It's a Waverly Life

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It's a Waverly Life Page 16

by Maria Murnane


  “You’re just going to leave?”

  He nodded.

  “Just like that?”

  “I need to go, Waverly.”

  “But why?”

  He didn’t respond.

  “Can you at least tell me what you’re thinking?”

  More silence.

  “I…I know I don’t have the right to expect anything, but I’ve come all this way. Will you please…talk to me?” The words came out as a whisper.

  He gestured to himself and then to me. “This thing we have, whatever you want to call it, it isn’t working.”

  “But I explained why I didn’t tell you about the test. I said I was sorry.”

  He sighed. “It’s not that you didn’t tell me, Waverly. It’s that you were scared but didn’t tell me. Don’t you see the difference?”

  I didn’t say anything.

  “Besides, it’s not just the pregnancy thing. And it’s not just the Today Show thing. It’s everything. You’ve been resisting everything from the beginning.”

  I still didn’t say anything.

  “I want someone who needs me, Waverly, not someone who’s afraid of me. You’re not ready to need anyone other than your girlfriends.”

  I looked at the floor and thought about the times I’d leaned on Mackie or Andie instead of him, how I was afraid to trust him…even though I adored everything about him.

  He was right.

  “But…I don’t want to be afraid anymore. I want it to work.”

  “I did too. I really did.”

  I looked up at him. “You did? Not you do?”

  “You’re not ready, Waverly.”

  “But I want to be ready,” I whispered. I felt a lump in my throat again.

  “I wish I could believe you.”

  “Then believe me, Jake. Please believe me.”

  He put his arms around me and held me tight, but only for a moment. Then he backed away and put his hands on my shoulders.

  “You need to believe it before I can.” He wiped a tear from my cheek and slowly shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

  I picked at the paint on my pint glass. “I can’t believe I made such a fool of myself.” I was sitting on a stool next to Andie at the Kilkenny the following evening.

  “Hey now, you did not make a fool of yourself. Far from it.”

  “You are a total liar, but thanks.”

  “Waverly, that was a big step for you, going all the way to Atlanta to tell Jake how you feel. You wouldn’t have been able to even think about doing something like that a couple years ago.”

  I took a sip of my beer and remembered how crushed I’d been after Aaron had broken off our engagement. At the time I thought I’d never leave my apartment for a guy again, much less California. “This is true.”

  “Maybe it’s just not the right time for you two.”

  “Bad timing is right. My timing couldn’t have been worse. From day one, I’ve messed it up.”

  “Come on, you’re being way too hard on yourself.”

  “No, I’m not. This one’s all on me. He’s amazing, and I blew it.”

  She shrugged. “Okay, maybe you’re right. What are you going to do about it?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What would you tell your readers to do?”

  I looked at her. “Are we really going there again?”

  “I guess we are. What would you tell them?”

  “I think I’d tell them to stop asking me for advice, because clearly I don’t know anything.”

  “Please. Know what I think you’d say?”

  “I have a feeling I will soon.”

  “I think you’d say to get on with your life, maybe throw yourself into your work, try to figure out if you even want to be in a relationship right now. I mean, do you?”

  “You sound like Jake.”

  “Well, do you?” She raised her eyebrows.

  I drooped my shoulders. “I thought I did, but now I honestly don’t know. I mean, just look at how I acted. First, I didn’t sleep with him. Then, I did sleep with him. Then, I basically ignored him. Then, when he decided to break things off, I flew to Atlanta and showed up uninvited at his house. What is wrong with me? Who does that?”

  “A lot of people. They call it playing games.”

  “But I don’t want to be one of those people. I don’t like those people.”

  “Hey now, I’m one of those people.”

  “Except you, of course. You know I love you.”

  “So he’s really gone off to Buenos Aires?”

  “Yep.”

  “For how long?”

  “Three or four months, but maybe longer.”

