The Girl in the Comfortable Quiet

by Susan Ward

  “You have everything, Chrissie. A gorgeous husband. Soon a gorgeous baby. An incredible house. An incredible father. And everyone who knows you adores you. You are a lucky girl.”

  The over-the-top compliments take me by surprise. Why is she being so nice to me?

  She comes to me, places an arm around my shoulder and starts guiding me across the living room.

  “I’m so happy I get to spend some time with you. I really want us to be closer friends. It’s important to me. Especially now.”

  The ways she says that tells me she means it. But the especially now part is confusing. Why now?

  “Me, too.”

  I sink down on a couch. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do to entertain Linda here. We don’t exactly live similar lives, even if both of our husbands are musicians. We don’t really have anything in common except Alan.

  Linda looks at me, her eyes bright. “I have news! Do you want to hear big news or little news first?”

  I laugh. She sounds really excited. “I want to hear both.”

  “Well,” she says in a heavy, extremely pleased way, “Len and I are going to be permanent West Coasters soon. We’re leaving New York. We bought a house in Pacific Palisades. I’m moving back home. Finally.”

  My brows shoot up, surprised. “Really? I never thought you’d leave New York. It seems so you and like you’re really happy there.”

  She rolls her eyes, shaking her head. “I’ve been wanting to come back to California for years. I’m a So Cal girl, remember? And it’s definitely going to simplify our life. Manny’s been living fulltime in Malibu forever—”

  My heart stills. Alan is still living in the Malibu house? I didn’t know that and I always thought after we ended he would leave there. But he didn’t. And I’m suddenly filled with conflicting reactions and some of my thoughts are vain in the extreme. Stupid, Chrissie. Stupid. Nothing Alan does has anything to do with you anymore.

  Linda’s racing chatter pulls me from my thoughts. “—and Manny is a fulltime occupation. So demanding. And everyone important in our life is here. My mother lives in Encino. Doris is not young anymore. I’ve been trying to get her to move in with us, but New York, no can do. So we moved closer to Doris and she’s moving in and the timing is brilliant.”

  Brilliant? Brilliant for what? Trying to keep up with Linda is always so challenging. But she looks excited, almost giddy.

  “That’s great, Linda. You seem really happy.” I laugh. “Was that the big news or the little news?”

  Her lids shoot wide and if possible her eyes show even more excitement. “Little news. Chrissie, I’m going to have a baby. A little boy. After all these years with Len, we are starting a family.”

  I stare at her, that revelation stunning me. I don’t know which is harder to get my head around. The thought of Linda being a mother or that her stomach is washboard flat and somehow she thinks she knows it’s a boy.

  “I can’t believe it, Linda. I’m so happy for you.”

  Her smile is enormous. “Me, too. Do you want to see him? I love to show Bobby’s picture, even though he is not really officially ours yet.”

  Officially ours? Comprehension rolls over me and I blurt out, “You’re adopting. You and Len are adopting a little boy?” Once I say the words, I regret them, because that didn’t sound like the right response. She’s over the moon and my voice sounded a little bit—I don’t know what.

  Thankfully, Linda didn’t seem to even take note of my clumsiness in crafting a response.

  “Isn’t it wonderful? Len got cut long before we were married. The damn man’s plumbing doesn’t work. So adoption was the only way. We’ve been on the list forever. I didn’t think anyone would ever trust us with a baby.” She makes a face, and I smile. “But they did. So we’re going to be new moms together, Chrissie. Isn’t that wonderful?”

  She rummages through her bag and pulls out her wallet, flipping it open. She shoves a picture beneath my face.

  “Isn’t he beautiful?” she gushes.

  I stare at the picture of the baby, maybe two months old, and my face lights up as well.

  “He’s adorable, Linda.”

  I’ve never seen Linda so happy. Her sudden interest in wanting to be better friends with me makes sense now. New moms together. In her own totally weird way, Linda is in nesting mode. And maybe I’m the only one in her glitzy circle of friends that is soon to have a baby.

  My smile grows larger. “Kaley will already have a friend when she gets here.”

