‘I appreciate your concern,’ Caroline said, and strangely, she did. ‘It’s very sweet. Alex is very angry, but he would never hurt me. I assure you he was, is, nothing but bluster.’ She quickly changed the subject. This was not a social occasion. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘I know your time is limited, and you have better things to do than play guessing games and make bad puns. Shall I go ahead and show you the raincoats? I’ve got your details and I can put together a few tuxedos for you to look at some other time.’
‘Hmm,’ he glanced at his watch, exhaling as if frustrated.
Good going, Caroline. She’d made another faux pas. The man was trying to be being a welcoming new neighbor and she was nothing but business, shoring up her professional veneer to hide behind again. A friendly business relationship was easy; friendly and professional she could manage, but friendly alone? Hello awkward and anxious. Except that … she hadn’t been exactly anxious. Friendly professionalism had broken the ice, then his easygoing manner, and the flattering, slightly flirty conversation they’d had—yes, it had been flirty—chipped away even more. Plus she had the I-shoved-my-whole-foot-in-my-mouth moment and survived, what else was there to be anxious about? The point was, the dog had barked a lot over the weekend and chewed up this man’s kitchen towel. She needed to be a good neighbor as much as she needed him a client.
‘This evening,’ she said, ‘would you like to pop over to meet my dog? He’s been noisy the last day or two, but he’s actually a quiet dog. I assure you. He’s adjusting to the apartment and the sooner he gets acquainted with you, the sooner he won’t bark at you. Maybe we could have a cup of coffee or glass of wine then?’
‘That would be nice. Thank you, but I think I should be the one to welcome you to the building.’
‘Does it really matter?’
‘Tell you what, let’s wait until later in the week to do this raincoat thing and I’ll see you ’round seven tonight, okay?’ Will picked up his hat, and offered his hand again. ‘It’s been a pleasure.’
‘Thank you, William.’
Caroline accompanied him out of the Personal Shopping Suite and watched him walk through Designer Menswear. She strayed further into the department and followed his broad back, watching the way he moved in his perfectly cut bluish-black suit. Her eyes stayed on him until his Alpine head disappeared as the escalator descended. It was odd how it felt like the gentle sunniness of the early autumn day had momentarily shone indoors.
For the rest of the afternoon, she assisted five more clients with their personal shopping, a little smile tipping the corners of her mouth upwards.
The little smile was still there at four-thirty, when she sipped the Banana Nut Bread flavored coffee Julie had given her. ‘So what’s with the secret smile?’ Julie said, running a hand through her dark hair. ‘Did I finally stumble upon a coffee flavor you like?’
Caroline snorted and made herself comfortable in one of Julie’s big chairs, tucking her feet up. ‘No. The coffee you make is still the shittiest in town. I thought that last one, the peanut butter one, was a crime against peanut butter and coffee, but this one’s even worse.’
‘Everyone else likes it.’
‘At some point, Julie, you’ll drink your coffee black, like the rest of the grown-ups.’
Julie polished a mucky spot from her wire-frame glasses. She had large brown eyes that honest to God twinkled when she smiled. ‘Haven’t you ever noticed I never touch the stuff?’
‘Yes. I have noticed and I think I’m done taking the coffee you offer, just to be polite, just because I think I should.’ Caroline set the horrid coffee on the once-pretty Art Deco table. Julie’s water glass had left a ring in the wooden top. The woman kept a stack of coasters on the table, but never remembered to use one. The cherrywood had permanent, foggy-looking Olympic ring-like circles on the side of the table where Julie liked to sit. Caroline picked up Julie’s glass and put it on a coaster next to a two-year-old copy of Mind magazine.
‘So the smile?’ Julie said.
‘It’s a client I had today. He’s a client and my next-door neighbor. He was at the diner the other day, when Alex was. He’s … different. Very polite, very well mannered, so well mannered I’d bet he’d probably drink your shitty coffee and ask for more. Anyhow, I took your suggestion and grabbed life by the balls. I asked him over for a drink tonight, so he could meet the dog, so I could be a good neighbor.’ Caroline cleared her throat. ‘I’ve noticed that balls are kind of slippery sometimes.’
Julie’s laugh cracked the air. ‘I’m glad you’re making new friends.’
‘Well, I have to replace the friends I lost during the Drew and Alex debacle.’
