“And she needs to realize she’s married and has a husband who loves her.” She looks at me pensively.
“Precisely.” I sigh and drop my chin into my hands. I lean further down into my position, my elbows on knees. “One step at a time. She called her therapist.”
“Yeah?”
“She’s got an appointment today. Upping her visits, she says.” I sit upright. “She’s trying, Sophie. I can only take care of her so much, though. We all can only do so much.”
“You think she’ll be all right at home? Alone? Tonight?”
“Honestly, I do,” I say with assurance. “She was so angry with her behavior she threw away all the liquor in my apartment.” I chuckle lightly.
“Oh, how nice for you.”
“If it helps her, I don’t mind.” I flick another pebble off the step.
“What was the reason for her behavior? She just got so depressed about even considering a divorce that she got tanked?” Sophie wags her head. “Nearly burnt your place down? That doesn’t seem right.”
“Well,” I lean back on my palms, “that and I guess she texted this Nikki girl—Andrew’s secretary—a bunch of nasty drunk texts. Even drunk-dialed her.” I flap my lips and make a sputtering noise. “Andrew found out and called Jackie from abroad, he was that pissed, and I guess really chewed her out on the phone.”
“Did this Nikki girl have it coming or what?” Sophie looks dumbfounded.
“I don’t get that, either,” I say loosely. “They clash, I guess. Jackie said Nikki deserved every text and call because she’s a bitch.”
“There’s a reason,” she says in a slipshod way.
I look at Sophie out of the corner of my eye, tilting my chin down. “Total drama and recipe for her to hit the bottle even harder, I guess. Drama, drama.”
“Goodness,” she practically shrieks. “Oh! Drama!” Her face lights up, and she eagerly taps my shoulder. “What’s the dramatic thing from the other night? Your book club! Tell me, tell me.”
***
“Let me get this straight,” Robin says, pushing her black, cat-eye glasses up the bridge of her small button nose. “You’ve got two guys you’re dating right now?” Arms akimbo, she’s looking like she’s impressed. “Operation Blind Date is successful. I mean,” she turns her palms up, “so Ben’s not part of the ‘Operation,’ that’s pretty neat. There’s potential with both of them, you think?”
I take a swig of my bottle of grapefruit IZZE and set it on the cork coaster on Robin’s kitchen counter. I’m over at her place because I’ve got a date with Jaime in less than an hour and I couldn’t stay holed up, alone, in my small and stuffy apartment a second longer. The anxiety of having an awaiting Ben on one hand and a date with Jaime on the other is too much to bear by myself.
Sophie thinks I should date both of them but be upfront about it.
Claire was in cahoots when I told her, saying she was happy for me, but “so completely bummed that I won’t even get a chance to hook you up, Em!”
Lara pretty much agreed with Sophie, but with assiduous warnings that I keep things honest.
Jackie? She told me to screw ‘em both, have my fun, but never fall in love and get married. Then she sobered up, apologized umpteen amount of times for burning a hole in my futon, and tried to make it up to me by stitching it up with a needle and backup neon purple thread that came with a new shirt of hers that she left at my place. I think the futon looks worse now than it did with the cigar burn, but she tried. Anyway, sobered and apologetic, Jackie then told me to give each guy a serious chance and give true love a shot.
So here I am at Robin’s, really looking forward to another one of the many dates I’ve had with Jaime and also kind of curious about what a date with Ben would be like. Is that so wrong?
“I don’t know what I think, Robin,” I say, creasing my brow. “Would it be wrong to date both? That’s what dating is.” I make sure my last sentence is a statement. There’s no question about it.
“I don’t think it’s wrong at all,” Robin replies casually. She takes a pull on her water. “If you’re honest with Jaime and Ben, there’s no harm. If they’re okay with it, then there ya go. If one of them’s not okay with you dating other guys, then you’ve got it simplified. One choice.”
She ambles to the fridge and pulls out a large, foil-covered tray of what looks like lasagna. She sets the heavy glass tray on the stovetop. “Domestic bliss,” she says with a happy expression. “You, too, Emily, can pre-prepare dinner and have it bakin’ in the oven for your little family. For your man.”
