Slim Chance

by Jackie Rose

  A hostess finally led us to a booth. No sooner than I’d tucked into my eggs Benedict, I noticed a familiar face in the crowd. It was Theo. With Kimby, Nicole, Annie and a guy I didn’t know. I thought I saw Nicole make a face when she recognized me. I considered making a break for it.

  “Evie!” Annie said as the hostess led them past our table. There were like 18,000 restaurants in the city. What were the odds of them coming here?

  Kimby seemed surprised to see me. “Hey, look who it is,” she said coolly. “How are you?” They all stopped to revel in my misery.

  “Hello, Mooorgan,” Theo cooed, then whispered something into the ear of the guy he was with. They both giggled.

  “Stop being so rude,” Kimby said to them. “Evie, what’s going on? I called you at work a couple of weeks ago and they said you’d left.”

  “And I heard the wedding was off,” Nicole piped in. “My step-cousin went to school with Bruce’s sister, remember?”

  “But we didn’t think it was true,” Annie added, shooting Nicole a dark glare. “I figured you’d call if something had happened.”

  They waited for me to say that everything was fine, but I couldn’t.

  “She’s had a lot going on,” Morgan told them.

  Nicole’s eyes widened. “So it’s true?” she gasped. “I can’t believe it.”

  “That seems to be the standard reaction,” I said.

  Annie slid onto the bench beside me and put her arm around my waist. “I’m so sorry, Evie. I can’t believe it.” Annie was sweet. I knew she really meant it, and I suddenly felt awful for not telling her. She was, after all, supposed to be one of my best friends.

  “Does that mean Bruce is available?” Theo snickered, and Kimby elbowed him. “What? Can’t a guy ask?”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t call,” I said. “I guess I didn’t really feel like dealing with everyone, you know?”

  “Of course, honey,” Annie said. “You don’t owe us anything.”

  “But I still should’ve called,” I told her.

  “Yeah, well I was starting to get a bit aggravated,” Kimby admitted. “I thought maybe you’d forgotten about us. Nobody’s spoken to you in weeks, and you never approved the final fittings.”

  “I was wondering why I didn’t get an invitation,” Nicole added curtly. She was probably disappointed that she no longer had a reason to be mad at me. “What are we supposed to do with our dresses, now? I was really starting to like mine.” Maybe not.

  “My food’s getting cold,” Morgan said loudly. Subtlety was never her strong suit, and I loved her dearly for it.

  “Seriously,” Theo said, ignoring her. “I was incredibly hot in that tux… And I was sooo looking forward to fulfilling my duties as a groomsman at the bachelor party….”

  “All of you, shush!” Annie snapped. “You’re being cruel. What happened, Evie? Are you okay?”

  I couldn’t talk.

  “Things just didn’t work out,” Morgan said, sensing I was about to lose it.

  “That’s it?” Nicole said. “Something must have happened.”

  “Would you mind if I filled you in later?” I said. “I don’t really feel up to this right now. Not here, anyway.”

  “Of course,” Kimby said, eager to change the subject. “Give me a call this week. It’s Annie’s birthday on Saturday and we’re going to this great new club on Avenue B.”

  Theo nodded. “Definitely. You’ve got to get back on that horse, dear—now’s the time to snag another man! Before you get fat again.”

  I managed a weak laugh. “Thanks.” He meant well.

  “Don’t listen to him,” Nicole said, eyeing the greasy home fries on my plate. “I’m sure you’ll keep the weight off.” She was trying to jinx me. And I didn’t even have the strength to resent it, even though my wardrobe was become progressively tighter by the day. I could hardly do up my pants.

  “’Bye,” I said, and hugged Annie. “I’ll call you later this week.”

  After they left, Morgan said. “Well that sucked.”

  “They’re not so bad. It was crappy of me not to call anyone. No wonder they’re pissed.”

  “Still. You’re the one they should feel sorry for, not themselves. You don’t have to make excuses—a terrible thing happened to you and they should understand 100 percent. God, it’s like they were actually enjoying it. Especially that fat one. How can you not want to kill her?”