  Linda nods enthusiastically. “Isn’t it cool? Sometimes all the timing works out perfectly all on its own.”

  We sit for a while, Linda just staring dreamily down at Bobby’s picture, but I’m trapped in thoughts I can’t seem to keep away.

  “How is Alan?” I quietly ask.

  Linda’s expression changes, not in a good way. Her gaze locks on mine and I tense. She can be so intimidating.

  “I think we should have an understanding, Chrissie, if we’re going to be friends. If you ask about Manny, expect an honest answer from me. But if you don’t ask I won’t talk about him. I think things will work better between us this way. He is a touchy subject for the both of us.” She pauses to give me a stare full of meaning. “I’m your friend. I’m his friend. I won’t ever lie to either of you about anything and in the friend war, Manny will always win with me.”

  That turns my entire body crimson because there is a lot in her voice when she says that.

  I meet her stare for stare. “Jeez, Linda. I only asked how he is. I didn’t need that speech. I just want to know if Alan is doing all right and it’s not like I can pick up the phone and talk to him. I haven’t heard from him since the foundation party. I still care about him, OK? I always will.”

  Linda arches a brow. “Aha.”

  My temper flares. “What the fuck does aha mean? I hate when you say that. And would you please stop staring at me that way?”

  Her brown eyes grow more intense. “Aha means grow up, Chrissie. Isn’t it time you learn how to manage your life without a buffer? If you want to talk to Manny, pick up the phone and talk to him.”

  Girl stare. Serious girl stare.

  Linda relents. “He’d take the call, Chrissie, if you phoned him. He wants to hear from you.”

  She says that in her all-knowing way and my anger is rapidly replaced by other emotions. How does she know that?

  “I can’t call him. Not after that thing with Neil at my dad’s party.”

  Linda makes a sigh that sounds like a frustrated growl. “It’s already blown over. I doubt Manny even remembers it. Guys get over things. Or is there some other reason you won’t talk to him even though you obviously want to?”

  Direct hit. “No other reason.” I somehow manage to say that with sincere calm.

  Linda shakes her head, exasperated, then rummages in her bag again. She mumbles, “I’ve been debating how and if I should give this to you. But you opened the door on your own, Chrissie. So you pretty much decided for me.”

  She dumps a gaily wrapped present on my lap. Every muscle in my body tenses. Violet ribbon.

  “Don’t stare at it like it’s going to bite you. How small can you be?” Irritated, she pops a cigarette in her mouth and lights it. “It’s a present for Kaley. Manny gave it to me to give to you. I didn’t think it was smart to do that at the party. I’m not sure it was smart to do it now.”

  So much is running through me. I’m afraid to open it, even though my finger disobeys my will by tracing over Kaley’s name written on the envelope in Alan’s handwriting. I’m touched and knocked off my feet simultaneously by the gesture. A part of me is desperate to see what he sent and a part of me says don’t do it, Chrissie.

  Why would Alan send a gift for Kaley? Suspicion and fear push in on me, making it almost impossible to breathe.

  “Just open it, Chrissie,” Linda says, annoyed and impatient. “It’s not going to be anything awful. Manny is very appropriate at gift giving.�
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  I gnaw on my lower lip. Linda’s right. I’m behaving stupidly. I pull free the card from beneath the ribbon and carefully open the flap. Something falls into my lap as I read the note inside. One sentence. May every day of your life be filled with happiness and joy—Alan.

  The lump in my throat is strangling. The fear that this is not a meaningless gesture consumes me.

  Linda makes a husky laugh. I look at her. She’s holding whatever it is that fell into my lap, staring at it and shaking her head.

  She hands it to me and I go numb. A check? The amount alone is suggestive, and even if Linda is thoroughly amused by this, there is nothing funny about it.

  “Kaley’s first check—” Linda’s laughter intensifies. “—but I don’t think you should put that in the baby’s first moments book. Jeez, how ridiculous. He made it out to her, like an infant has ID and is born with a bank account.”

