”
“I wish you had been! I needed all the help I could get with Galen. I thought that girl was going to be the death of me for a while. She may still be. I think she got the worst of my character flaws and Gerry’s.”
“She’s certainly fiery.”
“That’s an understatement. I feel like I didn’t give her enough boundaries growing up. I allowed her to be a bit too headstrong, I suppose. Parenting based on guilt rarely produces the best in children.”
Alberto handed our waiter the menus as we placed our orders.
“She said her career is going well,” he said when the waiter had gone.
“Seems to be. I can’t thank you enough for getting her that audition.”
He shook his head and brushed away my thanks with his hand. “All I did was make a phone call. She nailed the audition and danced her way into the troupe. That was all her.” He paused a moment before continuing. “Is she still talking to Gerry? His kids?”
I nodded, ignoring the punched-in-the-gut feeling I got whenever that topic came up.
“She doesn’t tell me when she talks to him, but I assume she still does. I think she knows it upsets me, even though I told her it was fine. But she mentions the girl often. Julie. They’ve become close, it seems. Evidently, Julie has an apartment on the Upper East Side, so they’ve hung out quite a bit since Galen moved to New York.”
Alberto frowned. “I know that has to be hard for you, but it is her half-sister. It may be good for her, you know, to help her feel like she has connections. With him.”
I sucked down half my glass of water, trying to ease the knot in my stomach.
“You’re right,” I said, and I paused as the waiter brought our appetizer. “That’s why I encouraged it to begin with, but it doesn’t make it any easier. Maybe I should have let him be involved all along. I don’t know.”
I scooped up a piece of roasted artichoke and scraped it clean between my teeth.
“Do you think he would have been?” Alberto asked, his blue eyes steely. “Beyond an occasional phone call or perhaps a hasty dinner while he was in town for business? I know he promised and pleaded, but you know as well as I do that Gerry Tucker didn’t make promises he intended to keep. Don’t forget that. I was there. I know you did the right thing.”
I wanted to think so. But had I? Had I been right to keep the kids from knowing their father?
At the time, I told myself—and Gerry—that I was doing it to protect them. He couldn’t be trusted. We couldn’t depend on him. Couldn’t believe what he said. So I convinced him—and me—that the best thing for the kids was if they never saw him. Never knew him.
“Who can say for sure if it was the right thing?” I asked. “I have my doubts. Seeing the way it’s all affected them. Cabe’s anger. Galen’s angst. Her starvation for affection and attention. Perhaps it would have been better if they’d had at least some contact with him.”
“I think they’ve both turned out well. They’re both successful in their careers, and they both seem to be happy in their relationships. Cabe and Tyler spoke very highly of Tate. They think he’s been good for Galen.”
I asked the waiter to bring more water and nodded to Alberto. “He has been. He’s a saint. Tate is well-balanced, even-keeled. I only hope he can continue to put up with her once they’re married. How did your dinner at Cabe and Tyler’s go? I’m still bummed I had a work event the only night they were both available.”
“It was great,” Alberto said as he munched on his salad. “I loved watching the
two of them interact. Cabe is certainly smitten with her.”
I smiled, and the tension in my body eased with the thought of Cabe and Tyler’s happiness. “He is! And he has been, for years. I’m just glad they both finally got past their hang-ups and found their way together. I swear I’ve never seen two people more well-suited for each other.”
Alberto wiped his mouth with the napkin and folded his hands under his chin. “Speaking of getting over past hang-ups and finding someone, have you called the cowboy back?”
I sighed and poked at my salad with my fork. “He has a name, you know. Dax.”
“You haven’t called him, have you?”
“I’ve been a little busy being your tour guide,” I said.
Alberto nodded. “Hmmm. Too busy to pick up a phone? Really?”
“You’ve had me out pretty much every single night, except last night when I was working an event.”
“You’ve found time to call me from work every day. You can’t call him from work?”
“And say what? I stormed out of there with no explanation and I haven’t returned his call. It’s been over a week. He’s probably either pissed or thinks I’m nuts.”
“So, all that talk about being ready to move forward, maybe it’s time to take a chance, he’s a great guy…all that was just blah, blah, blah to get me and Sandy to shut up?”
“No, but I….“
My phone vibrated on the table, and I reached to look at it.
“Speak of the devil.” I held the phone up for Alberto to see Dax’s name on the screen. “How’s that for timing?”
“Well, what are you waiting for? Answer it. You said you’re ready, right? There’s no time like the present. Ask him out. Invite him over for dinner. Make a move.”
I stood and walked toward the balcony railing, taking a deep breath as I accepted the call.
“Hello there,” I said, trying to sound casual, as though I hadn’t walked away without a word after our first kiss and then ignored his call for over a week.
“Hello there, yourself! How are you this fine Wednesday?”
His voice moved over me like the cool water of a pool on a hot, sweltering day, and immediately I felt more awake and alive.
“I’m good,” I said, my smile spreading more by the minute. Somehow I had forgotten how good it felt to hear him talk. “And you?”
“Tired, but a good tired. We’ve come into the busy spring season on the ranch. A lot to be done, pretty much nonstop hours. But I love it. I love the work, and I love the adrenaline. So, it’s good. Tell you what, though, when I finally get to lay down at night, I’m out like a light.”
I chuckled and pictured him stumbling into his camper, tired and sweaty at the end of a hard day’s work. I had to halt my train of thoughts before they had him completely undressed.
“I could use a good night’s sleep myself,” I said. “I’ve had some friends staying at the house with me this past week, and we’ve been pulling long nights around the pool with wine and memories, so I’m starting to drag a bit.”
I wondered if I should say that was why I hadn’t called. Pass it off on being busy or preoccupied with visitors. Anything other than the truth—that I’d been terrified of what I felt for him. He didn’t seem to need an explanation, though.
