by Tracy Quan
When I got home, I called Matt and left a voice mail, claiming a very bad stomach bug. “I just need to stay in and rest,” I pleaded in my best sick voice. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” The thought of dealing with my “real” life just now was overwhelming. Then I realized: Tomorrow, we’re having dinner with Elspeth and Jason! My god.
TUESDAY MORNING. 5/9/00
A call from Allie, very late last night. I was sitting in bed trying to read myself to sleep.
“I hope it’s not too late,” she began. “But you left ten messages on my voice mail, so I felt like maybe I’d better call you back—”
“Well? What happened?” I sat up, waiting for the worst.
“We went to the park, but Charmaine wasn’t there. There were all these kids on scooters, but I didn’t recognize any of them. And then we had a bite at Arturo’s, and while Jason was telling me about his marriage and his novel, he got a call on his beeper so he had to leave. And he kissed me good-bye—on the cheek.”
“That’s it? What else happened? Did he say anything about me?”
“He made me promise not to tell you anything about him!” Allie said.
“Yes, but did you remember to tell him not to say anything to me about you?”
“Yes! And he promised right away. He said he would never do anything to hurt me. But this is all so silly,” she insisted. “Here are the two of you—two people I admire and like and trust—”
“It’s not silly at all,” I told her. “Jason has a lot at stake. So do I. And how did you feel,” I pointed out, “when he said he would never do anything to harm you? Did that seem silly?”
“No,” she admitted. “It made me feel…special. But I think he meant it as a friend,” she added quickly. “This is so confusing. I’m not supposed to tell you and he’s not supposed to tell you but—you already know!”
“It makes perfect sense!”
“Well, I’m sure it does to you. But I don’t like lying.”
“What are you talking about?” I said. “You lied to me for weeks about Jack!”
“That,” she protested, “was not my fault! You were giving me such a hard time! And besides, I didn’t feel good about it. If you must know, I felt terrible.”
“Great. You’ll lie to me when it suits you, but you think you’re better than me because you feel bad about it. Thanks a lot.” I immediately felt like a harridan—and a very unwise harridan at that. I shouldn’t be alienating Allie at a time when I need her cooperation!
“I never said I was better than you,” Allie replied in an injured tone. “I have never judged you! How can you say that? I—I have to get off the phone. It’s been a long day and I’m exhausted. Charmaine hasn’t answered any of my calls. And her e-mail keeps bouncing. I hope she’s all right.”
“I’m sorry,” I told her. “I’m just overwrought. I’m tired too. Let me know if you hear from Charmaine.”
Reconciled, we both hung up.
Maybe Charmaine packed up her belongings, quit the business, and went back to Pittsburgh. To a simpler, safer—and saner—life. It’s too late for me, but maybe that’s the answer, I thought, as I drifted off to sleep. Or maybe it was the answer, long before I invested my teens, twenties, and a chunk of my thirties, in this sexual rat race.
14 In-Laws and Outlaws
LATER TUESDAY
Just when I need her most, my shrink is still on vacation, touring the Greek islands. A shrink’s like a hairdresser for the soul, an indispensable part of gracious living. When your hairdresser goes on holiday, you can schedule a precautionary trim, some prophylactic highlights. But what do you do about your shrink? It’s hard to plan for an emotional crisis. Wendy’s “assignment” before she left was “Think about the nature of your secrets.” I’m sure she never imagined I’d be confronted with something as weird as this!
With Wendy out of town, I contemplated my options. Jasmine is really the only other person I can talk to about this. In the meantime, I’m steeling myself for the social showdown tonight—dinner with Elspeth, Matt, and Jason at San Domenico. If I’m too passive, Jason might start thinking that I’m the one with a secret. How long could it take a man of his intelligence—and imagination—to put it together? Especially given that his secret happens to be this thing he’s got for hookers. Not even a normal thing—a strange weakness, judging by his Mary Magdalene fixation.
LATER STILL
“Come early,” I told Jasmine before our date with Howard. I felt somewhat guilty about booking her—she’s not really his favorite—but I really wanted to talk to her. And I owed her a date. “There’s something we have to discuss!”
