“You have no idea. But here’s the freaky part. The day I met Ken, we each got these weird text messages on our cell phones from his deceased friend, Mo. Ken’s was his birthday, the one on mine was the day he died…1–2–2–2…December twenty-second.”
“And so you think what I heard now were the first letters of their nicknames?”
“Yes. But what does it mean?”
“Well, it means to me that Mo wanted you to know that you’re supposed to be together.”
“That’s what Eddie Fisher said.”
“The singer who married Liz Taylor? You channeled him too? Impressive!”
“No.” I laughed. “He was Ken’s roommate in the hospital the day we got the text messages. We were freaking out and Eddie said, ‘I think it means you two should be together.’”
“See? Prophecies everywhere you look. And you started out such a skeptic.”
“No, but really. Can spirits or ghosts or whoever they are actually come through like that?”
“It’s an everyday occurrence. It’s just that most people aren’t making the connection when it happens. They think they’re imagining things like the lights going on and off.”
“Because it’s so out there, like the Twilight Zone. How do they do it?”
“Basically spirits are just these huge energy fields, which is why it’s so easy for them to come through either bodies of water or anything electrical. TVs, radios, even cell phones.”
“This is creepy.”
“Really? I think it’s comforting when loved ones from the other side try to let us know they’re okay.”
“But I never met his friend Mo. Why would he want to reach me?”
“It sounds like he was trying to tell you to pay attention because something important was happening and he did it in a way that your friend would understand and then have to explain. Was there some unfinished business between them?”
“Big time. Mo was driving drunk and hit and killed a man who was out walking his dog. Then he got out of the car and ran in front of Ken’s car so he would die too…It’s been a lot of years but Ken still hasn’t forgiven himself…All he kept saying was I killed my best friend. I killed my best friend…”
“What a tragedy.”
“Wait. It gets worse. Their other friend, Larry? He died at the World Trade Center because Ken canceled having breakfast with him…Until last week, he hadn’t told a soul.”
“I can’t even imagine what it’s been like for him…Did it help him to finally talk about it?”
“Who knows.” I sighed. “He left for Florida right after because his dad died and his mom didn’t want to be alone.”
“Oh my God. This poor man…it sounds like he could use a good friend right now.”
“Lord knows I’ve tried, but every time I think we’re getting close, he leaves. That’s why I want to know…do you see…do you think…will it ever be more than that?”
I waited for what felt like an eternity for Annette’s answer. And then I cried.
Chapter 28
THERE IS AN OLD SAYING in politics that every campaign comes down to a battle between hope and fear. And perhaps the same is true of relationships. We pray to meet the one who will bring meaning to our lives, and when they appear, we panic if the feelings aren’t mutual.
For nothing is worse than obsessing over a person’s face, body, walk, smell, laugh, kiss. Or thinking of ways to change so we are more to their liking. Or stalking them with text messages, e-mails and IMs in the hopes of finally, one day, hearing them profess words of love.
I kept telling Josh I wasn’t worth this much energy. That he was a great guy, but not right for me, and was he crazy to turn away Julia’s advances?
On the other hand, I could relate, for I too was traveling down the road of obsession, and it was getting awfully congested. Julia wanted Josh, Josh wanted me, I wanted Ken, Ken wanted Mira, and Mira wanted Kyle. Would any of us get our heart’s desire?
Julia told me no one was more shocked than she that she was attracted to Josh, given the ingrained image of him as an obese teen with glasses and crater-skin. But what a difference fifteen years made. He was taller than her, of great importance to a statuesque girl who loved stiletto heels. He was also funny, sweet, an amazing cook, wealthy by his own right and baby-faced handsome, preferable to her other men who were as gold-medal gorgeous as she.
“We’re like Albert and Allegra in Hitch,” she said. “Nobody expected them to hook up, but they were great together.”
“Yeah, but movies are different,” I said. “Parking spots are always right in front too, and how often does that happen in real life?”
“Why are you so down on this? You told me you weren’t interested in him.”
“I’m not. I just don’t trust you not to hurt the poor guy.”
“I won’t. I promise…Wait…This is revenge, isn’t it? You’re getting back at me for making out with Andrew Stein at Corey Blumberg’s bar mitzvah.”
“Yes. I’ve been harboring resentment all these years because my life would have turned out so much different if you hadn’t stuck your tongue down his throat.”
“What could I say? He liked me better.”
“They always did.”
But not this time. To my amazement, Josh actually told her that although she was a great girl and beyond gorgeous, he’d had a crush on me forever and would love to finally have the chance to build a relationship. And timing was everything.
With Ken still in Florida, his plan was to seize the moment. He would capitalize on the brief time he had me to himself so that he could sell me on his attributes without interference from his biggest competitor. And I’ll give him that he made a strong case.
If I said I was too tired to have dinner with him, he came over and made eggs Benedict. If I mentioned a DVD, he brought it over with popcorn. When my shelf in the kitchen fell down, he replaced it with one that was stronger and then fixed the faucet handles so they didn’t drip.
Except that while he was doting on me, I was going on line to see if Ken had answered my e-mails. While he was running to the store for me, I was calling my mother to see if she’d spoken to Ken’s mother to see what was new on the Mira front (“He wants to fly to LA? Damn. When?”)
Not that Ken was ignoring me this time. We spoke by phone and exchanged e-mails, though the tone was never anything but casual (translated: I did not beg). Instead, I reread his messages to see if I could decipher any hidden meanings, like passages from the Bible Code.
Did “You’re such a great listener” mean he was starting to see he couldn’t live without my love, wisdom, and guidance? Did “Your friends are lucky to have you” mean he was thinking about me much more than expected?
Of course whenever Rachel got this overanalytical, I would be sympathetic but firm. Sure there was always hope the guy would change his mind, but time was a-wastin’. Which is why when she gave me the same speech, I understood the intent. I just didn’t appreciate the distraction.
