Come Back to Me

by Chris Paynter

  “Ms. Cantinnini?”

  “Yes, I’m still here.”

  “Ms. McClain’s unable to take your call.”

  “Okay. Can you take a message please?”

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t do that.” He cleared his throat. “She’s asked me to tell you not to call here again.”

  Angie’s face warmed with embarrassment. “All right. Thank you.”

  She snapped her phone shut.

  “Damn it.” She sat down in the leather couch and rested her head on the cushion. She watched the ceiling fan as it circulated above her, and began counting the revolutions. She was up to twenty-three when she cocked her arm to throw the phone across the room, but stopped. Instead, she placed the phone on the coffee table. Catching a whiff of Meryl’s scent from the bathrobe, Angie pushed her nose into the terrycloth sleeve and inhaled. Rather than start crying, she walked to the bedroom.

  She pulled on a pair of shorts and slipped on a T-shirt. It was time to visit her best friend and face the music.

  * * *

  Ev agreed to meet Angie at the Cozy Conch. As Angie entered the bar, the girls were rehearsing their routine on the stage. They all appeared to be either hungover, bored, or both. Sage had his back to her. He wore khaki shorts that showed off his shaved, tan, and toned legs. His white tank top clung to his lithe body. It was odd to see the queens going through their gyrations in baggy shorts, T-shirts, and no makeup or wigs.

  “Goddammit! Let’s at least have some enthusiasm, ladies!” Sage clapped his hands to the beat.

  Angie sat down at one of the tables farthest away from the speakers.

  Ev entered the bar about five minutes later. She glanced around the room and found Angie.

  Angie stood up to give her a hug. At times when Ev embraced her, Angie felt a warm energy source that she experienced with no one else. And it always occurred when she needed it most. Some of her sadness slipped away as Ev tightened her hold. Ev released her, and Angie almost staggered backward at the change in the air that surrounded her. She felt like a deflated balloon.

  “How’ve you been?” Ev asked as they took their seats. “I’m assuming that all is well with Meryl.”

  Angie looked away.

  “Angie?”

  Angie couldn’t bear to look at her, so she stared at the Miller Lite poster behind Ev.

  Ev touched Angie’s hand. “Please look at me.”

  At last, Angie met her gaze and felt like Ev was probing her thoughts like some sort of Vulcan mind meld. But even Mr. Spock wasn’t as good as Ev.

  “What happened?”

  “She’s obviously not here with me. She flew back to New York.”

  “And I take it not just to return to work?”

  Angie shook her head and sighed. “I don’t know what else to say except you were so right.”

  Ev didn’t respond.

  “Well? Where’s the ‘I told you so’?” Angie didn’t mean to sound so sarcastic and regretted the words as soon as she spoke them.

  “I think you know me well enough to know I’d never say that to you.”

  “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

  “I gather she found out about the infamous Zach England?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you tell her or did—”

  Angie interrupted her with a humorless laugh. “No. That would make too much sense, right? No, she had to discover it by finding my marked-up manuscript of Dying to Meet You.”

  “What did she say?”

  “It wasn’t even so much what she said. I saw the pain in her eyes. I’d betrayed her. I tried to apologize and explain myself. Listening to my words as they left my mouth, I would’ve walked out on me, too, but we were out on my boat. She asked me to get her back to shore.”

  “Have you talked to her since?”

  “I’ve left I don’t know how many voicemail messages on her cell phone.”

  “Did you try her at work?”

  “I got a flat out ‘don’t call me anymore’ relayed from her assistant.”

  “That’s not good.”

  “No, it’s not.” Angie grew quiet.

  “Do you love her?”

  “Yeah, I do, Ev,” she whispered.

  “And does she love you?”

  “She did love me. She told me so when she was here. What’s really devastating is that she shared some profound details about her past with me and told me how much she trusted me when she shared it.” Angie squeezed her eyes tightly shut. “And now she thinks I’m nothing but a liar and someone she can never trust again.”

  “I won’t ask what it is, but it sounds like it was pretty important.”

  “Very.”

  “Which makes this even more upsetting to her.”

  “You think I don’t know that?”

  Ev clasped Angie’s hand again. “I’m sure you do. But the question is whether you can regain that trust and get another chance with her.”

  “Funny thing is, I thought this was our second chance.”

  “It’s up to you if there’s going to be a third chance. And if you get this chance, Angie, don’t ever let her doubt your love or her trust in you again. What will you do?”

  “I have no idea. My brilliant plan before coming in here to talk to you was to get drunk every night so I could forget.” She held up her hand to cut off Ev’s reply. “I’m very aware you wouldn’t let me get away with that.”

  “You got that right, kiddo.”

  “I think I’ll give her a little time.”

  “Do you think she’ll come forward with an article about the real Zach England?”

  “At this point, I don’t care. And please don’t remind me about the irony of the whole damn thing.”

  “No, I wouldn’t think you’d want to hear it.”

  Angie stood. “One thing I need to do is touch base with Sally, something I’m not looking forward to at all.” She stretched. She hadn’t slept well the past two nights and didn’t anticipate getting a good night’s sleep in the near future. Her body ached. “I need to meet my first deadline for the Barker novel.”

