“He still has a key,” Aaron noted.
“Sure. Or dump his stuff in the hall. You can ask him to leave the key behind. He’ll understand.”
“Put the key back through the mail slot,” Aaron murmured.
“Or something. Yes.”
Aaron thought. “I think I have a better idea.”
“What’s that?” Marc asked, his tone light.
“I think I can get my sister Tessa to come stay with me this week. Then he can come pick his stuff up with her there. On Wednesday or something. I just don’t like the idea of him being in the house when I’m not there. It’s kind of creepy.”
“Do you not trust him?” Marc asked.
“I don’t know. I think he’s honest. He wouldn’t take anything. I just feel protective of the house now, like it’s not his place anymore, he shouldn’t expect to just waltz in at any time.”
Marc nodded. “Very understandable.”
“He says he wants to stay friends,” Aaron murmured.
“How do you feel about that?”
“Down the road,” was all Aaron felt like saying. He smiled at Marc, which took the man aback slightly. “I’m just thinking about Tessa now. She doesn’t know Dave has left me, but when she does, I think she might move back up here. She’s very unhappy in LA. Her girlfriend walked out recently, they’d been fighting for months. Her business can be done from anywhere, and she likes zipping around in her car anyway.”
Marc took a deep breath and let it out. “Ah. Now you’re talking. You feel good about the idea of Tessa being back with you, don’t you?”
“It’s the only time I ever feel like home. Like I have a home.”
Marc stroked his own denim-clad knee absently. “Yes, I see. Well, I think that’s a good idea, Aaron. If she says no, will you be very disappointed?”
“She won’t say no,” Aaron said immediately. Marc’s lips quirked, but he said nothing.
“Thanks, Marc,” Aaron blurted. “I feel much better. I...”
“Yes, of course. Of course.” Marc smiled, and once again, Aaron saw the professional therapist slide away and something more intimate appear in his eyes. For a moment.
“Our time is up today.” Marc glanced at the clock over his head. Aaron didn’t bother to look.
“Maybe some day we could get coffee after the appointment,” he said. It was very casual, yet not spontaneous. He wanted to see how Marc would react.
A faint flush was the only visible reaction. “Oh... Well, I’m not sure that’s a good idea, although I would like to.”
“Me too,” Aaron said. He gave Marc his most charming smile. Again, he felt like he was reaching the guy, getting to him. “I know you have to be professional.”
“It’s for your benefit,” Marc returned, watching him. He seemed fascinated by Aaron, and Aaron knew the scenario well. It had played out before. Maybe it would be different this time.
“I know.” Aaron paused. “Would there ever be a time, when I wasn’t your patient any longer, for example, that we could hang out?”
Marc stilled. He held a pen in his hand, though he hadn’t written anything down all session.
“Um, possibly,” he said finally. “I never have done that, though. I’d have to run it by my own therapist.”
Aaron felt like bursting out laughing—not in a cruel way—but something about the situation seemed deliciously absurd to him. And hopeful. He shouldn’t set too much stock in it, but he did.
“Well, to be continued,” he said. He got up lightly. Marc moved more slowly.
There was a pause.
“Oh, the money,” Aaron said. “I should be giving it to you at the beginning, shouldn’t I?”
“Either way,” Marc replied. He seemed quietly flustered.
Aaron searched around in his messenger bag for the check. There it was. He handed it to Marc.
“You forgot to sign it,” said Marc, handing him the pen. Aaron bent to sign it, feeling a little too aware of Marc standing behind him.
“It was a good session,” he said. He felt like throwing his arms around Marc’s neck, kissing him, but only because he suddenly felt so much better.
“You’re a good client,” Marc said carefully. “And I don’t want to lose you.”
Aaron glanced at his watch. They had gone for over an hour, but Marc didn’t seem to be rushing him. That was unusual, in his past experience.
“I’m comfortable with you,” he told Marc.
Marc nodded.
“Do you ever hug clients, or would that be...”
He saw Marc’s hesitation, the internal struggle. He was sure the guy would say no.
Marc moved toward him then and they clumsily hugged. Aaron rested his head against Marc’s warm chest. The strength of Marc’s arm around him was a beautiful thing. He sighed and he felt Marc gently sigh too.
“We have to be careful, Aaron,” Marc said, releasing him. “I have to be,” he corrected himself.
“Hey, give me some agency, you know?”
It was one of those weird days that he didn’t feel his leg bothering him at all. He made his way to the door smiling, shooting a glance over his shoulder at Marc, who was looking at him oddly. Yes, Marc would have a field day with his therapist, all right.
“Goodbye, Aaron,” Marc said. He smiled, though it seemed a little forced. Aaron could understand why. He sympathized. He could be a bit of a handful sometimes.
“Bye, Marc!” he said, grinning. He whisked himself out of the room, almost tumbling down the stairs in his sudden urge to leave. There was a strange joy in his heart.
Outside, the day had lightened up, along with his mood. His relationship with Dave was over. But he would have Tessa back soon. And Marc cared about him. More than cared. Wanted him. But he wouldn’t push it, for now. It would sustain him over the hard months ahead. And if he trusted Marc and laid it all on the line, Marc would help him feel better too. It was a win/win. He could do without sex for the time being; it always brought disaster down on him anyway.
