False happiness.
Are we meant to enjoy a present so fabulous, so wondrous, so spectacular but with no thought of a future? Can we live in a bubble without a thought as to the moment when reality will poke its ugly head in and destroy it? I don’t know. I certainly wasn’t feeling capable of it. I kept wondering if maybe real misery would be better than the precarious false happiness I found myself in.
But I still couldn’t bring myself to tell Maggie about the AWAC’s involvement in the beginning of our relationship. How could I tell her that so many of my early moves had been dictated by a team? That we’d plotted over butterflied lamb and scalloped potatoes at Kathy’s house? That her best friends in the world thought so little of her that they didn’t trust her to fall in love on her own?
Every time Maggie and I were together, I ached to tell her, ached to confess my part and to tell her that it was because I loved her that I was desperate enough to use drastic measures, to use her friends—her methods—against her. Wouldn’t she see that it was only because we loved her that we’d wanted to help her? That we’d only used the ideas that she was so vigorously promoting? That it’s not that we went behind her back to embarrass her but to help her? Wouldn’t she understand that?
Would you?
I might have believed that Maggie would understand the AWAC and our intentions if she had remained as passionate about the War Council as she was in the beginning. But she wasn’t. It wasn’t long after our first night together that Maggie began to lose interest in the War Council. And, to make matters worse, she kept saying how great it was that we didn’t need something like the War Council. That we’d come together naturally. That the War Council was only for truly dysfunctional people—pathetic, she called them—pathetically dysfunctional people unable to express their feelings naturally. That we were lucky because it was so “natural” the way we had fallen in love. Ugh. What was I to do?
I had a month to go before making my final decision about Paris. For the first time, I didn’t want to go on one of my adventures. I was finally in love with a woman I didn’t want to leave, but I was desperately afraid that she would leave me. Upon reflection, I suppose I shouldn’t have worried so much about how or when my house of cards would fall down about me because, as often happens in life, although we may think we are prepared for the inevitable, it is still a shock to the system when it happens.
The moment of my destruction came, ironically enough, at another dinner at Kathy and Brian’s house in the city. I should have known. Life is often cruel in dealing us our fates. Much as my father dropped dead just as his dream was about to become a reality, I was about to lose my true love at the site of not only our first meeting—when I gazed into those passionate eyes for the first time—but of my most callous betrayal. To this day, I am unable to eat butterflied lamb or scalloped potatoes.
Luckily, Kathy was not serving butterflied lamb this evening. She had put together some sort of whitefish in creme sauce and a light tomato salad with summer greens. With the bottles of sauvignon blanc we were providing, the meal was going to be scrumptious. I suppose if I had to choose a setting for my destruction, it was nice to have it be so civilized. Not all battlefields are ugly, not all scars visible. Sorry—got a little carried away with the melodrama again.
The whole evening played out like a gothic opera—Kathy and Brian were even playing the classic three tenors on Spotify: Pavarotti, Carreras, and Domingo singing the great arias. Music. The power of their voices reminded me of Maggie and the important role music had played in our relationship. We had been making our way through a wide variety of music, all of which made our time together amazing. What would I do without this woman? I had to hope she would come to understand.
As the sun began to set, it created an orange glow to Kathy’s living room. I looked over at Maggie taking a sip of wine and laughing at something Brian said. She looked over at me and smiled. Her eyes sparkled. It was one of those moments when a wave of pure feeling invaded my body.
Suddenly, Kathy burst into the room from the kitchen.
“I have news!”
Everyone looked up.
“War Council news.”
Brian, Hallie, Randy, and Maggie stopped talking, put down their drinks, and turned to listen.
“Wait, where are Mike and Monique?”
“They went to put away their coats.”
“Can you believe how cold the city’s been this summer?” Hallie asked, perhaps attempting to fill the time until Mike and Monique returned.
“I know,” Brian said. “We went to an outdoor concert Sunday afternoon, and people were wearing mittens. Mittens in August for God’s sake.”
“We say this every year,” Randy said. “It’s always cold in August in the city.”
“That’s true. Luckily, Berkeley’s been better. At least ten degrees warmer,” Kathy said. “How long do you think they’re going to take?”
“I’ll go get them,” I offered.
I walked down the hall and went to open the door to the master bedroom, where everyone had been putting their coats. It opened a crack, then bumped into something pressed up against the door. I then heard a voice say: “Go Cal.”
“What are you guys doing? Are you watching the game?”
“Yeah,” Mike said. “Sorry. We’ll be right out.”
“Okay.” That was weird. I didn’t think that football season had started. Before I could ponder further, I got back to the living room, and they all turned to look at me. “They’ll be right out.”
“So, what’s the news?”
“Just wait.”
Mike came into the living room, followed shortly after by Monique.
“All right, what’s the emergency?” Monique asked.
“I have some big news,” said Kathy.
Mike and Monique chose seats on opposite sides of the room but continued to exchange glances. I think that’s what they were doing, anyway. Rumors had been circulating about them and their behavior just now was pretty odd, but maybe I was reading too much into it.
