Ray shot me a confused look. “Yeah, of course. Why?”
I shook my head. “Never mind. Go on,” I encouraged. I might decide to explain later, but right now, there were other issues more pressing.
“Well. Sara was…Perfect. In every way that seemed to count, Sara was the ideal woman. Neil met her in Colorado, when he was stationed out there. They met. They fell in love. They were inseparable. And when Neil was reassigned, Sara came with him. They were married in every way except on paper. And as strange as it may sound, Sara was the one who wanted it that way. Anytime Neil brought up getting married, they would have an argument.” He ate more pizza, then took a long pull on the beer that had started to form sweat rings on the table.
“It was hard to watch. Not really watch, I guess, since he was in Colorado for the better part of their relationship, but…” He shook his head. “It was hard for me, knowing that my best friend was going through all this crap and all this pain because of a woman who really wasn’t good for him.”
I looked at him questioningly.
“She seemed perfect, as I mentioned. At first. But when I met her, there were things that just really didn’t sit right with me. She was controlling and calculating and manipulative. Not right there in your face; but if you watched from the outside, it was easier to see it. And she didn’t like that I could see it. So Neil’s friendship with me was another bone of contention. Things deteriorated, and then we just stopped talking.” His face was grim as he remembered. “Four years went by without a word.”
“Wow.”
He nodded. “Yeah. Wow.”
“So then what happened?”
“Well, like I said. Neil got stationed out here, and Sara came with him. By that time, we hadn’t been in touch for about three years. And then Sara got pregnant.”
I felt my eyes widen. The woman I had met earlier that afternoon really hadn’t seemed the mommy type. And I hadn’t see any signs of a child at Neil’s house.
“Pregnant?”
Ray took another pull on his beer and then set the nearly empty bottle back on the coffee table.
“She didn’t tell Neil, though. She wasn’t ready for that kind of complication in her life. She was determined to have her career and her independence, and she saw a baby as a threat to all of that.”
I felt sick. I could tell where this story was headed, and I didn’t like it.
“Sara went on what she told Neil was a business trip; and by the time she came home, the baby was no longer an issue. Until it was. Somehow, one of Sara’s girlfriends let something slip that made Neil ask questions, and the whole story came out. The baby, the abortion, all the lies.”
As I sat there, cross-legged on the coffee table with my paper plate in my lap and Ray across from me on the couch, I was struck by the realization of how many lives had been changed by one decision. Sara had taken away Neil’s chance to be a father, had robbed him of the opportunity to love and raise a child. She had killed her relationship with Neil and any hope that one day they might be a real family.
Maybe that was the wound I had seen shadowed in her face, left by the understanding that she had sabotaged her own chance at happiness and the bitterness that comes from misdirected regret.
“I take it she didn’t recognize you when we went into her office today because she really hadn’t had that much contact with you,” I ventured after a few moments.
Ray nodded. “That, and the fact that the few times she’d seen me, I’d never had a beard. I didn’t grow this impressive display of masculinity until last year,” he said, fingering his bearded jaw proudly.
“Ah. So when exactly did the baby and the break-up happen?” I asked.
“Two years ago,” Ray replied, turning back to the pizza he’d momentarily neglected.
“Hmm.”
“Hmm? What’s hmm?”
“Nothing. I’m just trying to get the whole timeline figured out in my head.” I balled up my paper towel and dropped it onto my empty paper plate. “So I take it Neil’s not involved with anyone else now. Does that mean he’s not over Sara?”
I wasn’t really sure I wanted to know the answer, but I also knew there was a bigger part of me that was dying to find out everything I could about Neil Epstein.
Ray snorted. “Oh, he’s over her. She guaranteed that, I think.” He finished the last of his pizza and tossed his plate onto the coffee table in front of him.
“He’s told you he’s over her?” I asked.
“Neil would be a fool is he wasn’t.” He said it with determination, his eyes steely as he stared at something only he could see.
“Ray?”
“Mmm?” He looked as though I’d shocked him out of a trance. “Sorry. I was just thinking,” he said slowly, pursing his lips and furrowing his brow.
“Should I be worried?” I asked, trying to lighten the mood that had grown so heavy.
“Ha ha.” Ray tossed his crumpled paper towel in my face, then got up from his place on the couch. “Well,” he growled, stretching his arms above his head. “It’s getting late, I’m getting tired, and I have a fiancée who’s expecting me to call her before I go to bed.”
He bent to kiss the top of my head and shuffled toward the door. “I’ll give Kate your love,” he said over his shoulder, not waiting for me to unfold myself and get up from my perch on the table. He seemed in an awfully big hurry to bolt.
“Wait, wait!” I squealed, trying to catch him.
“Get to bed, young lady. I’ll talk to you later,” he said, finally pausing long enough to let me give him a hug before he got all the way out the door.
I nodded, puzzled at his behavior but not wanting to ask too much, too soon. Ray would tell me whatever it was that was on his mind when he was ready.
I watched him pull out of the driveway, my brain buzzing with details that hadn’t been fully digested and questions that weren’t fully formed.
