I had such big dreams, lying in this bed by myself and staring up at the ceiling.
Tonight, I can only hope for something as simple and significant as the ability to share this bed with Matt and not say something sarcastic that will push him away.
Baby steps.
This is why I am always so hesitant about coming home. I get so emotional and tired when I’m here. New York doesn’t give you a chance to be tired. Even when you’re sleeping. On some level, you always have to be prepared to deal with a mugger or Godzilla or a beautiful man who makes you fall in love with him. I close my eyes just for a minute, not wanting to leave Matt alone with my parents for much longer. Dealing with my parents is the Vermont equivalent of being emotionally mugged by two well-meaning, excessively communicative Godzillas.
When I wake up, it’s dark. My eyes have definitely been closed for more than a minute. I hear Matt and Daisy coming down the hall. I don’t move, pretending to be asleep. I listen as he places Daisy in her doggy bed and removes his clothes. When he finally joins me in bed, he spoons me.
“Hi” is all he says, and that is perfect.
“Hi. What time is it?”
“Bedtime. Your dad’s cool,” he whispers.
I sniff the air. “Matt. Did you smoke up with my dad?”
He giggles into the pillow. Giggles! “Just a little.”
I spin around to face him. “Oh my God. Did he corrupt you?”
He snorts. “Please. You honestly think I’ve never smoked pot before? I grew up surfing in California.”
Sigh. “I honestly don’t know anything anymore.”
He brushes hair from my face. “Are you okay? Are your channels opened up?”
“You did not just ask me that.”
“So, after you left, your dad mentioned feeling like an idiot for falling off a ladder, and then your mom got this really intense look on her face and started asking him all these questions about why he feels that way.”
“Oh no.”
“And he kept answering them until he kind of broke down, and then your mom got up and hugged him and sat on his lap for the rest of dessert. I kept looking over at Elijah because it felt like we should leave because maybe your parents were going to start making out at the table, but he just sat there like he’s seen it all before.”
I’m basically trying to find a way to hide between the mattresses like a cat because I’m so horrified that Matt witnessed that.
“Was that converge-sating?”
“Yup. That was a patented Steve and Leslie converge-sation.”
“Wow. That was…intense.”
“You have no idea.”
“Do they make you do that?”
“They used to. I’ve gotten pretty good at side-stepping it.”
“Well, I promise not to make you do that. Like, ever.”
“Thank you.”
“Are you really sad, though?”
“Not exactly. One of the reasons it’s so hard for me to visit is I don’t want to leave once I’m here. I mean, I love New York. When I’m there I don’t want to leave either. But it’s special here.”
“It is. I like it a lot.”
“Really? It’s not exactly SoHo.”
“What’s not to like? I like knowing that you grew up here. I can just picture you running around that field in your little floral handmade dresses, with your braided hair and a basket of flowers and a little pet lamb.”
“I never had a pet lamb.”
“This is my fantasy.”
“Okay.”
“Speaking of fantasies… I know your mom said we’re free to have sex in this bed, but I’m kinda tired. Is it okay if we just sleep tonight?”
“Oh, Matt McGovern, Esq. I thought you’d never ask.”
Spooning in bed with no sex and no talking? If this is what being in a relationship with you is, I’m all in.
I wake up with the realization of how I can best help my parents, who would never ask anyone for help. After breakfast, I pick up the phone and call their oldest friends in town, to say “hi” and to casually mention that I’m here because my dad hurt his shoulder and can’t do everything that needs to be done around the farm for a while. Within fifteen minutes I have five people offering to come by every week to help them out, and I have no doubt that more offers will come in once word gets around. Of course, my parents most likely won’t answer the phone, but their friends will show up uninvited eventually. It really does pay off to be a good neighbor.
Later, while my mom plays with Daisy and my dad stubbornly plants rows of beans with one hand, Matt and I go for a walk in the woods behind the house together.
“Can I just say something?” he says, after minutes of only the sound of birds and our footsteps. “It’s not really my place, but in case you want someone else’s perspective… I don’t think you need to worry about your parents so much. They seem pretty functional to me. And really happy.”
“You’re just saying that because my dad’s your bong buddy.”
“We did not use a bong.”
I shake my head. “Do you have any idea how many times the power got turned off when I was growing up because they forgot to pay the utility bill? I always did my homework at the library after school because I never knew if I’d be able to use the Internet at home. But you know…we always had fresh eggs and homemade soap and high-quality art supplies, so I didn’t have much to complain about.”
“I’ve heard much worse stories.”
“I know. I’m not even complaining about my childhood. It was great. It’s just weird being more responsible than your parents.”
“They don’t exactly seem irresponsible to me. They’re just a little flaky… I know you don’t want to talk about your job, but…”
“I’m thinking about it.”
“About quitting?”
“Not yet. I’m ready to take a good look at my finances and figure out how to make the transition. It’s not going to be easy going from working for one of the most successful artists in New York to starting out on my own again. I’m not young and foolish anymore. It was fun when I first moved to New York, but I was a broke-ass idiot. I just need to take baby steps.”
