by Ben Schrank
“Let’s slow down,” Peter said. “A lot has just been said. Forgiveness is a big deal.”
Eli kept staring at Emily. She watched his glare fade to pleading. She wondered if, by returning his gaze, she had forced him to hide his secrets. Like a little boy, she thought. But I chose him. I knew he was like that.
“May I use your bathroom?” Eli asked.
“Yes, of course. It’s around the corner, in the nook under the stairs.”
Eli nodded and went out. Peter reached across the table and took Emily’s hands.
“Can you forgive him?” Peter asked.
“Yes,” Emily said. “I think so. I love him. In some part of me, I knew this would happen. People find him attractive. They want to take care of him. I knew that when I met him. I can live with it. I was just thinking that. By which I mean, I am saying exactly what I am thinking.”
Peter nodded. “Your heart is beating loud enough to feel.”
“Please help. I don’t want to give up.”
“Of course not. You’re strong, like you said. And you won’t. That’s very apparent in you.” Emily didn’t speak. She watched Peter flush and begin a rush of speech. “And you don’t have to. You don’t have to create all that pain of ending. You can rebuild what you have and it’ll be stronger. That’s what we’re doing here, you know. I did that with my wife several times before she died. We … renovated the house once and knew we were actually repairing our marriage.”
“I like that.” Emily smiled. “I love simple similes and metaphors. I don’t use them enough. But you do. I admire that. How you’re not afraid of a cliché.”
Peter raised his eyebrows at her. “Clichés?”
Emily said, “In my business we’re allergic to them. We spend half our time trying to subvert them so we can be sure we say something new. No one sees their value. But you do.”
“I see.” Peter took a long drink from his glass of water.
The bathroom door clicked open and Eli strode back into the living room.
“I forgive you,” Emily said, quickly. She looked up at him. His mouth was an O.
“You do?” Eli was still standing.
“I want to work through this with you. I know I’ve said it before, or maybe I haven’t, properly. But I’m saying it here. We can consecrate it.”
“It sounds ridiculous to say it out loud like that,” he whispered. “But it’s exactly what I want.”
Emily turned to Peter. She was still on the couch. Eli sat down next to her. She said, “Thank you, Peter.”
“It’s a good beginning,” Peter said. “We have so much more to talk about, though. There’s uncharted territory ahead. Free of cliché.” He winked at Emily.
“Uncharted territory,” Eli said, suddenly. “I like that. I feel safe here.”
“You never say that,” Emily said. “That feels good.”
They heard a car pull into the driveway and seconds later there was a hard knock on the door. Peter stood up quickly and turned on some lights. Emily realized that they’d all been barely able to see one another in the afternoon darkness.
“Hold on.” Peter stood and went to the front hall. “Hello, Jenny. You can put it all here.”
“No, no. Send me straight to the kitchen. I’m going to help Mike. I’m his sous-chef!”
“Oh, I see…”
“Jenny Alexandretti,” Emily said aloud as she stood up. She clutched at the neck of her blouse.
“We’ll get past it,” Eli said, automatically.
Jenny from the inn strode past, carrying trays covered in tinfoil. She smiled at them but said nothing. She was humming. Emily thought, She has our dinner and it’s sweet that she’s humming! She is not Jenny Alexandretti.
Emily said, “I think we ought to return to the inn so we can have a rest. We’ve been here for a while already. Peter, we don’t want to overwhelm you. That wouldn’t be right.”
“And then we’ll see you for dinner in a couple of hours?” Peter asked. “I can promise that the meal will be outstanding…”
“Thank you, Peter.” Eli reached out and shook Peter’s hand and patted his back. “We’ll see you later. Seriously, thank you.”
Eli went out ahead of Emily. He walked doggedly toward the car.
“I can’t wait to come back to you this evening,” Emily said to Peter. She was still standing next to him, holding his arm, on the porch. “It’s like you said. We’re not done. And I am already so grateful to you. I know I’m not showing my best self. I’m—” She felt herself stammer.
