We lay still as the odor of my semen rose from under the covers. Confusion spun through my head. What did this mean, if anything? I dared to hug her closer to me, but she went suddenly rigid. My heart stuttered.
She finally moved, reaching up to caress my face. She kissed me once, quickly, half on the lips and half on the cheek. Then she was slipping rapidly out of bed.
“I’m sorry. I need to go.”
“Uh. Wait—”
She didn’t look at me as she quickly pulled on her clothes. She turned away from me, pulling her nightshirt over her head—something she was normally far too modest to do in my presence—giving me a view of her naked back as she donned her bra. I lay in bed, dazed and on the verge of tears.
Only when she was completely dressed did she glance at me, face lined with pain.
“I’m sorry. I—”
She grabbed for my hand, squeezing it, then ran out of the room. She was gone down the stairs before I could get to my door.
I tracked her down later that day. We fought, as I said. Though I went back to her a month later, unable to stay angry with her, we would never speak of that morning, nor would she ever share a bed with me again after that.
VII.
“Okay, spill it.”
I was at work later that week, rubbing my forehead in frustration as Kate waited at the other end of the phone for my report on the bachelor party.
“You sure you want to hear this?”
“Yes.”
I had spent the last several days struggling over what to tell her, not out of any desire to protect Preston but because I knew the full truth would cause Kate a lot of pain. And I just didn’t know if I could do that to her no matter how much I felt she deserved to know.
“We played golf.”
She snorted.
“And that’s all? Come on.”
“Well, they had some strippers Saturday night.”
“Go on.”
“I don’t know about this.”
“Tom, please.”
I sighed.
“No one else is going to tell me anything,” she went on. “You know that. Even though the other guys have probably told other people. How can you let them know and not me?”
“I don’t want you to get hurt.”
I heard a little gasp, and she didn’t say anything for a few seconds. I banged my fist against my head at what I had just done.
Her voice, when it returned, was quiet and nervous.
“Tom?”
“What?”
“What happened?”
I groaned.
“I’m not trying to protect Preston,” I said. “I’m trying to protect you.”
“I don’t have the right to know what my future husband has been doing?”
“You do, it’s just . . .”
Silence howled over the line. Then I began to hear vague noises that I was fairly sure were the sound of Kate crying. I heard her cry enough times before to know.
“Kate?”
She took a ragged breath.
“Tom, listen to me. I told you I don’t love Preston. And this is not a surprise. I think he’s cheated on me before, I just wasn’t sure about it.”
“How can you do this to yourself?”
“I don’t have any choice. You know that.”
“Kate—”
She cut me off instantly.
“Please don’t. Just don’t, okay? You can’t say anything that will change the reality of this.”
“Okay. I’m sorry.”
“Now tell me what happened.”
“They had strippers, like I said.”
“And?”
“It turned out they were also hookers.”
“And Preston . . .” Her voice trailed off.
My throat tightened.
“Yes,” I managed.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
Neither of us said anything for about five seconds. I could hear her breathing heavily.
“Thank you,” she said finally.
“I’m sorry, Kate. I wish it were different.”
“It’s all right.”
“No, it’s not.”
Her voice came back at me, heated and edgy.
“And what do you want me do about it?”
“I don’t know.”
“This isn’t your problem, Tom. It’s mine, and I’m doing the best I can.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“No. You’ve done what you could. Thank you.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I know.” She sighed heavily. “I need to go cry now. Goodbye, Tom.”
“Good bye.”
The line went dead, and I hung the phone up slowly. I didn’t know whom I hated more at that moment, myself, Preston . . . or Kate.
VIII.
During my years in law school after graduating from Yale, Kate and I had remained in close contact. We spoke on the phone every week or so, and about once a month, she would come down from Newport and we would have lunch. A few times she spent an entire weekend with me, staying at my apartment, though she always slept on the couch.
Kate had never mentioned her trust fund or its onerous terms, but that was in part because we did not much discuss her family, and I would certainly never have pried into something so private as her finances in any case. She must have begun seeing Preston during my third year of law school, but she never mentioned him once or even hinted that she was dating. She surely suspected that I would not have reacted well to the whole truth, as indeed I would not have. But I wasn’t any happier about it now.
The last time I saw Kate before receiving the invitation to her wedding was shortly after my law school graduation, when I was taking a brief break before beginning my study for the New York Bar Exam. She had come down for the commencement ceremony and stayed at my apartment for a few days afterward.
My roommate had already moved out, having gone home to California, and I was in the midst of packing up myself in preparation for a return home to New York City. I woke up early that Monday morning, stumbling out of my bedroom to make some coffee. Kate was sprawled across the sofa, still asleep. She remained so while I filled the coffee maker, and when I was done, I sat down in a chair beside the couch, watching her.
