Things to Make and Break
Page 15
Over coffee, I asked whether they’d had a lot of responses to their ad.
“Quite a few,” Amber said, stirring sugar into her latte, “but everyone except for you seemed to think this was exclusively about sex.”
“I wasn’t sure,” I said. “To be honest, I was interested either way.”
Amber smiled, and Jack peered into his espresso. I sipped my coffee.
“So this is mostly about you and Jack,” Amber said.
“I understand,” I said.
I didn’t understand. If she wasn’t part of the mix, why had she involved herself at all? The thought crossed my mind that perhaps Jack was chronically unfaithful, and this was Amber’s way of exercising control, but I didn’t sense that dynamic between them.
“Do you think you’d like to see each other again?” She said it like a mother arranging a play date.
Jack flashed his teeth at me.
“Uh, sure,” I said.
“How about you?” she asked him.
“Yes,” he said, looking me in the eye.
“Oh, thanks,” I said, embarrassed that I was embarrassed. I looked at Amber.
“Great,” she said. “You two go out a couple of times, see how it goes. If you hit it off, then I’ll start seeing you, too.”
I didn’t understand why she was leaving the choice up to him, when she would be dating me, too.
She leaned across the table. “So we’d have our own thing,” she said. “I don’t know if you were expecting this to be all three of us together, but that’s not what we’re looking for.”
I blushed. “I don’t know what I was expecting.”
She was right. I found the idea of dating them separately a little bit creepy. I could see the fun of a three-way, but conducting parallel affairs seemed obviously to be a twisted game between the two of them. Perhaps they wanted to exchange stories, or never to speak of it, just to know it was something they shared. Whatever it was, it seemed willfully perverse and destructive. I didn’t want to be their fetish object, or connective tissue. This crazy thing that happened to them once.
“I should explain,” Amber said to Jack. I could feel his mood change as he nodded and turned away.
“We’ve never even thought about doing anything like this before,” she said.
“OK.”
“I have bone cancer.”
“My God,” I said. I touched my napkin. “I’m so sorry.” I looked at Jack.
“I had it when I was a child,” Amber said, “and again as a teenager. I don’t want to bog you down with the details, but it doesn’t look like they can turn things around this time.”
“I’m sorry,” I said again.
She shook her head and smiled. “I’ve beaten it twice. That’s a lot of bonus time.”
Jack fake-coughed.
“I don’t get how it connects,” I said.
“I need to know he’ll find someone else,” Amber said, “and I want to meet her.”
They looked at each other. There was so much going on in their faces that I had to look away. I understood. They were trying to pull the future into the present, to make a place for Amber in it. I thought it was a beautiful idea. I’ve always admired people who try to make a good thing last forever. But when I thought about what they were asking of me, it seemed like a big responsibility. We’d only just met. It was too much.
We settled the bill and left the restaurant. A private blanket of sadness wrapped around them on the way to the car. Amber drove. No one spoke. When we stopped in front of the house, she leaned between the seats and kissed me on the cheek. We thanked each other, said we’d be in touch. Jack didn’t turn around.
The next day was Sunday. The shop was quiet. I couldn’t stop thinking about them. I knew this was my chance to have something written in stone. Everyone who has to love me is gone, and here was someone who would never be able to leave me. Here were two, willing to bend time and space, and the rules, for each other. I thought I could do a lot worse. As I cashed up and mopped the floor, I began to picture museum afternoons and picnics in the park. I pulled down the shutter, slid in the locks, and walked up the road to the house. It was still light.
I went inside and started filling the tub. The magazine was on top of the cistern. I locked the door and read the ad again. I got naked and was just about to step into the bath when I heard singing coming from the floor. I found my phone in my jeans.
It was Amber. “Can you talk?”
“Sure.” I was cold and I wanted to get in the water.
“We had a lovely time with you the other night. We both really like you. If it was going to be anyone, it would be you.”
“Oh,” I said, guarding my expression even though she couldn’t see it.
“It’s Jack, he’s never been fully on board. He was trying to do it for me, but going out the other night made it too real.”
“OK.” I wondered if I just hadn’t been a good fit.
“He prefers to let things take their natural course. I have to respect that.”
“Of course.”
“Thank you for meeting us. We want to apologize for wasting your time.”
“It wasn’t a waste. I liked you.” I hesitated. “Maybe you and I can still be friends.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. Take care, Vivien. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
“Me too.”
I ended the call and put the phone on the floor. I stood there for a while. I got in the bath and slipped underwater and pictured them kissing. Girls were singing.
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May-Lan Tan studied fine art at Goldsmiths and works as a ghostwriter. She lives in Berlin.
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