I closed the door, turning back to the room and the house of a man whose own life had been so irrevocably changed by one person and one day.
Maybe we had a few things in common, after all.
Dear Neil,
I met Sara today. Honestly, she was the last person I’d have ever expected to meet in the course of my day—but there she was. Ray took me for a surprise trip to the realtor’s office so that I could start looking for a new apartment, and we ended up sitting in her office.
She’s changed a lot from the fresh-faced woman who went to Paris with you. She’s harder and more worldly, a harsher version of her former self. She didn’t recognize Ray, which meant that the entire thing was much less uncomfortable than it might have been; but I know it was still a huge shock for him to see her there.
Hopefully no confidences were betrayed, but Ray told me everything—about the lies, about the baby. I had so many questions already, and meeting Sara in person only raised more. How could I not be curious to know what has caused such a drastic change in one person?
Ray insists that you’ve moved on, that you’re completely over her. But I can’t help wondering if there isn’t at least some small part of you that still loves her. You shared years and history, and I know that you wanted to marry her. That’s not a hope that is easily let go, no matter how determined someone might be to move on. Still, I can’t imagine how angry and betrayed you must have felt, knowing that the woman you loved had taken something so precious as a child away from you.
I think a lot about what I might be doing, where I might be in my own life right now if Paul hadn’t died. Do you ever wonder about the child you might have had with Sara, the different path your life might have taken if you’d been given the chance to be a father?
How have you changed from that man in the picture? Sara seems angry and embittered by what I can only assume is regret. I wonder if she realizes all the joys she robbed herself of, or if she places the blame somewhere that it doesn’t belong. Whatever the case, she seems haunted. She seems driven by a need to prove that she’s stron
g and independent and indestructible.
It’s funny, isn’t it, how facing the pain in your own life can open your eyes to the signs of damage in other people? Which brings to mind more unanswered questions…
What secret is it that Ray holds so closely that no one is allowed more than a glimpse? He cares so much about other people and gives so much, so readily. But there’s something that he’s holding back. I keep hoping that he’ll tell me what it is; but the minute he seems as though he might, he shuts off again.
I know he’s your friend, and you’re probably very protective of whatever knowledge you have of that part of his life; but he’s marrying my best friend. Secrets damage a relationship, and I’d hate to see Kate in pain because of whatever secrets Ray is keeping.
I hope you’re safe, Neil. I hope you’re well and happy. And I hope that one day, I’ll get to meet you face to face.
Zoë
There were letters I wrote to the Neil I’d invented in my journal that never got sent, the ones that were more soul-bearing and introspective, and there were the ones that were a little more flippant and casually informative. This was one of the former.
I was sitting on the couch in the living room with my journal, staring at the page I’d just filled with words. I marveled sometimes at how easy it was to express my thoughts when I knew no one was actually going to be reading them.
I tapped my pen against my lips, thoughts of Ray and Neil and all the information I’d been given swirling around in my head like leaves in the wind. How did people manage to complicate their lives so much? How did we cause each other so much pain without giving it a second thought?
I shook my head sadly. So many decisions we made on a daily basis had so many repercussions that we never realized.
My phone started singing, and I reached to retrieve it from the coffee table.
“’Lo,” I said absently.
“Hey, you,” Kate said on the other end.
“Oh, hey, Kate. I’m glad to hear your voice.” I closed my notebook and put it on the floor next to the couch.
“So Ray told me about your trip to the realtor’s office today. Sounds like it was interesting.”
“That’s an understatement,” I snorted.
“Well, I was trying to be good,” she laughed.
“Did he tell you about everything?”
“Everything as in the whole story of Sara and Neil?” she asked. “Because the answer to that question would be yes.”
“It’s amazing, isn’t it?”
“And sad. Very, very sad.”
“Why is it that, when you’re little no one ever tells you that life can be so…insane? And painful?” I asked her, not really expecting an answer.
“I think you’re forgetting about all the good things, Zoë. What about those? Those are what makes life bearable. And all those terrible things that happen—the stupid things that we do to ourselves and the hurtful things that other people do to us—they’re all part of what make us who we are. Remember that.” She sighed, sounding tired. “Don’t let all the negative things block out everything that’s positive. Learn from the mistakes and make them count for something. That’s all you can do sometimes, you know?”
“Are you taking lessons from my mother?” I asked.
Kate laughed. “No, but maybe I should. She does always seem to know what to say, doesn’t she?”
“It’s uncanny,” I replied, suddenly realizing how much I missed her, how desperate I was to get her advice on a few things. For now, though, it was time to go to bed.
“I think we should both go get some sleep, Kate, what do you think?” I asked after a moment.
“I second that emotion,” she said. “Night, night, my friend.”
“Sweet dreams.”
Chapter 20
“I’m so glad you finally called,” Greg said, smiling his charming toothpaste ad smile at me from across the table.
I smiled back, but I felt a little like I really didn’t know where to look. I was beginning to think I’d made a mistake, since I was so self-conscious that I couldn’t meet his gaze for more than a few seconds at a time.
