A Previous Engagement

by Stephanie Haddad

Savannah turned out to be a fountain of ideas as she paced my office with me and brainstormed that afternoon. By the end of the day, we have at least three solid working titles, a strategy for selling our ad space, and about fifteen great article topics.

  “Teal,” she said proudly, stopping mid-stride and turning to me. I was hunched over my desk, jotting down my own rapid-fire thoughts.

  “Teal?”

  “It’s the ‘business blue’ of the new generation. We can’t use that old, tired blue everywhere, Tess. We need something that stands out, makes a statement.”

  “Teal,” I nodded, mulling it over. “I like it. Tell the design team.”

  Just like that, I found a unique rhythm with Savannah. All the years working close by and I had no idea we’d have such chemistry. What a great addition she’d be to our group, if only she could find such a strong connection with Christian. In a lot of ways, it was like I was working with Christian, they were so similar. I smiled, thinking about him.

  Really, there was only one place I wanted to celebrate, but Christian wasn’t home. I paced in front of his apartment building, too stubborn to give up, and finally decided to let myself in with my spare key and leave a note. Marty’s words echoed in my head: “This is your chance to make a big difference here at Prime.” This was it, my big chance, and I couldn’t even find the person who would be just as excited as I was.

  The light was on when I opened his front door. Strange, but not unheard of, since Christian was always leaving all the lights on everywhere he went. I took it as a sign that he’d just popped out for a few minutes and decided to wait and surprise him with my news. I tossed my jacket over the arm of the couch, left my shoes by the door, and padded into the kitchen for a drink. The fridge was well-stocked with orange juice, bottles of water, a few stray cans of beer, and a bottle of champagne shoved all the way into the back. Ah, the perfect way to celebrate.

  I practically climbed into the fridge to reach it. Balanced precariously over the veggie crisper, I had only a split-second to panic when my stocking feet slipped on the linoleum floor. I came down hard, bashing my elbow on a six pack of beer, and sending a cascade of fresh grapes across the kitchen.

  “Christian?” That familiar, grating voice stood my hair on end. I froze, halfway inside the refrigerator, my arm wedged between the orange juice and half a watermelon. “Christian? Is that you?” The voice spoke again, coming from his bedroom.

  Still, I couldn’t answer. Even when her footsteps marched toward me, I kept motionless and silent. This is what a deer feels like just before it gets hit by a semi, I knew. Before long, Marcy came around the corner, dressed in a flowing negligee and kitten heel slippers like some 1920s Hollywood starlet.

  “Oh. What are you doing here?” She sneered at me, quickly assessing the disaster I’d just created in the kitchen. “You’re going to clean that up, right?”

  Collecting whatever dignity remained, I stood up and brushed off my skirt. My elbow hurt something fierce, but I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of seeing my pain. “I suppose I could ask what you’re doing here, Marcy.”

  She raised one perfectly penciled eyebrow at me.

  “So… what are you doing here?”

  “What does it look like, idiot?” She gestured down the length of her purple silk robe, which wasn’t very long at all, ending about halfway up her thighs. “He’s mine, Tess, so just back off and get out.”

  “He doesn’t even know you’re here, does he?” I slammed the fridge door shut.

  Marcy threw her head back and laughed, overly theatrical as usual. “He doesn’t want you, Tess. He wants me. I’m the love of his life and you know it.”

  “Marcy, I don’t know what you think is going on here, but I’m not here to date Christian. I just came by to—”

  “Save it, bitch. I’ve seen how you look at him, how you drool over him.” She shook her head with pity. With her faced pinched together like that, her angular features were witch-like. Though I suspected she always had the potential, I’d never seen her so crazed. If only Christian could see her now. “It’s sad, really. All these years and you never got it together with him. Too late now. You should just get out of here before he comes back and finds you snooping around. That’ll be embarrassing for you, won’t it?”

  I kicked the grapes at her and marched out of the kitchen. I grabbed my shoes and purse and flung open the door. Marcy was on my heels, eyes burning a hole through my back. Halfway out the door, I spun on her with my own fiery look. “When he kicks you out, I hope he makes you walk home like that.”

