by Karen Gordon
So many emotions fight for precedence—shock, betrayal, anger, sadness. But as always with me, logic beats them all and bubbles to the surface. “How?”
He wasn’t prepared for that response. “What?”
“How the hell did you meet someone in Saudi Arabia? It’s the land of no women. You weren’t supposed to talk to any single women.” I illogically hope that logic and facts will make him retract his statement.
“We met in Germany.”
I cut him off. “Germany? What were you doing in Germany?” Somewhere in my mind is a part of me that realizes I have no right to question him like this. We were apart. I’ve had dates and sex galore but none of that matters right now. I feel hurt that he wasn’t pining away for me wishing he never left. I’m crushed that he could have made a life with me but picked some random woman he met in Germany. I’m pissed that he went to Germany where this perfect woman was evidently just waiting for him to show up so they could find true love together. I have no right to be angry, but I am.
But even crazier, he answers me. He doesn’t tell me it’s none of my business, and I think it must be guilt that pushes him to give me an explanation. “I had a short vacation after the first six months so I decided to go visit an old Navy buddy of mine who is living in Germany.”
“And you met someone there?” I steel my voice, hoping to hide how much it hurts.
His reply is almost a whisper. “Yeah.”
We sit in silence. He’s done telling me his news and I’m dying to hang up now except that I still have so many questions.
“Why did you want to tell me?” He had to know this would hurt.
“I didn’t want you to hear it from someone else.”
So he does still care, just not the way I’ve always wanted him to. Knowing this brings up long buried emotions that lodge in my throat as a lump. I try to breathe past it. “Thanks.” I force the word out so we aren’t sitting in silence again.
I should tell him “congratulations,” but I can’t. I want to ask more about her but I don’t. A comparative analysis of my faults to her awesomeness won’t do me any good. Neither of us talks for so long that he finally asks, “Are you still there?”
“Yeah, I’m here.” But I’m kind of lost. I change the subject because I can’t think of anything nice to say about his upcoming nuptials. “How long are you here?”
“A few more weeks. Krista’s coming next week and…”He stops himself when he realizes that he’s now given me her name.
“Krista, huh?” Having a name makes her even more real. She’s here in our conversation now. My throat constricts again and I feel tears forming. “Are you getting married here?” I remember that his son is in town too. “Is that why Nick is here?”
He doesn’t feed my pain with a long explanation. He only answers, “yeah.”
Then he sits and listens to me cry. He only interrupts once with a weak, “I’m sorry.”
“No, don’t be.” Hurt is spilling out of me with my tears and I’m starting to get some much-needed perspective. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I hate it when you cry. I hate it more when I cause it.”
This makes me smile through my tears. He truly does care about me. Knowing this, even if it’s not in the way I always wanted, helps ease the pain of rejection. I take a long, deep breath and admit, “I don’t know what to say.”
Evidently he doesn’t either so we sit in silence. But it’s not an awkward silence, it’s companionable. It’s something that can only exist between two people who know each other well, old friends. I don’t want to hang up. I’m hurting and I want to hang on to his calm, solid energy, the same energy my dad had. I want my dad and I realize that Danny is my closest link to him.
And I’m his link to him too.
He needs me, wants me in his life, and is never going to leave me because we are forever tied together through big Mike Ramsey. Realizing this washes me with calm. Because I want him in my life too.
“Thank you for telling me.” My voice has changed, the tension and tears are gone.
“Really?”
“Yeah.” My answer is resolute. “I’m sure it wasn’t easy to do.”
His light laugh divulges just how much he dreaded my reaction. “It took me a few days to work up to it.”
I laugh now to, remembering that I’m the girl who once decked him outside The Rail on Halloween night. That girl, the one I was two years ago, he had every right to be afraid of. But this Vivienne, she knows how to cry, how to ask for what she wants and how to (sometimes) let life happen, trusting that it will all work out in the end.
I want him to know that I’ve changed. I want to share the craziness of this past two years with him but there isn’t time tonight. Our new relationship needs time to form and settle. I can’t force it. I enjoy our silent connection for a few more moments before I make what might sound like an insane request. “So, would you mind if I came to your wedding?”
“Really?” He sounds cautiously happy.
“Yeah really, I don’t have a lot of family. I kinda wanna be there.”
“Are you sure?” His question reminds me that he still only knows Vivienne from two years ago. This is a chance for me to let him see me now.
“Yeah, I am.”
“Ok, I’ll text you the info. It’s not really gonna be very big, some guys from work, my mom and dad, Nick…”
“And me.”
“Yeah, and you. This is good. I want you to meet Krista.”
“What will you introduce me as?” I push (a little) for his definition of what we are now.
“A friend…a good friend.”
His answer is a warm blanket over my earlier shock and pain. It’s also a relief that he doesn’t say something like, “the human freight train who once ran over me.” He’s pushing our sexual relationship under the rug but maybe that’s where it belongs. I took advantage of a tough time in his life to push my agenda and try to bend things to my will. Not exactly my most stellar moment.