‘It’s not as hard as you thought, is it?’
‘Neighbors are easy friends to make when you’re a hibernating introvert.’
‘Sometimes all you need is one friend.’ Julie put her glasses on. ‘I thought you were done hibernating, Caroline.’
‘I am. I’m grabbing life’s balls, remember?’ Carline made a fist. ‘But I did wonder if I’d made a mistake and grabbed the wrong balls. Like I said, slippery. Damn it, I’m tired of second-guessing myself. Did I mention Alex looked like hell?’
‘Yes, when you first got here.’
Caroline cast her eyes to the cloudy Olympic rings on the coffee table. ‘You know, Julie,’ she said, ‘I read somewhere that you can remove water stains on wood by rubbing mayonnaise into the spot. It’s not like those crayon-type sticks you use to cover up a scratch. That’s just a cosmetic fix like makeup; scratch is still there. The mayo makes the stain go away. It’s the oil and egg combination where the protein and oil blend with the wood’s natural oils and the stain disappears forever.’
‘Is this your way of saying you think Alex is a stain?’ Julie said, her amusement evident.
Julie was often amused. That’s what Caroline had always liked about her. They laughed a lot when they spent time together. Caroline chuckled. ‘No, but I like the analogy. I’m probably the stain, or more likely the scar in his life. When you cut someone out of your life you probably leave a scar, don’t you. One of you winds up with a scar of some sort, don’t you think?’
‘Is that what you think?’
‘I guess so, but I don’t see that as a bad thing. A scar means—and this sounds so trite—that you’ve survived.’
‘Yes you have.’
Forty minutes later, Caroline the survivor went into the small grocery store beside Finucci’s Bakery and bought a few items. She stopped in the liquor shop that stood three blocks from her new home, picked a bottle of red wine, and tucked it into the paper bag with the food. On the way back to the apartment, she wondered if the six good crystal wine glasses she’d received as a wedding present were the in the box marked Summer Skirts.
Last night, as she’d continued unpacking the remaining boxes, she found the photos of Drew in the carton of Bathroom Stuff, and the bathroom stuff in the box with Family & Wedding Photos scrawled across it in red felt marker. However disorganized Thurber’s Moving Company was with packing, they had been trustworthy. Items turned up in the oddest places, but nothing, beside the stupid mood ring, was missing. She knew that, eventually, the mood ring would turn up, probably in the small box marked Tools, whereas the screwdriver, hammer, and pliers would no doubt be in with Drew’s Lego.
‘Are you living with your uncle or did you get your own place, Caroline?’ Alex watched the paper grocery bag tumble from her grip. There was an explosion of burgundy, green, and unbleached paper as the bottle inside smashed. A warm color bloomed across the concrete pavement. The feeling in his chest spread the same way.
Caroline turned. ‘You’re kidding, right? What do you want, Alex?’ She exhaled, and crouched to examine her scattered groceries.
The wine bottle had crushed a box of crackers and soaked through a box of Special K. She still ate Special K. Alex shifted his feet as the wine—a Lambrusco he noticed—met the white toes of his black Converse. ‘It’s been e
leven months since I last saw you,’ he said. ‘Can we talk, Caroline?’
‘You followed me home the other day, didn’t you?’
‘Why would I need to follow you? You’re staying with your uncle, aren’t you? His place is somewhere near here and he’s family. I was family too and I want my family again. Don’t you want family again? Can we go somewhere and talk? The Wellington Diner maybe?’
She blew a clump of hair from eyes. The fear was gone, her gaze stark as winter. ‘Go away. I don’t want to have anything to do with you.’
Heat filled his head and his belly. Alex sucked air through his teeth to still the greasy, hot turmoil in his gut. ‘Can we talk about this? Please?’
Caroline rose, her shoulders slumping. ‘What could we possibly have left to talk about? I know what you think. I know how you feel. What’s left to discuss?’ She looked down at broken glass.
‘I want to apologize …’
Her head came up. ‘Now I know you’re joking.’
‘I mean I want to apologize for the other day. I was so surprised to see you after so long. I was shocked. I didn’t believe it was you. I didn’t mean to scare you.’ His voice softened. ‘Where did you go?’
‘You knew exactly where I was.’
‘I didn’t know you left the hospital.’