Instead, she managed to show up at the same time as Howard, because a previous client had messed up her schedule by arriving late. My performance adrenaline was higher than usual. Nervous energy made my body more enterprising, and Howard attributed this generous mood to Jasmine’s presence.
“She really turns you on!” he said. “Let’s have her over more often.”
But Jasmine knew better. After Howard was gone, she said, “What’s up? You’re buzzing around this bedroom like a bee on crank.”
While she dressed, I told her about Jason and Allie.
“This is the craziest thing I’ve ever heard!” she exclaimed. “People should not be allowed to go on the radio.”
“What are you talking about?”
“WBAI should be removed from the airwaves! It is the only station that would give that New Age floozy a full half hour. Do you realize that if Allison had not done that radio show she would never have met your future brother-in-law? We have nonprofit broadcasting to thank for this social and psychosexual train wreck. If Allison’s babble had been drowned out by back-to-back commercials and weather reports, just think! Jason’s life would never have been disrupted by Allison’s sexual socialism. Who says ideas don’t have consequences?” Jasmine demanded.
“I, uh, guess you have a point. But Jason is so devoted to her cause. Who knows? Maybe they would have met anyway. With or without the invention of radio. I’m beginning to think they were just destined to find each other.” I told Jasmine about the novel he’s been writing and the shoes he donated. “And,” I added, “it sort of creeps me out that he said they belonged to a dead sister. Those were his wife’s shoes!”
“Well,” Jasmine said, “maybe their marriage is sexually dead and he feels like she’s his sister. It’s been known to happen.” She shrugged. “I wouldn’t assume he’s unhappy in the marriage. Just happier when he has, you know, a little diversion.”
“Some diversion! Why can’t he be a normal husband who pays hookers? Why does he have to be a hooker groupie? This might be a diversion for him, but it’s a disaster for me. And they’re not even having sex!”
Jasmine looked as annoyed as I felt.
“Trust Allison to get into some complicated triangle that totally endangers you—and the silly bitch isn’t even having sex with him. Or getting money.”
If Jason were Allison’s client, everybody would know the rules. If only Jason were a client, as I had recently begun to suspect, capable of splitting his life up into appointments. Instead, he’s much stranger than that, capable of splitting his life up into lives. Capable? Or compelled?
“He’s been leading this double life for I don’t know how long! Maybe years,” I said.
“Well, he just met Allison a few months ago. It’s not that long.”
“But Allie says he’s been writing about Mary Magdalene’s reincarnation—and doing the research—for ages. He told her he got the idea listening to Jesus Christ Superstar when he was a teenager. And,” I added, “Allie thought he was a Legal Aid lawyer—in the Bronx. She believed he was completely penniless!”
“He probably thinks Allison is Mary Magdalene. I’m surprised he didn’t tell her he was a carpenter! She’d probably believe that, too,” Jasmine said. “You’re right. People like that will find each other—even if it is completely inappropriate.”
WED
NESDAY. 5/10/00
Last night Matt and I were in a cab, on our way to San Domenico, when his phone started buzzing. “You’re kidding,” I heard him say. “Okay, man, feel better. Yeah, sure, I’ll tell her. Nancy had something like that too, but she’s fine now.” He hung up. “Jason’s got some kind of bug. And he’s going home, but he can’t find Elspeth.” Jason and Elspeth work at opposite ends of town, and they rarely show up together on a work night.
“What’s wrong?” Matt said. “You’ve been kind of jumpy ever since I picked you up.”
“Oh, I just…didn’t get enough sleep,” I said, looking out at Central Park. I had been anticipating a chance to make eye contact with Jason, take him aside, spin our encounter in a way that would calm his fears, reducing the likelihood of an escalation. Is Jason having a nervous breakdown? Or just avoiding me? Shouldn’t I be glad if he’s a little bit afraid of me? But I wasn’t thrilled when Matt told him about my own paranoiac “vapors”—now Jason will wonder if I have something to hide from Matt!