Chapter Four
I don’t call Dom right away. I’ll tell her the entire conversation in detail, but right now I want to be alone with my thoughts. His announcement was shocking but my response was even more so. When did it happen? When did I stop being an overbearing freight train and become more of a quiet boat. I think of the old men I always see fishing in the marshlands outside the city, patiently waiting, occasionally adjusting their position, but happy to wait and see the catch today might bring them. I’m not sure I’ve entered their zen status yet, but I’m definitely closer.
Emotional exhaustion sets in and I scoot down on the couch in my nest of pillows. I look up at the ceiling as I start to drift off and mouth a silent, “night Dad” before I close my eyes. I feel the gift of being big Mike’s daughter, loved and cared for, whether he’s here or not.
✈ ✈ ✈
I get a text from Danny the next day letting me know that he and Krista will be married by the fountain in Forsyth Park next Friday with a small reception to follow at McDonough’s pub. I’m not sure I’ll be up for socializing in the small quarters at McDonough’s but I will definitely show up for the wedding. Considering I live a few hundred yards from the fountain it would be hard not to.
At least I live there for now.
The house on Pulaski square is mine, all five-thousand eight-hundred and seventy-five feet of it; all one point five million of it (before renovations). The numbers make my head spin. But I remind myself that this is what I want most in this world for all my hard work. This is my definition of success. Having a great place for me and my quasi-family to be together means more to me than the money. I throw in that it’s also a great investment before I make myself a glass of iced tea and sit down to go through the proposals from the designers.
They are all beautiful but one stands out. Rhiannon Harris spent more time asking me questions and was the only designer who wanted to see my Pinterest board. She really listened to me and it shows. Her attention to detail
is amazing and her use of the space makes my heart sing. Her drawings show a very personalized working and sleeping area for me on the third floor—all sensual fabrics in soft colors with lots of clean lines and sunlight. Below that is a super family-friendly living room, library, kitchen and sun room on the main floor. The ground floor has a big mom’s dream of a bathroom and a bedroom with an adjoining nursery and a kitchenette with space for making bottles and cocktails. I squeal with delight as I study the extras that thrill my efficient soul. Outlets are raised out of reach of Marco’s soon-to-be busy hands. Everything at his level is baby friendly.
Her vision for the backyard is the cherry on top with space for adults and kids seamlessly combined. She’s kept the fountain but added plants and a small ornate fence around it for an extra barrier of safety. She’s kept the outdoor wide stairs to the second floor that not only allow access to the kitchen, but also hide a cool fort for my favorite little man. That way he can have his own space, away from the crazy adults in his life.
I call Dom to tell her I’m on my way over because we need to talk, a lot. We have a designer, we are ready to start renovations, and I have a wedding to attend.
✈ ✈ ✈
Dom goes with me to tell Rhiannon she’s won the bid. We both really like her and can’t wait to work with her. Dom is officially acting as my assistant on this project since I will, of course, be traveling a lot during the months it will take to complete the work. We look at the timeline and discuss ways that we can try to work with the end of my lease and Dom’s. It’s a complicated coordination factoring in my life, Dom’s and the availability of the different contractors. Midway through the meeting I get a call from Evan that I need to take. He doesn’t call often so I know it must be important.
“Where are you at?” He cuts to the chase, as always.
“Home in Savannah, where are you at?”
“I’m on a layover in Tokyo coming back from Ho Chi Minh. I’m going to be home for a few days and I wanted to get together with you.” I notice that he leaves off whether this is about his plane or us.
Either way we need to talk so I check my calendar. “Ok. It looks like I can fly out and meet you in Cali on Wednesday.”
“Wednesday is good. I’ll clear my schedule. Thursday too?” He’s pushing for more time and I need to know why. Whether this is about me or the plane I need to prepare.
“Sure, Thursday too.” I mark myself busy all day on my calendar. “So, is this about…the plane?” My question ends on a high note leaving an opening for him to tell me it’s about us.
“Uh, yeah.” He pauses and clears his throat. “Yeah, and I uh, you know, wanted to see you.”
“Ok, sure, that sounds good.” How does this keep happening? We go from confident professionals to fumbling eighth graders in the blink of an eye. I go back to talking about the plane since it’s so much easier. “Have you made a decision on where you are going to base the plane?”
“I’m pretty sure I have but I need you to give me some more comparison information on Palo Alto versus Ho Chi Minh city.” His tone is businesslike but there’s a hit of regret, of not wanting to tell me something.
I note the time. If I’m going to be on an early flight day after tomorrow I need to work on pulling numbers and regulations for him. I’ll need Dom to help me with it too. I end the call after I pull up potential flights and give him an estimation of when I’ll arrive on Wednesday.
Back in the design meeting I sit quietly for a few minutes, listening to catch up on what I missed. What I hear is music to my ears. Dom, who knows me better than I know myself, is laying out my priorities, the parts of the job that are a must. She’s nailing every one. And Rhiannon is listening, really listening, making notes, and echoing back to Dom what she’s hearing and making sure they are on the same page. I almost cry I’m so relieved that I have these two fantastic women on my team. I can go to meet with Evan and take care of Carla (and possibly have some play time with Sebastian) and know that this house is in the best hands possible.
