Falling in Love

by Stephen Bradlee

  For years, Elaine and Yvonne had worked closely on the building’s co-op board and had secretly shared being in AA. Then Yvonne had stopped going to meetings, claiming that she had learned to drink “moderately.” Hal occasionally had reminded Elaine how much he admired Yvonne for having “outgrown” meetings.

  Elaine mentioned that Hal owned a business with a factory in Buffalo, where he often went on business during the week. But when he was having an affair, he would say he was going to Buffalo on weekends. On Friday morning, Hal had told Elaine that he was leaving for Buffalo. But right before I had arrived, she had come home to see Hal entering the building. She figured he had ended his latest affair before it began until she saw his elevator stop on the eighteenth floor, Yvonne’s floor.

  “He’s sleeping with her in my building. It’s almost like they are doing it in our bed. Did they really think I wouldn’t find out? Is he daring me to confront him so that he will have a reason to leave me?”

  Elaine broke down again. When she finally recovered, she said, “The irony is that I almost didn’t mind Hal having affairs because when they were over, he always felt guilty and would be so loving and intimate that he became this fantasy lover who happened to be my husband. What will I do if I lose him?”

  Elaine jumped up and rushed behind the Oriental screen into her bedroom. I heard her crying and then she was silent. After a while she emerged looking refreshed and almost radiant in a pink silk designer suit. Apparently, Elaine had been through enough crises in her life to be able to keep their effect hidden and put on a brave face to the world.

  She sat down the sofa, and calmly said, “I’m sorry, Sherry. But, obviously, you arrived at an inopportune time. You may be wondering what good it might do you to follow the Steps when you look at me and the mess that I seem to be right now.” I didn’t mention that this thought had crossed my mind. “But I can tell you,” Elaine continued, “if the last twenty-four hours had occurred five years ago, I would probably be dead right now. But I am still here, alive, trying to survive and stay sober.”

  She picked up a pamphlet. In Step Three I had to make the decision to turn my will and my life over to the care of God.

  This was a deal breaker. “I’m sorry,” I said, standing up. “I don’t think I can do this.” Elaine remained silent as I paced around the inlaid-wood coffee table, accidentally hitting it and rattling the tea cups. I didn’t care. “How am I supposed to turn my life over to some being I don’t even believe exists and if he does exist, I hate him. No God worth caring about could allow a child to go through what I endured.”

  My voice hadn’t seemed that loud but now I heard it echoing around the room. I found myself quivering with rage. My fists were knotted. Suddenly, I wanted to punch my mother’s picture and Elaine and the world and myself and, most of all, the person I craved to pummel until his smug face disappeared into a bloody pulp.

  Elaine read my mind. “Was it Ernie?”

  I stared at her. I had lived alone with that secret for so long. Now it was out, and with it, came a rush of emotions, pent-up rage and pain and humiliation. I’d felt those all before. A new one was relief. I began crying. Elaine stood up and hugged me and I cried all over her pretty pink silk jacket. She didn’t seem to notice.

  After a while, I managed to get enough control over myself to sip my tea with shaking hands. I was worried that I might spill it on Elaine’s sofa or her antique Chinese carpet. But she wasn’t worried.

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  I shook my head but then turned to her. “You knew him. You even had him. You know why he did what he did to me?”

  Elaine paused thoughtfully and then shook her head. “No.”

  “I used to fantasize about asking him,” I said, “right before I pulled the trigger. Sometimes, I still think about it.”

  “You have to release that anger, Sherry. You never have to forgive what he did. You have to forgive why he did it.”

  I became enraged. “No fucking way! I’ll never forgive him! Never!” Elaine remained silent. I tried to control myself. “Tell me. How the hell am I supposed to forgive some ‘why’ when I don’t even know why! You don’t even know why! What if he doesn’t even know why?”

  “God knows why.”

  “Yeah, right! God again! Well he’s not telling me anything! Forget this! I’m not bowing down to some God who never did a damn thing for me.”

