Confessions of an Ex-Girlfriend

by Lynda Curnyn

  I stood and walked on air out of her office, smirking at Nancy as I passed her desk and even cruising by Rebecca’s cube in my smart outfit, just to show her the competition had suddenly gotten fierce. All at once, everything seemed possible. I could get promoted. I might even fall in love someday, not that that mattered, at least as far as Patricia was concerned. Clearly she didn’t need anyone, judging by the way she kept that pseudohusband of hers at arm’s length. Maybe we were kindred spirits, Patricia and I. Maybe that gleam I saw come into her eyes as I announced my interest in the position was the hope of the already-accomplished for the destined-to-succeed. Maybe there was more to me, Emma Carter, than Caroline, or Rebecca—or, hell, even Derrick—could see.

  Hah. I was going to be a smash success. And make him rue the day he ever left my illustrious side.

  Confession: I am ready for my miniature schnauzer.

  As promised, I met Alyssa at the gym on Saturday morning. And after an hour and a half that I spent pumping my legs, lifting my arms and sweating more than I ever imagined possible, we went to Alyssa’s apartment to pick up Lulu for our appointment with the allegedly irresistible Dr. Jason Carruthers. I tried not to get on Alyssa’s case too much in the locker room as she showered and carefully reapplied all her makeup for the occasion, but I was clearly ill at ease with the whole thing. My feelings worsened when we entered Alyssa’s apartment and I discovered Richard lounging on the sofa, looking oddly vulnerable in a pair of boxers and an old NYU Law T-shirt. “Hi,” he greeted me cheerfully, oblivious to the deceit that I had now tangled myself up in.

  “Hello, Rich, how’ve you been?” I said, almost too brightly, as out of the corner of my eye I watched Alyssa round up Lulu.

  “Great. How are you doing?” he said, studying me, probably wondering if I was still as much of a basket case as I had been the last time I saw him, just days after Derrick had left. If he only knew what he was in for, I thought now.

  I swallowed. “I’m okay. Keeping busy with work and all.”

  “Alyssa tells me you’re up for a big promotion.”

  “Oh, that. Yeah, well, I did just speak to the editor-in-chief about it and she was very encouraging, so…”

  “Great.” He smiled so sweetly and innocently I wanted to gather him close and warn him of the dangers of letting Alyssa go out in the world unattended. But then Alyssa was suddenly by my side, Lulu smiling up happily at us now that her leash had been snapped on. Even Lulu was oblivious to the fact that this was no joyful little walk she was going on, but a dreaded trip to Dr. Jason Carruthers—a man who would only probe her with cold metal tools while he gazed with longing at Alyssa.

  “You guys all ready to go?” Richard said, hopping up from the couch and going over to scratch Lulu playfully behind the ears, all the while muttering endearments that caused Lulu’s tail to wag furiously. My heart sank.

  Richard walked us to the door and kissed Alyssa on the forehead, much in the way my father used to kiss me when I was six.

  “Take care of yourself, Em,” he said, turning to me. “And don’t be a stranger. In fact, if you and Henry hit it off, maybe we can double date. You did tell her about Henry, right, Lys?”

  Gulp. Now we were double dating. I wondered if Henry would even talk to me, much less date me, if he ever found out I had stood by while some womanizing veterinarian made off with his best buddy’s girl.

  “Yeah, I told her,” Alyssa said as she led Lulu to the door. “Remind me, Em, to give you Henry’s number.”

  “He’s a great guy,” Rich said, encouragingly.

  So are you, I thought sadly, following Alyssa and Lulu out the door to meet their fate.

  Once we hit the pavement, I found myself racing to keep up with Alyssa, who seemed to be in too much of a hurry for my taste. “I don’t know if this is such a good idea,” I said when I had finally matched my pace to hers.

  “I need to know if this is an irritable bowel or something more serious,” Alyssa replied, glancing down at Lulu with concern.

  “No, no,” I said, annoyed at her denseness. “I mean this Dr. Carruthers character. You and Richard have been together a long time. You have a dog together, for chrissakes.”

  “Lulu is my dog, Em. I’ve had her since I was sixteen.”

  “Yeah, and why did your mother give her to you, huh?”