But they could certainly talk about it. He chuckled to himself at the bus stop. This time there were a friendly-looking couple of guys waiting there, probably tourists, who smiled at Aaron and asked him about the Twitter logo on his messenger bag.
“Yeah, so, I actually work at Twitter,” he said brightly, and the guys pestered him with technical questions, which kept him busy till the bus came. And his leg still didn’t hurt. In the bus he would send a text to Tessa telling her about Dave, asking her to come back to San Francisco. He knew she would come.
18.
On the plane to Oakland Airport Matt slumbered, his head on my shoulder. I had my sunglasses on and his warmth relaxed me, but I couldn’t sleep.
I was thinking about the email I’d got from Aaron over the weekend.
Dave,
I got your email. I think it’s best that you come and pick up your stuff on Wednesday while I’m at work. I’ll have it ready in the hall for you. The “friends” thing might work down the road, but not for a long time. I’m hurt by how you handled it, though I believe that you didn’t know Matt was coming to join you in Boston. It was just an incredibly shitty way to find out that you had moved on, especially after Tuesday night. But you know this. I’m sure you’ve had a lot to deal with on your end as well. I don’t hate you—that would be impossible.
Aaron
PS. Text me when you can come on Wednesday. I won’t be here—Tessa will. I will need the house key back, also. Try not to forget.
The key to Elsie Street. I hadn’t thought about giving him back my key. Matt had said I could stay at the houseboat. It was all in the process of being arranged; his friend Brad was happy with the idea of us staying there; Matt would send him slightly more than the monthly payment, so Brad would actually come out a little ahead, with the boat still in his name. Matt said we could try it out as a place to live. If it worked, great, if not, there were other options. He could leave a lot of his stuff at his mom’s, so it wou
ld probably work out well.
I was happy about the boat. But Aaron was cold, and I felt bad about it all. He had enabled me so much during our time together and now he was pulling back—of course he was. And now I would have to go there tomorrow! And to the Museum as well. Somehow, I sensed it was all over at the Museum. Matt said I could just call them and tell them I wasn’t coming back if I wanted to do it that way—just be proactive. But if I could, I wanted to keep one piece of my old life intact.
I decided to go to the Museum in the early morning, and then go on to Elsie Street. I could return to the Museum to work later, if necessary.
Matt said he would drive me to SFO to pick up my car. I’d said we could do it tomorrow morning. I wanted to get back to the Bay Area, have dinner with him, and rest.
I draped my arm over his shoulder, not caring if anyone was giving us nasty stares. He nuzzled against me, murmuring something.
It was so much better than the flight over. And I felt different. All that loving, I thought. It had changed me. I was happy in a way that I hadn’t thought possible.
The fortysomething woman beside me in the window seat raised the shade a bit, and the Bay Area came into view, at last. I looked down on the bay, the bridges, and the green of the East Bay hills and Marin.
I took off my sunglasses to see it more clearly.
“I never get tired of seeing it again. I love coming home,” my seatmate said softly.
“I know,” I said.
“Are you from Boston?” she asked.
“Originally, but it’s been a long time. I just went back for a family funeral,” I said.
“Sorry to hear that. Not someone close to you, I hope?” she asked.
I hesitated. “A distant relative.”
“Oh, OK. Yeah, you look so relaxed that I didn’t think it was someone too close to you. Is that your boyfriend?”
I nodded.
“You guys seem really happy. I guess you’ll be enjoying Valentine’s Day this year.”
I stared at her. “Oh... Yes, that’s coming up. I hadn’t even thought about it.”
“He looks like the romantic type,” she laughed. “Where do you live?”
“Well, I was living in SF, but we’re going to be living on a houseboat in Sausalito.”
The words seemed unreal as I said them.
“Awesome!” she said. “I run a small business in Berkeley.” She handed me her card. I studied it curiously. It was an art studio of some sort. The Pottery Place. Her name was Erica.
“People come in and make clay pots and plates, decorate them themselves. I’m always looking for good help, if you know anybody.”
I smiled. “I’ve been working at the Legion of Honor for almost a year...”
“Oh, are you an artist?” she asked.
“No, not really. I’m a guard there. I have a good eye, I think, and a steady hand...”
“Perfect!”
She was so bubbly. I glanced over at Matt, worried she would wake him. “Listen, I might give you a call if things at the Museum don’t work out.”
“Absolutely,” she said, nodding. “You do that. I have a good feeling about you.”
***
Matt and I hugged at the Airport terminal the next day. He drove off in the Subaru. I went into the parking garage and retrieved my old car, wincing at the fee, which I put on my credit card. It had been worth it, but I knew how much the trip had already cost me. A boyfriend, possibly a job...
On to the Museum. It was a pleasant day and I found parking quickly after I drove up. I walked past the fountain, the statue of The Thinker, walked on through the visitor entrance and up the stairs to HR. Nobody challenged me; everyone knew me by sight.
I entered HR and noticed how hushed it was. Elena was sitting bolt upright in her seat. The minute she saw me she fumbled for an envelope. She handed it to me.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“It’s your last paycheck. We brought it up to date for you so you wouldn’t have to wait for it.”