She exhaled like she had before. ‘I thought your mother’s lawyer would have told you. His associate was keeping tabs, wasn’t he? That intrusive son of a bitch sat in his car and watched me. You knew I was working for a rabbi. Every time I left the Hillel office your lawyer’s PI was in his Mercedes. I’m sure he gave you pictures and billed you for every scrap of paper and cup of coffee he bought.’
‘I didn’t know. My mother didn’t tell me anything. When did you leave Linden Oaks?’
‘Six months ago. I got my old job back.’
‘Your old job?
Swearing, she made a face. ‘Is this about money? I don’t have any money, Alex. I can’t help you with that. I just started working again, so what do you want to do, garnish my salary? How about we just leave this alone, leave me alone. Just leave me be. Let’s not make this sick …’
‘Sick?’ Hot, slippery things rushed up his throat and burst from his mouth. ‘Let’s not make this sick? It’s already fucking twisted, Caroline! None of us could see things clearly … maybe I made a lot of mistakes too, but we were good together. You know we were.’ Shaking, Alex collected himself, swallowed the burning on his tongue. As chaotic as he felt inside, despite how his head throbbed, he believed this deep down, he clung to it fiercely, and it was what confused him the most because how could hate and the passion for her be so closely entwined? ‘We had something when we were together,’ he said, ‘You were my best friend, for Christ’s sake.’
‘Were. Focus on that word, Alex,’ she said. ‘Were. We were, but then we lost that. We had the sex and one miserable crisis after another. After Drew died we had nothing, and I have nothing left to give you now. I let you beat it out of me. Drew took most of it, and then you knocked out what was left.’
This was the after Drew Caroline talking again, the woman who shut down and didn’t want to hear reasons or explanations. This was the person he’d loved and loathed, the person he thought was a saint and a bitch. The same strange veneer that had encrusted his body when Drew died began to slide over his skin again. He rubbed his arms, trying to wipe it off. ‘Drew died and you left me too. You left me alone. I was alone. Why?’
‘Because I don’t want to go back to hell, Alex.’ Caroline gave him a glum smile and crouched again to tend to what she could salvage from her groceries.
‘Don’t be such a cold bitch when I only want to talk to you!’ He hooked fingers into her elbow, jerking her upright. Her eyes widened, not in fear, but in surprise, her gaze focused beyond him.
‘Would you like a hand with that, Caroline?’ a deep baritone said.
‘Fuck off.’ Alex let go of Caroline, and turned, slowly, hands primed to make fists—until he realized the broad, square-jawed, pale-as-milk face staring back belonged to a man who stood more than a head taller. Outclassed, Alex stepped back, stumbling over Caroline’s foot. ‘You know this circus freak, baby?’
‘I’m not your baby,’ Caroline scrunched up her face. ‘And this is my friend, Mr. Murphy.’
‘Your friend?’ Alex nodded. ‘Oh, I see, I see. And how long has he been your friend Caroline? How long have you been fucking him, or are you only up to the stage where you suck your friend’s dick?’ What he’d said registered in his brain a half second after he’d uttered the words. ‘Jesus,’ Alex said, rubbing his forehead. ‘Jesus, I didn’t mean to … I’m sorry.’ He reached out to Caroline, but Mr. Murphy stepped between them.
There was an actor from some show on cable who had eyes a similar snow dog blue, Neal something, but that guy played lunatic drug-using mobsters and homicidal husbands, and this guy, this guy was composed, hands clasped behind his back. ‘May I call you a cab, Alex?’ he said politely with a polite tilt of his head, a faint polite smile on his lips.
The politeness made his mouth go dry. Alex blinked, and took a couple of a few steps backward. Everything had gone wrong. Caroline wouldn’t listen. It happened all wrong and she wouldn’t listen. It went all wrong because he’d done it wrong, and now this fuckin’ huge man stood beside her like a column made of white marble and … and … and … his head hurt, his chest hurt, his brain hurt. Chewing his bottom lip, Alex wandered off, muttering to himself.
Caroline sank to the sidewalk beside her groceries, hands covering her face, shoulders shaking.
Will waited until Alex had gone up the block and disappeared around the corner of Greenview Avenue before he crouched beside her. He touched a gentle hand to her shoulder. ‘It’s all right, he’s gone,’ he said. ‘Are you okay?’