  “Ouch. Talk about crying for me, Argentina.”

  I lightly pushed her shoulder. “Thanks.”

  She laughed. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t resist.”

  “The midnight plane to Georgia one was much better.”

  “Agreed. So do you think you’ll hear from him ever again?”

  I pointed at her. “Now that is a good question. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to use the restroom.” I stood up and weaved through the crowd to the back of the bar, then pushed open the ladies’ room door. The two stalls were full, so I waited against the wall. Two pretty blondes in their early twenties were washing their hands.

  “No way,” the first one said. “He showed up for the date in a black turtleneck sweater?”

  The second one nodded. “With a gold chain on the outside.”

  “Ugh, gross,” the first one said.

  “So gross,” the second one said. “I wanted to ninja out of there right then, but I just couldn’t be that mean.”

  I half chuckled, even though the other half of me felt like crying. I’ve been there, I wanted to say. And I’ll probably be there again soon, I thought as I looked at the floor.

  “You should totally e-mail that story to Honey on Your Mind,” the first girl said. “Maybe they’d print it.”

  I looked up. What? What?

  The second girl laughed. “Maybe I will.”

  “You guys read Honey on Your Mind?” I said.

  They both turned around.

  “Always,” the first one said.

  I smiled. “I write it.”

  Their eyes got big. “No way, really?” the second one said. “You’re Waverly?”

  I nodded.

  “That’s awesome,” the first girl said. “I love that column.”

  “Me too,” the second girl said. “It makes me feel like no matter how much my life might suck, I’m not alone.”

  I smiled but hoped they couldn’t see how sad I really was. That would be so, well, sad.

  They opened the door to leave. “Keep up the good work, honey,” the first girl said, laughing.

  As the door shut behind them, I didn’t feel quite so alone either.

  And then it hit me.

  That’s exactly it.

  I hurried back to the bar. “I know what I’m doing next,” I said to Andie as I sat down.

  She narrowed her eyes. “What happened in the restroom?”

  I smiled. “I’m serious. I think I just figured it out. I’m ready to move forward with my career, with my life, with everything.”

  “Care to share?”

  “I will soon.”

  “Does this next step involve Jake?”

  “We’ll see. If it doesn’t, it doesn’t, no matter how much it hurts.”

  She looked at me sideways.

  “For now, I’m going to stop talking about him all the time, or at least I’m going to try,” I said.

  “Seriously, Waverly, what happened in there?”

  “I guess you could call it a new kind of Waverly moment.”

  “I’ll drink to that.” She stood up and raised her hand toward Jack to order more beers, then dashed off to the restroom herself.

  That Saturday morning I walked to Noah’s Bagels for a bagel and a coffee, then hopped in my car to drive to Sacramento. My dad wanted
to take me to lunch at Applebee’s.

  I pulled into the parking lot a few minutes before twelve thirty. His truck was already there. When I opened the front door to the restaurant, I saw him sitting on a bench in the waiting area, working on the crossword puzzle in the Sacramento Bee.

  “I hear the one in the San Francisco Sun is trickier,” I said.

  He looked up and smiled.

  “Well hello there,” he said.

  He stood up, and for a moment we faced each other in silence, as awkwardly as always. Finally I leaned into him to give him a hug, which clearly surprised him. He sort of returned the gesture by stiffly putting one hand on my back and patting me a few times. It must have been painful to watch, but it was a big step for us both.

  “It’s good to see you, Dad.”

  He cleared his throat. “I’d like you to meet someone.” He turned to a pretty blonde woman on his left. She had short yet poofy hair and bright green eyes. She seemed about his age. “Waverly, this is Betty.”

  Betty smiled warmly and held her hand out. “It’s lovely to meet you, Waverly. I’ve heard so much about you.”

  I was totally thrown off guard. My dad was introducing me to a woman? He’d never done that before. As far as I knew, he hadn’t been on a date since my mom died.