  Elaine sat calmly on the sofa. “It’s God as you understand, God, Sherry. Your Higher Power could be the group.”

  “I don’t think I can do this,” I repeated.

  “Sherry,” Elaine said softly, “if you won’t work the Steps, I can’t help you.”

  “Well, I’ve got my own steps,” I retorted, “and number one is to find out some answers to questions that have plagued me all my life.”

  “Sherry, I’m sorry that I don’t have the answers. Maybe your mother doesn’t even have them. Maybe Ernie doesn’t even have them. But the most important questions are inside you, and only you can answer those.”

  After a moment, I asked, “Do you ever think about my mother?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “I think about her every day.”

  After a long moment, Elaine admitted, “So do I.”

  Even though I thought most of it was BS, I went back to my little room and read the Steps’ pamphlets about boundaries and slips. Nothing I had done alone had worked so what did I have to lose?

  Although I was the newbie, weirdly enough on Monday, I called Elaine to see how she was doing. She said that Hal came home and acted as if nothing unusual was going on, which made it worse. “It’s not like I don’t deserve him having affairs,” Elaine said. “It’s a little difficult acting like a betrayed wife when you’ve given your husband gonorrhea.”

  I wasn’t sure if it was the Steps or discipline or luck but I did manage to show up for work everyday for a week without a hangover or wearing the previous day’s clothes. By Friday evening, despite my misgivings, I knew I would show for group. It was the only way Elaine would let me stay in her life and I craved the possibility that she might slip and accidentally tell me something about my mother.

  When I went to see Elaine on Saturday, she was still a mess. “I’m afraid to leave the building,” she said, “out of fear that I might meet them. Then what would I do?” I certainly didn’t know but Elaine wasn’t really asking my advice. “I’ve been on the phone with Gregory all morning. We’ve decided that I want them to know that I know.” She looked at me. “Will you come with me?”

  I couldn’t believe it. “We’re going to go knock on her door?”

  Elaine laughed for the first time in a week. “Not exactly. I don’t have that much courage. Come on.” She led me outside to a cab. “He’ll be at the Boathouse. It’s his favorite for a weekend brunch.”

  We got out at Fifth Avenue and strolled into Central Park. The day was warm and breezy and seemed so incongruous with our secret mission of exposing adultery. Elaine slowly circled the lake until she motioned to a smart-looking couple on the outside deck. A slim but elegant-looking man with thinning gray hair, Hal was wearing a Navy blue blazer, an open white shirt and khaki trousers. Despite his rather stern expression, he must have said something funny because Yvonne, a frail blonde in a white summer dress, laughed lightly.

  Elaine angled near them, telling me to keep my eyes on them until I was sure they had spotted her. Suddenly, Yvonne stopped smiling midsentence and began whispering to Hal as we started to amble around the lake. “He knows that my being here isn’t a coincidence.” Elaine began to shake. “God, at my age, I’m still playing high school games.”

  We walked around the park for awhile, passing some soccer fields that seemed to host a women’s league. Several spectators cheered the teams and there seemed to be a lot of young girls watching a couple of the teams. I turned away. Despite my love for soccer, it was painful for me to even watch it.

  Elaine was afraid to go home. She wante
d to see Gregory but he was picking up some things in his newly-vacated apartment so we met him there. The apartment turned out to be a small but lovely one-bed room overlooking a tree-lined West Village street. It had exposed brick walls, a fireplace and beautiful furniture including a big brass bed.

  “I suppose I should give it up,” Gregory admitted, “but I’m just not ready to do that yet. But I haven’t found anyone I really trust.”

  Elaine asked, “What about Sherry?”

  He turned to me. “How long were you planning to stay in New York?”

  “I hadn’t really thought about it.” I wasn’t really sure how soon I would really be ready to face my mother, even if I knew where she was. I was getting claustrophobic in my tiny room and this apartment was even cheaper. But if something went wrong and I had to leave quickly, I didn’t want Gregory to lose the apartment because of me. Finally, I said, “I could probably stay six months. Maybe longer.”

  “I’d like a year.”