He nods. “It’s not so scary here in the woods, though, is it?” he says, looking around at the trees and squeezing my hand.
“It is at night when you’re a little girl.”
“Then don’t go out alone at night.”
He looks down at me, like being with him is the answer to everything, and maybe it is. I’m about to throw him down and put my mouth on his mouth when he says, “I have to tell you something. I saw your sketchbook. When you had the flu. Those drawings of us? They’re really beautiful.”
“Oh…” Amazingly, I don’t burst into flames or run away screaming. “I’m glad you think so.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever inspired anyone to draw before.”
“I’m sure that’s not true. But you have inspired me. A lot.”
I stop in front of a tree, lean back against it, and pull Matt toward me. He rests one hand above my head against the tree trunk, pushes my hair behind one ear, and leans down to kiss me soft and slow. I can taste Vermont maple syrup on his lips and tongue, and I could stand here kissing him until it snows. It doesn’t matter if we’re in bed or a laundry room or a crowded subway train or a forest—when Matt McGovern kisses me, I’m exactly where I need to be.
“I want you to have the painting,” I tell him, “when we get home.”
“Really? Into the Woods is mine?”
“Yes. If you want it. You’ve definitely earned it.”
I may not be able to tell him that he has my heart so completely, but I can give him this.
“I want it,” he says. “I’ve always wanted it.”
20
Bernadette
A couple of weeks after we return home from the farm, Matt invites me to have lunch with his parents in the middle of a workday. He brings it up early that same morning w
hile we’re both getting ready to leave for work—I assume because he knows that it will give me less time to fret about it in advance. It’s a good call on his part.
“Oh great. Yeah. I should be able to make it. Thanks. Are they going to be in town long?”
“Just overnight, actually. They were originally going to fly direct to London, but they decided to break up the flights and see me. You’ll like them. Or not. Ever had lunch with three lawyers before?”
“Uh, only in my dreams. Are they going on vacation?”
“Yes. They’re meeting up with Dolly and her boyfriend in London.” He watches me for a reaction as he says, “And then Dolly will be coming home right after that.”
Cue record scratch sound effect.
This is news to me.
“Oh right. Cool.” That seems like the appropriate thing to say.
I knew that Dolly would be coming home eventually, of course, but I had gotten so used to having Matt and Daisy next door that I’d actually forgotten that it’s not a permanent situation. Matt never talks about apartment hunting, and he certainly doesn’t seem to have time to do it.
He puts on his jacket, kisses my cheek, and puts Daisy’s leash on her while heading for the door. “I’ll text you later.”
Part of me is wondering if I should offer to let them stay with me until he finds a place, because he surely won’t want to stay in 4B with his aunt. I’m sort of proud of myself for having this idea and thrilled that it doesn’t induce any nausea or heart palpitations whatsoever. I plan to bring it up to him tonight when we’re both home from work.
Meanwhile, back in Tribeca…Sebastian has been really weird around me, ever since the party. He’s keeping me very busy with organizational tasks—updating and checking his catalogues of work and art books and valuables for insurance purposes. Most of the time when I’m in his office, he’s in his studio, but occasionally when he’s in the office with me, I’ll catch him staring at me wistfully. He always looks away without saying anything, which makes it even more awkward. He keeps taking phone calls in another room for privacy—something he didn’t used to do. I assume it’s because he’s talking to a woman he’s dating and he doesn’t want to do it in front of me, but I really don’t care.
I just wish everything could go back to the way things were with us—minus the obsessive crush part—so I can get on with slyly working out a plan to leave this job.
When I poke my head into his studio to tell him that I’m leaving for lunch, he starts asking me where I’m going and who I’m meeting with and when I expect to be back. He needs to talk to me this afternoon, he says, so I need to be back by three at the latest. I’m wondering if he suspects that I’m looking for another job, because he’s not usually this neurotic. Or rather…he’s not usually neurotic about me.
I get to the midtown restaurant fifteen minutes after I’m supposed to meet Matt and his parents there. They are already seated and his parents are sipping on their gin and tonics. Matt introduces me to them as “Bernadette, who I told you about…” So, I have no idea what he told them about me. I assume he didn’t happen to mention the no-strings thing, and I don’t let myself wonder whether or not he referred to me as his girlfriend. Mr. and Mrs. McGovern are perfectly nice and polite to me, regardless.
They could not be any more different from my parents. As suspected, Matt and I are not descended from the same species. Pierce and Margaret McGovern are both Santa Barbara lawyers with sun-kissed skin, who spend their weekends sailing, golfing, and playing tennis. Pierce has the whitest, straightest teeth I’ve ever seen, and Margaret looks like a Banana Republic ambassador in her sheath dress, ballet flats, and perfect jean jacket that was probably ironed.
You can’t paint these people. You’d just have to sharpen your colored pencils to a point, steady your hand, and come as close to perfection as possible.
Now that I’m looking at Matt with his parents, though, I’m thinking that there’s some truth to what that lady at the dinner party said about him. He certainly is genetically gifted, as his parents are both very attractive and fit, but they wouldn’t make you do a double-take when they walk into a room. They wouldn’t make me want to laugh or slap them. The thing that makes Matt so darned gorgeous is the way he carries himself. He’s hot on a metaphysical level.
