“He dumped her and married me. We’d only known each other six weeks.”
“And the dancer?”
Rona waved the yellowing tomato on the fork. “She married someone else. An architect in the city, lots of money, a lovely man. Not bad, huh? We’re still good friends with them.” She paused significantly. “I have to say,” she ventured, “we don’t know what on earth Johnny is doing. We’ve spent hours talking to him, and it just doesn’t make sense.”
“You mean, with Lila?”
“She’s all wrong for him.” Rona scowled, looking like a little girl.
“I think he’s trying to honor his wedding vows.”
“Vows, shmows. That’s not a marriage. That’s a prison sentence.” Rona popped the tomato in her mouth. “He should be with someone like you,” she said, from around the tomato. “Or, you know, you.”
Pru could feel her face going red. “Oh, I don’t know—” she started to say, but Rona interrupted.
“I told him the first time we met you, and I told you, and I’ll keep telling you both: You, we get.” She made a dismissive wave with her hand. “Her, not so much.”
“Well, it’s not up to us, I’m afraid.” Pru smiled at her. “I wish it were, believe me.”
“Have you tried?”
“Tried what?”
“To get him to leave her for you!”
“No,” Pru said, laughing. “Of course not.”
“Why not?”
“Self-respect? Respect for John and his wife? Pride?”
“Oh, yeah,” Rona said, waving her hand again and looking pained. “Pride. I remember that.”
“Yeah, the thing that goeth before a fall.”
“I never knew what that meant,” Rona said. “Does that mean if you lose your pride you’re going to fall? Or when you’re already falling the last thing to go is your pride, which you’ve foolishly been holding on to?”
“I think it amounts to the same thing. But the point is, look, I can’t do anything while he’s married. It would be wrong. It just would. And you know it.”
“Can I just tell Johnny you like him?” Rona said, with a seventh-grade smile.
“No. Besides, I really do think it’s beside the point.”
“I suppose it is. I just keep thinking that if he knew . . .” She sighed, turning more serious. “Ralph and I love to fight. It’s not really Johnny’s nature, though. He and Lila bring out the worst in each other. There’s no other way to explain it. Like, early on, they found each other’s buttons, and can’t stop pressing them. I guess Ralph and I do that, too. But Johnny doesn’t like it. It’s not his nature,” she said again.
PRU ENTERED THE DINGY FOYER OF THE NEW APARTMENT building and started up the stairs. Then she heard Patsy yelling, and started running. She ran up three flights and pushed open the door, breathlessly.
“Shut up!” Patsy was yelling into the phone. “Shut up, shut up, shut up!”
Pru gave her the universal hand signal for, you shut up! She still hadn’t gotten over thinking they were about to be evicted, for reasons she couldn’t quite understand.
“You are seriously fucking with my serenity!” Patsy shouted, then slammed down the phone, and burst into tears.
Jacob, Pru thought. She knew that having seen him in the ER was a bad sign. He had to make sure Patsy still loved him, didn’t he? What else could have sent her into such a tailspin, especially when she’d been doing so well?
“What is it?” Pru said, going to her. “What happened?”
“Jimmy Roy,” she sputtered at last. “He says he’s still in love with me. That fucker!” she said, throwing herself onto the couch and weeping loudly.
Pru dropped her purse on the floor. Thank God, she thought.
“Yeah,” she agreed. “He’s got some nerve.”
“You don’t understand,” said Patsy. “He only said that because of . . . because of Annali. He thinks she needs a father. That’s all.”
“Patsy, that’s crazy.”
“Children just fuck up everything,” Patsy said. “Oh, stop looking at me that way. She’s not here. She’s having a play date at Fiona’s.”
“Listen, Patsy, if you don’t love Jimmy Roy, then just say it. But quit blaming the fact that you have a kid for everything that happens to you. It’s just ridiculous to think that’s why he says he loves you. And quit looking for every excuse under the sun why you can’t be together. You can, if you want. And if you don’t want to be with him, then don’t. But it’s not worth all this . . . drama.”