  A cat casually sauntered out of the bedroom. It was entirely white with two splotches of black around its eyes so that it looked like it was wearing a mask. The cat rubbed against Gregory’s leg and Gregory picked it up. “This is Robie. He comes with the apartment.” Gregory would pay for Robie’s food and any vet bills. He didn’t need a litter box because he went out the window and down the fire escape to one of several neighbors’ gardens. “Would you be okay with him?”

  I looked at Robie purring as Gregory rubbed his chin. I had always wanted a pet and I had never had a place of my own. Suddenly, I wanted to be with Robie, to have my own apartment, even if it was illegal and short-term. “I can stay a year,” I said. I wasn’t going to run away again. I was determined that I was going to make this work.

  I went over to pet Robie but he shot out a claw and almost scratched my hand. “He was a rescue,” said Gregory, “and is truly a New York cat. He won’t come near you until he trusts you and then he will be your best friend forever. But he won’t until he thinks you’re okay.”

  “How long does that take?” I asked.

  “He’s different with everyone but it’s usually a while.” He set Robie down. “I still have to work it out with the super. But I think he’ll be okay. When can you move in?”

  My weekly rent started on Sunday. “Tonight.”

  He handed me the keys. “The phone and utilities are in my name but the bills come here and you just pay them and deduct the cat food from the rent. Deal?” I nodded. Gregory handed me a card with his number on it. “If you have any problems, call me.”

  After I moved my suitcase’s worth of worldly goods into my new home, I decided to take a long luxurious hot shower. But when I turned the handle, all hell broke loose and water started shooting everywhere. I turned every knob I found and finally managed to get the water shut off. Then I informed Gregory of the bad news. “I’ll call the Super,” he said. “Do you have ten dollars on you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Give it to him when he’s done.”

  Ten minutes later, my bell rang and in came a short, chubby man with thick, hairy arms and a balding head. He was lugging a large battered tool box.

  “I’m Paully,” he said. “You’re the new cousin, huh?” he asked sarcastically.

  I didn’t know how to reply, unsure of what Gregory might have told him about me. “I guess so,” I said.

  My tentativeness disarmed him. He replied, “Don’t worry. Who’s in here ain’t my business and I’m not making it my business.” With that he shuffled off to the bathroom and came out twenty minutes later, wiping his hands on a very soiled cloth. The toolbox was slung over his shoulder.

  “Next time something happens, you ain’t got to call Greg.” He glanced into the kitchen and nodded. “My number’s still on the refrigerator. Paully.” I held out my hand, holding the ten dollar bill. He took it. “Thanks.”

  After he left, I called Gregory. “Did he take the ten?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Good. If he thinks you are going to be trouble, he won’t take it. Then he can be a problem,” Gregory said. “It’s good this happened right away. Now you’re in.”

  After a long and very luxurious hot shower, I collapsed onto the brass bed.

  The next week, I worked at a busy midtown law firm that specialized in commercial real estate. Tina, another young temp who sat next to me, was a pretty, vibrant Hispanic girl. She was incredibly proficient and helped me out more times that I cared to remember. She also turned me onto a wonderful pocket park off of Fifth Avenue with ivy-covered stone walls on each side and a huge waterfall covering the back wall. We ate deli sandwiches there every day. Tina also wanted to show me some great bars after work. Instead I went home and read a mystery novel or watched TV. I loved having my own space and I didn’t want to jeopardize it. Just one night of getting blasted and bringing home some loud drunk who made a scene could end it all. Starved for tenderness, every night I tried to cuddle Robie but he always avoided me, curled up on the bed when I was on the sofa and vice versa.

  On Friday both our assignments ended and instead of asking me to join her for a drink, Tina wanted to rush back to Brooklyn to get ready for her big night out. We both squeezed onto the 6th Avenue subway barely able to talk, or breathe, until it aired out at 34th Street and we sat down. Tina was excited about a hot new Tribeca club. One of the bouncers was from her old Bronx neighborhood and he had promised to get her and a friend in.

