When I'm Not Myself

by Deborah J. Wolf

  “He, he looks kind of sweet,” Paige said. “Kind of, well, um . . .” Paige searched for the right words, struggling to find something considerate.

  “He is sweet,” Cara interrupted and nodded. “You’re going to like him. Let me introduce you.”

  “Cara, you have got to be kidding,” Leah choked out from under her breath, a staged smile on her face even as they made their way toward the kitchen. “He’s like, an OLD guy.”

  “Leah!” Cara exclaimed. “He’s far from old,” she said in a harsh whisper, admonishing her friend, if only a little bit.

  Cara had had a similar reaction when she knocked on the door earlier in the day and came face-to-face with Garin. He had welcomed her cordially and invited her in. Mel was showering and Cara immediately found herself in the kitchen, side by side with Garin cutting lemons and limes for the bar. They chatted casually, sharing similar stories about Mel, but Cara still hadn’t felt she’d gotten to know him, not yet, anyway. She was hoping that now, with Leah and Paige, she might have a second chance.

  “He’s old for Mel, Cara,” Leah whispered back. “Even you have to admit that. My God, he’s like somebody’s father. Mel doesn’t date old guys. Mel dates young, hot guys. Mel dates twenty-four-year-olds, guys that take her to trendy clubs until four in the morning. This guy is old.”

  “Le-ah, please.” Paige swatted her arm. “I’m sure he’s perfectly delightful.”

  “Okay, shut up and listen to the details,” Cara said. “Here’s the skinny. He’s fifty-four, Leah; he’s not that old. He’s out here on business this week, some conference he’s speaking at, and he wanted to meet all of us. Mel says he showed up on her doorstep last night, brought her dinner and threw her whole schedule off today because he kept fucking her in bed all morning. Apparently the Viagra is working. Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.” Cara relayed all of this under her breath and sent them further into a fit of hysterics.

  Just then Mel came into the kitchen, wearing four-inch heels, jeans that barely covered the top of her latest wax and a thin black baby doll T-shirt. Her hair hung down her back in a straight sheen sheet and her emerald eyes were accented by thick, heavy black makeup. She commandeered the room and carried on multiple conversations while she introduced Garin to a group of people Cara knew from the agency. When her friends crowded into the kitchen, she turned her attention to them.

  “Oh, for Christ sake, the three of you haven’t even had a drink and you’re already ready to pee your pants. What the hell is wrong with the three of you?”

  This made them laugh harder.

  “Nothing, nothing.” Cara recovered first, then Paige, Leah still trying to stifle her giggles.

  “You must be Leah,” Garin said, surprising her. He reached across the bar to set a margarita in front of her.

  “And I understand you’re Garin,” Leah said, hands on her hips and giving him the once-over, top to bottom. They stared each other down until Garin flashed a warm smile and Leah was forced to turn her attention to the olives on a large antipasto tray. Even Leah had to admit there was something sensual about him, something that threw her for a loop. She watched him add more tequila to the blender, eyeballing it with confidence.

  Paige waited her turn, until Cara finally said, “Garin, you haven’t met Paige.”

  “Ah, Paige, yes.” He offered his hand, grasping hers. “I’m happy to meet you. Mel has told me a lot about you. All of you,” he added quickly.

  Paige had never felt such soft skin on a man, his hands like velvet. She smiled at Garin, and his grin in return warmed her. She liked him instantly.

  “What can I get you, Paige? Margarita?”

  Paige surveyed the kitchen, the makeshift bar. “Just some mineral water, actually. If you’ve got some.”

  “Sure. Lime?”

  She nodded, standing next to him while he poured her Perrier.

  “How long have you known Mel?” Garin asked, handing her the glass.

  “A long, long time,” Paige said sweetly. “Too long to keep track, actually. She’s a wonderful friend.”

  “Mmmm.” He nodded and stirred the ice in his glass before he drained his drink. The skin around his eyes was soft, supple. Paige supposed some people acknowledged the lines only as age, but in their deep creases she felt wisdom, experience. He was tall, taller than she by more than a foot, but she felt comfortable next to him, sheltered from the noise and pulse of the party.