Patsy looked at her, resentfully. “Thank you, Voice of Reason,” she said.
“You’re welcome,” said Pru, and left the room.
Twenty-one
A few days later, she was sitting behind the counter at peach. The morning sun was coming in the tall front window of the shop, making the blue-gray walls glow like deep ocean water, and she was watching John fix a giant hole she’d made while trying to screw in a wall anchor with her new most prized possession, an eighteen-volt Black & Decker FireStorm cordless drill.
It was the first time he’d been there since the opening. She’d run into him at the café that morning, where she’d stopped for a coffee before work. It had been a foolish impulse. She had come to the conclusion that the only thing she could do now was to avoid seeing him altogether. She wasn’t any closer to controlling her feelings now than she’d been five months ago, the night they’d spent together. It was also foolish to agree to let him come back with her and look around the shop, but she hadn’t been able to think of any kind of rational reason why he couldn’t.
She was gazing at him absently, admiring the way men seemed to know how to fix all sorts of little problems, when his shirt came untucked from the waistband of his jeans to expose the tiniest little grab of skin. Pru’s breath caught in her throat. It wasn’t what you’d call a roll, in any way, but it was the kind of extra flesh forty-year-old men get, even those who spend most of the day on their feet and don’t shy away from physical labor. The sight of this skin—warm, she was sure—made her palms itchy. She remembered running her hands there. Before she knew what she was doing, her mouth opened and she said, “John.”
He turned around and came down off the ladder, concern instantly splashed across his face. “What is it? What’s wrong?” She must have sounded as if she was having a heart attack and, really, it almost felt that way.
She wanted to say, “Nothing,” but she knew this was a moment that might never come again. Here she’d introduced the possibility of something serious. If Jimmy Roy can do it, she thought, so can I. She heard Patsy’s voice in her ear saying: “Breathe!”
She looked at her hands. They were as familiar and as reassuring as anything in the world.
“I think I’m in love with you.”
It was as if she’d opened her mouth and a hundred birds had flown out. She was shocked, and so was he. It wasn’t exactly what she’d intended to say. Rather, it was exactly what she’d intended to say. She just hoped it would have come out a shade more nuanced. She squeezed her eyes shut. No matter what he said, she figured, it had to be better than shlumping around, pretending everything was just fine. Fine! Great! Friends. Inside there was a huge sense of relief; indeed, she had been holding a hundred birds there for the last six months. She was about to laugh, she felt so good.
Then she opened her eyes, and saw his face. He looked stern and unhappy. He was looking at his feet, frowning. She didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t take it back. She didn’t want to. She certainly hadn’t chosen to fall in love with him. Out of nowhere, she thought of Big Whoop. She wished she could go home, scoop him up, and bury her nose in his fur.
Then John said out loud, “I don’t know what to say.” He looked furious, suddenly, and embarrassed.
The door opened and Annali came dashing in with Jenny on her leash, followed by Patsy. As soon as they saw Pru and John, they came to a stop, their laughter dying away.
“Oopsie,” said Patsy, looking from Jo
hn to Pru and back again. Annali was about to run to her, but Patsy held her by the shoulders.
“Come on, honey, let’s take the dog around the block again.”
“No, Mommy, I want to stay with Prudy . . .”
“Annali.”
“It’s okay,” Pru said. “We’re done.”
John turned and, nodding absently at Patsy, strode straight out the door.
“Hello and good-bye,” Patsy said, looking at Pru. “What the hell happened?”
She couldn’t speak. She only shook her head, and looked up at the ceiling, blinking.
The door opened again and a young woman poked her head inside. “Hi,” she said, “you open yet?”
“Yes,” Pru said. “Come on in.”
“Did you—” Patsy hissed, clutching her arm.
“Not now.”
“Just tell me—”
“Later.”
BUT LATER, IT WAS MC KAY AND BILL SHE TOLD, HAVING accepted a strong Billtini but passing on the cookies. They were in their customary seats, around the TV in the living room. Bill and McKay had decided to postpone buying a place until after the wedding. Thank God, she thought. She wanted them never to move, never to change.