  My heart is pounding quickly to the point the blood is gushing through my ears, blocking out Linda’s words. Alan sent a check. Jack’s voice whispers in my memory, from that long ago phone call in New York when he ordered me not to accept the cello from Alan. “Manny is in a rough place. He needs to learn new habits. The only way he will ever learn to deal with his issues is if the people around him don’t let him buy his way out of them.”

  I can’t take in air. The earth has fallen away beneath me. And Linda is still mindlessly droning on.

  “He sent one for Bobby, too, when he found out we were adopting. He sends a check every birthday and Christmas to Pat and Jimmy’s little ones also. Ridiculous amounts. Sweet and thoughtful, don’t you think?”

  Bobby? Pat’s little ones? The rampant emotion coursing through me stills. Is this just some Alan ritual? Am I being hyper-reactive and overly paranoid? Maybe the check means nothing.

  As if Linda knows the moment everything inside me calms, she smiles. “Aren’t you going to open the gift? The gifts are always so amusing, like he thinks kids are nothing more than mini thirty-year-olds.”

  Linda sounds normal, like this is no big deal. I carefully remove the ribbon and then the wrap. I study the book, every detail. My insides are frantic and loose again.

  Linda’s eyes fly wide. “Is that a first edition?”

  I nod. Collector condition. First edition. Alice in Wonderland. My favorite. I don’t even remember telling him that, but I must have, otherwise how would Alan know? And inside is another inscription. May you always believe in magic and the impossible. Alan Manzone.

  I sit, stunned. “He wrote a note inside. I can’t even imagine what he paid for this book. And he devalued the condition just to put a little note there for Kaley.”

  Linda grins. “Oh, no he didn’t, Chrissie. He didn’t devalue a damn thing. Think of the irony. Alice in Wonderland with Alan Manzone’s autograph.” Her humor hits her with such force she’s hugging her middle. “Twenty years from now it will probably be worth double. Some crazy fan will pay a fortune for that if you ever put it up for auction.”

  She can’t stop laughing. I watch her, trapped in a storm of warring emotions, and then I burst out laughing, too. I can’t help it. There is too much inside me to process, and Linda’s humor is intoxicating.

  We slouch in the cushions, heads close, until our laughter runs its course.

  Linda smiles affectionately. “What are you thinking, Chrissie? You have the strangest look on your face.”

  Flustered, I scrunch up my nose. “I should probably call him to thank him. That’s all, Linda. That’s what I’m thinking.”

  Linda nods, her expression neutral, deliberately so I think.

  “Do you have a current phone number for him, Linda? I doubt the one I have still works.”

  She grabs my mobile phone off the coffee table, flips it open, goes to contacts and starts punching in numbers.

  “This one always works. It’s never disconnected,” she tells me.

  Oh God. I didn’t want this. A permanent way to reach Alan. But Alan sending presents makes me wonder where things stand between us. We haven’t talked since Jack’s party. I don’t ever want to be enemies with Alan, not ever. I’ve worried that since the punching incident. And I never expected to receive gifts from him for Kaley. I can’t help but wonder if this gesture is maybe his way of telling me that everything between us is OK.

  I’m probably making too much of this. Calling Alan is probably the wrong move. For me. For him.

  I take the phone from Linda. My stomach knots. She put Alan in my contacts under the name Molly. I ignore the not-so-subtle innuendo. I click closed my phone and toss it back onto the table.

  I’ll call Alan later after Linda’s gone to sleep.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  I close my bedroom door and sink down on my bed. Crud, it’s 1 a.m. I’ve never known anyone who can talk as much as Linda can.

  I take my lower lip between my teeth, staring at my phone. It’s too late to call a normal person, but for Alan this is primetime. Unless he’s at a party or, worse, with a girl. Then it would be totally ghastly time.

  I tell myself just do it. What’s the worst that could happen? It might be awful? It’s already awful, the want, the need to talk to him.

  I try to tell myself calling him is necessity, the only way to know for sure he’s not wondering things I don’t want him to wonder. But it’s more complex than that. Every emotion is always something more complex with Alan.