I share this with Dom on the way back to her apartment. She spins in her seat and shuts off the music. “Oh. My. God. Did Vivienne Ramsey, my favorite control freak in this entire world, just tell me that she is going to delegate and trust?”
I take my eyes off the road long enough to make sure she sees my glare, then smile. “I might be growing up, Dom. Don’t you think it’s about time?”
She laughs at this. “Yeah, and no. I love you the way you are but I have always hated to see how stressed out you get. I like the Vivienne who comes home from Italy. You’re still a kick-ass business woman but with all the rigid tightness smoothed out of you.”
I see myself as a piece of pasta, uncooked and brittle when I leave the U.S. then soft and delicious when I return. “Yep, you’re right, being around Annalize and Mikel is good for me.”
“And Evan, what about being around Evan?” Now that I’ve officially let go of my Danny dreams Dom is pushing to replace them with a happily-ever-after with Evan.
“Complicated,” is my one-word answer. I do enjoy his company. Besides Dom he’s the person I can most be myself with. Our mutual quirkiness makes our time together chaotic sometimes but I know that no matter what happens Evan will accept me for who I am.
At the next stop light I get into the left turn lane, which takes us the opposite way from Dom’s apartment. She snaps her fingers in front of my face. “Chicca, wake up, we need to turn right.”
“Do you mind if we take a detour?” I’ve had a flash of inspiration for some non-verbal communication that might help my relationship with Evan along.
She checks on Marco is sound asleep in his car seat behind us. “Works for us. What’s up?”
“I want to go by the bank and get my octopus necklace out of my safe deposit box. I’m taking it with me to see Evan.”
Chapter Five
Wednesday afternoon I drive straight to Evan’s office to meet with him. I booked myself a hotel room but I also noted that I needed a late check-in. There’s a chance Evan will ask me to stay at his place tonight so it’s easier to have my bags with me. I don’t want to push this relationship but it’s so slow moving that I don’t want to do anything to make it more difficult either.
I text him when I land to let him know I’ll be at his office in about forty-five minutes. I also note that I haven’t had lunch and I’m getting hungry which is poor manners with a date or a client but not with Evan. Since he is focused on analyzing data on potential plane locations I know he won’t think about feeding me. With the time zone difference it’s already mid-afternoon to me and all I’ve had to eat are airplane cookies, a granola bar and a large latte.
His reply is totally Evan.
Can you pick up some In & Out on your way here? You know what I want.
His familiarity with me makes me laugh. We’ve never eaten In & Out burgers together but I do know what he would want—a plain burger, large fries and a coke, the most generic meal possible. The fact that he trusts that I will figure this out shows how well he knows my skills and how to use them. It’s not exactly romantic, more sweetly realistic but I’ve always had a thing for efficiency.
✈ ✈ ✈
When I get to his office I’m loaded down with my briefcase and the food. I dump it all on his conference room table and we go in for a classic Evan/Vivienne hug—all awkward arm placement with neither of us sure when to let go. Then there’s the pause where we wonder if we should kiss. This is solved by him aiming for my lips just as I decide he isn’t going to kiss me. It looks like I’m pulling away so I lean in to kiss him as he pulls away in embarrassment. If I do spend the night at his house tonight I can pretty much guarantee there won’t be any sex involved considering we’re still struggling with a simple kiss.
To break the tension I focus on the food. “Coke, right?” I know it is but I still enjoy him confirming that I guessed correctly. I look in the sack and pull out his sandwich and fries and a few napkins for him t
hen I set my meal up in the spot closest to him.
I look over at him and study him as we chew in companionable silence. He’s changed since I first met him. Despite our bumbling hug and kiss he’s less geek and more man of the world. I don’t know if it’s for me but he’s dressed better today. His khaki’s and plaid button down shirt have been replaced by dress slacks and a dress shirt. He is, however, still wearing tennis shoes. He catches me looking and stops eating. He looks down, studying himself to try and figure out what he’s doing wrong that I must be staring at. It makes me smile and wink at him. Now I’ve really unnerved him.
He rushes to finish eating and announces he is done by loudly wadding up his burger wrapper and pushing it aside. He opens a folder and nervously shakes his knee while he reads and I finish my lunch. Patience is still not a virtue of his, but then again, it’s not one of my strong points either.
When I finish I crumple up my paper, shove everything in the original bag and toss it all in the trash. I dust off my hands before setting up my laptop and pulling out the folders containing all the comparison charts I created late last night. We go right to work. “I’m not sure what your top priority is for a base location, so why don’t you tell me if you want to start by looking at regulations, personnel availability, salaries…”
He scratches at the slight stubble on his chin as he thinks over his options. I find it sexy and lose my train of thought wondering what he would do if I rubbed my cheek against his. I squirm a little in my seat, feeling my first stirring of sexual interest in him.
I take a deep breath and open tabs on my laptop while I wonder what he would do if I acted on my little fantasy. I picture me pushing his chair away from the table and straddling his lap to get close enough to feel his scratch chin against my sensitive neck. I would shock the shit out of him and that alone would be fun. I’m tempted but I hold back. Instead I openly stare at him to see if he can detect my lust.