When Elspeth finally arrived at the restaurant, she was talking a mile a minute. “Sorrysorrysorry, kids! My day has turned into madness, and it looks like I’ll be insane for the next four weeks. Depends how long this takes, of course. How quickly we can win this.” She was clearly excited about putting someone in jail, making no secret of it, but observing all the necessary discretion. “Anyway, where’s Jason? Late as usual?”
“He tried to call you, but he couldn’t get through. He had to go home—some kind of bug,” Matt told her.
“Oh?” Elspeth looked surprised. “My cell phone’s working fine. In fact I’ve been sitting at my desk all afternoon waiting for calls. What is he talking about?” She frowned, then pulled out her phone. Casting a guilty look at us both, she added, “Just a quickie—to my ailing husband. I promise I’ll be quiet.” But Jason seemed to be avoiding her call. “Honey?” she told his voice mail. “Call me when you get home. I have the ringer off, so you might have to keep calling. Let me know if you need to know where anything is.” She put the phone on the table and eyed it conscientiously. “He seemed a little off last night. He came home around nine-thirty, looking kind of sad and exhausted. Then he went straight to sleep! No matter how many times I go through the drill, he can never find anything in the medicine cabinet, poor baby.”
I felt a twinge of sympathy for Elspeth. She seemed to regard his physical discomfort as her own—up to a point.
“Must be something that’s going around,” Matt mused. “A twenty-four-hour virus. Nancy went to sleep early last night, and now she’s just fine.”
“So,” Elspeth said eagerly. “What progress on your wedding date? Did you make a decision yet?”
“Well, I…went to the Leopard, and I’m going to look at La Grenouille. I have to pick a place first. Then I’ll decide.”
“Really? You’d rather have it in a restaurant? Why not a hotel? You know, the Carlyle does a great job. Or the Stanhope.”
I was prepared for that, at least. “A restaurant’s more intimate,” I said firmly. “I’ve been to…events at hotels. And a hotel wedding doesn’t work for me. It’s not romantic.”
“Well, I, personally, cannot think of anything more romantic than having everything professionally handled at a hotel,” Elspeth replied. “By people who have done this hundreds of times before. And when the reception’s over, you two lovebirds can just flutter upstairs to your room and relax. That, in a nutshell, is romantic.”
“Nancy’s the one who’s getting married,” Matt reminded her. He made a protective gesture in the direction of my arm. “To me.” He smiled affectionately.
“Thank god!” Elspeth cackled. “Because siblings can’t marry in New York State! This isn’t Georgia! Sorry, Nancy. I should save these disgusting jokes for the bachelorette party. Are we having one?”
Matt stood up and made his traditional cell-phone gesture. “It’s the office. I have to take this.” He disappeared with his phone and Elspeth said, “You two are such cellular citizens. Matt never takes a business call at the table, and you never take calls at all.”
I stared at her numbly. When did she find the time to notice this?
“I’ve made a study of these things,” Elspeth added carelessly. “In Matt’s case, it’s a professional obligation. He’s not allowed to discuss deals in public. In your case…” She smiled slowly. “Well, I suppose you’re a very private person. Maybe you have a good reason to be.” She looked up from her menu and cocked her head to one side. “Your cousin Miranda says you’ve always been a quiet sort.”
“I’m not sure what you mean,” I said timidly. How has Jason gotten away with leading such a bizarre secret life under the nose of this natural-born snoop? On the other hand, how could he not retreat into a biblically inspired fantasy life? I suppose it was a survival tactic for him.
A waiter appeared and offered more bread. “Yes, please!” I breathed, despite the fact that I was starting to fill up. “Maybe you’re right,” I said politely. “I was never as much of an extrovert as—as you. Or Miranda.”
“No.” Elspeth said thoughtfully. “I can see that. Anyway, I booked a table for five at Willow—tentative, I know, but someone’s gotta start moving on this,” she said cheerfully. “Can Allison and Jasmine make it?” She pulled out her date book. “I already spoke to Miranda! She’s game.”
“You did?” I couldn’t hide my irritation. “When?”