  “Where’s your cocktail, Paige?” Mel badgered her and stopped at Garin’s side. She draped her left arm across his lower back and let it linger there. “It’s a party, for Christ sake. You can have at least one drink.”

  “Oh, no, not tonight, Mel. Not much in the mood, I’m afraid. I think I’ve been fighting something off all week.” Paige cleared her throat purposefully, in an exaggerated fashion. She had debated about when to tell her friends that she was expecting, when to break the news, partly because she was afraid they might be able to read it, the thin line of apprehension that ran square through the middle of everything. She knew they would be overwhelmed with joy, thrilled for her and Dennis. She expected tears, exuberance. It had been a long time in coming and they had been through so much defeat with her, so many failed attempts.

  “Here, let me pour you a glass of red wine, just a touch won’t hurt.”

  “I, um, no, really, Mel, it’s fine.”

  Mel tossed a striped dish towel on the small island in the middle of her kitchen. She stood with her hands on her hips, her high-heeled feet spread wide apart. She wasted no time. “You’re pregnant, aren’t you?” Mel announced, accusingly.

  “Mel . . .” Cara admonished instantly, shock registering on her face. It was the one question no one ever asked, certainly not in public, especially not in a social situation like this where Paige could fall apart, just dissolve in front of an entire crowd. They all knew better and even Cara couldn’t believe Mel would stoop this low. The answer had too often been a disappointing no.

  Mel had never understood the degree of Paige’s disappointment in the first place; her sullen mood and the hell-bent determination Paige had to get pregnant. Mel had never had much patience for the long, drawn-out discussions about infertility treatments, the drugs that Paige had pumped into her body religiously. Mel had never comprehended the importance of this for Paige, never recognized that everything about it signified failure for her, that it was the one thing in her life that she had wanted more than anything, and that it was the only thing in her life she had ever been denied.

  Mel stared at Paige, holding her gaze and waiting. She tapped her foot impatiently, not willing to back down or let the moment slip by as if she hadn’t been so brazen. “You are, aren’t you? I can see it on you, Paige, come on.”

  Around them, music screamed out of the speakers, much too loudly for having an intimate conversation. Paige was perched on the edge of a stainless bar stool, condensation dripping down the side of her Perrier. She blushed furiously, feverishly, and silently cursed Mel for calling her out. If anyone would have, it would be Mel. Mel had given her grief about wanting a baby for as long as she’d wanted one. She had never understood Paige’s desire, never stopped long enough to listen to what Paige really held in her heart. It had left Paige wondering if Mel understood anything about her, even after all these years. She knew they were different, surely that was obvious, even if you just stood them next to each other. But this was where the real division had cut, leaving Paige feeling on the other side. Leah and Cara waited uncomfortably, their eyes darting from Paige to Mel and back again. Behind them the party raged on, meaningless conversation lingered in the room around them.

  “Mel, I don’t know what you’re out to prove . . .” Cara started in again, instantly furious and fiercely protective of Paige. There was a good deal they could all tolerate from Mel, a good deal of her judgment they simply let slip by, but this wasn’t one of those things. Where Paige was concerned, Cara and Leah were quick to jump to her side.

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nbsp; “No,” Paige said, stopping her suddenly. “No, Cara,” she beamed, a smile instantly appearing on her wide mouth. “It’s okay. Mel’s right,” she said quickly, quietly, and almost in a whisper. “I wasn’t sure when it would be the right time to tell you, but she’s right.”

  “She’s what?” Cara and Leah screamed in unison and rushed to embrace their friend. They both placed their hands on her still-flat belly and searched for some sort of sign, a bump.

  Mel never moved. She was frozen in the kitchen, waiting. An apology would be nice, she thought to herself. A smug, sly smile crept over her face. She had known it immediately, instinctively. She watched her friends fuss over Paige, and she watched Paige take it all in.

  “Why didn’t you tell us?”

  “So, how far along are you?”

  “When’s the baby due?”

  “How long have you known?”

  They lobbed questions at her one right after the next, like smashing tennis serves that tore across the net and landed right in front of her. She couldn’t get an answer out before the next one came crashing down on her.