“I’m a feminist, Robin.” I slurp back another drink of soda. “I don’t cook. No offense.”
“You’re a baker.” She removes the foil covering.
“It’s a job.”
“You’re hung up on two guys,” she says with a wink. “You’re playing Operation Blind Date.” She pinches some cheese from the top of the dish. “You’re not as big a feminist as you think, babe.” She pops the cheese into her mouth.
“Feminist or not,” I say, “I still don’t know what to do about Ben and Jaime.”
***
“Thank you for dinner,” I tell Jaime as we take our seats near the back of the coffeehouse.
“Always my pleasure,” Jaime says, giving me a kiss. He withdraws his hand from the small of my back as we take our seats.
I flip over the flimsy sheet of recycled paper that I was given when we entered the house.
“Oooh,” I coo, pointing at one of the acts on the program. “Looks like we’re in for a night of poetic sorrow and tears.”
Jaime chuckles as I read aloud the title of the first poem of tonight’s reading: “‘Heart You Steal, Tears of Blood’.”
“Oh, here’s a good one,” he says, pointing at his own program. “‘Chords of Disappointment’ read by Weeping Willow. Damn, Emily, you know how to light a man’s fire, don’t you?”
I give him a playful shove and say, “I’ve heard this is a great place for poetry readings. Give it a chance.”
He looks on at me with those baby blues of his. He smiles that sweet smile, as if his whole soul is lit up and he couldn’t imagine being any happier, any more content. I give his thick bicep a soft squeeze and rest my head on his shoulder.
I’m crazy to want to be open to dating anyone else right now, aren’t I? I mean, I’ve got Prince-Frickin’-Eric here! Hands down one of the most handsome men I’ve ever dated, and such a doll. He’s got such a kind spirit and is always so sweet and flattering. We get on so well. When I’m with Jaime, I forget about Ben. When I talk to Ben…well…all I can think about is Ben.
“Hey,” Jaime says, pointing at his program again, “Toby would probably love this.”
“Hmm?” I roll my head along his shoulder to see what he’s trying to show me.
“They’ve got a children’s poetry hour next week.” He looks at me with engaging eyes. “Early evening. Says here there’s even a Dr. Suess reading.”
I give only a silent and expressionless nod. I don’t know why, but whenever Jaime brings Toby up, my stomach feels queasy and my head feels fuzzy. I suddenly lose interest in our date and find my mind wandering, of all places, to Zambia. To the African village children who need my help. To those children far away, thousands of miles from Seattle. I think of eagerly filling out my application, sending it off, and hoping and praying that I’ll be accepted. I have the sudden urge to…run.
“Emily?” Jaime strokes my arm tenderly. “Emily?”
“Yeah, I’m sure he’d like it.” I let my head sink back onto his shoulder.
“I’ve got him next weekend,” he says. “Maybe…”
Don’t say it, don’t say it. I press my lips together, squeeze my eyes shut. Please don’t.
“Maybe…” he says again, this time in a more hushed voice, “we could go together? It’s only something to think about. I mean, you can think about it.”
I feel myself stop breathing. My eyes and lips are still tightly p
ressed. All I want is for the night of poetry to begin. I don’t want to talk about Toby, or next weekend, or possibly—I swallow hard. Possibly meeting Jaime’s son.
“I can introduce you as my friend,” Jaime suggests, voice remaining low. “I still don’t think I’m really ready to, well…”
I finally inhale, pulling myself up to meet Jaime’s eyes. “I’m not ready either,” I say.
Yes, honesty is best!
I place my hand gently on his chest. “I think…”
What am I trying to say? What am I thinking?
All right. I know what I’m thinking. I’m thinking that dating a man with a child is more of an issue than I anticipated it would be. That’s what I’m feeling!
It’s not necessarily my consideration of dating two guys at the same time, even if I’m open and honest with both of them about it. The nauseous feeling I get when I hem and haw over Ben and Jaime is not because I don’t know which one to choose, and I don’t even want to have to choose!
It’s Jaime. It’s Jaime’s son. It’s dating a man with a child.
I feel so horrible, like such a failure. I feel so shallow.