“Oh, the miracle of e-mail, I can’t remember. I wish all your bridesmaids were as easy to find as Miranda! What’s better for Allison? Brunch? Or dinner? Why don’t you just give me her e-mail address and let me arrange it. And what about Jasmine?”
I grabbed a roll and broke off a piece. Jesus. Has Elspeth become Miranda’s new best friend? The idea of my future sister-in-law and my unaware cousin chatting it up—perhaps daily—in e-mail is worrying. And how am I going to get Allison to excuse herself from my wedding party without drawing attention to it? There is no way that Jason and Allie can be at this event together. Does Jason realize that the Allison I know from the gym is also the Allison I’ve picked as a bridesmaid? Is that why he called in sick tonight?
“I’ll have to check!” I said wildly. “Maybe I can give them your e-mail address?” Matt was sitting down again, and I looked hopefully in his direction. “Have you been talking to Jason about the wedding plans?” I asked him.
“Not much.” Matt was perusing the menu. “What’s the big deal? He shows up in a suit on the designated day, just like me. Oh, and he carries the ring.” Matt winked at me. “This way, if anything goes wrong, it’s not our fault.”
“Men always think they’ll get off scot-free,” Elspeth said with an ominous laugh.
Suddenly, I realized how hurt Allison’s going to be. When she realizes that this charming stranger, this admirer of hers, is the best man at my wedding—and that she’s being sacrificed. She’ll “understand,” but I don’t think our friendship can ever be the same. A wedding is “just a formality,” she’ll say—but I have a feeling in my gut. She’ll take it as a snub. And it will hurt her when she realizes that Jason, at the end of the day, is going to be part of this respectable charade that she can’t be part of. It suddenly hit me, as I halfheartedly cut into my roasted sea bass, that I did not want to be the one who delivers this sad comment on reality to Allie while she’s in the grip of her idealism. Whatever Jasmine might call her—a “sexual socialist,” a New Age floozy, a silly bitch, a moral idiot; and all these things have the ring of truth, to be sure—she’s still my friend. Can this wedding party be saved? How? I wonder.
“So,” I ventured, as matter-of-factly as I could, “Jason has no idea who’s in the wedding party?”
“He must know about Miranda and me! Just what are you getting at, Nancy?” Elspeth asked in a sharp cheerful voice.
I almost jumped off my chair. “I—nothing,” I mumbled. “I was just thinking that…that maybe this is not the best time to discuss the wedding plans. Withou
t Jason here.” I allowed my voice to trail off as I chewed a piece of buttered roll.
“Matt’s right. Jason has a knack for showing up exactly when he should—if it’s important. Don’t worry. We’ll just plan everything and the men will appear, like magic.” Elspeth glanced at her flashing cell phone and held it to her ear. “Hi,” she whispered gruffly. “Do you want me to pick anything up? Of course! Ginger tea? Where would I find that?” She closed her phone and said, “Jason’s turning New Age on me. Lately he’s been drinking herbal teas!” She seemed to find this rather endearing, and I felt, against my will, a stab of sympathy.
“As I was telling Nancy,” Elspeth continued. “You’re such a Goody Two-shoes about your cell phone, Matt. And it’s funny how Nancy has never once taken a call on her phone in all the time I’ve known her! Never once, in my presence. But we all know she has one, because we’ve all called her on it.”
“Really?” Matt said playfully. “I have to think about that.”
Please don’t!
For dessert, Elspeth ordered strawberry salad and balsamic vinegar ice cream—with three spoons. I couldn’t wait for the meal to end as I dipped, reluctantly, into our communal dessert.
WEDNESDAY. 5/17/00
Yesterday Jasmine called just as I was leaving the apartment. “Can you do a very fast ‘three’ at the Waldorf?” she asked. “I had to cancel on him, and I hate to leave him high and dry. He’ll give you cab fare on top of the three. And I won’t take the full cut,” she offered.
“I don’t know if I can! Lorenzo’s doing my highlights, and then I have to see Milton, and then I have to meet Matt—we’ve got tickets for Aida. I could try and get Milton to come later. But I’m late for my highlights!”