  She smirked at me, loading new ammunition, but I slammed the door in her face before she got the last word. I drove home to my apartment fuming, sure that I was right about Marcy intruding. Christian would surely kick her out, kitten heels and all. Wouldn’t he?

  In the following days, I tried to keep my mind on my project and not on Marcy’s stupid negligee. My calls and texts to Christian went unreturned, my emails unopened. I didn’t tell Kendra what happened that night, I just couldn’t. Because, as every day passed, I grew more and more sure that I’d been wrong.

  By Wednesday, I couldn’t take it anymore. Thankfully, I knew I’d see him and get the confrontation we so desperately required. I had so many questions; I didn’t know where I would start. The walk to Tosca’s was brisk, but I didn’t feel the cold with all that adrenaline coursing through my system. I burst through the door, ready to zero in on him and get some answers, but he wasn’t there.

  Mr. Antonio caught my searching eyes and shrugged. He poured me a cup of coffee and I sat at the counter, waiting. Neither one of us had missed a Coffee Wednesday in more than eight years. I even showed up with the flu once—which resulted in Christian also contracting the disease, but my point remains—we were dedicated to our ritual, and to spending time together. He would show. I knew he would show. After a few moments, Mr. Antonio put his hand over mine.

  “Don’t tap-a the fingers, please.”

  “Sorry.”

  It was fifteen more minutes before I pulled out my day planner and my phone to stay occupied. I scheduled a few meetings for next week, checked over my agenda for the afternoon meeting, and even played a game of Angry Birds. Every so often, I lifted up my head to check the door. Nothing. Mr. Antonio hovered nearby, cleaning a coffee maker. Mrs. Antonio was singing in the kitchen, out of sight. The other Wednesday regulars typed away on their laptops, laughed about the latest office gossip, or flipped the pages of their romance novels. My heart sank, the coffee tasted bitter in my mouth. Everything was as it should be, but without Christian, none of it felt right.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  My usual panicked dreams about being naked in a boardroom or losing all the files on my laptop gave way to a different kind of dream in the following nights. A memory I hadn’t revisited in a long, long time.

  I swam across the in-ground pool at the Douglas’s house long after sunset. The day had been a scorcher and the water still retained the sun’s heat. On that mid-July evening, stranded between sophomore and junior year of college with no internship and no job, I just enjoyed my reunion with the water. As the night air chilled, the warm depths of the water softly rippled with every stroke of my arms. I missed my days on the high school swim team, replaced now by work-study jobs and hours spent studying for my college courses. If I closed my eyes, I could still hear the echoing of the other girls inside the pool house as we trained for our next meet. The smell of chlorine burned my nose, the taste of it invaded my mouth, the familiar sensations I loved to revisit. The water lapping at my shoulders was a warm embrace, a welcoming after so much time away.

  “Hey, Tessie.”

  He was home, finally, and standing just feet away from me. His voice carried over the water but I pretended not to hear him, overpowering my urge to jump out of the water and tackle him with a hug. One more lap, that’s all. Just one more. I dug deep, pushing hard to wind my way around and shoot back in the other direction. My knees bent, my fe
et pressed against the rough stucco wall, and I pushed off, exhilarated. Alive again after so many hours spent cooped up with my books and my numbers and my business jargon.

  “Tessie?”

  I couldn’t make him wait any longer. Here I was, swimming in his family’s pool and ignoring him. Time together over the summer was precious and fleeting. There would be other days for swimming. I slowed my last few strokes, lifting my head above the water, and stopped at the cement edge of the pool.

  “Hey, Mr. Study Abroad,” I smiled at Christian, paddling to stay afloat. He was wearing his bathing suit, a towel draped over one shoulder. He’d grown leaner while at school and his skin had cleared up. Before long, my dear, awkward friend would have great success with the opposite sex. “When did you get back?”

  “About fifteen minutes ago.”

  “And how was London?” I pulled myself out of the water onto the pool’s edge and patted the spot next to me. “Tell me everything.”

  He sat on the cement, shifting his weight back and forth uncomfortably, leaving nearly two feet between us.

