Perfect on Paper

by Janet Goss

I looked at Ray for one last time, bidding him a wordless goodbye before returning home to Ninth Street.

  When I got there, Billy Moody was waiting for me on the front stoop.

  Oh crap, I thought. I looked awful—much too skinny; my hair a quasi-Afro due to the stiff wind blowing off the East River; not enough makeup to enhance the face of a far younger woman. “What are you doing here?”

  “Making a last-ditch effort to salvage some sort of… rapprochement.” He gazed into my eyes, seemingly impervious to my ravaged appearance. “And I know you asked me to back off, but—I’m sorry. I just can’t help it.”

  “I… don’t think I want you to help it.”

  I unlocked the front door, and he followed me up the stairs and into my apartment. I watched as he wandered from room to room, his eyes ultimately coming to rest on the photograph of me with Elinor Ann, taken so long ago that I’d been his age at the time.

  That’s the Dana Mayo you should have gotten involved with, I thought but didn’t say.

  “I have your shirt,” I told Billy, reaching for where it still hung on the bedpost. By the time I turned around, he was right in front of me, slipping his arms around my waist and holding me close. He felt so good, I had to suppress a whimper.

  “Listen, Dana. I swear I never meant to screw up your life the way I did.”

  “You didn’t screw it up. I have free will. I’m the one who screwed it up.”

  He sat on the bed and reached for my hand, pulling me down next to him. “Tell me what happened.”

  I had to laugh. “Do you really need to ask? You were in room 2611, too, you know.”

  “No—after that. With that guy.”

  “I decided I had to be honest with him. So I told him what I’d done.”

  “You did?” His smile was one of pure joy. “That’s awesome!”

  “Oh yeah. Worked out just great. Haven’t seen him since.”

  “No, you don’t understand. If you and I had been a one-nighter, you would’ve been able to keep it a secret. But you couldn’t. That means you love me.” There was that blinding smile again, this time tinged with unmistakable pride.

  “But—”

  But wait a second. Maybe Billy was right. Maybe I did love him.

  Well, there was one surefire way to find out.

  He took my face in his hands and kissed me for something like three years. “I wish you’d take me seriously, Dana.”

  “I have a feeling I’m about to do just that.”

  But Puny had other plans. He slinked out from underneath the bed and flopped at our feet.

  “Wow,” Billy said. “You weren’t kidding when you told me he looked like Biddy.” He smiled again. “See? More proof that we’re meant for each other.”

  Damn, I thought to myself. This boy is so sweet, and so noncynical, and so endlessly, ridiculously adorable. Why would I even try to resist him?

  There it was. Why had it taken me all this time to figure it out? I was Ray now, and Billy was my—well, me. And all the selfish mistakes and bad decisions I’d made in the past would be—well, replaced with a brand-new bumper crop of selfish mistakes and bad decisions, but at least I wouldn’t waste years of my life regretting not seeing it through.

  “Billy?”

  “Yes?”

  “I love you.”

  “You’d better.”

  The problem with saying you loved somebody was that it was impossible to stop once you’d done it, especially the first time. We must have repeated the words a thousand times before finally drifting off to sleep.

  But by then it was undeniably true. Our night in Brooklyn had been a mere prelude to what happened between us in my bed that night. When I opened my eyes the next morning, I marveled at the difference between the despair I’d been living with for the past few weeks and the exhilaration that coursed through me now. Everything would turn out all right. I was sure of it.

  Until I went to open the blinds and looked out the window onto Ninth Street. Hank’s truck was parked at the far curb, and he was getting out of it. He raised his head and our eyes locked.

  Swell, I thought. Now he decides to make eye contact.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  NATURE CALLS

  I gasped so loudly that Billy stirred and turned on his side to face me. “What are you doing over there?” He grinned and pulled back the covers. “Come here. I’ve got a present for you.”

  “Not now.”

  My tone made him sit up.