  “In case you haven’t noticed,” I said weakly, “I don’t have many friends. If it weren’t for them, you’d be the only one.”

  After an entire week of job-hunting, I only managed to land two interviews—one with a telemarketing company that sold gems in bulk, and one for a part-time position as an assistant basketball coach for a girls’ high school in the Bronx. There was no point in going to either of them, since there was no chance in hell I’d take the first job (working on commission was out of the question), and I’d out-and-out lied to get the second. Since I’d clearly run out of choices, bankruptcy seemed the only way to go (Cosmopolitan, December: “Life After Chapter 7: Fight Your Way Back from Financial Ruin!”). I called and left a message for Bruce so that he could tell the collection agencies to stop harassing him.

  He called me back almost immediately.

  “Declaring bankruptcy is definitely not a good idea,” he pleaded with me. “It’ll take you years to build up a decent credit rating again.” Like that was such a bad thing. No matter how angry he was, I knew that Bruce wouldn’t be able to resist trying to prevent me from making what he thought was an asinine decision.

  “What choice do I have? At least this way, they’ll stop hassling you,” I told him.

  “Save the martyr act, Evie,” he said. He sounded mildly amused. It was a start. “Call Claire. Tell her what’s going on. That’s my advice.”

  “I still have my pride, you know.” Just barely.

  “You won’t if you go bankrupt.”

  “We’ll see.”

  “You really have no clue what you’re doing, do you?” he mused. “And that reminds me. I wasn’t sure if you were serious, but I made an appointment for you with Dr. Shloff. Next Monday at nine.”

  “Nine a.m.? Bruce, that’s a little early to be dissecting my issues with my father with a complete stranger, don’t you think?”

  “Just tell me if you’re not going to go because I’ll cancel it. Someone at school did me a really big favor to get the appointment. Dr. Shloff’s practice is pretty much closed and she’s very hard to get in to see. But I still think it would be a really good idea for you—she’s supposed to be wonderful.”

  “I said I’d go!”

  “Good. So that’s July 23, okay? At nine.”

  “I know, Bruce. You told me.”

  “And promise me you won’t do anything stupid until you speak to Claire. It could ruin your life.”

  My life already was ruined, but at least he still cared.

  It didn’t take a genius to see that Bruce was probably right about the bankruptcy thing. I did a little research, and found out that if I filed, it could be ages before anyone would give me a credit card again. The thought of that was enough to scare me straight. No doubt about it—family was the way to go in times like these. It was the least of all possible evils. I’d definitely ask Claire, though. Even if Mom could help me out for a while, which she probably couldn’t, the protracted torment of her I-told-you-sos and witless lectures on fiscal responsibility would surely make declaring bankruptcy seem like winning the lottery.

  Instead of calling and asking over the phone, I stopped by Claire’s apartment on Sunday night when I knew she’d be home.

  Her wrinkled face lit up when she opened the door.

  “Evie, is that you?” She rubbed her eyes.

  “You know it’s me.”

  “I wasn’t sure. I barely recognized you.”

  “Ha, ha.”

  “Come in. I’m sorry, dear. You should know that I’ve talked to Bruce, and your mother
, and I already know about everything,” she said before I could even sit down.

  “I know. I should have called, but I was too embarrassed.”

  “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about—you’re my own flesh and blood,” she said as she put some hot water on. Claire thought the answers to all the world’s problems could be solved over a pot of tea.

  “Yeah, but what I did…”

  “What you did was a mistake, plain and simple,” she said without skipping a beat. “And it sounds like you already know that.”

  “I do. I really do.”

  “Of course you do,” she said. I suddenly remembered why I spent most of my teenage years at her place. Just being in the presence of unconditional love has a way of making even the most insurmountable problem seem like a cakewalk. “The only question now,” she continued, “is what are you going to do about it?”