  Alyssa marched on, her face a mask. “I was a good kid?”

  “No, because your father had died a month earlier. She was trying to get you to move on, enjoy life again. You told me that yourself.”

  She stopped now, stood looking at me while Lulu sat expectantly at her feet. Then she gazed down at the dog, who cocked her head questioningly before cracking a doggy smile. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  She started walking again, and I followed suit. “Maybe you’re afraid of losing Lulu. Or even Richard, on some level. I mean, you only lost your mother a couple of years ago. Maybe this thing with Dr. Carruthers is just your way of controlling the marbles. You know, if you keep moving on yourself, you can’t get hurt.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” she said, then stopped again, this time before the large wooden doorway of a brownstone. A shiny brass plaque affixed just above the intercom read, “Dr. Jason Carruthers, D.V.M.” She pressed the button on the intercom, and at the sound of an answering buzz, she pushed the heavy door open with renewed determination, barely glancing back at me as she held the door open for me to follow. After we passed through a small foyer, we found ourselves in a cozy waiting area that was decorated with paintings of dogs and cats in various poses, as well as pillows embroidered with sayings like Bark If You’re A Dog Lover. Behind the reception desk, a woman with a cloud of gray hair and the softest voice I have ever heard greeted Lulu, then raised her eyes to Alyssa as we approached.

  While Alyssa checked in, I made myself comfortable on a cushion that proclaimed Cat Love Is Purr-fect Love, and contemplated an empty pet carrier that stood waiting in the middle of the room to be filled with some ideal companion. As I sat there imagining the kind of muumuu-wearing cat-lover who might be the owner of such a garishly colored carrier, the door to the inner office opened, and out stepped a tall blonde in a skirt the size of a postage stamp, carrying the tiniest dog I had ever seen. I immediately eyed the blonde’s long legs with suspicion. What kind of woman wears panty hose on a Saturday—and to the vet, no less? As the woman stooped to put the dog in the ostentatious carrier, all the while murmuring words of comfort through brightly painted lips, I began to wonder what kind of operation this Dr. Jason Carruthers was running.

  “He’s ready for us,” Alyssa said, having finished whatever paper-work she had to fill out and gesturing for me to get up.

  “I’ll just bet he is,” I muttered, following her and Lulu through the office door.

  As I stepped inside a gleaming white room that smelled like a mixture of antiseptic and kitty litter, I fell into a stunned silence.

  There, dressed in a white lab coat and a blue button-down shirt that brought out the stunning color of his eyes, stood Dr. Jason Carruthers: six-foot-two, broad-shouldered, lean-hipped and one hundred and seventy-five pounds worth of the most incredible male I had ever seen.

  I swallowed hard, studying his beautiful features as he stood behind the examining table, his hands folded comfortably behind his back, a brilliant smile on his—dare I say sensual?—mouth.

  “Jason,” Alyssa breathed next to me, and I suddenly remembered why I was here.

  “Alyssa, how are you?” he said, then kneeled down to Lulu. Weirdly enough even Alyssa’s dog seemed deliriously happy to see the man who would soon be the instrument of her torture. He scratched her behind her ears with his big tan hands, before scooping her effortlessly into his arms and rising to his full height once more. “I see you brought a friend this time,” he said, nodding to me in greeting.

  “Oh, yes,” Alyssa said, as if suddenly remembering I was in the room. “Jason, meet my good friend, Emma Carter.”

/>   As his hands were full of Lulu, I merely smiled my greeting at him. I don’t think I could have spoken anyway, judging by the way I was salivating.

  “Emma was concerned,” Alyssa continued, glancing at me. “About Lulu, that is.”

  He nodded, as if this answer made perfect sense to him. “You mentioned on the phone that she wasn’t responding to the medication,” he said, placing Lulu gently on the examining table, all the while caressing her with those broad, tanned fingers.

  I was mesmerized. And quite frankly, I was shocked, because suddenly it was very clear to me that this man could be Alyssa’s next Mr. Right. He was kind to animals, gorgeous beyond compare—and those hands, I thought, watching as he pulled a stethoscope from around his neck and placed it carefully on Lulu’s chest. The dog’s tongue lolled out of her mouth as if she were receiving a full body massage.