“It’s okay, Emily. It’s a lot to take in. All this brazen emotion can be confusing. Really, I’m so glad this is going well.” Peter’s voice was mild and he wasn’t looking at Emily. “You ought to watch out for Jenny’s Toyota. See it there? That young woman never did learn how to park a car.”
She let go of his arm and walked away from him, thinking that it was presumptuous to want to get all of him in just a day. He would share a little bit. That was enough. She was already incredibly lucky to have received as much from him as she had.
“Ready?” she asked once she was in the car.
Eli was quiet. And Emily stayed inside herself, too, thinking, We’re fixing it. We are going to be okay.
Eli started the car. He turned to Emily and said, “That was good. Emily, you are the most incredible woman in the world. I feel different. I really do.”
Peter, Winners’ Weekend, November 2011
The phone rang half an hour after they’d left. Peter had two fingers on his temples and was staring out Lisa’s study window, trying to assemble more of the right things to say to Eli and Emily when they returned for dinner. They were struggling. He believed they might find some happiness together, someday, perhaps with the arrival of a baby. He liked Emily. The firmness in her character reminded him of Lisa. The phone kept ringing.
“Hello?”
“Peter, hi, it’s Stella. How are you?”
“Stella. What can I do for you?” He took on his warm flirtatious tone. Lisa used to make fun of him for it. Maybe he ought to talk to Emily and Eli about what he had with Lisa. How they always knew to quickly plaster over the cracks in the facade that naturally occurred with the changing seasons.
“I’m calling to see how it’s going. You’re in the break before dinner?”
“We are indeed. You’ve given a lonely old man a very pleasant Saturday. I can tell you that.”
“Oh?”
She was good. To say only “Oh?” That was smart. He thought he’d like to meet her someday. Stella Petrovic. Not afraid of him like so many of the others. Not afraid of silence, either. And why had he called himself a lonely old man? He wasn’t. A liar, yes. Lonely, no.
He said, “This woman, Emily Babson … such life spirit! She is a wonder. That helps, I imagine, when you’ve got to take on a challenge.”
He leaned back in Lisa’s desk chair and waved “no thanks” to Jenny, who had gotten into his line of vision and seemed to be offering him a drink. He pointed at his glass of water and she frowned a we-can-do-better-than-that frown. But he shook his head so she disappeared. Sweet, dimpled Jenny. Years ago when he was really drinking, he’d hugged her good night a little too long and even let his hands wander under her clothes a few times during the summers she worked at the inn before dropping out of college and signing on full time. They’d had some afternoons of good-natured wrestling in the Okabye suite. She didn’t seem to bear a grudge. But then who knew, really, whether she did or not.
“What?” he called into the phone.
“I said what kind of challenge?”
“They’re just resting at the inn now, is all that’s happening.”
“So it’s going according to plan?”
“Yes. Certainly.”
“That’s good news!”
He lapsed into silence. Did Lisa know he’d kissed more than one of the maids? She must have. Did she even care? He looked at the blue-and-white needlepoint rug that covered most of Li
sa’s floor. She was a wonderful woman. But wonderful didn’t mean she had a lot of love in her.
“What else should I be telling you, Stella?”
“All I want to hear is that they’re happy.”
“They are. Or, they will be.”
“You know … We were asked to video and photograph and record everything that happened and I fended all that off,” Stella said. “I’m just reminding you that I agreed with you when you said that was inappropriate. I mean I know you said no to all that but the point is I agree with you. You wouldn’t believe how pushy Helena can be about these things. So if there’s going to be none of that then I’ll need … you. And I need them, too. Maybe essays from both of you? Or something recorded? Although photographs would be so much better.”
“Helena?” he asked. “She’s watching over all this?”