  “Hi.” I reached out my hand, which Betty covered with both of hers and squeezed.

  “Betty works at the restaurant. She’s our top waitress,” my dad said.

  I was in uncharted territory and had no idea how to respond.

  “Sir, we can seat you now.” The perky voice of the hostess temporarily saved me. We followed her to the back of the restaurant, which smelled like maple syrup and was filled with families. I also spotted several college students, who, I couldn’t help but notice, were looking more like children to me every day.

  The three of us settled into a booth, me on one side, my dad and Betty on the other. The waitress handed us menus and promised to return with water in a minute.

  I unfolded my napkin across my lap. “How long have you two been, um, seeing each other?” Talk about an awkward question to ask your own father. But I was dying of curiosity.

  Dad grinned, something I hadn’t seen him do in a long time. He put his arm around Betty. “How long has it been, sweetie? Two months?”

  Sweetie?

  She smiled up at him, then looked across the booth at me. “Nine weeks.”

  “We met back when I started at the restaurant, but I didn’t have the nerve to make a move until right after New Year’s,” my dad said.

  I flinched. Who wants to hear about your dad making a move? I hoped they couldn’t see how uncomfortable I was.

  The waitress returned with a tray of waters, and as soon as she left Betty put her hand over her heart. “Waverly, I’m just so thrilled to meet you. Your father talks about you all the time.”

  I smiled at her, feeling guilty for not having called my dad for so long, for not having visited since Christmas. Nine weeks they’d been dating, and I didn’t even know? Then again, I hadn’t told my dad a word about Jake. I made my hands into fists under the table. Stop thinking about him, I told myself.

  “You write an advice column for the San Francisco Sun?” Betty said.

  I blinked, snapping myself out of my thoughts. “Yes ma’am. Print and online. It’s called Honey on Your Mind. It’s mostly about dating, but a lot of people write in about other things too.”

  “We don’t get the Internet, dear.” She turned to my dad. “Darling, we should have asked Waverly to bring us a copy to read.”

  I took a sip of my water and wondered how people survived without the Internet.

  The waitress reappeared, and after she took our orders, Betty interlaced her hands on the table. “How’s your dating life, Waverly? Your dad says you two don’t chat much about that.”

  I looked at her.

  Did she just ask me about my dating life?

  In my thirty years on earth, my dad had asked me about my love life exactly twice, once after I told him I was getting married, and once after I told him I wasn’t getting married. Otherwise, our conversations were superficial, innocuous, light. We played Scrabble and talked about movies, weather, occasionally his latest get-rich-quick scheme, an interest that, thank God, had waned now that he was working steadily. The closest we ever got to a serious topic was around the presidential election every four years. And now, after ten minutes, Betty was asking me about my love life?

  I took a huge drink of water. “It’s okay.” If you only knew.

  “Just okay?” She clearly had no idea how much she had freaked me out simply by asking a question that I imagine is totally normal in most American families.

  “I told you,” my dad said to her.

  I shot him a look to say, What are you doing?

  Betty put her hand on his shoulder. “Isn’t that just a shame, Paul? Such a beautiful girl should have men knocking down her door to get a date.”

  He stared at his napkin, suddenly looking like he wanted to crawl under the table.

  “Well, I think it’s just terrible,” Betty said. “Don’t you worry, Waverly, you’ll find him when it’s right.”

  “Thanks.” I wished our food would arrive to put an end to this excruciating topic. I turned my head toward the kitchen, willing our waitress to emerge with a tray.

  “So, tell me about this column of yours. Your father says you haven’t told him much about that either.”

  My dad, who was now studying his fork, slowly looked up at me.

  He didn’t speak, but I noticed something unfamiliar in his face.

  It was…interest.

  I turned from him to Betty, who had the same curious expression on her face.

  Then I realized something.

  He does want to know about me.

  I was grown and long out of the house, but apparently my dad wanted to get to know his daughter better. And Betty was trying to help him do it.