Her hands fell away. Her face was bright pink when she looked up at him, but she hadn’t been crying. She was trying very hard not to laugh. ‘I wish you could have seen the look on his face when you asked if you could get him a cab.’ She pressed her lips together for a moment and fizzled back into laughing. ‘Oh … oh … That was … Oh.’ She shook her head and giggle-sighed. ‘You know, there was a time Alex was a nice man, but I went screwed that up. Love sometimes makes people act in ways so unlike themselves.’ She sniffled and shook her head. ‘Anyhow, thank you, William. I’m fine, but the drink I invited you for this evening is, well, all over the sidewalk.’
He gathered the undamaged food for her. ‘No big deal. We can do it some other time. Unless … unless you’d like to go and grab a bite to eat at the Wellington. Or are you happy to munch on cucumber, carrots and … what the hell’s this?’ He held up an odd-looking vegetable that looked like celery with fuzzy, dark green hairs and a really large white bottom.
‘Fennel.’
‘Is this what it looks like? I’ve never seen a whole one before. Usually it’s all cut up or the seeds are in something, like Italian sausage or Indian food. Do you like Indian food, Caroline? I was just on my way to grab some.’
‘Yes.’ Oh, dear God. Caroline, she thought, you just responded to a dinner invitation.
The last few minutes with Alex had her wound up so tightly she’d sprung out of the fishbowl and answered without thinking. Coffee. Coffee she could handle. A glass of wine was easy, but dinner? What was it she’d said to Julie about not hibernating anymore, about making friends and grabbing life by the balls? When someone trying to be a friend had offered help she’d laughed manically. Now a friendly invitation to dinner had her flopping on the gritty footpath, her lips puckering and gaping. She missed the comfortable, professional distance of client and consultant they’d had this afternoon. She was skilled with professional interaction and absolutely terrible with social situations. She turned into two of the Seven Dwarves, Dopey and Bashful, plus a few made up ones like Nervy and Blithery. Her mouth opened and closed … Balls. Grab his balls, Caroline. No, no, Grab life’s balls, dummy!
The
friendly guy stood, brushed off his trousers, and offered his hand to help her up. ‘How about,’ he said, ‘I go to Raaga and pick us up a tikka masala? It’s a warm night. I think we can eat on my terrace. Sound good?’
Caroline looked at the brawny man standing two feet from her. His hand was huge, but smile was honest, kind. Her mouth opened and closed a few more times before she found the words. ‘Are all the neighbors in the building as friendly as you?’ She took his big hand, and he brought her to her feet.
‘I’ll tell you about the rest of the building while we eat.’
He held her hand so nonchalantly and she stopped gasping for air because, for the first time in over two years, she felt an indisputable warmth come over her, not an embarrassed flame as before, but a rapport that didn’t sag beneath the weight of pleasant, yet superficial congeniality. There was no hint of anxiety in her gut. At all. She genuinely liked William Murphy. ‘I think that would be very nice.’
‘Groovy. I’ll see you back at the ranch in probably twenty minutes.’ His hand slipped from hers. With nod, he headed off.
‘William?’ she called out.
He paused across the street, turning to her. ‘Yes?’
‘I’m a vegetarian. Is that a problem for you?’
‘Not at all. You like hot food? Spicy, I mean.’
‘Medium hot. Um, vegetarian means no chicken or seafood.’
‘Got it. No food with a face for you.’ He started off with a wave.
‘William?’
Will turned again. ‘Yes?’
‘Thank you.’
***
Will ordered spinach dhal, garlic naan, mixed vegetable bhaji, a hot chicken tikka masala, and a palak paneer. As he waited, Will held the pink paper take-out menu at an angle and cocked his head to the left to read the dessert option, but his mind drifted as his eyes passed over gulab jamun and rice pudding. Caroline had left her husband and he wondered why.
Going by Alex’s level of distress it wasn’t hard to see a few reasons. The man was angry, desperate to have her back. He could have been an alcoholic or had a substance abuse problem. Their marital strife could have been wrapped up in an affair. Caroline said something about a private investigator watching her—Will had heard that much of the conversation. Alex could have been a suspicious, jealous husband—or a wife beater. The fact she hadn’t fought back when the man had shoved her made her look like she was accustomed to being pushed, or knocked around by a bully, and wasn’t that part of the cycle of domestic violence?
Next To You Page 4