“Helena watches over everything. She really badgered me for pictures. So much of corporate life is show-and-tell, you wouldn’t believe it. That’s why I’m hoping you can share what’s happening. So I can … share with Helena and the rest of the team here. Because I can’t show anything. Of course I can call back tomorrow if you’d rather talk then. But maybe you could take pictures with your phone?”
Peter laughed. He said, “Helena. Helen. I knew her when she was just discovering how to be that way. We meant a lot to each other.”
“Then you can imagine what this is like for me. Please let me tell her we can get some pictures, perhaps here in New York.”
“Yes, go ahead and tell her that. Tell her whatever you want and consider me on board.”
“Oh,” Stella sighed, and he could hear that she did not quite believe him. “Terrific. That’s terrific.”
He said, “I promise posed photos with our winners. They will be fine. Though, long-term, who can say with such young people? I should go and prepare for their return.”
“So dinner will just be a kind of a toast to the day?”
“Sure, if you say so. I mean yes. Let’s call it that.”
She responded with silence. She doubted him and she was angry! He could hear it and he realized she had a right to be. She wanted more than she was getting from him. And she deserved more. She said, “Can you also create a good shared anecdote for me that I can feed to publicity? You can make sure to tell them to take care of each other, as you say in your book.”
“I’m glad you called to remind me of that. You’re right, of course. I will do that.”
“I’m glad, too, I’m glad because…” She began to rush her speech. But he had stopped listening. He muttered a goodbye and clicked the phone off.
Was his love with Lisa a great love? He kept returning to that question, even though he knew the answer. They’d had Belinda. Belinda was a kind of love. They had tried to have other children and failed. They loved Belinda and raising her was a wonder. He missed Lisa now … and Belinda, whom he wanted to see. They had talked a few days ago but now he wanted to call her again, and would, tomorrow. And why didn’t Helena call, if she was such a badgerer? Too busy, probably. Always had been that way, since the beginning. She badgered, but didn’t call. When all this was over, he would call her. And what about Maddie? Would he call Helena from an apartment in San Francisco? What if Maddie overheard? He couldn’t do that to Maddie. He would have to go into the street to call, use a cell phone … He pressed at his teeth with the tips of his fingers.
“Peter?” a voice called out.
“Yes?” Peter struggled to his feet and left the dark study and went into the brightly lit hall.
“Mike and I are going to go. We didn’t want to bother you but felt we ought to say goodbye.”
“Jenny! Goodbye now.” He put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. He didn’t like her smile, how she seemed to think he was old now, and harmless.
She twisted free of him and said, “You know how to heat everything up? Want to see what we have in store for you?”
Peter followed Jenny into his kitchen, which now smelled and felt like the kitchen at the inn.
“Hello, Mike. Henry treating you good?”
“Better than you ever did, big fella!”
The three of them talked for a few minutes and then he saw them out, after he’d been instructed on how to plate the lamb shanks and when to warm up and serve the other dishes, the brussels sprouts with bacon, the crispy polenta rounds, and the chestnut soup.
“Of course I know how to handle all this. I’m going to clean these dishes before your pick-up tomorrow better than you can imagine! Now, go! And you have my eternal thanks…”
After they left, he stood in the kitchen doorway with his hands stuck deep in his pockets. What were the things he used to tell couples when they cornered him, every so often, at restaurants in town? What did he say on book tours, and during his few lectures on marriage?
He went over his old prescriptions and swore to himself he’d give a better performance than he had this afternoon. He’d mention all his old favorites. He would try his very hardest to help them plaster over the husband’s infidelity. He owed everyone that.
Don’t renovate a home together in the first five years of marriage.
Only live with your in-laws as a last resort.
Don’t spend too much time with any one single other couple.
Eat at home and together as often as you can. Make each other breakfast on each other’s big days—the day of the big presentation at work. The day of the test your spouse has to take to go to the next level.
Don’t leave clothes lying on the bedroom floor.
Let each other flirt with others at parties.
