And then I wondered why Matt had married Jess. I wasn’t going to ask him, but I was curious. I was prettier than Jess so it couldn’t have been her looks. She is smart, smarter than me, but I don’t think a man marries a woman because she’s smart. Right?
“Should I get the check?”
I came back to life and smiled big at Matt. “Sure,” I said. “Whatever you like.”
Chapter 44
Grace
Of course he left you. You’re vastly overweight, your hairstyle is completely outdated, you bring no money to the household, and your fashion sense died when you said, “I do.” Get with the program. Lose the weight, cut your hair, get a job, and hire a personal shopper. Maybe you won’t have to spend the rest of your miserable life alone after all.
—“He Should Love Me the Way I Am” and Other Harmful Nonsense
I was afraid he’d be there. I was afraid he wouldn’t be.
“I should have called,” I said to Evan. “You’re probably busy. I’m sorry.”
He smiled. “Not at all. It’s good to see you.”
“You, too.”
I’d finally worked up the nerve to approach Evan. After our last phone conversation, the one in which I’d so rudely rejected him, I’d avoided even walking past the Auster Gallery, afraid I’d run into him, afraid of the look I might find in his eyes, anger maybe, or hurt.
But since that awful phone conversation, something inside me had changed; at least, it was beginning to change. I was tired of avoiding what might be my life.
Now, standing face to face with Evan, I found that what I’d felt that night in the restaurant, that intense draw, was still there. It hadn’t been due to the surroundings or the wine. It was because of Evan. I felt very glad. Frightened but glad.
“So,” Evan said, “are you interested in one of the works?”
“No. I mean, yes, of course. I love the small landscapes in the second room, but I’m afraid a teacher’s salary doesn’t allow me to collect much art.”
“Starving artists, starving appreciators. The business of art is strange and unfair.”
“Oh, don’t get me started on the topic!”
“So, if you’re not here to buy a piece . . .”
Steady, Grace. “Actually,” I said, “I stopped by to say hello. I mean, I was hoping to run into you.”
“Oh?” Evan asked. “Why’s that?”
“No reason in particular. Just to, you know, say hello.”
Did I imagine it or did Evan’s eyes reveal some pleasure at hearing this?
“I’m glad you did,” he said. “I’ve been wondering about your program.”
“You have?”
“Yes,” Evan said promptly. “Arts education is in such trouble in this country. I feel I’ve neglected to do my part in supporting it. If you feel your program is something worthwhile, I’d like to help in some way. I’ll make a financial donation, but I’d like to do something more hands on. I’m good with a hammer and nails.”
I didn’t know what to say. Was Evan’s offer to help out really just a way for him to spend time with me? And would that be so bad?
“Why are you hesitating?” Evan asked with a smile. “Do you think I’ll make a mess of everything?”
“Oh, no, of course not! It’s just . . . Just that you must be so busy with the gallery and the upcoming show and all.”
“I am busy,” he said. “But I want to make time for your program. I wouldn’t offer something I can’t deliver.”
I thought of Simon. He always made offers he had no intention of delivering. It was his way of life, almost unconscious.
“Well, then, yes,” I said, “I’d love your input. I’d like it. Thank you.”
“Great. So, when should we get started?”
And then I took a further step toward liberation.
“How about we meet for dinner?” I said. “Maybe tomorrow. If you’re free, that is.”
Evan bowed slightly. “I am free and I would love to meet you for dinner. Why don’t you choose the restaurant this time?”
I said I would. We made plans to meet at the gallery at seven the following evening. We parted with smiles. I felt the need to touch his arm but didn’t. There would be time for that. I hoped.
I couldn’t help grinning as I walked along Newbury Street. Let people think I’d lost my mind. Maybe I had, but if this was crazy, I liked it.
I stood at the next corner and waited for the light to turn green. The sun was warm, the air dry; potted flowers lined the patio of the café to my left. Suddenly, I was overcome with a desire to pick up a paintbrush, to prepare a surface, to produce something. It was a long-missing but still-familiar urge; its resurfacing took me completely by surprise. Suddenly, I couldn’t wait to get home and work.
The light turned green and I dashed ahead.
Who was this brave new Grace Henley? Whoever she was, I hoped she wouldn’t let me down.
Chapter 45
Jess
Get ready to reexperience all the miserable things you remember about dating in your teens and early twenties. Your stomach will clench when he rings the doorbell; your dinner will go virtually untasted because you’ll be afraid of getting food stuck in your teeth; you’ll laugh at all the wrong places. Rest assured you will be massively uncomfortable and therefore will make a fool of yourself.
—Dating in Middle Age, or Life’s Cruelest Joke
“Well, let’s put it this way,” Nell said. “As I’m learning how to become my self, or how to redefine the old self, whatever it is I’m doing, I’m realizing that Richard has that exact same right. He has the right to be himself. I’m not saying it was easy sitting across from the man my ex-husband has sex with—”
“The man he loves,” Grace corrected.
Nell grimaced. “That’s even worse. Anyway, I’m not saying it was easy, but it was okay.”