I look back at Jaime, and his eyes are almost entreating. Those beautiful eyes of his, that strong yet comforting face, that sweet and understanding gaze.
I cast about the room, as if searching for an answer. I mean, I can still give this a try, can’t I? It’s just too soon to meet Toby, that’s all. I can spend more time with Jaime and get to know him. Then, when I’m ready—and I will be ready at some point, won’t I?—I can meet Toby. We can take our dating to a more serious level…
Technically, even though Jaime’s a father, it’s not like I’m dating a guy who has a son. His son’s not really in the picture…yet. I haven’t met Toby, and I’m not playing mommy, so why is this so hard? What’s my problem?
My mind continues to drift, and my stomach starts to churn. Again.
Jaime touches my chin with the gentlest of caresses and turns my head towards him. Our eyes lock, and as I heave a weighted sigh, he says, “We can wait, Emily. There’s no rush.” He leans in for a kiss, and when our lips meet, I feel safe and warm again. His tongue touches mine, and I give a coquettish nip at his bottom lip. I like this. I like…us. Just us.
He licks his lips once we break apart. “No rush, Emily.” He gives a soft peck on my moist lips. “We aren’t going to do anything rash.”
I force out a grin and nod vehemently. “Yeah,” I manage to say. “Good idea. Nothing rash.”
The lights begin to dim, and I take that as my cue to snuggle back into Jaime’s warm and calming embrace.
“Our first reading tonight,” a twenty-something man with a thick strawberry beard says lowly into the mic, “is from Gatsby Carter.”
A small chorus of claps and cheers sound, and I jerk my head up. “What?” I gasp.
Sure enough, Gatsby, with his wild, wavy locks and smooth stride, takes the stage.
“I know him!” I say excitedly to Jaime, wagging a finger at the stage. “I know him!”
Jaime chuckles and puts a hand on my waving one.
I sink back onto his shoulder and say, “I work with him. That’s the guy I work with at the café.”
“Cool,” he says. “Maybe he’s a brilliant poet.”
“My God,” I say with a smile. “Small world, eh?”
“I wrote this the other day.” Gatsby’s low voice fills the room. He ruffles his hair in a messy way. “Wrote it during night class, actually.” Laughter from the audience fills the air. “Bear with me if it’s complete shit.” More laughter, this time louder. “I call it, ‘Light.’”
The audience grows silent.
“Light. A diamond, rough and shadowed. A shadow, faint, rough, shaded. It’s the shadow that hides, the shadow that looms. Everything it knows to be true, everything it seeks. The diamond. The sun, it does not hide. It is not fear, it is not false, it reveals. Shadow, shade, gem, it finds them out. It unveils their existence. It uncovers truth. The rough, the blinded, the hidden, the obscure. Light. Light. Everything it knows to be true, everything it seeks, it finds.” Gatsby takes a step back, then rushes into the mic, “Thank you.”
The audience erupts into claps, a few catcalls and shouts.
“Not bad,” Jaime says, looking down at me. “Interesting, not bad.”
“Who would’ve thought?” I say with a grin. “That goofy kid’s a poet.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
“You see my predicament?” I say. I take a bite of the hangnail on my thumb and rip it off.
“How is this a predicament, Emily?” Jackie fidgets with Bella’s pink rhinestone collar. She looks at me with impassive eyes. “Tell Jaime you can’t handle it.”
“Jackie.” I begin chewing on another nail. “It’s not that easy.”
“Ughhh,” she drones. “‘Jaime, I’m not ready to be a mother. Sorry, nice getting to know you. Later.’” She shakes her head quickly. “See? Easy!”
“Talking’s one thing, walking’s another.”
“I thought the date last night went well,” she says in bewilderment. “You were okay with dating Jaime so long as Toby’s not in the picture, really.”
“But he is, Jackie.” I drop my hands in my lap and begin to fidget with my plethora of rings. “I can’t ignore it, no matter how much I try. That’s immature and wrong. Toby’s not physically in the picture right now, but he is there, and he will be, actually and consistently, if Jaime and I take things further.”
My eyes fall on the tattoo around my finger. Truth, it reads. I got it in Bali to remind me to always stay true to myself, and true to…well, the truth.