  Ev rose from her chair. “And your other writing?”

  “I don’t know…”

  “Please don’t let this deter you from returning to your other writing. Value yourself.”

  “That’s kind of tough these days, and who knows if Stanley & Schilling will consider the manuscript for their gay and lesbian imprint. I don’t know if it’s worth it.”

  “Don’t give it up, Angie.”

  Angie embraced Ev in another hug. “Thank you, Ev.”

  Sage’s voice stopped them as they were leaving the bar. “You’re leaving without a hug from me?” He stood in front of the stage wiping his face with a towel. The performers had already dispersed.

  They hastened over. Ev hugged him. “Sorry, you handsome young thing. I never want you to think I’m ignoring you.” She kissed his cheek. “Well, I need to get home to the boys.”

  “Wish I could say that,” Sage said.

  “You’re too much, Sage.” Ev waved at Angie and left.

  He held out his arms for Angie. “Trying to leave without saying hello or good-bye. What am I going to do with you?”

  “I’ve been a bit distracted.”

  His thin arms enveloped her. He pulled away and held Angie’s face in his hands.

  “You’re not sleeping, love. You have more bags under your eyes than I do, and trust me, that’s not good.”

  “Like I said, a lot’s going on.”

  “Is there something I can do?”

  “You can’t fix this one, Sage.” She patted him on the arm. “I really don’t want to talk about it right now. Do you understand?”

  “It’s okay, dear heart. You’ll talk to me when you’re ready.”

  Angie started toward the door again.

  “And no drinking to drown whatever sorrow that woman laid at your feet!” he shouted.

  * * *

  Meryl sat on a bench in Ce
ntral Park in the late afternoon. She tossed the remainder of her bread to the ducks in the pond. They swam over in formation, quacking all the way. Normally, this diversion helped her relax. She often drew comfort from the mother duck’s constant watch over her young. Today, it left her feeling empty.

  She pulled up the collar on her leather jacket and glanced at her watch. Damn. Time to leave for Robert’s office. She sighed and stood up, but had to sidestep three kids running toward the water.

  “Mom! Can we feed the ducks?”

  A harried-looking woman rushed to catch up with them.

  “Not so close to the water.” The woman turned to Meryl. “I apologize for their enthusiasm. They don’t watch where they’re going when they have their minds made up.”

  “It’s okay,” Meryl said with a smile. “I remember what it was like.”

  As Meryl walked away, she wondered why she had said that. She never did fun things with her parents like going to the park to feed the ducks. Her mood darkened even further.

  * * *

  “Coffee?” Robert asked while she took her customary seat on the couch.

  “Yes. Please.”

  He carried over two steaming mugs, handed her one, and sat across from her in his chair. “How was your trip? I believe you said you had to go on assignment?”

  “It was okay.” Meryl didn’t meet his eyes.

  As always, he waited for her to continue.

  “It started out with a shock.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes. I ran into Angie.”

  He raised his eyebrows and set down his mug. “And what did you say to her?”

  “Like I told you, I was in shock. It was at a bar she owns. I walked in while she was in a lip-lock with a woman I found out later was her ex.” Meryl waited for his reaction.

  “Go on.”

  “Angie followed me out of the bar after she saw me in the crowd. We talked. I helped her get home. She’d had a little too much to drink.”

  “What happened at her place?”

  “We didn’t tear each other’s clothes off, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  Robert smiled. “That’s not what I was getting at.”

  “She wanted to delve into everything from our past. It was too much for me. I had to leave. But before I did, we agreed to meet up at the bar again to talk. I told her I was there on assignment to find Zach England. Robert, I realize I don’t need to say this, but I’ll say it anyway. What I’m about to tell you has to stay here. I haven’t even shared this with my editor.”

  “You’re right. You don’t need to tell me, but I understand your concern, considering what you do for a living.”

  “Let me give you some background. I went to Key West to follow up on a hunch of mine that I pitched to my boss at The Banner. We suspected England lives there and writes under a pseudonym. My job was to find out if he was a she. Did you read my article about England possibly being a woman?”

  “Yes.”

  “Angie said that there were rumors England might be this man called Hal Morris. She agreed to take me around town and out on her boat. For the past week, she did just that. We had no luck. Last Friday, I told her we could stop searching. It was obvious he didn’t want to be found.”

  “And how were you both during the week?”

  Meryl shifted in her seat. “This is where I tell you that fairly early on, we ripped our clothes off and made love. The entire week.”

  “How did you feel?”

  Meryl smiled sadly. “It was fantastic. It was everything I’d dreamed of and hoped for over the years when I’d imagine seeing Angie again. We even said how much we loved each other.” She stopped.

  “Something happened to change all of that?”

  “It all ended Saturday morning. We were anchored out on her boat a long way from the dock.” Meryl stared down at her coffee mug. She set it on the table in front of her. She didn’t meet Robert’s eyes, but plucked at a piece of lint on her linen pants. “The speculation about Zach England being a pseudonym for a woman was right.”

  “How did you find that out?”