“The funny thing is,” she said, “I don’t feel as humiliated as I thought I would. Being dumped by Rudy was a hell of a lot worse, somehow.”
Bill had put down his computer magazine, and McKay had gone so far as to mute the TV. Even Oxo came in and sat quietly at her feet, as if she were listening, too.
“Look,” said McKay. “Good for you.”
“I agree,” said Bill.
“What’s his kink anyway, that he stays with her?” said McKay. “Okay, so he wants to be a good guy—isn’t this going a little far, to prove it?”
“I don’t think he’s trying to prove anything,” Pru said. “She had a miscarriage, just before they broke up. I think that had a lot to do with it. I think it’s one of the reasons she left, and why he felt like he had to give the marriage another chance.”
“Fine,” McKay said, “but enough already. They’ve been back together, what, since Christmas? And I just saw you two mooning over each other at the opening. He certainly didn’t seem like a man in love with his wife.”
She changed her mind about the cookies and reached for one. “He was mooning? John was? Can you describe the mooning, in great detail?”
“We were all mooning over you that night,” McKay said. “Laced up on your Percocet.”
Pru groaned. “Don’t remind me. Was I a complete idiot?”
“Not at all,” said Bill. “You were cute.”
“Let’s talk about your wedding,” Pru said. “Something happy.”
“Okay,” said Bill. “First thing is, we want you to be our maid of honor.”
“Oh!” she exclaimed, happily. “Of course! You guys, I’m so . . . I’m so touched!”
“There’s one hitch,” added Bill.
“Hold on,” said McKay. “I think we need another round first.”
Bill disappeared into the kitchen, then emerged with a fresh pitcher of Billtinis. He refilled their glasses, and Pru saw them exchange another look.
“Oh, no,” she said. “What now? Just tell me.”
“We should tell you,” McKay said. “John’s bringing her to our wedding.”
Pru groaned. “Oh, no,” she said. “You have to be kidding me.”
“I didn’t know what to say,” Bill said. “Apparently she’s really pushing for it. I’m so sorry, Pru.”
“Oh, whatever,” Pru said. “It’s fine. I’ll be glad to get a chance to see them together. Maybe it’ll knock some sense into my head.”
When she returned home, Patsy was busy arranging things on a shelf in the living room. Pru noticed that the moving boxes were all gone, and the furniture was arranged in each of the rooms. She’d been so busy at the shop that she hadn’t so much as unpacked a box.
“Hey,” she said. “This looks great. We’d never have gotten through this move without you.”
“We wouldn’t have the new apartment without me.”
“We wouldn’t need it without you.” She saw that Patsy had a drink going, and took a sip. Sadly, it was only ginger ale.
“Speaking of ‘without me,’” Patsy said, sitting on the floor, “there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you. You know the day you found me in the bath? I never would . . . you know . . . kill myself. I mean, I thought about it, but . . .” She sighed, and drank her ginger ale. “I guess I must think Annali’s better off with half a mommy than no mommy at all.”
Pru pushed her sister’s foot with her own. “You’re more than half a mommy. You’re at least three-quarters of a mommy.”
“Wah wah waaaah,” Patsy said, like a rueful trumpet.
“You are a wonderful mother,” Pru said.
“Really? Am I?”
“You are. I don’t think I could have done what you did. I never realized how rough it must have been for you. I don’t feel like I did much to help.”
“Oh,” Patsy said. “Well. That’s all right. She wasn’t your mistake . . . I mean, blessed child.”
Pru’s mouth was still buzzing from the Billtini. She remembered John’s face when she’d told him she was in love with him. She could still summon his exact expression. “What did you decide about Jimmy Roy?” she said. “Are you going to give the guy another chance?”
“Oh, Jimmy Roy.”
“He cleans up good, you have to admit.”
“He cleans up okay.”
“He is clean, right?”
Patsy shrugged. “Says he is. And one thing Jimmy Roy isn’t, is a liar.”
“Jacob was the liar,” Pru said, yawning. “Wasn’t that a book?”
“Jacob never lied, either,” Patsy corrected her.