“Uh...”
“We’re letting you go,” Elena said. “You’ve been gone for a long time and you didn’t follow protocol.”
“But I contacted you!” I said. “I texted Vic first. Then the email.”
“I’m sorry about your loss, but it was up to you to call in,” she said formally. “I left a few messages on your home machine with no response. We waited for you to show up yesterday and you didn’t.”
“This is all a mistake,” I said. “I got another flight home than the one I’d previously planned.”
“You weren’t scheduled for a vacation,” she said firmly. “Mike said you’d argue about it, but he’s not going to change his mind about it. You can file for unemployment if you want—we won’t contest that.”
“Oh, gee, thanks, Elena!” I snapped. She regarded me with a frown. “I guess the wedding invite’s off?”
She snorted and said nothing.
“Is Mike upstairs?”
She didn’t reply, just glanced warily at the phone, which told me he probably was.
Jamming the tiny check into my pocket, I turned and raced up the next flight of stairs. Mike had to be at the very top of the building, I thought.
I burst into Mike’s office. Mike and Wendy were sitting at his desk together. Mike was writing something.
“What is this shit?” I asked.
“You’re fired,” Mike said. Neither of them got up.
“I go home for a funeral and you fire me. That’s cold!”
Wendy looked abashed. She glanced at Mike.
“We have something for you,” Mike said. He handed me a check. I stared at it.
“What’s this for?”
“It’s like an unofficial severance,” Mike answered. It was a personal check from their joint account, for $2,000.
“You’re paying me off?”
“We think it’ll help you transition to the next great thing in your life.” His tone was nauseatingly smarmy.
“Take it, Dave,” Wendy said. I stared at her. “You deserve it.”
“Oh, he’ll take it,” Mike said with a smile.
I took one last look at them sitting there. Thank God, I thought, thank God I hadn’t done anything to actually deserve this.
“I’ll take it,” I said, “but only because I haven’t done anything I’m ashamed of.”
I wondered if it was because of Matt; if they were scared of a lawyer friend of Matt’s family suing the Museum for wrongful termination. Money tended to shut people up.
Mike regarded me with an odd expression. “I don’t think that you have anything to be particularly proud of.”
“Goodbye, Dave,” Wendy murmured. She looked a little apologetic, a little uncomfortable.
It could all have been so much worse.
I ran down the stairs and out into the daylight, slapping the plinth of the Rodin statue as I exited the Court of Honor.
***
I drove up Elsie Street slowly. It was around 11am. The cherry trees were in full swing now; they looked beautiful. Everything looked peaceful and sunny.
My heart was still racing from the last encounter. To be paid off! I hated the thought of telling Matt. I wondered how he’d react. Who could say? How many others had they paid off?
“Bastards,” I said under my breath. I pulled over before I got to the house to send a quick text to Matt. At Elsie Street now. The Legion fired me. Got last paycheck. Home soon. I wanted to see his response, so I left the phone on, but on silent.
I needed to get this next bit over with as well. I fingered the house key, remembering Aaron’s chilly order not to forget it. I removed it from my keyring.
Tessa’s car was in the driveway. I parked alongside the house and raised the trunk lid.
Walking up to the door felt nerve-wracking, as if Aaron was in fact in there, waiting for me. I remembered the first time I had approached this door, Aaron leading the way. I had gone in not knowing what would be waiting for
me there.
Funny, I always seemed to see Tessa at times of greatest stress.
I decided to knock. It was polite.
Tessa opened the door almost immediately. I nearly gasped because she had cut her hair short and lost weight since I saw her last. She looked like a young boy, and much more like Aaron than the last time. I blinked. She was wearing a button-down shirt and jeans; her breasts were pressed down by the shirt.
“Hi, Dave. It’s my San Francisco look!” she said cheerfully. She gestured to the stuff around her in the hallway. “It’s all yours. I’ll help you bring it out to the car.”
“Hi there. Aaron’s not here?”
“No, he’s at work.” She put her hand on my arm. “He’s not as angry as he sounds. Having me here calms him down. He just avoids moments like this.”
“It’s OK,” I answered. I took the key out and handed it to her.
“Thanks,” she said, looking at me sympathetically. “That’s nice of you.”
“I knew it was important to him.”
“Are you happy now?”
We stood in the hallway, which was always rather dark. Some light shone in from the fanlight window above.
“I am. Very.” I breathed in and exhaled, trying to get comfortable. “I did love Aaron, Tessa.”
“I’m sure,” she said, nodding. “But he’s a funny one.”
We both laughed. “Well, I know you’re on his side.”
“There’s no side in these things,” she said, shrugging. “I’ve left people, been left, it never ends, you know.”
She lifted a suitcase up and I hefted a bag. We walked out to the car together. She was strong, I thought.
“This won’t take long,” I muttered.
“You can have a glass of something with me afterwards,” Tessa said with a smile.
“Oh, that’s not necessary.”
“Please.”
Once we’d packed the car and I’d locked it, I followed her back into the house.
The Pull of Yesterday Page 16