“That’s too bad. It turns out I need to be in Orlando on Saturday afternoon to meet a plane and oversee the transfer of some equipment. I was hoping I might get to take you out to dinner afterward. But if you’ve got company….”
I glanced over my shoulder at Alberto, who flashed me an encouraging smile.
“Actually, my friend is flying out Saturday morning, so I happen to be free that night.”
Alberto’s smile spread, and he gave me a thumbs-up.
“Excellent,” Dax said.
“Don’t you mean fortuitous?”
He laughed, and I laughed with him.
“Can I pick you up,” he said. “Or would you rather meet somewhere?”
Alberto was watching me with a look of anticipation one might see on someone whose team is about to score the winning point.
He’d been right, though. I didn’t want to remain crippled by the past. I wanted to pursue my interest in Dax.
“You know what, Mr. Pearson? I’d like to prepare dinner for you,” I said.
“Uh-oh. You’re not going to try and outdo my chili, are you?”
I laughed again, reveling in how easy it was to feel joy with Dax. “No. No chili. That’s your specialty, and I wouldn’t dare encroach upon it.”
“Alright. I should be done at the airport by five. What time do you want me? And where?”
“I’ll text you the address. Wanna say five-thirty?”
“Sounds great. I’ll call you if anything changes, or I’ll see you then.”
“I look forward to it,” I said, surprised to realize how much it was true.
Based on Alberto’s smile as I returned to our table, it was hard to tell which of us was happier about the call.
“So, what did he say? What did you say?”
“He’s coming over for dinner Saturday night. Thank you for the suggestion. I did what you told me to. Are you happy?”
“Yes,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Finally. Good Lord.”
“He didn’t say anything about me not calling back. Here I was all worried he’d be upset, but he said he’s been working a lot at the ranch.”
“Maggie, the man is busy cowboying. He has no time to be sitting around waiting for his phone to ring.”
“You’re right. You’re always right.”
“Ha! If only you’d remember that more often. I paid the check so we can get out of here and get you back to work. Are you ready to go?”
“Yes! I feel like this release of nervous energy. Like I’ve got a buzz. God! I’d been dreading calling him after putting it off, but I really wanted to talk to him, and now it’s done. He called me.”
“Yes, he did. He’s obviously interested, that’s for sure. But he’s not overbearing, and he seems to be secure enough in his own life not to need your constant attention. I’m liking him.”
“You haven’t even met him,” I said, pushing against Alberto’s arm as we walked toward the door.
“Well, I’ll be back for the wedding in August. If he still makes you happy by then, I’ll get to meet him.”
“You should move back. It would be so awesome to have the trio in the same city again.”
“How long has it been?”
I clicked the key fob to unlock my car doors. “Well, let’s see. I left Miami with the kids when Galen was what? One? But you moved to New York before that, right? When did you transfer?”
He cut his eyes to me over the roof of the car and glared. “I stayed in Miami to be in the delivery room with you for my goddaughter’s birth, and you don’t remember this?”
“No, of course I remember you being there. But when did you actually leave? I remember moving Cabe into your bedroom once you’d gone, but it’s kind of a blur as to what the timing was. I was a little busy with two kids and a downward spiral.”
We both got in the car, and I immediately cranked up the A/C to combat the warm March sun.
“The way I remember it, Little Guy pretty much took over my room as soon as you moved back in, but I wasn’t officially gone until Galen was like three months old.”
“Right.”
My mind drifted back to that dark, crazy time. Me, seven months pregnant, showing up on their doorstep with a three-year-old in tow and begging for a place to stay. I forced the memory from my thoughts and turned my attention back to the future. Alberto was right. It was time to leave the past behind.
29 AN EVENING POOLSIDE
The rest of my week with Alberto flew by much too quickly. Our airport goodbyes always put me in a funk for the rest of the day, but knowing I would see Dax in a few hours kept me from descending into sadness.
Since we’d already done Latin-Asian fusion, Thai, and chili, I deci
ded to branch in a more Italian direction with a pancetta Amatriciana sauce over penne pasta with my signature Tiramisu cheesecake for dessert.
When Dax rang the bell promptly at five-thirty, I had everything prepared with the bread in the oven, the outdoor patio table set, and music playing softly in the background.
I almost forgot to take off my apron in my excitement to answer the door and see him again.
Alberto’s last words when I dropped him at the airport echoed in my head as I slid the deadbolt open.
“Live your life in the present, not the past and not the future. Enjoy it for what it is.”
He’d also added “and get laid tonight!”, but I was choosing to focus on the more proverbial wisdom he’d offered.
Dax’s face was covered by a vivid bouquet of daisies in a rainbow of colors when I opened the door, and I laughed as he lowered it just beneath his brilliant green eyes to say hello.
“I couldn’t show up empty-handed,” he said, “so I stopped to get a bottle of wine at the Publix down the street and they had these there. I don’t know; they’re probably dyed with food coloring or something, but they were bright and cheerful, so they reminded me of you.”
I took the flowers and the bottle of wine, inviting him to follow me to the kitchen.
“It smells delicious, whatever it is,” he said as he watched me cut the flower stems and put them in a vase of water.
“I went with Italian, since we hadn’t done that yet.”
“Can’t go wrong with Italian,” he said, walking to the bay window to look out onto the pool and its lanai. “Nice pool house. Do you get much use out of it?”
“Not as much these days. When the kids were younger, my parents liked to stay out there. Have some privacy and a modicum of quiet. Then when the kids were teens, they always enjoyed it for having their friends over. I kept the fridge stocked with all their favorites and made sure I popped in often enough with a plate of cookies or a tray of pizzas so I could keep an eye on what was going on. It sits empty most of the time now, although Alberto’s been out there the past week.”