  I told her absolutely everything, including my intentions to make it up to Bruce and win him back. She spoke to him all the time, so maybe she’d put in a good word for me when the time was right, or at the very least, let him know I was on the right track. For the first time in a long while, after I’d poured out my entire heart and soul, I really believed that everything was going to be okay.

  Before I left, she took out her checkbook, signed three and handed them to me.

  “Take whatever you need. No granddaughter of mine is filing for bankruptcy,” she said, more to herself than anyone. “But it’s a loan, not a gift. When you’re back on your feet and you’ve found a job, we’ll come to an arrangement about your paying me back.”

  “Thanks, Grandma,” I said and kissed her cheek. “You’re saving my life.”

  She stared at me, shocked. “So that’s all it took to get you to start calling me Grandma? I should have done this years ago!” she said.

  “I’m so sorry about everything.”

  “Evie, just promise me you’ll be good to yourself from now on. Take some time to think about things, grab hold of your life again. And cut up your credit cards!”

  “I already have!” It was true—sort of. Technically, Morgan had done the dirty deed for me.

  “Everybody deserves a second chance, sweetheart. Just try to make the most of it.”

  With the weight of the world lifted from my shoulders, I vowed to take advantage of my fresh start. And that meant getting Bruce to see the new, responsible me was a top priority. All that remained to be done was find a job, see that shrink and keep from doing anything completely idiotic.

  But why was it always so much easier than it sounded?

  Despite a few days of relative calm, things got ugly again the next weekend. I was still calling in for my messages every day, since I had applications pending at four or five potential employers (including Iberian Airlines, who I’d heard were desperate for flight attendants—good thing I had those two years of high-school Spanish under my belt!). There was no sense in giving out Morgan’s number because I didn’t know exactly how long I’d be there, and Bruce didn’t seem to mind me giving out my old number. Actually, he probably had no idea I was doing it.

  And then there it was, clear as a bell, the following Friday morning—a woman’s voice on the machine.

  “Hi, Bruce. Um, I guess you’re still at school, but I just wanted to confirm for tonight. Six o’clock at the Boathouse in Prospect Park, right? I’ll bring the wine. So…I guess I’ll see you there, then. Oh [giggle giggle]—it’s Daphne, but I guess you already knew that! Yeah, well…I think I’d better hang up know.’ Bye!”

  Daphne? I knew that name. She worked with Bruce—I think she was a teacher’s aide or a janitor or something like that. I immediately dialed the school.

  “May I speak with Daphne?” I asked.

  “Sorry, she’s off Fridays during the summer. Can I put you through to her voice mail?”

  I hung up. My head was spinning. Bruce had a date? A date? It couldn’t be. We’d hardly been broken up for a month, and he was dating? It didn’t make any sense. But why else would he be meeting her there? Unless it was a work thing. There was a zoo in Prospect Park… Maybe they were planning to take the kids on a field trip there in the fall and they were scouting locations. But those kids wouldn’t be interested in some lame old zoo. And why would she be bringing wine? Oh God, this can’t be real. I cannot let this happen.

  My first instinct was to erase the message. Bruce probably hadn’t heard it yet, otherwise he would have erased it himself. But even if I did get rid of it, what difference would it make? Bruce would never forget about a date, and I’m sure he knew exactly when and where it was.

  After several long hours spent teetering on the brink of emotional collapse—especially after I called to listen to the message for the seventeenth time only to discover that it was gone—I vowed to do what Claire had advised, and take control of my life. As much as I may have wanted to, I didn’t call Morgan, who’d probably try and deter me from my plan. I would go to the park and see for myself what was going on. Bruce would never know. He’d never see me.

  I arrived at 5:30, just in case either of them were early. That left me with plenty of time to relax and wonder about why Bruce had never asked me on a date to the Boathouse in Prospect Park. I sat down on the grass behind a twisted old elm, the perfect vantage point from which to view the happy couple. It was a beautiful day, and the sunlight was just beginning to fade. The reflection of the Boathouse’s white columns and arched windows shimmered on the water. Worse still, tiny white flower petals rained down from the trees. It was alarmingly romantic, straight out of The Age of Innocence or something like that.