“So what do you think of this place?” he asked, carefully selecting a small piece of bread from the basket on the table between us.
I looked around, grateful for the distraction.
“It’s fabulous,” I said enthusiastically.
A little too enthusiastically, I realized once I’d said it.
It was true, though. The restaurant Greg had chosen for our date was one of the best in the city, a place I’d passed many times but never been able to afford. The plates were shiny white porcelain squares that served as a canvas for the culinary masterpieces the chefs created every time someone ordered. The linens were crisp and clean, the décor simple but elegant, the menu extremely select.
In other words, not quite my bag. I tended to be more drawn to restaurants where the menu had actual numbers for prices and wasn’t printed on embossed card-stock.
I suspected, though, that this was the sort of venue Greg had accustomed himself to. One that he might have even considered his due, since he was, after all, so important.
I looked down at my hands, resting lightly in my lap, hoping I might find some inspiration for conversation there.
“How long have you worked at Sloane and Meade?” Greg asked, buttering his bread with precise movements.
“Oh, I think about four years now. They actually bought out a company that I’d worked for before that, and when the company transitioned, Sloane and Meade kept most of the employees. Not that there were that many of us,” I said with a shrug, reaching for my water goblet.
Time for a fresh topic, I thought. I could have told him about the new store I was opening, but I wasn’t sure whether I would be met with support or condescension. Something told me he would have viewed my foray into the world of entrepreneurialism as nothing compared to his own. I was merely hawking lipstick—he was fixing faces and bodies and helping them get that much closer to perfection.
“What made you decide to set up a practice out here, Greg?” I sipped daintily from my goblet of water.
“Well, I got tired of all the drama of living in a big city; and Ursula’s always talking the place up,” he said, tipping his head just so—a move meant to maximize his best features under the glow of the flickering candlelight. “It seemed to be a good idea, since I needed a change of pace and a change of scenery,” he added with yet another smile. That Greg, he was just full of smiles.
Smiles and bullshit, I thought, feeling my eyes narrow.
“How is Ursula lately?” I asked, blinking in an effort to get my eyes back to their normal size. “I’ve been meaning to call her and see how things are going, but things have been a little bit hectic…” I trailed off, not wanting to lie any more than I already had.
Truthfully, I hadn’t given a thought to calling Ursula since the last time I’d seen her. We weren’t friends, and we certainly didn’t run in the same social circles. The fact that she’d wanted to set me up with her cousin had been a total deviation from her character, one which I still didn’t understand.
“She’s great, actually,” Greg replied. “She always falls on her feet, that one. I think she’d landed a job with a PR firm by nine o’clock the next morning,” he said with a small laugh.
I shook my head in awe. “She’s definitely driven, I’ll give her that.”
“It runs in the family.”
“Oh?” I prompted.
I knew this was just a hook, Greg’s way of getting me to ask more about his practice. Not to mention a terribly transparent method of regaling me with all the wonderful attributes that melded into the perfect package of a man sitting across the table from me in this very expensive restaurant. Truth be told, though, I really didn’t want to know.
The night was young, the date was just getting its legs under it, and our entrées hadn’t even arrived. But I already knew that this was going nowhere. I was sor
ely tempted to just throw my linen napkin on the table, thank him for the water, and leave. I wondered fleetingly how he would handle it. Would he take it as an affront and act wounded, or would he casually play it off?
Not that I would actually have the nerve to do it, but it certainly was an interesting scenario. Hell, he’d probably angle it into a sympathy play for getting our waitress into bed.
“I graduated at the top of my class in med school,” Greg said matter-of-factly. “Two years early. By the time I was ready to go into practice, I had five of the top area dermatologists begging me to work for them.” He flashed a proud grin.
“Wow. That’s quite impressive,” I said, feeling as though I was reading words from a teleprompter.
Next, there would be a great big flashing Applause sign. This was going downhill even faster than I’d anticipated.
“Will you excuse me?” I asked, rising from my chair. “I need to use the ladies’ room.” I picked up my clutch from its resting place on the table and walked toward the bathroom.
I might have been a bit abrupt in my departure, but I needed air. I felt a little like I was being suffocated. I pushed through the door in the ladies’ room, grateful to find it completely empty of anyone else. My heels sounded loud as I crossed the tile floor to enter the handicapped stall, closing and locking the door with a sigh.
Was I stuck?
I felt stuck. I leaned against the door and closed my eyes, wondering how to get out of this.
Maybe I was being ungenerous.
Greg was perfectly nice and very handsome. He was also very smart and extremely successful. The man may have been perfect on paper, but he seemed to have no more substance than cotton candy. He was amazingly superficial and transparent.
This wasn’t simply a case of unattainable expectations, either.
Admittedly, no one was Paul. No one was ever going to be Paul, and I was fully aware of that.
On the conscious level, at least. Subconsciously, though, I knew I was going to have to learn not to measure every man I met against Paul. After all, even Paul had not been without his faults.
Coming Home to You Page 16
