by Kay Bigelow
They entered the house without another look across the street.
“Hey, this is really nice,” Lindsey said as she entered the house.
“Put your bag down. Come talk to me while our coffee brews.”
After they each had a mug of coffee, they sat in the nook sipping it.
“How long can you stay?”
“I need to go back late Sunday afternoon. I wanted to come give you my support. Tell me what happened.”
Lauren told her what Alex had told her nine nights earlier.
“The bitch,” Lindsey said. “Did you two discuss whether each of you were single? Did you have the monogamy conversation?”
“I asked her if she was single, but she evaded the question on more than one occasion. And no, we didn’t have the monogamy conversation.”
“No? Why not?”
“I don’t know. It didn’t seem necessary at the time.”
“How old are you?”
“I know, I know. I know I should have known better.”
“Ya think?”
“What’s your point?”
“Do you love her?” Lindsey had zeroed in on the most important question.
“Like the devil.”
“Then get over yourself.”
“How am I supposed to do that when she’s going to Europe with another woman?”
“Do you want to let her go? Can you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Let’s set her aside for the moment. Show me your house.” When they returned to the kitchen after the tour, Lindsey said, “God, I love this house, Lauren. You did good, girlfriend.”
“Thanks. I love it, too.”
“Now tell me how you two met and why you didn’t tell me the details immediately. Is she good in bed? Details, my friend, I need details.”
What is she hiding? After thirty-five years of friendship, Lauren knew when Lindsey didn’t want to talk about something. She was an expert at deflecting and keeping conversations away from herself. Two can play this game. Besides, Lauren really didn’t want to talk about Alex. I can’t talk about Alex. It hurts too much to even think about her much less talk about her. I feel like there’s a hole in the core of my being where something has been yanked violently out. That something is Alex.
“I’ll give you all the details, but first tell me what you’re trying so hard to not tell me. Who is she?” Lauren asked, taking a stab in the dark.
“I think I’m in love.”
“Good heavens, Lindsey! You think you’re in love?
“All right. I am in love.”
“Do tell. And I mean it. Tell me how you two met and why you didn’t tell me the details immediately. Is she good in bed? Details, my friend, I need details,” Lauren said repeating Lindsey’s words back to her.
“Her name is Jane.”
Lauren couldn’t hide the grin because she’d been right. There was someone special. Lindsey didn’t fall in love. Only once before in all the years Lauren had known her had she admitted to being in love. It had ended tragically, and Lauren had very nearly lost her to alcohol and drugs. After that, Lindsey kept her heart behind lock and key.
Once she started talking about Jane, Lauren sat watching her friend. They were the same age almost to the day, but while Lauren had gone gray, Lindsey’s raven-black hair was still, for the most part, gray-free. Despite being a chef, she was trim and showed no signs of losing her girlish figure, but then she ran at least two miles every morning. Lauren returned her attention to what Lindsey was saying.
“She just recently moved out of the City.”
“Where does she live now and how old is she and what does she do for a living?”
“She’s an attorney?”
“Really? You detest attorneys.”
“I detest all but one attorney,” she said, smiling. “Well, now I detest all but two attorneys.”
“Where did you meet?”
“I met her a few months ago when we catered a party for law school graduates who passed the bar. She was a guest. She was older than most of her fellows. We spoke for a little bit and I tried to seduce her, but she was too wise to be taken in by the glamor of my job and my obvious charms. That was a first.” Lindsey was really getting into her story. “At the end of the evening, she was long gone. I had to practically bribe the young woman in charge of the guest list to give me her last name and a phone number,” she said, pausing.
“And? Did you find her?”
“It turns out she rented a room from an aunt while she went to Columbia Law, and really wanted to return to the boonies to practice law.”
“Come on, Lindsey. Tell me the whole story,” Lauren said when she paused again.
“Lauren, there’s a real connection here. I can feel it.”
“Does she reciprocate?”
“I think so. I hope so. I want her to.”
“Maybe I should meet her,” Lauren said.
“Maybe so.”
“What did you say her name is?”
“Jane Redkin. I even like her name.”
Oh, my God. It’s my Jane. What are the chances? Slim to none, but here it is. Coincidence? But I don’t believe in coincidence. Fate, then. Lauren didn’t tell Lindsey she knew Jane. She wanted to call Jane and set up dinner and surprise them both.
“I need to use the bathroom,” Lauren said.
“Yeah, me, too.”
“You take the one downstairs, I’ll use the one in my room.”
Once behind the closed door, Lauren called Evita. She told her what she knew about Jane and Lindsey. She also arranged for a table at six and invited Evita to join them.
“Can April join us? She’ll be thrilled to meet Jane’s new girlfriend.”
Lauren wanted to say no—maybe should have said no—but said yes.
“I heard about you and Alex. It’s a shame. Are you sure you want to let a love like that go, Lauren?” Evita asked. “I know the consequences of letting the love of my life walk out of my life, and it has not been pretty.”
“No, I’m not, but she should have told me about her patron.”
“She did.”
“After I’d fallen head over heels in love with her. It was way too late. Anyway, please do not invite Alex to this party, Evita.”