“Maggie should really be the one to tell you this, but I just checked the messages at the War Council offices.”
“And…?” Maggie asked.
“Biff proposed to Cindy last night.”
“Oh my God.”
“The little prick finally succumbed.”
“Is she going to marry him?”
“I don’t know. In the message she just said he’d asked.”
“I hope she leaves him at the altar,” said Monique.
Mike smiled. “Either way, this calls for a celebration.” He raised his glass. “To victory for our first War Council client.’
“Not really our first,” Hallie said. “Not if you count Maggie.”
“What?” Maggie asked.
A brisk wind began heading toward my house of cards.
“Didn’t Nick tell you? He used the War Council—or the anti-War Council I think we called it—to get to know you.”
Maggie’s eyes turned to me but instead of offering the pure guileless affection of a few minutes ago, it was like a door had slammed shut. Her eyes looked like stone, and her face showed the betrayal she felt. The eyes I had finally opened, the soul I had finally entered, the love I had finally awakened—all closed and in one brief terrifying moment were snatched from my grasp.
My house of cards fell down around me that glorious summer evening in the city by the bay. Merde.
Chapter Twenty
MAGGIE
Success. I was a fucking success. I had proven everything I’d set out to prove: that the War Council could work, that love could be logical, that even I would fall for logic and manipulation and mistake it for love. So why did I want to puke?
There I was, surrounded by my friends, by the man I’d fallen in love with—or thought I’d fallen in love with—fe
eling better about my life than I had in years. And then they told me the whole thing was a joke. I was a joke. My feelings were a joke. I had proven Kathy wrong, and yet somehow I was the one with egg on my face.
How could they do this to me? How could they think so little of me that they would go behind my back like that? I felt so betrayed by the thought of them conspiring and discussing my love life behind my back. My life. Who were they to decide how my life should be run? Suddenly I wondered how I could have believed in these people. All of them. How I could have opened myself up and… trusted them. I felt like such a fucking idiot. And how could I have thought that I loved Nick when it was all just a manipulation?
I don’t want you to think I was uncivilized in my response to their betrayal. After Hallie spilled the beans about the—what did they call it?—oh yes, the Anti-War Council War Council Conspiracy or AWAC. Cute. So glad they were having such fun at my expense. Anyway, after she spilled the beans, I looked over at Nick. I just couldn’t believe he had lied to me like that. I had trusted him. But there it was written all over his face—shock, embarrassment, maybe a little bit of relief. He gave me a weak smile; I suppose to try and make me feel better. Shithead. I had pictures of them all laughing and plotting to help poor pitiful dysfunctional Maggie find love. What a bunch of assholes.
But no, I kept my cool and plastered a smile on my face. “Well, now, isn’t this a surprise,” I said. “I guess you got me.”
“Maggie, don’t be like that,” Kathy said. “We only did it to help you.”
Kathy. Perfect Kathy that nothing ever bothers, with her perfect husband and two perfect children. Why can’t we all be like perfect perfect Kathy who throws great dinner parties and betrays her friends behind their backs?
“Don’t worry, Kathy. I won’t ruin your party. But if you will all excuse me, I have to use the bathroom.”
I again gave them my best “fuck you” smile and left the room. I could hear Mike and Monique asking what was going on. Oh, so they weren’t in on it. Well, I could see it was a very select little clique that was involved in betraying me.
Because I have never been good at coming up with snappy comebacks on the spot and because I felt like punching something, and although they deserved it, I didn’t want to start punching any one of them, I decided it was best that I get out of there as quickly as possible. So, I walked past the bathroom, stopped in the master bedroom to pick up my coat—it had become rather chilly outside after all—and headed out the front door. I could hear everyone yelling at me to come back, but I kept on walking. I wanted to get as far away as quickly as possible.
“Maggie, Maggie, don’t go.”
It was Nick. He was running after me. I kept walking.
“Maggie, talk to me.”
“I see you are continuing to play your part rather convincingly, Nick.”
“Maggie, it wasn’t an act.”
“Yeah, sure. Why don’t you go back to your little AWAC club, Nick? They’re obviously the people you want to be with.”
“Please don’t do this, Maggie. I am so sorry for not telling you, but I was afraid of losing you.”
“Yeah, well, too late, huh?”
“Please don’t be like this.”
“You’re starting to sound like Kathy. Don’t be like what? Like hurt? Like betrayed? Like wondering how I could have possibly thought I was in love with a man who could do this to me? Gee, I’m so sorry, Nick. How would you like me to act? You want me to be like perfect stoic Kathy who never feels a thing? Who sails through life without once losing her temper?”
“No. I don’t want you to be like Kathy,” he said. “Kathy doesn’t have your passion. And I don’t love Kathy. I love you.”
“Yeah, well, you have a funny way of showing it.” I tried walking faster, anything to shake him.
“Maggie, please don’t run off. Let’s talk about this.”
“I don’t want to talk, Nick. I want to run. I want to run as far away from you and my so-called friends and the fucking War Council and these horrible wrenchingly painful feelings as I can. I want to run from you, Nick, because at the moment you represent pain. I don’t see love when I look at you; I see pain. So, please, if you care about me, stop following me.”