  “My—that guy is here,” I explained, grabbing my jeans from the back of a chair. “He just got out of his truck. I—I don’t know what to do.”

  The buzzer on the intercom blared.

  “I’ll be right down,” I called into the speaker, not pushing the button that would allow me to hear Hank’s response—or, god forbid, the one that would unlatch the front door.

  “Billy, I don’t know what’s going on. We haven’t spoken in weeks. I don’t even know where he’s been for all that time.”

  “Do you want me to hide in the closet?” His expression made it clear he found the prospect more than a little titillating.

  “Are you serious? I’ve been living in this apartment for over twenty years. Do you know how much junk is jammed into that closet?” Including a wedding dress, which could easily cause him to jump to erroneous conclusions.

  “How about under the bed, then?”

  I just looked at him.

  “Twenty years. I get it.”

  I pulled on yesterday’s sweater and stepped into a pair of flip-flops. “Just… sit tight while I find out what he wants?”

  He nodded, and I tore down the stairs, zipping my fly en route.

  Hank broke into a wide smile when I came into view. I cracked the door to the vestibule just wide enough for us to talk, but not enough to grant access. He could not enter the building.

  “Dana, I’m—I’m so sorry. I don’t know what got into me that I thought we couldn’t work things out.” He leaned in and kissed me.

  “I’m sorry, too.” He had no idea.

  “Listen—I got someplace I been wanting to show you. Could you…?” He looked over his shoulder in the direction of the truck.

  “Oh. Uh, absolutely. But can you give me a minute to get myself together? I only just woke up.” I knew I desperately needed a shower. In fact, if I opened the door all the way, I was certain Hank’s smile would disappear immediately.

  “You go ahead and take all the time you need,” he said, moving toward me. He could not come through that door.

  I eased my foot up against the jamb. “You know what would be great? Could you maybe go over to the deli on Second and pick me up a cup of coffee?”

  “You got it.”

  “And a toasted sesame bagel? With a schmear?”

  “Anything you want.” He kissed me again. “Man, I missed you, Dana. But I reckon I can wait a little longer.”

  Finally I was able to let my guard down. The time it would take to toast that bagel just bought me a shower.

  Billy was dressed and staring out the window when I got back upstairs. “Nice truck,” he said.

  “Listen, I’m sorry. I never thought I’d see that guy again, and—well, he seems to want to talk. I think I owe him that much.”

  “So do I.”

  That was a relief. “He wants to take me someplace, too.” But where, exactly, did Hank want to take me? His new renovation project, I supposed. “I think it’s only right that we try to reach some kind of… resolution. Closure. Whatever you want to call it.”

  “Of course it is.”

  “You really don’t mind?”

  He crossed the room and put his arms around me. “It’s the least you can do. Hell, it’s the least I can do—I just stole his girl, didn’t I?”

  “I am so glad you’re a reasonable man.”

  After the fastest shower I’d ever taken, I put on a fresh pair of jeans and a different sweater and went over to the bed, where Billy was reclining against t
he pillows, watching me. Before I could say goodbye, his guarded expression made me hesitate.

  “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

  “I’m sure. But—Dana?”

  “Yes?”

  “I did just steal that guy’s girl, didn’t I?”

  Oh, Billy. Billy Billy Billy.

  I kissed him one last time and went down to the street.

  Hank was waiting on the passenger side of the truck with my breakfast. He handed it to me, then unlocked the door.

  “Thanks,” I said, getting in as quickly as I could and holding my breath until he was in the driver’s seat. I was sure we were under observation. “Where are we going?”

  “You’ll see.”

  He drove up Third and made a right onto Tenth Street. “Listen, Dana, I—”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “That’s what I’m supposed to be saying to you. Wasn’t right, me taking off the way I did.”

  “Well, I was hardly…”

  He rested a hand on my thigh. “Let’s not get into a big old conversation about who did what to who, okay?”