Those and dozens of others like them. His army of strident little comments. He was proud, not of any one of them in particular, but of them as a whole. He would pick out the ones that applied and press them on the winners. He would even go through the exercises with them if they wanted. He was bumping on something. What was it?
And then he realized what bothered him was that Eli seemed proud of his cheating. Wasn’t he a bit exultant about it? Yes, that was what felt wrong. He was exultant and maybe a little rebellious. That was the thing he was glad he’d kept from Stella. Though, he thought, smiling, why should Stella care? In the short term, the contest could only be a success. And no one should be bothered that the woman, Emily, had married an arrogant bastard. That was no one’s fault but hers. She wasn’t stupid. She’d conveyed that this afternoon, that she’d chosen this life for herself. He liked Emily and he understood her. She loved her man. Just the way Lisa had loved him.
He decided to make sure that during the evening he would stick to his little aphorisms, rather than rush into any more of the intimacy that prompted all this terrifying honesty. He went and found a bottle of Johnnie Walker Black Label that he kept in the cupboard in the dining room, next to the good wineglasses. On the other hand, he might tell a few stories about how he and Lisa had been together. Though it felt risky, it also felt as if some of what he had been through with Lisa paralleled the situation with Eli and Emily. He took a sip of scotch from a water glass. Yes. Some of his real life did seem to apply.
Emily, Winners’ Weekend, November 2011
“Where are you going?” Emily asked.
Emily lay in bed with the covers pulled up. They had made love again. So much sex. It did feel as if, in addition to all his awkward and new honesty, Eli was trying to prove his love through sex. In order to stop thinking about that, she had closed her eyes. She’d been dozing when she heard him moving around.
“I want to go for a quick run. I saw a path back there and they told me it goes north for a few miles.”
“Okay.” Emily sat up. “I’m not going to nap.”
“It’s fine if you do. We have time.”
“I won’t,” she said. She looked around. Their clothes were everywhere. They’d made a mess of the pretty white room. This kind of chaos wasn’t like them, she thought.
Eli had on shorts and an Oberlin sweatshirt. He found his sneakers and l
aced them up. “It’ll be cold,” he said. “But I’ll go crazy if I don’t exercise. I wish I’d brought a bike.”
“You’re taking your phone?”
“In case I get lost.”
She said, “Kiss me.” She knew she sounded plaintive, as if everything depended on the kiss.
His kiss was good but fast and after he left she listened to him bound down the creaky wooden stairs. She threw herself back on the pillows. Not hungry or thirsty or wanting, really, to talk more. But in twenty minutes she knew she would be all those things. No television. Not right now. And yet, still, it was dark and cold out and a weird time for a run and where the fuck was he really going. She took a deep breath and stopped. He needed to exercise. That was true and she believed it. Everything was good.
She called Sherry, who answered on the first ring.
“So what’s he like? Is he everything you dreamed of?”
“You’re actually curious or are you making fun of me?”
“Emily, you think I didn’t read the book? I know I teased you about it but that book was just as much a part of my growing up as it was yours.”
“Yes, yes, you’re right,” Emily said, happy to find her sister both caring and defensive.
“So what’s he like?”
“He’s cautious. He’s been playing the part for so long and I don’t think he likes to break out of it. And I am asking an awful lot of him. We are. I’m not saying I don’t love the fact that I’ve finally met him. I totally do. This was so worth it.”
“He’s a widower, right? Is he cute?”
“Please. He’s the same age as Dad. Also, he doesn’t think that what he wrote is clichéd! Can you believe that?”
“He takes it all seriously?”
“Completely. I mean, I love every bit of it but I know it’s kind of kitschy. But he … he thinks his stuff is still super-relevant. And when he talks to us it’s like he’s right there, in our marriage with us. I mean he jumped right in. Which is maybe what we needed. I forgave Eli for what he did. In front of Peter.”
“I thought you already did that?”