I twitch my tattooed finger at Jackie. “See? A subtle reminder. I can’t lie to myself…or to Jaime anymore.”
“When’s this date of yours today?” She finishes fastening Bella’s collar and gives her furry head a ruffle.
“Like,” I glance at my watch, “forty-five minutes.” My shoulders sag and I snag yesterday’s copy of The Wall Street Journal that’s lying on the expensive looking chair across from the expensive looking couch I’m sitting on with Jackie. “Andrew won’t mind, will he?” I raise the newspaper up.
“Go for it,” she replies with ease. “He’s read it.” She reaches for her mug of coffee and blows on it. “I’m never throwing his newspapers out again, anyway. That’s the housekeeper’s job, and I won’t get into another stink with him about it. Read and enjoy.”
I page through, looking at nothing in particular or of interest. I’m buying myself time, hoping Jaime will call saying he can’t make our lunch date down at Pike Place Market. I’m hoping that he’ll no longer be interested, that he’ll say he just can’t do it. Any opportunity that will let me out of the pickle I’ve gotten myself into.
“I don’t get it, Em,” Jackie says abruptly. She brushes the small dog hairs from her black skinny jeans. “One minute you want to adopt a baby, now you’re running for the hills when you meet a guy who’s got a kid.” She squeezes a hair between her fingers and blows it away. “How could you let it drag on this long? You’ve been on, like, what?” She scrunches her nose. “Like, half-a-dozen dates or something already?”
“Something like that,” I say lifelessly.
“It’s Ben, isn’t it?” She purses her lips in that I totally get you way. But she doesn’t get me. That’s not it. “You’ve got the hots for Ben, and Jaime’s holding you back,” she says. “I get it.” She returns to dusting off her pants.
“That’s not it,” I say with conviction. “That’s not it at all. I was a little apprehensive before Ben asked me out. I mean,” I shrug and pull some hairs from Jackie’s jeans, “sure, I kind of had a crush on Ben anyhow, but that’s not the point.”
She makes a clicking noise with her tongue. “Naughty, naughty.”
“Jack. That’s not the way of it. I just—” I rub my hands across the smooth texture of the couch. “I don’t know. I just— I should’ve trusted my initial gut reac
tion. Jaime’s son is too much for me to handle. I’m not ready. I was being open-minded, and I thought I was all right with it but—”
“You bit off more than you could chew.”
“Sorta.” I blow out a large puff of air and slump against the couch. “Now what am I gonna do?”
“Told ya, babe,” she says as the front door opens behind us.
“I’m home,” Andrew says from the entryway in a singsong manner.
Jackie leans over towards me and says softly, “End things with Jaime. It’s the right thing to do, and you know it.”
I’m about to say something when Jackie leaps out of her seat and runs over to Andrew, jumping into his arms, practically knocking him back. Obviously someone’s taken my advice and burned the divorce papers, realized her marriage isn’t in the gutter after all.
Hot and cold, I think with a small wag of my head.
“Look who’s happy to see me,” Andrew growls sexily, embracing Jackie and giving her a kiss.
“Hello, Emily,” Andrew says a little abashedly when the kiss breaks and Jackie climbs off of him. “Nice to see you. You been keeping this little squirrel company?”
Jackie jumps back onto the couch. “Oh, whatevs!” She tosses a hand at Andrew. “I can take care of myself.”
“Yes, well,” he says, clearing his throat. He rubs at his white and grey stubbled chin. “If you wouldn’t mind keeping it down, sweetheart. For an hour or so. I’ve got some loose ends I still need to tie up from the office.”
“It’s Saturday, Andrew,” Jackie whines. “You’ve already been gone all morning. I thought you were going to take me shopping.”
“I’d love to, baby doll,” he says, his eyes glued to the contents inside the folder he has opened, in hand. “If you give me some time to finish things up, then we can go shopping.”
Jackie howls and reaches for Bella, plopping her into her lap. “But you said we could go this morning. Andrewwww.”
I stand, however reluctant to get this next date on, and gather my stuff. “I’m going to head out, anyhow, Jackie,” I say. “I really should be getting on to my date.”
When Girlfriends Take Chances Page 20