  When I turned my head to assess Hank’s expression, he squeezed my leg and smiled at me. What had become of the furious man who’d made me re-create every graphic moment of my night with Billy? Which, to be fair, had aroused me no end at the time—until it was over, at which point he’d promptly disappeared off the face of the earth. What had caused him to change his mind about me?

  And why, why, why had it taken so long for him to change it?

  “Went over to our favorite restaurant for dinner last night.” He chuckled. “I’ll tell you, your pal Ethyl sure gave me an earful.”

  So that was the catalyst.

  “Soon as she told me how you were doing, I knew I had to see you right away.” He stopped at the red light on Avenue C and turned to me. “Look, Dana—here’s the thing. I ain’t happy about what you done, but heck—least you were honest with me. Can’t hardly say the same about myself.” He shook his head. “Maybe if I’d been straight with you sooner…”

  “Yeah, that might have been…”

  What? Mitigating? Would knowing Hank’s real identity have made a difference? Or was what happened in Brooklyn, and last night, unavoidable?

  I took a sip of tepid coffee as the light turned green. Hank made a left and parked in front of a squat building nestled between two tenements. Its facade was covered by a faux brick face in a bilious shade of brownish green.

  “Ain’t much to look at from the outside,” he said as we got out of the truck.

  Inside was a whole different story.

  “What is this?” I asked, craning my neck as I took in the cavernous empty space. It was a wreck, with years of grime covering every surface, but I could see its potential. The ceiling rose even higher than the ones in the brownstone, except in the rear third of the building, where mirror-image staircases on opposite walls led to an open second story. Light filtered in from a bank of filthy windows positioned above the entrance.

  “Best guess is it was built as a synagogue, but over the years—well, you name it: revival hall, dry goods emporium, after-hours club…” He pointed to a door at the far end. “There’s an enclosed office space underneath the loft that’s perfect for a bedroom. And a little patio out behind that.”

  The door burst open, and Dinner came trotting over to greet me. I squatted down to say hello, and he promptly absconded with what was left of my bagel.

  “Hey!” I called after him.

  Hank grinned. “Told you he was sneaky.”

  “That you did.” I turned in a circle, taking in the room a second time. “Hank, this place is—”

  “A whole heck of a lot of work. But at least it’s all ours.”

  “It’s—excuse me?”

  “You could have your painting studio up there,” he said, gesturing toward the open loft. “Living area over on the right, kitchen and bath on the other side, where the pipes are…”

  “Wait—what did you just say?”

  He came over and wrapped his arms around me. “Our place. Closed the deal about a month ago. Wanted to surprise you.”

  But I surprised you first.

  “So, what do you say, Dana? Feel like playing house with me?”

  Oh, Hank.

  I stood there for a while, swaying back and forth in his arms, digesting his words and trying to come up with some of my own.

  “This is all—”

  Just what I’ve always wanted, I thought but didn’t say. A handsome, devoted boyfriend who forgave the most flagrant of sins and surprised me with freestanding real estate. I looked up at the loft and pictured myself there, the western light illuminating the painting on my easel, Dinner sprawled at the foot of one staircase, Puny by the other, Hank applying sealer to the walls of exposed brick.…

  Or was it too late for all that?

  “Hey—you’re speechless.” He laughed. “Ain’t never seen you like this before.”

  “I think I’m on sensory overload. Seeing you again, and this place, and…”

  And Billy. Couldn’t forget Billy.

  “I understand. I just asked you to make a mighty big decision.”

  It’s a much bigger decision than you realize, I thought but didn’t say.

  I turned and put my hands on his shoulders. “Listen—would it be okay with you if I took a little while to think things over?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “What’s there to think about?”

  What, indeed. “It’s just—well, so much has changed in the past hour, I can’t quite wrap my brain around it yet.”

  He hugged me, and I breathed in his wonderful Hank smell.

  “Take all the time you need, Dana. We’ll be right here waiting for you.”