  He didn’t even look like a vet, I realized suddenly. Well, maybe a vet on TV.

  “We’re going to need to run some tests,” he was saying now, his beautiful gaze fixed on Alyssa’s face. “Some of them will be pretty extensive and may require an overnight stay.” He paused, as if he were about to suggest an overnight stay for Alyssa as well. Then, as if remembering something, he pulled himself from Alyssa’s gaze and began moving about the office, collecting instruments, then pausing to flip through a chart on the counter. Facing Alyssa once more, he continued, “Today I’ll just take some blood, but make an appointment to bring her back in the next two weeks so we can run the next battery of tests. By then I’ll have her blood work done, so that if we need to take, um,” he paused, as if caught again by Alyssa’s gaze, “if we need to take any further steps, we’ll be ready to go.”

  “Further steps?” Alyssa replied.

  He studied her for a moment, looking as if he were about to pull her into his arms at any moment to comfort her with caresses. “Well, surgery for one thing. But I want to eliminate a few other options first. Lulu’s a bit older, and surgery would be the final option, if it is, in fact, a viable or necessary one.” Then he smiled gently. “In the meantime, you keep up the TLC with her, and everything will be just fine. Trust me.”

  Looking into those baby blues, I knew I would have trusted him with my life.

  When Alyssa snapped Lulu’s leash on once more and gently took her off the examining table, I realized that we were leaving and hated myself for the ping of disappointment I felt.

  Jason shook my hand. “It was nice meeting you,” he said.

  The strength in that hand moved through me, and suddenly I was contemplating stopping off at the pet store on my way home to pick up the miniature schnauzer I had been eyeballing ever since Derrick made his departure. Hell, I’d take on a pet python if I thought it might bring me back into this man’s life.

  Then I remembered myself, and more important, Alyssa.

  “I’ll probably see you after Memorial Day,” Alyssa said. “I’m, um, going out of town.”

  “Big plans for the holiday weekend?” he asked with what seemed like sincere interest.

  “Oh, nothing special,” Alyssa replied, “just some family stuff.”

  Yeah, Richard’s family, I thought to myself, remembering where my loyalties lay.

  Still, as we said our final goodbyes and headed for the door, I couldn’t help but turn expectantly along with Alyssa when Dr. Dreamboat called us back. “Oh, I almost forgot.”

  “Yes?” Alyssa said, her eyes wide with anticipation.

  He smiled. “Next time you come, don’t forget to bring a stool sample.”

  Ah, the romance of it all, I thought, giddiness bubbling up inside me as Dr. Carruthers showed us out.

  Though I had almost lost my head at the sight of the good doctor, now that we were safely outside his office, I was relieved we had made it through with no major flirtation. No matter how gorgeous Dr. Jason Carruthers was, I couldn’t—wouldn’t—allow myself to see him as a part of Alyssa’s life.

  We walked in silence on the way back to Alyssa’s apartment, each lost in our own thoughts. And when Lys stopped suddenly, two doors away from the brownstone where she lived, I was surprised to discover her eyes were glassy with unshed tears. “What am I going to do?”

  I blinked. “Lys, don’t get upset. Whatever happens, you’ll make the right choice. You always do.” I sighed. “If it makes you feel any better, I thought he was gorgeous. I can see why you would consider—”

  “No, I’m talking about Lulu. Oh, Em, if she needs surgery, she’ll never make it at her age.” The tears sprang forth now as she looked down at Lulu, who pressed herself against Alyssa’s leg and whined at the sight of her beloved owner’s distress.

  “Oh, Lys,” I said, hugging her close. It was all I could do, really, because I had nothing to say. No answers at all. And no way to stop whatever sadness was bound to come her way.

  Five

  “All anyone really needs in life is a good lawyer.”

  —Burt Carter, Emma’s father

  Confession: I could more easily submit to bodily torture than wear a seafoam silk dress.

  Maybe I was hiding from my emotional distress, or maybe I had been spurred on by Patricia’s encouragement, but the following week at work, I made a bonafide attempt to become the one thing I never dreamed I’d be: a career woman. I organized my files, answered all the e-mails I hadn’t got around to responding to and even handed in my copy ahead of schedule. I began to feel like management material, capable of sending some editorial assistant scurrying over to a photocopier or fax machine to do my bidding.