  She arrived first. I knew it was her because she looked like someone I wouldn’t like and I could see the top of a wine bottle sticking out of her backpack—and who the hell wears a backpack, anyway? (Marie Claire, September: “Grow Up! 12 Trends You’re Probably Too Old For.”) From where I was sitting, I could almost make out her features, which were nothing to write home about, and I could have sworn that she also had some sort of hideous scar. Her hair was ash-blond (an immediate strike against her), and she was wearing a prissy Laura-Ashley-type dress with flat sandals. I couldn’t entirely tell how fat she was, because her dress was so billowy, but I could say with some degree of certainly that she was heavier than I was, even now. She paced back and forth from one end of the building to the next, waiting for my Bruce.

  Maybe he’d changed his mind, I thought. Maybe he wouldn’t show. That would teach her to steal another woman’s man. But he wasn’t my man, at least not anymore, I reminded myself. He was his own man, and he had every right to date whomever he pleased. What I had done more than released him from any obligation to me. And now it seemed I was the only one who retained any sense of loyalty, and that barely counted since it was obviously too little too late to earn me any points. I glanced at my watch. It was almost six. Then five past, seven past….

  Just as the first hints of relief began to wash over me, he appeared from behind the Boathouse carrying a picnic basket. Instead of being furious with his tardiness and leaving him right there on the spot, she smiled broadly. He kissed her on the cheek. The bile rose in my throat and I had to sit back for a moment and catch my breath. By the time I was ready to look again, I almost couldn’t find them. But there they were, walking hand-in-hand toward a clearing in the trees.

  I followed them down the path until they’d picked their spot. She opened her backpack and laid out a big blanket. Bruce began pulling things out of the basket. I couldn’t hear what they were saying to each other, but it didn’t seem like they were fighting.

  How could he?

  This was all wrong—this was not how things were supposed to turn out. Before I knew it, I was walking toward them. Maybe I could pretend that it was just a coincidence. It was a lovely day, and why wouldn’t I be out taking a walk in the park? If he was embarrassed, then he should have known better than to parade his little tramp in public for everyone to see.

  When Bruce saw me, the col
or washed out of his face. He jumped to his feet. Daphne was still smiling. She had no idea who I was.

  “What…what are you doing here?” he asked, stunned.

  Daphne stared at him in confusion. He smiled uneasily at her.

  “I believe I’m the one with questions, Bruce,” I said. Tears were streaming down my face. I could taste them.

  “I’m sorry, Daphne,” Bruce snarled between clenched teeth. “This is Evelyn, and she’s a little bit confused right now. Would you mind excusing us for a few moments?”

  She nodded. “Sure. Nice to meet you, Evelyn.” Nice to meet me? Didn’t she know who I was? Had Bruce not mentioned me at all?

  He grabbed me by the elbow and quickly led me away.

  “What the hell’s the matter with you?” he asked. “No—you know what? It doesn’t matter. I don’t care. I want you to leave. Now.”

  “But, Bruce,” I wailed. “I heard her message, and…and…I couldn’t help it. I had to know what was going on…and I…I…you…”

  “It’s none of your business anymore, Evie. And I’m changing the password, so you can forget about any more stunts like this.”

  “You mean you’re going to see her again?” I gasped. “What about me? What am I supposed to do? Don’t you care about me anymore?” I was pathetic, I knew it, and I couldn’t help it—the words were just flying out of my mouth. For all my intentions, I couldn’t be cool about this. I was desperately jealous. Needy and jealous.

  He sighed. “Look. I’m not angry, but will you please just go. I don’t want you to make any more of a scene than you already have. It’s not fair, Evie.”

  How could he say that? What was the matter with him? It was fair—why should he get to go on with his life if I couldn’t? Just because I was the one who made all the mistakes didn’t mean he got to stop hurting so quickly. “Is that all you care about? Me making a scene in front of your girlfriend?” Daphne, having doubtlessly been very ill-raised, stared at us indiscreetly.