  Now what? I thought as I walked down Tenth Street toward home. I’d run out of my apartment so fast, I’d forgotten to take my cell phone, but it didn’t matter. Elinor Ann couldn’t help me make this decision. Nobody could. Not Tom-Tom, certainly not my parents…

  I sighed. This is what happens when you’re left to your own devices at too early an age, I thought to myself. You never do get the hang of being a grown-up. And now I was on my own, and somehow I’d have to figure out the right thing to do.

  Unless maybe God…

  I recalled my father’s favorite adage: There is no God; there’s only nature—human nature.

  When I walked through my front door, Billy was gone, and his shirt no longer hung from my bedpost. I looked for a note—on the pillow, on my desk, the bathroom mirror—but when I didn’t find one, I went to turn on the computer. Maybe he’d sent me an email after he’d gotten back to his apartment.

  Maybe he hadn’t. I’d been gone for quite a while.

  The phone rang before I had time to check.

  “Hello?”

  “There you are! You’re certainly not an easy person to get hold of lately.”

  “Oh—hi, Mom. Yeah, I’ve been… out a lot.” Crisscrossing the streets of the neighborhood searching for a truck, mostly.

  “I just wanted to find out your flight information so we’ll know what time to expect you on Friday.”

  “I’m supposed to be getting in just after three.”

  “Good. That’s well ahead of happy hour.” She paused. “Now, have you given any more thought to bringing that young man of yours?”

  “I’m… still thinking. Although at this point, I’d be surprised if there were any seats left on the plane.”

  “Oh dear. That’s certainly a possibility.”

  “But Tom-Tom and I will be flying down together. And he lined up a rental car, so you won’t have to come to the airport.”

  “Splendid!”

  In the background, I could hear my father asking what was splendid.

  “Mom? Could you put Dad on for a second?”

  “Really? Right now?”

  “Why not?”

  “Well… you’re going to be seeing him in just a couple of days.…”
/>
  But as I’d recently learned, even one day was no guarantee. Everything could change irrevocably in far less time than that. “I know. Put him on anyway, would you?”

  She covered the receiver with her hand, and, after a muffled conversation, my father’s voice came through the line.

  “Hey there, kiddo!”

  “Ready for the big birthday bash?”

  “You know it. And I think it’s just terrific that you and your half brother are traveling partners. You’ll like him, I promise.”

  “Dad—listen. I don’t know why I didn’t tell you this a long time ago, but… well, Tom-Tom and I have known each other for quite some time. Like, since my college days. He’s been like—well, like a brother to me.” And a daddy, when the need arose.

  “He’s—what did you say? You’ve known each other how long?”

  “Years. Decades.”

  “Is that so?” He was obviously tickled to hear the news. “It’s good to know somebody up there is keeping an eye on you.”

  “Yeah. It is.” I looked up at my bulletin board. Someone—Billy—had affixed a Post-it note to the bottom of Ray’s Valentine. Underneath the flowery, cursive you were the words, should be with me.

  “So I guess that means I can finally stop checking up on you,” my father said.

  “Huh? What are you talking about?”

  “Oh, you know.”

  “No, I don’t know.”

  “Sometimes I get to wondering how you’re doing up there. So every once in a while I just… pick up the phone and hear for myself.”

  The hang-up calls. Oh my god.

  “Dad, that’s—”

  Utterly crazy. But kind of sweet.

  But definitely more crazy than sweet. I walked over to the bed in a daze and sat down, just in case my knees buckled. “That was you on the phone? All those times?”

  “You know how it is. A father worries sometimes. New York can be a tough town, kid. Especially for a good-looking gal out on her own.”

  Huh, I thought. Tom-Tom’s right. We’re definitely not the Cleavers.

  But my father was right, too. This could be a tough town. And it was nice to know somebody was checking up on me all those years, even though I’d never, ever have guessed who was doing it.