  Once we got off the topic of my love life, I was surprised at how much I enjoyed chatting with Betty. She was quite funny, and she clearly cared a lot about my dad, who sat next to her the entire meal in near total silence. But I could tell he was listening.

  Only when we ordered dessert did my dad, who loves sweets even more than I do, finally speak up to vote for apple pie à la mode. A few minutes later, the waitress set a huge, steaming slice topped with an enormous scoop of vanilla ice cream before us, along with three spoons and three cups of coffee. We all dug in.

  “So the new editor doubled your workload?” Betty said.

  I stirred sugar into my cup. “She did. Everyone told me to be afraid of her, but she’s actually pretty nice. And she really seems to like my work.”

  “That’s just wonderful. Paul, isn’t that wonderful?” She nudged my dad with her elbow, and he coughed into his pie. I tried not to laugh. Now that I’d gotten to know Betty a bit, I found their interaction endearing.

  “Thanks. I’ve been having fun with it. And it’s given me an idea for something else I could do as well,” I said.

  “More writing?”

  I took a sip of coffee. “Sort of. It’s in the beginning stages, but I’m excited about it.”

  “We think it’s great to stretch yourself like that. Don’t we, Paul?” She put both her hands around my dad’s arm.

  “Yes.” I think it was his first non-food-related word of the entire meal. “Waverly’s always been the creative one in our family, the smart one too.”

  I looked up from my coffee.

  He cleared his throat. “She just needs to believe in herself a little more, not worry so much about how things will turn out.”

  This was coming from…my dad? Was that really how he saw me? I thought I’d kept that side of myself hidden from him.

  Betty smiled into his eyes. “I can tell she’s just wonderful, Paul.”

  When we left Applebee’s, Betty hugged me like she’d known me forever. I hugged her back, truly glad to ha
ve met her. Then I looked at my dad, and we repeated our awkward half embrace, which was progress for us. I said goodbye and walked to my car. As I was about to unlock it, I looked back across the parking lot. My dad had opened the passenger door of his truck for Betty and was leaning in to give her a quick kiss as she buckled her seatbelt. He shut the door, tapped his hand on the top of the truck, and trotted around to the other side.

  He was smiling.

  I founded myself smiling too as I got my in my car.

  I hoped Betty would stick around.

  Later that afternoon I met up with Andie at Royal Ground Coffee on the corner of Fillmore and California. We grabbed a table near the front door and sat down.

  “So what’s going on with CJ?”

  She picked up her latte and smiled. “He’s still great. We’re going out to dinner later.”

  I hesitated. I didn’t want to cause trouble until I’d spoken to Ivy, so I wasn’t sure how exactly to proceed. “How often are you seeing him?”

  “It’s been about three nights a week. Unless he’s traveling for work, which unfortunately is a lot.”

  “He’s out of town a lot?” I raised my eyebrows.

  “He takes a lot of overnight trips, for sales calls mostly. Like next weekend, for example, he’ll be gone from Friday morning until Monday evening.”

  Hmm. It sounded so innocent and yet so suspicious, depending on your perspective.

  She took another sip of her latte. “Maybe one of these days you can finally meet him for real. I know you’ll like him.”

  “I’m sure I will. I’m glad to hear it’s going so well.”

  “I know, can you believe it? I don’t even have another guy on deck. Me. It’s been a long time since I liked a guy this much, Waverly. Maybe even since college.”

  I sighed. “Ah, the good ol’ days. Remember Marc with a C?”

  She laughed. “Oh God, how could I forget? Although that guy’s hardly worth remembering. What an ass.”

  “Would you still do that now?”

  “Do what?”

  “Break up with a guy if you found out he was seeing someone else?”

  She paused to think, then nodded slowly. “If we were exclusive, then yes, I’d have to. Why do you ask? Are you thinking about Jake and that girl?”

 

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