“As you wish, my friend.”
Next, Lauren called Jane.
“Jane, if you’re free this evening, I’d like to have dinner with you. We need to talk about what we’re going to do going forward. Can you join me at Mamacita’s at six?”
Jane didn’t hesitate for even a moment before agreeing to dinner.
After running a brush through her hair to tame it, Lauren splashed cold water on her face in a vain and useless effort to get rid of the puffiness beneath her eyes.
When she returned downstairs, she found Lindsey on the back porch watching Serena do her thing.
“It’s kind of serene here,” she said. “And too damn quiet. How do you stand it?”
“You get used to the quiet,” Lauren said, laughing.
“I don’t know, girlfriend. I’m not sure I could.”
“Want to go for a walk with Serena and me?”
“Where are we walking to?”
“We’re going to a park and we’ll walk in the park.”
“Like a stroll?” Lindsey asked, clearly not comprehending walking without a destination in mind.
“Like a stroll. Come on, you might enjoy it.”
“Okay, but don’t expect me to enjoy your nature.”
Lauren laughed at her. Spoken like a true city girl. In all the time we’ve known each other, I don’t remember being in Central Park with her. Wait, there was that concert we attended. Who was it? Simon & Garfunkel? Streisand? I can’t remember.
Chapter Nineteen
Alex didn’t want to be one of those stalker types, but she wanted to talk to Lauren to see if she could make her understand. She decided she’d wait until a decent hour and go knock on her door. She drove to Lauren’s house, but par
ked across the street. A few minutes later, a taxi pulled into Lauren’s driveway. She watched while a woman, tall and slim with long black hair and wearing a long nearly ankle-length black coat, got out of the taxi, took an overnight bag from the driver, paid him, and headed up the steps to Lauren’s porch.
She sat watching as Lauren stepped out of the house to greet the woman with what looked like a heartfelt hug. I don’t even know who that is. Is she a lover? A former lover? A friend with privileges? A friend?
Alex continued to watch the two women for the few minutes they were on the porch. She started her car and returned to her condo. She sat in her grandmother’s rocker and began gently rocking. God, what have I done? I’ve waited all my life for Lauren to arrive and now that she has, I’ve lost her because I was too busy thinking about myself to consider the consequences of my words to her. She was certain if she’d chosen her words more carefully and broken the news about Lucia in a kinder, more gentle way, she would have had a chance with Lauren.
But she hadn’t. She had blurted out that she had a patron who demanded sexual favors in return for her support—all in three sentences. And now she most definitely had lost Lauren and, she suspected, she would lose Lucia, too. What a fuckup I am.
She went into her bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed with her head bent, defeated, depressed, and despondent.
When she looked up, her eyes stopped on the sketch of her and Lauren on her dresser. She burst into tears at the sight of the two women in her sketch. That could have been a reality, not just a fantasy.
Later, she finally left her condo, not because she wanted to, but because there was no food. She hadn’t lifted a paintbrush at all since Lauren kicked her out of her home. That was a first. Even when Natalia had died, she’d painted something every day.
She pulled out of her parking space and drove, like a homing pigeon, straight to her grandmother’s house.
When she entered April’s kitchen, she and Evita were sitting at the kitchen table sharing a pot of tea. Her grandmother jumped up and enveloped Alex in her arms.
“My God, child, what is the matter? You look awful,” Evita said.
“Lauren kicked me out of her life,” she said with tears in her voice.
“Because of Lucia?” Evita asked.
Alex could only nod.
“You poor thing,” April said, stepping out of the hug. She put her arm around Alex’s shoulders and led her into the living room.
“I’ve got to run, April,” Evita said. She took Alex into her arms and whispered, “I’m so very sorry, little girl.”
Alex burst into tears. Evita led her to the couch. She gave April a hug and a kiss, then she left. Somewhere in the muddle that was Alex’s mind, she knew Evita had departed so she and her grandmother could be alone.
“I suspected something like this had happened. Tell me everything that was said.”
Alex slowly and deliberately told her grandmother the whole story. She left nothing out.
“Sobo, I can’t live without her. I love her so much.”
“I know you do, baby.”
“How am I going to change her mind? What can I do to get her back?”
“I don’t know, child. It may not be fixable.”
“Oh, Sobo, don’t say that. Please don’t say that.”
“When is the last time you ate, child?”
“I don’t know. Yesterday maybe.”
“Well, neither of us can think of fixes on an empty stomach. Come into the kitchen and we’ll talk while I fix lunch.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You may not be hungry, but I am. So come with me.”
Alex watched her grandmother fix her favorite lunch: a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with potato chips between the peanut butter and the jelly. April put her to work setting the table. With something constructive to do with her hands, she felt the dark clouds that had occupied her mind begin to dissipate a tiny bit.
While she’d told April she wasn’t hungry, once April put the sandwich in front of her, she devoured it all and thought about having a second sandwich, but decided one was enough. April smiled at her granddaughter.
“It’s obvious you love Lauren. Does she love you?” April asked as they sat drinking coffee after the dishes were washed, dried, and put away.
“Yes. I know she does.”
“How do you know?”