  It’s us. Connected in the disconnect. Emotionally messy and emotionally tangled together, regardless of where we are, together or not, in that indefinable way it has been from the first day we met. Even after that dreadful scene at Jack’s party, when Alan looked at me before he left, I knew we hadn’t ended that day. And no matter what I do, I am and always will be in some way heart-tied to Alan.

  It’s not my fault. It’s inescapable. It’s him. Linda is the strongest, most confident woman I have ever known, and even she seems relentlessly held in Alan’s epic universe by having had some sort of history with him. I’ve often wondered if she just married Len to make the Alan-hold fit better. Linda and Len definitely don’t match as a couple and she is a practical girl. It’s a weird match. Strangely, the Alan-factor makes it more logical to me.

  I hit the call button. Ring. Ring. Ring. My leg starts to jiggle double-time. Answer the phone. Answer the phone. Answer—

  “Yes?” Abrupt. Imperative.

  I’m shocked into stillness. It’s not just a private line. It’s one Alan answers.

  “Yes?” This time it’s barked, and I realize I missed my turn to talk last round.

  I crinkle my nose. “It’s me.”

  The second I say that I kick myself. Fuck, can you be any more lame, Chrissie? It’s vain to think he’ll figure out who it is from that and definitely potentially devastating that I’ve had one of those Chrissie cute-cute conversational moments and he might respond with something more in the line with how he said “yes.”

  Fudge, why doesn’t he say something? “If you don’t start speaking soon, Alan, I’m going to fall asleep. I’m exhausted.”

  He laughs. “Sorry. I’m not over the shock that you called. I wasn’t expecting you to. You surprised me.”

  Weird, blunt Alan honesty.

  “I wasn’t expecting to call,” I whisper, then cringe. God, that was sort of a bitchy thing to say. I change course. “I wanted to thank you for the presents. But Alan, you shouldn’t have done it and you shouldn’t have sent a check. That I’m ripping up.”

  “I thought I should send something,” is all he says.

  That makes me tense. I’m unsure what that means. “You didn’t have to. And you definitely surprised me.”

  “Good.” I can hear it in his voice. He’s smiling. “You should keep the check. Let Kaley decide later which present she prefers. My experience is kids usually pick the money.”

  We both laugh, kind of stiffly, and then there’s another moment of awkward silence. I should probably say good night and run while I’m ahead.r />
  “Do you want to hear something silly?” I ask.

  More awkward moments of nothing pass through the phone. Then Alan laughs. “Sure, Chrissie. Tell me your something silly.”

  “The backside of my house is all glass. I can see the ocean from every room and at night when the oil derricks are lit up, to me they still look like pirate ships.”

  My body covers in a burn. Oh fuck, why did I say that? I just dragged us back in time to the night we met, to our walk on the beach. What the hell is the matter with me?”

  “What do you do all day?” he asks.

  My eyes fly wide. Alan just pivoted in conversation, when Alan never pivots. I’m not sure why—to avoid sensitive history he doesn’t want to revisit or for my sake. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

  “I’ve been working on my music. You were right. Some of my journals are definitely filled with song lyrics.”

  He laughs again. “The chord notations, Chrissie. A dead giveaway for anyone but you.”

  I flush. “Ha, ha, ha. Very funny. Thanks a lot. That was sort of mean.”

  “So tell me about your music and what you’re thinking of doing.”

  I sink down against the bed. “I don’t know what I want to do with it, Alan. I’m just doing it. Probably nothing. Just something to do.”

  Two hours later, I’m curled around my pillow beneath the blankets, fighting off sleep, with the phone resting between the bed and my ear since I’m too tired to hold it any longer. The minutes have passed filled with his meaningless questions about unexciting tidbits of my life that I can’t figure out why he wants to know. But I’ve missed the thrill of Alan’s voice, so I answer the questions so the call won’t end. I love his low, raspy accented voice. The way he curls the words off his lips. Every word a velvet seduction.

  Rubbing my knuckles into my eyes, I can feel that sleep is starting to win. “I need to go, Alan. I’m too tired to talk anymore. But can I say something before we hang up?”

  This time when he laughs he sounds tired, too. “I guess I have been monopolizing the call. Go ahead, Chrissie.”