I kept walking and after a few moments of silence, Nick stopped. I only looked back once. That was a mistake. I saw the sorrow painted all over his face. His blue eyes—those beautiful blue eyes that had opened me to what I thought was love—looked hollow and sad. For a brief instant, I thought about turning back, but then the image of them all sitting around laughing and plotting took over. What was planned, Nick? Was this planned? The sorrowful eyes? Did Kathy tell you to come out and play sad to get me back? Was this a manipulation, too? Shit. Would I ever trust again?
It took me three buses, BART, and a 15-minute walk from the station to get back to my apartment in Berkeley. I was still mad, and all the snappy comebacks that I’d been unable to come up with at the time were now buffeting around my head.
“Oh yeah, you and what army?” I should’ve said. Or “No, you’re the loser!” Or maybe just a slap across the jaw. Haven’t you always dreamed of that? Just boof, a smack across the ole shinola. My problem was who to hit. Nick? Kathy? The whole lot of them? I suppose I could let Mike and Monique off the hook because they weren’t in on it. And why? Was my case not worthy of them? Nah, I’d take them all on, the whole lot of them. They’d be sorry they ever crossed me. They’d be sorry.
The anger was starting to wear off as I let myself into my apartment. Unfortunately, it was followed by profound sadness. Was I pathetic or what? What was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I just fall in love like other people? Why was my love life so complicated? Why did I fall in love with men who couldn’t be there for me? Why did they always leave? I mean, let’s face it, even if I forgave Nick, what was the point? He was leaving for Paris soon.
I slumped onto my couch and pulled out my phone. I had turned it off on the bus to stop the incessant buzzing each time a text came in—from them—and, after pondering it a moment, decided to turn it back on. The texts and voicemails immediately started popping up. I ignored the texts as they all seemed to say “call me” and mindlessly started listening to the voicemails.
“Maggie, it’s Nick. Please talk to me. At least let me know you that you got home safely. Please call me. Please. Okay, I’ll try later.”
Delete.
“Maggie, it’s Kathy. Come on. Don’t be such a pill. We only did this to help you. And you should know that Nick refused to talk to us after you two got together. I swear. It’s been real, Maggie. The love has been real. Please don’t blame him. It’s all me. I’ve been a real shit, and I’m sorry. Please call me.”
Delete.
“Maggie, it’s Monique. I have now heard the whole story and just have to say it’s abominable what they did to you. I think you should know that Mike and I really lit into them. Abhorrent. Their actions were abhorrent, but they are repenting. And, Maggie, I’d just like to leave you with this one piece of advice: Men are dogs, Maggie. Men are dogs.”
In the background, I heard Mike saying, “What’s that? Men? Dogs?”
“Shh. I’ll explain later. Bye, Maggie. Call me if you need to talk.”
Okay, so Monique’s message brought a wee smile to my face. I wouldn’t sock her in the face when I did the others. As I was deleting the message, another call was coming in. I didn’t recognize the number but figured they wouldn’t stop until I answered and let them know I was home, so I answered.
“What?”
“Maggie?”
My heart skipped a beat.
“Hello? Maggie?”
I knew this voice. It wasn’t Nick. It wasn’t Kathy. It wasn’t Monique.
It was a voice I hadn’t heard in three years.
Three years of fantasy and memories and occasional emails and te
xts and suddenly I was faced with the reality of his voice.
“Hello? Do I have the right number? Maggie?”
“Uh, Bill?” Bill! It was Bill.
“Yeah. Maggie. Wow. Your voice sounds great. It’s been a long time.”
Silence. What do I say? A long time? A long time? It’s been three years. What do you say after three years? What’s up? What’s been up for three years? It was like talking to a stranger and yet a stranger that I knew, a stranger who was able to conjure up feelings I thought had died, a stranger who could still make my heart beat faster, my mouth go dry, and the earth stand still.
“Yeah, so, Bill. A long time. It has been a long time. So, uh, what’s up?” Okay, I said it. Really, what else do you say?
“Well, actually, I’m, well, I’m coming to Berkeley.”
“You’re coming to Berkeley?” I sat up but held myself back from sounding excited. He’d said he was going to visit a number of times in texts and emails over the years and never materialized.
“Yeah, I have a plane ticket for the 8th?”
Ticket? He actually had a ticket?
“You arrive on the 8th? 8th of what?”
“Well, um, August.”
“August? That’s next week.”
“Yeah, I know it’s short notice, but the wire service just gave me the time off.” Silence. “I’d, uh, like to see you if it’s okay.”
“Uh huh.”
“We have a lot to talk about.”
“Uh huh.”
Like what? What do you want to talk about, Bill?
“Listen, Maggie, I know it’s late there so, well, I’ll let you go. I’ll call again to let you know when exactly I’ll be getting to Berkeley, okay?”
“Yeah, great.”
“Great. Maggie, I can’t tell you how good it feels to hear your voice and know that I’m going to be seeing you soon.” Silence. “I’ve, uh, missed you,” he said.
The War Council Page 15