  “Okay, okay, give me a minute, will you? It’s all a little overwhelming.” She assumed her place on the stool once again and took a long sip of her water, swallowing and setting down her glass before she continued. “We’ve only just started telling our family. I’m barely twelve weeks. And you know how this could go, nothing is certain with everything we’ve been through.” She shuddered, thinking about what could happen still. It scared her to think about the possibility.

  “Oh, Paige, it’s fabulous news,” Cara gushed, turning her attention back to her friend. “I’m just so thrilled for you. Honestly, a new baby to spoil rotten. It’s just what we all need.” She threw her arms around Paige again, hugging her tightly.

  “Really, Cara? Are you really okay with it all? Because I was so worried about telling you, you know, what with Jack’s new baby and all. I just wasn’t sure how you would take it, that’s all.”

  Sweet Paige. It was just like her to think of Cara, to hold back her good news. Paige would never want to add to Cara’s woe, she would never want to do anything to remind her of the obvious.

  “Are you kidding? Come on, Paige, you can’t even compare the two . . . This is just such wonderful news for you and Dennis. Jack’s off fucking some twentysomething. It’s not like he planned to have another baby, or even wanted his bleach-blonde girlfriend to pump out another kid for him to feed and clothe. But this? This is different. This is a miracle, sweetie. This is everything you’ve ever deserved.”

  “Ladies,” Garin interrupted. “I don’t suppose you might join me in a toast to our mother-to-be.” When they turned he had popped a bottle of apple cider and poured it into Mel’s finest champagne flutes. “Paige,” he beamed, “congratulations and all good fortune to you and this child.”

  As if on cue, they clinked their glasses.

  10

  David Michel was a no-show at the party. Cara had known early in the evening that he wasn’t going to be there; she sensed it like she sensed a bad migraine coming on, like an argument with Jack that wasn’t going to go her way. She was certain he had tucked away the scrap of paper on which she had carefully printed Mel’s address without really meaning to come in the first place, and she felt foolish for having invited him. Maybe she’d misread his signs. Maybe he’d come to his senses and realized that she was a forty-three-year-old mother of four. Maybe he hooked up with someone in a bar the night before, someone thinner, younger and better looking. Her confidence waned and her self-esteem dropped.

  Mel would hear none of it, not at first, anyway. She kept telling Cara she was overreacting, that she was worse than a schoolgirl with a bad crush. It wasn’t until well past midnight, after Cara had finished off three double scotches, that Mel admitted maybe she was right.

  “Men are the most unpredictable bastards on the planet. I actually thought this one might have some merit by the way you were going on about him, but simply bastards. He’s not worth your time or energy, you know what I mean.”

  They were sitting on Mel’s leather couch, a sectional that wrapped around the outside of her front room. Cara stared out the large picture windows, watching the city lights blink below as if they held great promise. In the next room Garin was clearing plates and emptying glasses.

  “Whatcha gonna do?” Cara shrugged her shoulders and crossed her arms over her chest, depression settling in. “We really shouldn’t be surprised, Mel. He’s a young, single thirtysomething in the city. I’m way out of my league on this one. Way out.”

  “You want to have a smoke with me?” Mel asked. “It might take the edge off.”

  “Nah,” Cara slurred.

  “C’mon,” Mel answered her, “keep me company, anyway.”

  They stepped outside together, arm in arm, holding each other up. Cara’s hair blew wildly and whipped around her face. The night was cold, damp and blustery, and the air helped to sober them up. Cara stood rocking on her heels and shaking, letting the frigid temperature seep into her bones. She watched Mel light a Camel, the smoke swirling around her head and dancing away from her. Mel sucked hard on the end as if it was a straw, the glow of the butt igniting in the dark night. The last of Mel’s guests staggered down the stairs, people Cara didn’t know. Mel hugged them with one arm as they left, the other held behind her, the cigarette between manicured nails.

  “I think that’s nearly the last of them. God, I don’t even want to look at my place.” She took another long drag and held the poison long in her lungs before blowing the smoke into the night. “Come on, sweetie, I’ve got your room ready. You can draw a bath before you go to bed if you want, Cara. Just blow that little piece of shit off.”