  “So…?” I asked again, pretending not to notice. “Spill! How was Harrod’s? Tower of London? British Museum? Did you take your picture with the Winston Churchill statue? Did you see Big Ben?”

  We sat together and talked for a long time, swatting at the mosquitos, our feet dangling in the warm water. The air grew cooler and I dipped back into the pool to stay warm. As we moved on to other topics, the questions aimed at me now, he joined me in the water, casting his towel to the far side of the concrete.

  “You’re right. It is warmer in here.”

  “You know what’s even warmer?” I asked playfully, then splashed him in the face. For a moment, we were in grade school again, splashing and laughing. It was good to be home, good to be swimming in the Douglas’s pool again, the only pool on our block, and good to be here with my best friend.

  A similar thought must have struck Christian, as we both stopped splashing. In all the excitement, we’d traveled to the deep end, where Christian’s toes touched the bottom but I had to stand on the lip around the sides to keep my head above water. Gripping onto the concrete ledge, we stood together in the water, relaxed and comfortable.

  “Tessie.” He wiped the water from his face and looked at me. “I really missed you when I was in London. I wish you could have come with me.”

  I sighed. “You know I couldn’t study abroad with all my loans and bills and blah, blah, blah. Ask my mom. She’ll tell you all about it.”

  “I know, but that’s not what I meant.” His took my hand and pressed it against his chest. My pulse quickened, the blood rushing to my head and ears. My face tingled. I froze, a combination of panic and pleasure, and I had absolutely no idea what to do about either. My voice stuck in my throat.

  “Do you remember when we were kids?”

  I nodded, still unclear what would happen if I opened my mouth to talk.

  “And you remember what you promised me? What we promised each other?”

  I remembered, but I couldn’t even nod this time. My spine suffered the same affliction as my voice box. Good or bad? Is this good or bad? My brain was screaming; my body was paralyzed. As he leaned toward me, I really didn’t want him to do what I thought he was about to…

  When Christian kissed me, my brain stopped working. He slid his arms around my waist, pressing his unpracticed lips against mine. I kissed him back, surprising us both, and the awkward beginning melted into something natural, something instinctual. Together, our legs kicked gently through the water, our arms wrapped tightly around one another. Pressed against the wall, I didn’t feel the abrasive stucco, just what it felt like to be held like that. To be held in my best friend’s arms.

  The warm water rippled, the crickets chirped, the scent of extinguished barbecues floated on the air. Even so, my senses were living and breathing only one thing right now—the man with his arms around me, his lips hungry for mine.

  For twenty glorious seconds, we were together again, but much improved since fifth grade. I should’ve known it wasn’t meant to last. The gate creaked open and we broke apart, zooming in opposite directions like two magnets turned on each other. Our eyes locked, an agreement passed unspoken, and we tried to act as normal as two people can after something so unexpectedly… perfect.

  “Hey, Christian!” called Kendra, striding across the Douglas family’s extensive lawn. “You’re back!”

  ****

  The phone rang, scaring me out of my dream and into the brightness of a late Saturday morning. Dreamt memories always left me a little irritable, like reminders of the shoulda-coulda-wouldas of my life, so I barked a rude greeting into the phone.

  “Pardon my French, Tessie, but where the fuck have you been?”

  “Kendra?” From the sound of it, she was feeling equally polite. I worked at pulling myself from the dream, disconnecting myself from the powerful emotions still attached to it. After it happened, we never discussed it. I told myself Christian was lonely while away in London for six months and I was frustrated with my life at the time. Plus, pools are sexy at night. It could’ve happened to anyone.

  “It’s been days since I’ve heard from you. I was really worried,” she said, using her parental voice. “What’s going on?”

  “Work,” I said, at a total loss. “I just got handed a huge project, one that could finally get me some recognition at Prime. It’s the biggest thing I’ve done so far.”

  Kendra sighed, and I knew at once the heavy context behind that sigh. Eight years of similar “big deals” had drained her. “I thought you just got some recognition. Or was the promotion just another rung on the ladder? At some point you’re going to have to move on and have a life for yourself.”