It occurred to me at that moment that, almost seven years after we had met, we were finally going off into our respective lives. I was heading home to New York for a big firm job; Kate would remain in Newport in her world of money and privilege. We would not see much of each other in the foreseeable future. For all I knew, I might never see her again after she went home that night. A lot of things could happen. I would be very busy. Kate might finally succumb to family pressures to settle down, and I might come to be viewed as a distraction from some arranged marriage. And I felt a profound ache in my chest the longer I contemplated this bleak future.
The smell of the coffee finally woke Kate up. She stretched, yawned, popping a few joints, then rolled on her side to look at me. She smiled.
“How long have you been sitting there?”
“A few minutes. Just since starting the coffee.”
We stared at each other for a moment or two.
“Marry me,” I heard myself say.
Kate’s face paled, and her eyes closed slowly. She rolled on her back and covered her face. My throat tightened as I watched her begin to cry. I had to look away from her at that point, and I did not look back at her until I heard her voice.
“Tom?”
She lay on her side again, eyes red, staring forlornly across the gulf between us. My powers of speech were temporarily crippled. She reached for my hand and squeezed it.
“I can’t,” she whispered.
“But you want to.”
“I can’t,” she said again. “Tom . . . I love you, but right now, at this point in my life, I need a friend more than I need a husband.”
I pulled my hand from her grip, turning away.
�
�I can’t go on just being your friend. I’m sorry.”
I heard her climbing off the couch, and then she was trying to hug me. I remained rigid.
“I’m sorry,” she sobbed, “but if I marry you, I turn my back on my entire family. I can’t do that. You don’t know what you’re asking me to do.”
I pushed her away from me, battling the tears. She sat down heavily on the edge of the couch, sobbing into her hands. I couldn’t stand anymore of this. I stood and walked back to my room, lying on the bed. I covered my face with my pillow and began to cry.
Some time later, I felt Kate sitting on the end of the mattress. I looked up. She was dressed, and her overnight bag was at her feet. She reached out and rubbed my leg.
“I should go. I’m sorry.”
I let go of the pillow and stared blankly up at the ceiling.
“I meant what I said.”
“I know. So did I. For what it’s worth, I do love you. Probably more than I’ll ever love anyone else.”
“For what that’s worth.”
She sniffed.
“I’ll call you. Good luck on the exam.”
I nodded, unable to say anything. She left.
She didn’t call me. Ten months later, I got the invitation to her wedding. By then, though, I had filed that morning away with all the other temporary insanities that infected my relationship with Kate. We were back to being best buds again. Right?
IX.
The wedding was the first weekend in June. I drove up to Newport Friday night and checked into the hotel. Kate had told me they were planning to regroup at the hotel bar downstairs after the rehearsal dinner, and I drifted down there around ten.
I spotted them quickly, Kate and Preston surrounded by a big knot of their friends but somehow paying little attention to each other. I immediately looked around for Mara, not seeing her.
Kate waved me over and gave me a big hug.
“Hey!”
“How you doing?”
“Great. Come meet Melissa.”
She introduced me around, and Melissa proved to be a fairly intriguing prospect, who did indeed look somewhat like Kate, slim and impish and brown-haired.
“Kate’s been telling me a lot about you,” she said.
“Has she?”
“I almost think she’s been trying to sell me on you.”
We exchanged a grin.
“How do you know her?” I asked.
“We went to high school together, at Choate. We haven’t seen as much of each other since then, but we’ve tried to stay in touch.”
“Kate told me you’re a doctor.”
“A baby doctor. I just started my internship last fall. I’ve still got a long way to go.”
“What are you thinking of doing?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe emergency medicine. I really like what I’m doing now.”
“Didn’t get into it to do anything specific?”
She smiled.
“I got into it mainly because half the people in my family are doctors. Did you meet Phillip?”
“Yeah.”
“He’s my cousin. He’s a doctor too. So’s my dad.”
“In my family, it’s lawyering. My granddad is a judge. Where’d you go to med school?”
“Harvard. We’re a Harvard family, pretty much. What about you?”
“I went to Yale.”
She laughed.
“So much for that.”
I talked with Melissa for about an hour. Though she was nice and interesting, it became clear to me fairly quickly that there were no sparks developing. Kate was still working the room, trying to talk to everyone—except Preston, that was. It wasn’t as if they were avoiding each other, it simply struck me that they might not have anything to say to each other.
Eventually I was ready to call it a night, and I walked Melissa back to her room. I went to sleep dreading the next day, for long list of reasons.
---
I spent most of the next day sitting around my room watching television and trying not to think about anything. I showered and dressed at five, then descended to the lobby.
And there, sitting on a couch waiting for the shuttle to the church, was Mara.