  That is, until Rebecca showed at my cubicle on Wednesday afternoon in the kind of navy suit that commanded others to cower before her and a thousand-watt smile on her face.

  “I think it’s finally going to happen,” she said, her pretty blue eyes alight with excitement as she sat, uninvited, in my guest chair.

  Alarm shot through me as I attempted to hide my pièce de résistance from her prying eyes—a memo to Patricia, with ideas for our next subscription contest. “What’s going to happen?” I asked, panicked.

  “Nash is going to propose. Memorial Day weekend. I’m sure of it,” she said, studying my reaction.

  Of course, I thought to myself. Not only was Rebecca probably the best woman for the senior features editor position in the eyes of my superiors, she was apparently the prime candidate for Wife Number One—and maybe even Wife Number One and Only—in the eyes of her boyfriend. Bitch.

  “That’s wonderful,” I said, hoping my smile didn’t look too pasted on. “How…um, how do you know?”

  “Well, we’ve been planning to go away for Memorial Day for some time now. As far as I understood it, we were going to his family’s cabin in the Berkshires. Then, last night, he tells me he has a surprise—he got us a reservation for a bed-and-breakfast out in East Hampton!”

  I nodded, not getting how East Hampton equaled Big Proposal Scene. According to Jade, it was more of a Big Blow-Job Scene for the rich and disillusioned.

  As if reading the confusion in my face, she continued, “It’s not just any B-and-B—it’s the exact same bed-and-breakfast we went to on our very first weekend away.”

  Ah. Nash was going for real romance. I could just picture him with his chiseled features and wire-rim glasses—though a bit too strait-laced, Nash was just the type of Bespectacled Babe I lusted after—gazing up at Rebecca on a moonlit beach, a monstrously large diamond in hand. “Wow,” I replied. I thought of my own holiday weekend plans, which would more than likely entail basking in the glow of my mother and Clark’s love while listening raptly to my brother, Shaun, and his wife, Tiffany, detail their plans to make their new house bigger and their lives richer.

  “I could hardly keep the smile off my face last night as I packed my lingerie,” Rebecca was saying now. “I even brought along the underwear I wore the first night we made love,” she continued with a blush.

  “You remember what underwear you wore?”

  “Of course I do!” she sa
id.

  Now that was special. “Wow,” I replied again, seeming to have lost the capacity for any type of prolonged speech.

  “I know.” Then she gazed down at her hands folded in her lap before she lifted her eyes to meet mine once more. “I wanted to tell you first, because you’re one of my closest friends.”

  I am? “That’s, um, sweet of you, Bec,” I somehow managed to mumble.

  “And I want you to know that when Nash and I do get married, I’m going to ask you to be part of my wedding party.”

  What? “Uh, that’s really, um— Don’t you think it’s a little premature to be planning the, uh, wedding?” Then I laughed uneasily, hoping to lighten the mood. “You don’t want to jinx yourself by jumping the gun.”

  She smiled. “Are you kidding? I’ve already decided on my colors! How do you feel about seafoam for your dress?”

  Oh, God.

  She sighed, and went on as if my feelings about seafoam were irrelevant. “I can’t believe it’s finally going to happen. I’ve been thinking about this wedding ever since I was a kid!” Then she laughed.

  Huh? “I thought you met Nash in college?”

  “I did.” She looked puzzled. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Well, you just said you’ve been thinking of this wedding since you were a kid—”

  “Oh, you know what I mean. Every girl dreams of getting married someday. When I met Nash, I just knew he was the one who’d be part of that dream.”

  I better start dreaming, I thought now, realizing that maybe I hadn’t put any real strategy in place for the sort of thing every girl wants. It seemed so simple the way Rebecca put things. Maybe I made everything too damned complicated.

  “Don’t say anything to anyone,” she said then, getting up to leave. “Not even Derrick. I mean, you’re right. I shouldn’t tell everyone until I have the ring. Though I don’t know how I’m going to get through the next couple of days without bursting.”