“Jacob the bigamist? Jacob the weak?”
Patsy was quiet, looking off into space. Then she said, “Well, Jacob the something, anyway.”
Twenty-two
Pru found herself alone in the new apartment for the first time ever.
Patsy was away at a yoga retreat in the Berkshires—a thirty-third-birthday present from Jimmy Roy, Pru, and their mother. Jimmy Roy had shown up earlier in the week to pick up Annali. They were going to stay at the beach house while Patsy was away. Pru had decided to give more hours to Phan’s girlfriend, Chuckie, to work at peach, so that she could have some time to herself.
It was full-on spring in D.C., now. The tourists were arriving, to see the cherry blossoms. As Pru stepped out onto the balcony, her neighbors waved from their respective decks. Whoop was still a little freaked-out, but before the move Pru had gone to see Dr. Bond, who told her how to minimize the trauma. Trauma. She still had a hard time assigning words usually associated with Vietnam vets or burn victims to a being whose biggest challenge was which spot of sun to lie in. But she did what Dr. Bond suggested, and both Whoop and Jenny seemed minimally “traumatized.” Anyway, they weren’t tooling around the neighborhood in little wheelchairs, swearing at everyone.
She spent her day off arranging her bedroom, putting her clothes away, and unpacking the boxes that had been sitting there for weeks. When she was done, she fell asleep on the couch, next to an open window, where she could hear the neighborhood kids calling to one another. She woke up late and famished, and decided she’d just pop into the café for a sandwich. John had finally taken some of Lila’s ideas about the menu to heart, and, although she’d hoped to be disappointed, Pru had become somewhat addicted to a particularly satisfying arugula sandwich.
She’d been avoiding John since telling him she was in love with him. She knew he usually left the café before nine, so she assumed it was safe. The girl behind the counter, who was new to Pru, was just handing her the bag that contained her sandwich when Ludmilla pushed through the swinging door to the kitchen, and she saw them. There, in front of the six-burner industrial-grade Viking stove, stood John, embracing a woman she knew instantly was Lila. Because it was
her job to size up women’s bodies, it registered that Lila was a luscious, curvy size ten, possibly even a twelve. She was wearing a stretchy top that showed off her curves, and a flowy skirt and sandals. She had fabulous curling hair that cascaded down her back. Enviable hair. The overall impression was of a salsa dancer. If she had come into Pru’s shop, Pru would have reached for the red silk strapless with the black roses on it, hands down.
Lila held John’s head in her hands as their foreheads pressed together. As Pru watched, the door reached the full extension of its swing, making a heartbeat-like sound, and started to swing shut. John looked up and, in the narrowing gap, their eyes met. The noise of the café fell away.
It was a fantastically timed moment. She could almost hear the sound of the door pushing the air as it moved. Like Elliott the crime novelist’s prison-door sound: Clink clunk. A woman’s chest opens up and her heart falls out. Clink clunk. Coming this summer, to a floor near you. Pru felt the wind leave her body in a rush.
“Hello?” the girl in front of her was saying. “Six twenty-five?” Clearly, it was her third or fourth repetition.
“Okay,” Pru said, digging in her shoulder bag for her wallet. She still couldn’t breathe. There was no little circular window in the swinging door to the kitchen, like such doors usually had, so she couldn’t see them anymore. She pushed a ten at the girl and left without the change.
She stepped outside into a gorgeous spring night. Everyone was out, enjoying the weather. Her feet turned and took her in the direction of Malcolm X Park.
She tossed the arugula sandwich into the first trash can she came to, and although she wasn’t wearing the right shoes for it, she began jogging. As she hit the park, she broke into a full run, and sprinted across the entire length of the grassy field to the stone wall where the park begins to slope down dramatically in a series of stone steps. She stood against the wall, panting. She’d come here with John, once, after they’d been dumped by their respective exes. That day had been a nine on the loneliness scale for both of them. When do you think it’ll end? he’d said. And here she was, again. Without any kind of a scale that could register what she was feeling now.
Nice to Come Home To Page 27