That said, they are clearly Matt’s parents. Pierce exudes reliability and has the same brand of stoic charm, while Margaret displays the warmth that her son reveals to the lucky few. I also catch glimpses of Dolly in her when she teases her husband and son.
I like them.
I don’t think they knew what to make of me at first, especially when Matt tells them about the farm, but once Margaret asks me what it’s like to live next door to her sister, all of the McGoverns are entertained by my carefully curated anecdotes. It’s nothing like how easily my parents welcomed Matt into their home—the McGoverns are polite but guarded. When Margaret mentions that she still follows Vanessa on Instagram, it doesn’t seem to occur to her that it would make me uncomfortable. She just comments on how striking she looks with bangs, and I don’t disagree.
Matt holds my hand under the table whenever we aren’t using our hands to eat, silently reassuring me. He’s really good at this dating thing. Anita was right. I need to tie this guy down with all the strings.
I nearly choke on my linguini when Margaret asks Matt to tell her more about his new apartment.
Matt squeezes my thigh. “I just found out right before you got here,” he tells me. “I just found a place this morning. Lloyd’s cousin is a broker, and he called to say he had a listing that goes on the market later today. He gave me the chance to look at it first, so I rescheduled a meeting.” He looks really excited and happy. “They’ve already approved my application. It’s perfect, so I knew I had to move fast. It’s a garden duplex—two beds, two bath, really good space, nice light, with a small, fenced-in backyard. And it’s on a great street in Park Slope…” He swallows those last two words.
I suddenly feel like I’m coming down with the flu again.
Fucking Brooklyn.
I’ve lost so many friends to Brooklyn. That borough is ruining my life.
I could go hang out with them there; I know I could.
I could live there; I know I could.
It’s only a half hour from downtown Manhattan by subway, but it’s not super convenient to get there and back from the Upper West Side. It can sometimes take almost an hour, by subway or car. I could get out of my comfort zone. If I’ve learned anything this past month, it’s that getting out of my comfort zone feels good, at least when Matt’s there with me.
I just don’t know if he’ll still be with me or not, and that makes me very uncomfortable.
“Wow, that sounds perfect,” I manage to say. “Daisy will love having a little garden of her own.”
“When do you move?” Mr. McGovern asks.
“This weekend,” Matt says as he looks at me. “Before Dolly gets back.”
“Well, cheers to starting over,” his mother says as she raises her nearly empty glass. “When things fall into place like that, it’s because it’s meant to be.”
Matt’s parents ignore my trembling hand when I raise my glass, like the well-bred rich white people they are. By now my own parents would have rubbed CBD oil on the bottoms of my feet and badgered me about what I’m so nervous about until I’d cried. I can’t meet Matt’s gaze anymore, and the hand he rests on my leg no longer feels reassuring, so much as it feels like he’s letting me down easy.
When Matt kisses my cheek as we say goodbye at the restaurant, he tells me we’ll “talk about everything after work.” I don’t have time to ask what “everything” is, because I need to get back to Sebastian’s place before three. I can’t believe I was going to ask him to stay with me. Turns out he can’t wait to get out of that building.
Location, location, location.
You’d think that it would matter less on such a small island as this, but it matter
s even more when people are looking to spend as few New York minutes as possible getting to where they need to go.
The question now is: do Matt and I need to be together? Without the neighborly convenience, do we make sense together at all?
My illustrious boss is waiting for me in front of the front door to his apartment when I get back. He’s talking on his phone, probably just getting some fresh air. But still. It’s weird. He is relieved to see me and brings me to the living room. We never sit together in the living room.
He plants me down on the sofa and takes a seat on the heavy wood coffee table across from me, leaning forward and sighing.
“I have some news,” he says.
Great! More news!
“What’s up?”
He rests his hand on my knee, and I only tense up a little bit. “I bought a house in Hudson Valley.”
“You did?”
“Yes.” He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and then runs his fingers through his hair in one sweep. I’ve always found it so sexy when he does that. Right now I like it because he has released my knee. “It’s in Catskill,” he continues. “Well, we haven’t closed yet, but I just found out that the inspection went well today, and I’m paying cash, so it will be mine very soon.”
“Yours…as a vacation home?”
“Mine as a new home.” He sighs. “I’m moving there.”
Fuck this day.
“I’m going to sell this place.” He doesn’t seem as excited as Matt did about his new place. He’s more sad. He looks around. I can tell he’s feeling nostalgic. “I’ll find a small apartment to keep in town as a pied-à-terre. I will miss this place, but I want to live in Hudson Valley. I can’t breathe here anymore. It’s why I wanted to have that party for my friends here. I had to say goodbye for now, to my New York life. I need to start a new chapter in my life.” His hand is on my knee again. “And I still want you to be an important part of the story. You’ve always been such an important part of my story, Bernadette, since you started working for me, but it was too hard for me to see you, with my head so far up my ass. I apologize for that.”
The Brooklyn Book Boyfriends Page 40