We had gathered for dinner at a very good bistro called Gabrielle’s. Laura grumped about the prices until Nell pointed out that no one had forced her to come along.
“What was your impression of Bob?” I asked.
“Honestly, Jess, I thought he was very nice. He seems unassuming. He’s got a pleasant face, though Richard is definitely more handsome.”
“You two did make the perfect couple,” Grace said, “at least as far as looks.”
“Sure. We were a living, breathing Barbie and Ken. But might I remind you that Barbie and Ken don’t have genitals.”
“And,” I added, “I heard they broke up after something like forty years together.”
“So, Ken was gay after all?” Laura asked, eyes gleaming, as if relishing the thought.
“I don’t know. I think their PR people thought they needed to be single for a while. You know, recapture the world’s attention.”
“Ah, yes.” Nell grinned. “The media-created breakup. You know, it might be nice to have someone else make my personal decisions for me. Nell, it’s time you dated a twenty-year-old. Nell, it’s time to dump the twenty-year-old and get back with your ex-husband for six months. It’ll make great press.”
“Well,” Laura said, “I don’t know how you did it, meeting those two for lunch. If I were you, I wouldn’t have anything to do with Richard.”
“Thankfully, Laura,” Nell said, “you’re not me. You don’t have to deal with Richard if you don’t want to, but I would like to be his friend. I’d like to create a new dynamic, one that allows each of us to be comfortable.”
“And you think Bob will be open to you and Richard being friends?” I asked.
“Absolutely. Bob might have accidentally wrecked my home, but he’s not the home-wrecker type.”
“Well,” Grace said, “it’s not like Bob has to worry about anything sexual going on between you two.”
Laura put her water glass down with enough force to spill part of its contents. “I still think you’re crazy. The man cheated on you! He lied to you. He humiliated you. And you want to be his friend?”
&n
bsp; I supposed compassion and forgiveness were foreign concepts to the younger Keats sister.
“Yes, Laura,” Nell said, “I do. And here’s why. In a few years the kids will be graduating from college. Maybe someday they’ll get married. Maybe someday they’ll have children. I don’t want to make occasions that are supposed to be celebratory miserable. For Colin and Clara’s sake, if not for my own, I have to work on a relationship with Richard.”
Laura rolled her eyes. I wondered how old her child would be when he started therapy. Probably about two.
A child.
“Have you wondered about Richard and Bob having kids of their own?” I asked Nell.
Nell laughed. “Oh, God, of course I have. Richard’s only forty-four and he’s in perfect health. If anyone has the energy for an infant, it’s Richard. He was amazing when the kids were little. But I just can’t bring up the subject with him.”
“I don’t blame you!” Laura huffed.
“Enough about me.” Nell turned to Grace. “What’s going on with you and the job?”
Grace’s face suddenly became animated.
“It’s been crazy lately,” she said. “We’ve got so many kids, but Evan’s been a real help. Of course, the money he donated is going to fund a buying spree at my favorite art supply store. The kids will be grateful, especially the ones who are really into making art. But it’s his time I most appreciate. My interns are almost entirely without a work ethic. Most mornings they show up late and hungover. But Evan shows up when he says he’s going to and stays until the job is done.”
“Is there something you’re not telling us about this Evan person?” I asked. “Like, are you two involved? Is this the same guy you mentioned when we met Trina at Nell’s house?”
“Ah, yes,” Nell said. “The ‘real’ man!”
“No! I mean, no, we’re not involved, and yes, Evan is the ‘real’ man. And I think he might like me a little.”
“And . . .” Laura prompted.
“And I think I might like him a little, too.”
I know Grace. And at that moment I knew she liked Evan a lot more than a little.
“What’s he like?” Laura asked.
“Well,” Grace said, “he’s very attractive. He’s got a lovely smile and—”
“What’s he like as a person,” Nell said, “not what does he look like.”
Laura protested. “I want to know what he looks like!”
“Look in a magazine,” I said. “His picture is all over the local media.”
“Let’s just say that he’s about as different from Simon as a man can be.”
Nell raised her wineglass. “Hurrah!”
“Really,” Grace went on, “he’s responsible and independent and he’s always doing things for other people, always thinking of other people.”
“Especially you?” I asked.
“I don’t know yet,” Grace admitted. “I’m not sure I’m reading his behavior correctly. I’m not sure if I should take his words at face value or look for a more subtle message. In some ways with Evan I feel completely innocent, unschooled, almost as if I’d never learned anything about men and women and how they come together.”
“Maybe that’s a good thing,” Nell suggested. “Maybe that means what’s developing between you is special, unique.”
“If something’s developing between us. I’m still not sure of anything.”
“Has he been married?” Laura asked. “Does he have children?”
Grace nodded. “Yes, he was married once for a long time to a woman he met in grad school. They got divorced when he was around forty. That much is common knowledge, but I haven’t asked him about what happened. It’s too soon for that. And he has no children. He told me that himself.”
“So he’s been single for how long?” Nell asked.
“About ten years,” Grace said. “Of course, that makes me wonder if he has any intention of ever remarrying. Not that I’m ready to consider another marriage. Not yet, anyway.”