  “I do have a life,” my voice sounded thick when I spoke. It would have been easier to rage right back at Kendra if I didn’t think her words were partly true.

  “For others, Tess. You have a life for others.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Here was that anger, rising up like acid reflux. I stumbled down the stairs from my bedroom loft and headed to the kitchen, tucking my cell phone between my shoulder and ear while I put a pod into the Keurig and hit brew. Uncomfortable with hunger, I opened the cabinets, searching for something to eat.

  “You work all day for Prime, you come over and babysit for me, you find new girlfriends for Christian,” Kendra was really wound up now. “When was the last time you were able to finish a sentence with ‘for Tess?’”

  “You’re mad that I babysit for you?” I needed groceries, it seemed, since the cabinet was virtually empty. A stale box of Cheerios sat on the top shelf, a lone oatmeal packet propped against it. I grabbed the oatmeal and a bowl, then fired up the burner to boil some water. I found a banana in the fridge that wasn’t too mushy and sliced it into my oatmeal.

  “I don’t think you’re getting the point here.” Kendra liked to fix things, in a more proactive way than most women—usually by bludgeoning a person to a bloody pulp either verbally or with whatever object was handy.

  “It is all for me, you know. I work hard at Prime for my future. I babysit for you because it’s a way for me to show you how much your friendship means to me. I find new girlfriends for Christian because I care about him. Actually, if you look at it that way, I’m very selfish.”

  “Don’t you want to find someone for you? You deserve to be happy, Tess.” Her tone softened like she was coaxing a tiny kitten toward her open palm.

  “I am happy,” I said defensively. My gorgeous apartment filled with sunshine, my luxurious suede slippers cushioning my toes, and my freshly-brewed gourmet coffee wrapped between my chilly hands, all of these stood as proof. The oatmeal and banana, not so much, but the rest of it was all exactly the way I wanted it.

  “Don’t you want someone to share things with?” All her ammunition was at play, it seemed. “Someone to come home to?”

  “I have Finn!” I laughed but she just brea
thed into the phone. “Okay, okay. But I do have you guys, you and Grant and,” I hesitated, not sure if I could count him among my blessings these days. “And Christian.”

  She hesitated too, her breath catching in her throat. “Yes, you do. But what happens when Grant and I have more kids and we’re not around as much? Or when Christian finally pairs up and starts playing family man?”

  “It’s not like I’m actively avoiding men. I’m just not out there looking for them.”

  “Well, you can’t exactly meet men if all you do is work, hang out at home, and spend time with a married couple. As strategies go, I’d say that one’s a bit lacking.”

  “I have other things to worry about—”

  “Because you’re a super-driven career woman, with no time for love or children.” her voice mocked me.

  “Is that what it sounds like when I say that?”

  “Sometimes,” she answered matter-of-factly. “Building a career is an important part of life, but it’s not all there is. At the end of the day, what is there for you?”

  “Fine, I’ll get a dog.” I stomped upstairs to my bathroom and started preparing a hot bath.

  “Not what I meant.”

  “All right, Kendra,” I slammed the cabinet shut. “You win. I’m unhappy, I need a man, I want kids, and I wish my life were more fulfilling. Is that what you want me to say?”

  “Well, yes,” she thought for a moment. “But not like that. Like you really want those things.”

  “Who says I don’t want that stuff?” I said, grabbing a towel from the linen closet. “I know it’s what we’re supposed to do when we grow up. We used to play house all the time when we were kids!”

  “You always played the mortgage broker, Tess. I don’t think that counts.”

  “Whatever,” I tossed the towel across the bathroom in the general direction of the towel rack. It missed and slid to the floor. “The point is, I’m not cut out for that stuff. It’s not who I am. Even if I wish I was, once in a while, I’m not. I had a crappy childhood and a mother who was more obsessed with her job than her kids. It hurt to feel like that and I can’t turn around and do the same to some poor innocent child of my own. You’re you and it’s amazing how you are with Riley and Grant. It blows my mind how you can balance the restaurant and your family, but I’m not you. But me—”