  Cara’s eyes burned in the night. She desperately needed to sleep. “I’m ready for bed,” She yawned wide, surveying the neighborhood one last time, looking up and down the street heavy with cars parked on either side. It was quieter now. She didn’t want to talk anymore about David Michel, not tonight, anyway. She wanted to crawl under the covers and let the alcohol numb her head, send her buzzing into a deep sleep. Her ears rung from the noise at the party, the quiet in the flat just now setting in. Leah and Paige had left an hour earlier, Paige yawning indiscriminately and without apology now that they were all privy to her news.

  Mel looped her arm in Cara’s and they started up the stairs together. Cara let her head droop onto Mel’s shoulder where it bobbed in rhythm with their unsteady steps.

  “Mel.” Cara stopped on the landing. “Garin is so hot for fifty-something. I gotta tell you when I first met him I was shocked that he was so much older, I think we all were. You never date older men. But really, he’s so damn sexy. There’s just something about him. Something that’s so luscious.”

  “You have no idea,” she answered. “He is unfuckingbelievable.”

  Cara studied her friend hopefully. Mel had never had a man in her life, not permanently, anyway. There had been plenty of dates, a multitude of meaningless relationships that had filtered in and out of her life, in and out of the flat, one right after the next. But never someone who had meant something to her, someone she truly loved, and who loved her back. It worried Cara, Mel’s inability to involve herself with someone, to give herself to someone and allow him to love her back. Cara knew this was scar tissue, damage from the relationship Mel never had with her father, even more damage from the relationship she’d had with her mother. Her mother had vanished from her life, just up and left. And when Bea left, she left Mel with Dermott, her mother’s husband. Everything after that marked everything in her life. It was her defining moment.

  Cara wished for nothing more than to see Mel fall head over heels about someone. Surely someone could undo the damage that had been done. Surely someone could love away what had been taken from her. The walls Mel had built around her were tall, erected to keep out even the most painful memories. But certainly someone would dare scale them.

  After all, M
el wasn’t getting any younger, none of them was, and it was the right thing for her to do, to finally settle down. Enough was enough.

  “I mean, really. Maybe this one’s a keeper. Why doesn’t he move out here? You should consider the possibility, you know. Maybe it’s finally time for you to have someone in your life permanently. Maybe it’s time for you to be with one person who really loves you. You have no idea how great it might be.”

  “He’s not moving out here, Cara.”

  “Don’t discount it, Mel. It might be the best thing in the world. You know, even if you didn’t get married or something, maybe you could at least be together, really together. He really seems to love you. It’s so great to see you so happy. You know, living in the same city might actually make things better.”

  “Good God, no, Cara. Why in God’s name would we want to do that? We’d hate each other by the end of the first week he was here.”

  “Oh, c’mon, Mel, I really don’t think so. He’s soooo sweet . . . Look at how helpful he was tonight. And just charming as can be. He’s interesting, bright, thoughtful, and, well, it’s obvious that he’s head over heels about you. All you have to do is watch him. I mean, really, Mel. He just seems like he’s the perfect man.”

  “I’m sure his wife thinks so,” Mel blurted to Cara deadpan, plainly, and without a second thought. She paused, staring out across the street, taking the last drag on her cigarette and blowing the smoke out into the black night sky. The wisps of smoke billowed around her eyes, her nose, and then drifted off before she threw the butt on the ground and stubbed it out with the toe of her shoe. Mel laughed. She threw her head right back and laughed, then straightened and exhaled deeply. The irony cut through the silent street and echoed back at them.

  Cara stopped cold. She whipped her head up to meet Mel’s face-to-face. On her feet she rocked, then stumbled backward, catching herself before she fell. She felt weak at the knees, as if the ground had come out from under her. “What?” Cara asked. “What did you say?” Cara grabbed Mel’s arm, stopping her as if she was halting a child from doing something harmful. Cara’s heart quickened and sunk, plummeting into her stomach. She was unsteady, dizzy.