  “I found an original manuscript of England’s latest novel in the cabin of Angie’s boat.”

  “Did she explain how it got there?”

  “She’s Zach England.”

  Robert’s eyes widened.

  “Yeah, big shock for me, too.”

  “She’d told you she thought it might be this Hal Morris person?”

  “She’d been lying to me for the entire week. And the worst thing? The worst thing was the night before I discovered the manuscript, I told her about the sexual abuse.” Without warning, tears began rolling down Meryl’s cheeks.

  “What did you say to her?” Robert asked.

  “I confronted her. She said she’d planned to tell me that morning. How convenient,” Meryl said bitterly. “I pretty much lost it and told her to take me to shore. She tried to talk to me, but I didn’t want to hear any of her excuses. I flew home later that morning.”

  “Have you talked to her since?”

  “Why should I? She lied to me. I trusted her with my heart, and she lied. She’s left messages on my cell phone. I’ve ignored them. Then she called me at work on Monday. I had my assistant tell her never to call there again.”

  Robert did the steeple thing with his hands and brought the index fingers to his mouth.

  “That fucking annoys the shit out of me when you do that!” Meryl said. “Do you know how many damn gestures you have? And I hate that one the most. I feel like I’m being analyzed like a bug.”

  Robert kept his hands in place and continued to observe Meryl, but made no comment regarding her outburst. He pulled his hands away from his face.

  “Why are you so angry?” he asked.

  “Why shouldn’t I be angry?” She sat up straighter on the couch.

  “I understand your being angry about the deceit. I think this is about more than that.”

  “And I suppose you’re going to tell me what that is?”

  “I think you already know.”

  Meryl stared at him. “I stripped my soul bare with the one woman I trusted most in this world, only to find she’d been deceiving me for a week.”

  “Are you saying you don’t believe she was about to tell you?”

  “I’m saying it’s a damn convenient thing to come up with after I confronted her with the truth.”

  Robert crossed his legs. “Has she changed?”

  The question threw Meryl. “What?”

  “Angie. Has she changed from the woman you loved from college? The one you’d talk about to me in these sessions. Has she changed?”

  “Aside from the fact that she lied to me?”

  “Did you ask her why she needed to use a pseudonym?”

  “No. I was too angry.” Meryl thought back. “She was about to tell me something.”

  “But you didn’t give her a chance to explain. Meryl, I realize this is upsetting to you, but to me, your reaction stems from the fact you’d shared something very revealing to her, and you felt she’d betrayed you.”

  “Damn right I—”

  “Please let me finish.”

  Meryl closed her mouth.

  “Let’s separate the two, if you can. Your revelation of your childhood sexual abuse”—Robert held out one hand, palm up—“and Angie withholding the information about being Zach England.” He held out his other hand, also palm up.

  “That’s kind of difficult to do, don’t you think?”

  “I believe if you hadn’t told her the night before about the abuse, you might have stayed to listen to her side of the story regarding her deceit.”

  Meryl sat there stunned. “You’re taking her side. You’re my therapist, and you’re taking her side.”

  “Meryl…”

  She jumped to her feet. “You know what? Fuck you!” Meryl stomped out of his office to the waiting area outside.

  Robert followed. “Meryl, wait. We should discuss this.�
��

  Meryl kept going. She ran past the elevator to the stairwell and raced down the ten flights. She reached the ground floor and pushed through the revolving doors. It had started raining while she was in Robert’s office. A taxi slowed in front of her, but she waved him on.

  Rain stung her eyes and pattered her leather jacket as she made her way home.

  Chapter 22

  “Hey, Sal.”

  “Angie, how you doing?”

  It was Friday, and Angie lay on the couch in the cabin of her boat, finishing up on her latest chapter for the Zach England manuscript. Derek Barker had fought with his girlfriend about his frequent dalliances and lies.

  She hit Control S and shut the laptop. “I’m doing okay. Thanks for asking.”

  She leaned over to take a sip of her Corona. It was only eleven in the morning. She had a vague recollection of a novel where the main character defended his drinking by saying that as long as he waited until after “noon,” he didn’t qualify as an alcoholic. What did that make her?

  “I’ve finished four more chapters since Monday. I should meet our deadline.”

  “You’re not pushing yourself too hard, are you? I told Eric you might be a little late.”

  “No, it’s flowing for me right now.”

  She thought it was her best Zach England writing in some time. Angie heard a phone ring on the other end.

  “Hang on a sec, Angie. I need to pick that up. It’s New York.”

  Angie’s stomach dropped. There was a long wait in which Angie imagined all sorts of scenarios, the main one being that her publisher was calling Sally, wondering how in the hell a New York Banner book editor had found out about Zach England’s true identity.

  Sally came back on the line. “Okay. I was waiting to hear back from a publisher regarding one of my other clients.”

  Thank God. “Good news?”

  “Yes. She’s a very promising author. Children’s books. They’re interested after hearing my pitch and reading the manuscript.”

  “That’s good.” Angie was debating how she’d get to the real reason she’d phoned Sally. She stared at the Cleveland Browns clock and watched it tick five seconds before she spoke again. “Uh, Sally, I need to tell you some things.”