“She told me she does, and she’s shown me in so many ways.”
“Why do you think she reacted so strongly to your telling her about Lucia?”
“I’m not sure. I’m guessing she thought we were exclusive and monogamous.”
“But you never talked about that?”
“No, she asked me a couple of times if I was single. I didn’t lie to her, but I also didn’t answer the question.”
“So she may have made assumptions and had expectations of you that were erroneous.”
“Probably, but what are you saying, that this is all her fault? You know it’s not, Sobo.”
“I’m not placing blame, Alex. You’re doing enough of that by yourself.”
“Then what?”
“Sometimes when we make assumptions and place expectations on other people and they don’t live up to the fantasy our expectations undoubtedly lead us to create, we strike out at them because of disappointment and anger for failing to make our dreams come true.”
“You’re saying Lauren created some kind of fantasy about us based on her expectations and assumptions?”
“I’m saying it’s possible that may be part of her reaction.”
“So what do I do to get her back?”
“Nothing.”
“What? You can’t expect me to do nothing.”
“No. I don’t expect you to do nothing. I do expect you not to stalk her, though. That will only make things worse.”
“What do you expect me to do?”
“I expect you to resolve your conflict about Lucia.”
“How am I supposed to do that? Damned if I let her go, damned if I let her remain as my patron.”
“That’s been your conflict since you first met Lauren. It’s why you’re in the mess you are now. You’ve got to decide which woman you want more, don’t you?”
Alex and April talked for another hour, and when their conversation circled around to where they started, Alex decided it was time for her to leave and go back to her condo.
“Sobo, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come here with my troubles.”
“Where else do you think you should have gone?”
“Here was the only place I wanted to come.”
“Good. So let’s get some rest. We’ll talk again tomorrow morning.”
“Sobo, I love you so much.”
“I love you, too, baby.”
****
The rest of the day passed quickly. Lauren shared with Lindsey most of the details of her short-lived relationship with Alex. The telling was harder than she anticipated. I know Alex is one of those great loves I’ve read about. How am I supposed to forgive her for fucking what’s-her-name while she was fucking me? I could deal with it if the affair had been over. From the sound of it, it’s still going on.
“Is it over-over?”
Lauren wasn’t sure what Lindsey meant by “over-over,” but she knew that her affair with Alex was done. She couldn’t, though, bring herself to say the words out loud. She wasn’t sure why. Am I holding out some hope I misunderstood what Alex was saying? Do I hope I can get over my profound hurt and disappointment and forgive her? What, exactly, am I expecting to happen?
That afternoon, Lauren and Lindsey were sitting on the back porch enjoying the quiet of her estate. Or at least Lauren was enjoying the quiet; Lindsey was probably tolerating it for her friend’s sake.
“Let’s have dinner at the local Mexican restaurant. I swear it is as good as Chuy’s,” Lauren said, knowing Lindsey was very familiar with Chuy’s and would be intrigued by finding another Mexican restaurant as good
as the Austin landmark.
“Okay, but if it turns out to be as awful as the last one we tried in SoHo, I’m never going to another Mexican place unless it’s Chuy’s.”
At five, they went upstairs to shower and change clothes. In the shower, Lauren fought off an onslaught of tears when her mind went to the memory of the shower she’d shared with Alex only a week earlier. I miss her. I miss sleeping with her. I miss watching her. I miss making love with her. I miss her. I need to stay strong, I cannot go running to her because I’m needy. Remember, while she was sleeping with me she was undoubtedly fucking her patron, too. That ended her maudlin trip down Memory Lane in a hurry.
On their way to the restaurant, Lindsey said, “There’s something wrong with me.”
“What? Do we need to go to the ER?”
“No, silly. Sorry to have alarmed you. I momentarily forgot how you go from good to catastrophe in a nanosecond.”
“You nearly gave me a heart attack. What did you mean?”
“There’s something wrong with me because I’m kinda liking what I’m seeing here. I can easily picture myself living here. It must be age related.”
“We could always use another restaurant, or, if you’re tired of being the boss, you could probably find a job in one of the better restaurants.”
Lindsey didn’t reply, but turned her attention to what she was seeing out the car window.
Lauren glanced over at her friend. Who is this woman who would even consider leaving the City? If I had to choose a time to lure her to the boonies, now is my chance. Summer is over. The days are warm, the nights cool. There’s a crispness in the night air. The trees are becoming a riot of colors—shades of gold, orange, and red. It’s my favorite time of the year.
She left Lindsey to her thoughts even as her own once again turned to Alex. Was Lindsey right about forgiving Alex because I hadn’t bothered to talk to her about my feelings about commitment and exclusivity? No. Alex should have told me she was involved with another woman. Why did she keep that from me? Was our relationship only a game for her? Was I taken in by her beauty and, let’s face it, her youth? Was my ego running the show? After all, how many fifty-something women ever have the opportunity to be with a twenty-nine-year-old? Not many, I’d wager. I didn’t want to believe Alex hadn’t meant any of the things she’d said to me. Yeah, but there’s the small matter of her fucking another woman. There is that. There’s nothing like an old fool, is there?