“You’d probably know if he was a Casanova,” I pointed out. “He’s too much in the public eye to hide a wild reputation.”
“True,” Grace said. “Maybe he just hasn’t met the next love of his life.”
“And maybe that’s you. I’m glad for you, Grace, really.”
Grace laughed a rueful laugh. “Don’t be glad just yet, Jess. I have no idea what will happen, if anything.”
“All right,” I said. “We won’t jinx it. We’ll change the topic.”
“So, Laura,” Nell asked, turning to her sister, “what’s new with you and the quest for a sperm donor?”
Laura gave her sister a dirty look. Really, I thought, Nell should lighten up on Laura. She is what she is, and no amount of teasing is going to change her.
“I’m not sure I should talk about my relationship with Matt,” Laura said. She leaned forward, as if about to impart a secret. “You know. Because of Jess.”
Nell and Grace exchanged a look of exasperation.
I cleared my throat dramatically. “Laura,” I said, “I thought we talked about this. You have every right to live your own life. If you want to talk about Matt, fine. Just don’t expect me to listen to stories about what you two do in bed. I’m not that sophisticated or cosmopolitan.”
“I told you, we haven’t slept together yet.”
“What are you waiting for?” I asked abruptly. I shouldn’t have been mean; here I was thinking Nell was being mean, but something about Laura just calls up the nastiness in people.
Laura blushed.
“Oh,” I said. “I get it.”
“Get what?” Nell asked with a grin.
“Laura’s revirginalized. No sex until marriage.”
“Engagement,” she corrected. “No sex until we’re engaged.”
“That night with what’s-his-name,” Grace said, “the one who lied about having kids, really spooked you, didn’t it?”
“Yes,” Laura admitted. “Besides, I think waiting makes the whole thing more romantic. More special.”
“Does Matt know about this vow? That you’ll only have sex in exchange for a diamond?”
“It’s not like that at all! Nell, why do you always have to be so harsh?”
“Sorry.”
I doubted she was.
“Anyway,” Laura said, “Matt understands how I feel. He understands that doing things the right way is very important to me.”
“He can be amenable,” I said. “He did let me drag him to Paris on our honeymoon.”
“Where are you dragging Matt on your honeymoon?” Nell asked Laura. “Babies ‘R’ Us?”
Laura sat up straighter. I couldn’t help noticing the beginnings of a double chin. “For your information,” she said, “if we get married, we’re going to go to Cancun or some other tropical paradise.”
No stuffy museums or dank old churches. No unpronounceable food and a foreign language to contend with.
Yes, I thought, if Laura doesn’t break his heart, she’ll be a much better match for my ex-husband than I ever was.
“Another round, ladies?” I asked.
Chapter 46
Jess
Before you feel all righteous and file for divorce, ask yourself the following questions. Who helped take care of your dying mother? Who brings you flowers on the anniversary of your first date? Who maintains the boiler and cuts the lawn? If the answer to these and similar questions is, “My husband,” you might want to put down those divorce papers, get into the kitchen, and make him a nice meal.
—Appreciating What You Have: How to Avoid the Biggest Mistake of Your Life
That damned little ping.
I closed the file I was working on—an outline of a course I was thinking about suggesting—clicked on GET NEW MESSAGES and there was the important news that someone felt I just must have at that very moment.
An offer for a new Viagra substitute.
I deleted the message.
Checking e-mail has become a dai
ly ritual I dread. No matter the safeguards the university has installed, the spam gets through—ridiculous requests for financial help from dethroned African royalty; prescription drug deals that just can’t be legitimate; mortgage offers that scream fraud.
Colleagues send long, boring jokes or forward photos of their kids’ every action—first time on the potty, first taste of ice cream, first birthday party.
I dread the day my mother finally gets an e-mail account. I’m sure she’ll be forwarding articles about women who’ve ruined their lives by making foolish choices. Just for my edification, of course.
In fact, I am so tired of e-mails that waste my time, and have become so used to speedily deleting messages without opening them, that I almost missed the interesting announcement that came in later that day from Professor Rivers of the European history department. This is how it began.
To Friends and Colleagues:
In the interest of truth and honest disclosure, Mary and I would like to confirm the rumors that we have separated and are in the process of negotiating a divorce.
Rumors? I’d heard no rumors, not even a ping.
It must, I thought, be a prank, an unkind joke played on poor Professor Rivers by an angry student upset with a bad grade. But a quick call to the department secretary—I felt I should alert Professor Rivers immediately—corrected my erroneous assumption.
“No,” Nancy said. She sounded as bewildered as I felt. “No, he really is getting a divorce.”
“Oh. Okay. It’s just that I’ve never, uh, seen something like this. The e-mail, I mean.”
I imagined Nancy shaking her coiffed head. “Don’t ask me what this world is coming to because I just don’t know.”
That made two of us.
I hung up and read through the rest of the message.
Mary and I are parting amicably and with the greatest respect and admiration for each other. We have every intention of remaining close friends and supporting each other in future choices, relating both to career and personal happiness.
Back In the Game Page 20