  “You should come, too,” Tina advised. “Just wear a short skirt and low top and you’ll not only get in, you won’t have to buy a drink all night.”

  The prospect of unlimited drinks conjured up several disasters in my mind. “Thanks but no thanks,” I said. “I’m meeting a friend.” I hadn’t seen Elaine since Sunday and I wanted to see how well she was holding up.

  “Bring her along,” Tina urged. Then she smiled wickedly. “Is it a guy?” I shook my head. “So both of you come. It’s not a Latin club, you know. There’ll be all kinds of guys there.”

  After her being so helpful to me all week, I felt sad that she thought I wouldn’t go out with her because she was Hispanic. Although uncomfortable with telling Tina about my addiction, I finally confided, “I’m afraid I’ll end up in some guy’s bed.”

  Tina laughed. “Hey, that’s the whole point!”

  “Not for me,” I said, uneasily. “I have an addiction.”

  “To sex?” Tina exclaimed loudly enough for several commuters around us to hear. “Don’t we all?”

  I moved closer to her so I could whisper. “No. I mean it.” My whisper was almost a plea. “I can’t control myself. I really am a sex addict.”

  Her eyes brightened. “You’re really a sex addict? That is so cool,” she exclaimed loudly. “So you get laid every night?”

  People were beginning to stare at us, especially two young guys standing near us. They looked hungrily at me. I felt completely humiliated that my darkest secret had become subway banter. I tried again. “No,” I whispered even softer. “I try desperately not to have sex.”

  Tina stared incredulously at me. “Are you crazy? That would be so great! Man, if I was a sex addict, I’d just enjoy it!”

  The subway pulled into the West 4th St. station. “This is my stop,” I said. “Bye.”

  As I rushed out of the car, tears began streaking down my cheeks. I furtively glanced behind me but fortunately the two guys with the hungry eyes were now hovering over Tina. My body shook as I raced home, constantly glancing behind me. When I arrived at the apartment, I crumpled myself on the bed mortified and stained my pillow with tears for the next hour.

  I painstakingly pulled myself together and walked over to St. Augustine’s. For the first time I really felt like I needed group, the support. I tried to think of how I could have somehow convinced Tina the horrible reality of being a sex addict and decided that I never could have. I realized why the groups were called “anonymous.” I vowed to never again reveal to anyone outside of group tha
t I was a sex addict.

  As I rounded a corner, I saw the pretty blonde from group crossing the street toward the church. She fell in step with me and smiled. “Hi, you know Elaine, right?” The simplest reply was to just nod. She offered, “I’m Claire.” She had a killer smile.

  “Sherry.”

  Outside the church, two women commented on how lovely Claire looked. She turned to me. “You know you’re in trouble when you’re wearing an old T-shirt and jeans and someone says you look lovely. It’s the first time in a month that they haven’t seen me with puffy eyes.”

  “That’s great,” I said, recalling that she had sobbed entirely through my first meeting.

  She shrugged. “Yesterday, my tear ducts were working overtime.”

  At group, we were approached by a beautiful, elegant woman who was dressed like she had just stepped off the cover of Vogue Magazine. “I’m proud of you, Claire,” she said, hugging her. “You just have to keep on keeping on.” Then she added, “You didn’t call me last night.”

  “My cell phone was dead and I didn’t realize it until it seemed too late to call. I was just reading a book at the shelter,” Claire insisted.

  The woman didn’t look convinced. She greeted me politely and then walked away. “Oops,” whispered Claire. “Katherine is my sponsor and she considers lying the first step in a slip. She probably wouldn’t approve of where I was last night even though it was perfect for me, somewhere I can’t possibly act out.”

  “Heaven?” I laughed.

  “For me.”

  Elaine was huddled with Gregory. When I asked how she was doing, she sighed that Hal was again spending the weekend in “Buffalo.”

  Gregory hugged Claire and said, “Congratulations.” Claire shot her devastating smile at him. I sat between Elaine and Claire and asked, “Is there something I should be congratulating you about?”