I saw her before she saw me, and I briefly considered fleeing back to my room, before discarding the idea as juvenile. Her blonde hair was pinned up in an elegant roll, and she wore a trim peach-toned suit and some well-coordinated jewelry where she had once worn little beyond jeans and sweatshirts. Mara had always been naturally pretty; when she tried, she could be beautiful, and she was certainly trying this afternoon. I wasn’t egotistical enough to think it had anything to do with my presence, which Kate had surely warned her about by now.
She finally saw me approaching, and an uneven look passed across her face. Then she stood up.
“Hey,” I said.
“Tom. How are you?”
“I’ve been worse. I’m still in New York.”
“Are you a lawyer now?”
“Yep. How about you? Kate said you’re in Chicago.”
“I’m in grad school at the University of Chicago. I’m going to get my MPA this summer.”
“Congratulations. What are you going to do with it?”
“I’m applying to a couple of federal agencies. I got an offer from HUD, but I turned it down. It wasn’t really what I wanted to do.”
“I’m sure you’ll find something great.”
She nodded and turned away from me. I stood there uncomfortably, not sure what to say next. She continued staring out the window toward the street.
A few more guests approached, and we stood in a clump waiting for the van. Mara was still not looking at me. We hadn’t seen each other in about four years, and our last parting at Yale was not amicable. I wanted to say something to reduce the tension, an apology of some sort, but this was really not the best time for it.
The shuttle arrived at that point, and Mara stepped out toward it, not bothering to wait for me. She took a seat in front, and I sat in back.
---
The wedding was being held at a nearby Episcopal cathedral. When I arrived, I saw Preston in the foyer, joking and roughhousing with his groomsmen as the guests filed in. I sat by myself, amongst a clump of other guests I didn’t know, about five pews back from the front.
Little expense appeared to have been spared for this undertaking. Exotic arrangements of stargazers, orange blossoms and orchids were arrayed around the inside of the cathedral, and the central arrangements on the altar were at least six feet high.
The service began at six, and the groomsmen gradually seated all the members of Kate’s and Preston’s families. Then Preston took his place at the head of the church with the priest and his groomsmen, and the bridesmaids finally began their procession.
When the last of the bridesmaids had reached the front, and the organist began the wedding march, I had to close my eyes and fight to stay in control. My stomach tightened, and for a moment I thought I might vomit. But I regained my composure after a second or two and turned toward the rear of the cathedral.
Kate was beautiful. They say all brides are, but she was. She walked slowly the center aisle at her father’s side, giving me a nervous smile as she passed.
Most of the ceremony flew past me by in a blur. I felt as if I were watching it on television, not really there, not really a person who had any connection to the people or the event. Just a spectator with nothing at stake.
I kept waiting for the bit when the priest would ask if anyone wanted to stop the ceremony, thinking of all the things I could say, feeling immensely stupid because of it. I could stand up and shout, “Preston fucked two hookers at his bachelor party!” or “Kate told me herself that she doesn’t love him!”
And all of that would, of course, accomplish nothing beyond profoundly humiliating Kate, and probably driving her out of my life for good.
“If anyone can show just cause why these two may not lawfully be joined together in matrimony,” t
he priest said, “let him speak now or forever hold his peace.”
I held it, and held it tightly.
---
The reception was on the back lawn of the Armitage family mansion, looking out over Narragansett Bay. I rode over in a shuttle with the other guests, and we filed in through the house. Several huge tents had been set up over the dining area, the orchestra and the dance floor. There were already at least a hundred people there, and more arriving every minute.
The wedding party arrived about twenty minutes after I did. Kate’s parents were polite but distant to me as I went through the receiving line. You wouldn’t have thought that I had known their daughter for nearly eight years. I allowed myself a smidgen of revenge at this snub by thinking of Kate’s story about catching the two of them having sex all those years ago.
Kate herself was giddy and teary-eyed when I got to her. She gave me a tight hug.
“I’m so glad you’re here.”
“I wouldn’t have missed it. Feel any different?”
“I’m still in shock.”
“Congratulations.”
She relaxed her grip, giving me a kiss on the cheek. I withdrew from her and shook Preston’s hand. He pumped it up and down vigorously.
“Congratulations,” I said.
“Thanks, man. Great to have you here.”
Dear God, he was already half-drunk. I could smell the liquor on his breath. I stifled the expression of disgust that fought to climb onto my face.
I managed a final smile and moved on to meet Preston’s parents. I continued down the line and headed to the bar when I was free.
“What can I get you?” the bartender asked.
“Bourbon. Neat,” I said. “Make it a double.”
He poured me a double shot of Maker’s Mark, and I downed it in two gulps.
---
I went looking for my seat, and there I discovered that either Kate, out of some twisted desire I could not quite fathom, or the cruel gods of chance, had conspired to seat me at the same table as Mara.
I sat down, watching the other guests blankly. About a minute later, I saw Mara approaching the table. She saw me at the same time, and her face tightened. She sighed, dropping her purse across a chair a few seats away.
The Teaser Page 5