“Yes, Ken is a great catch,” she said over lunch. “I was the first one to tell you that. But as they say over at the Democratic National Headquarters, the best candidate doesn’t always win.”
“I know.” I stole a walnut from her salad. “But how can Ken not see Mira is using him?”
“Oh, he knows. He just doesn’t care. Just like you can’t see that you and Josh would be amazing together.”
“Only if I was neutered first.”
“Hey, if I stopped seeing guys every time the first time sucked.”
“Oh please. You don’t even wait for the first time to end. You call from the bathroom to tell me to call in five minutes hysterical crying so you can say there’s an emergency at home.”
“Fine. You need chemistry. Just give him another chance because right now with Ken you’re at the intersection of nowhere and really fucking nowhere.”
“I know…I just want to give him a little more time.”
“Why? Can’t you se
e he’s a gambler like David?”
“He is not.”
“Is too. He’d rather risk everything on the big prize than go home with the sure thing.”
I hoped she was wrong. I feared she was right. But why wait to find out? I finally conceded to everyone who had been telling me all along. Josh was the man for me.
Don’t you just want to gag when a friend is in a new relationship and goes on and on about the guy? “Tomorrow is our one-month anniversary of the first time we kissed.” Or when they are clueless how nauseating they sound? “He drove all the way to East Hampton to get those crab cakes I love and then he stopped at my favorite winery to pick up this amazing Chardonnay.”
Oh shut up and die is what you want to say. Six months from now you’ll be calling my cousin Vinny to get the going rate for breaking the guy’s legs. Until then, you have to feign excitement and tell them you are insanely jealous.
Meanwhile, I started seeing Josh, and though he was knocking himself out to make it a special time for us, I wasn’t up to the gush stage yet. Not that I didn’t feel affection for him. I was just waiting for him to do something, anything, that turned me on.
Rachel said to give it time because some men had to grow on you (like fungus?). Julia said to let her know if I planned to dump him because she didn’t mind playing second fiddle, she liked how he kissed (really?). And my mother said she was thrilled I had a good man to take my mind off Ken (um, no).
“So you’ll bring him for your father’s party on Sunday?” She called me at home.
“Oh my God. Daddy’s birthday. I completely forgot. Wait. You’re making him a party?”
“Don’t I always?”
“Yes, but with everything going on, I wasn’t exactly looking for the invitation in the mail.”
“Well, I realized I’m stuck with the old fart. Nobody else wants him.”
“That’s great, Mom. What made you finally see the light?”
“Not what. Who. It was something Sierra said. Turns out she is one smart, little cookie.”
“Sierra?”
“Is there an echo? Yes, Sierra. You never gave her a chance, but she is a very bright young lady who understands people a hell of a lot better than any of those good-for-nothin’ therapists.”
“Who knew? So what did she say about Daddy that made you change your mind?”
“It’s not what she said about him. It’s what she said about me.”
“That you’re a pain in the ass and where are you going to find another saint at your age?”
“You got it.”
“Hey, I said the same thing. Several times in fact. How come you didn’t believe me?”
“It’s not what she said, it’s how she said it. She said, ‘Sheil, what the fuck? You know you love ’im. You know he loves you. Soon you’ll be dead and then you can party like hell.’”
“Those are the profound words that gave you a new lease on life?”
“Do you want me to move back in with you?”
“Sierra is brilliant. Didn’t I always say that?”
“Exactly. Then I made a deal with her. I said I would give my marriage another try if she would give school another try. I’m thinking she should go for a degree in psychology.”
“That’s great. And she agreed?”
“Yes. In fact, Simon got her into NYU for the fall and until then, she’ll do volunteer work.”
“Amazing. Where?”
“At Daybreak. She’s going to be Gretchen’s personal assistant.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Yeah. She just called me. Simon also made a deal with her.”
“With who? Gretchen? No way. Gretchen doesn’t make deals.”
“She does when she doesn’t want it leaked to the papers that she’s having a whoop-dee-do affair with a married man…Sierra’s main job is to babysit to make sure she stays out of trouble.”
“Oh my God. Go Simon!”
“I thought you’d like that news up date…Now tell me what is going on with you and Josh.”
“Oh. Um. Things are really good. He’s very sweet…”
“So you’ll bring him on Sunday to Daddy’s party?”
“Can I get back to you on that?”
“No. I already invited his parents.”
I was starting to get so nervous about my upcoming meeting with Showtime, Josh suggested I call Ken for advice. Who better to guide me through the television wilderness, with its mumbo-jumbo talk of options, royalties, and syndication rights, than a man who did this in his sleep?
Which is why when I dialed his number, I swear I was only dreaming about the possible offer, not the memory of Ken’s aftershave, which once almost made me steal his pillowcase.
But when I heard his voice, and he sounded so happy to hear from me, and he said he’d just gotten back from Florida and was going to call me because he and Rookie missed me, and I should come over for sushi and yes, we should absolutely talk about the Showtime deal, I’m not going to lie. My mind ventured.
It did not help that when he opened the door, he appeared tan, relaxed, and healthy, the antithesis of the bent and broken man I’d first met. It did not help that he was sweet in a way I’d never experienced. It did not help that when we talked about my script, I was fantasizing not about making money but about making love. It did help that he said nothing about Mira.
“Are you okay?” He lifted my chin. “You’re like a million miles away.”
“I was just thinking how great you look and how happy I am that you’re doing better.”
“I am a thousand times better thanks to you…I don’t know what I would have done without your help.”
“Great. Would you like to repay me?”
“Right. I promised you a trip to a spa.”
“Yes, but now I’d like to trade that for what’s behind door number one.” I led him to his bedroom.
A sad Rookie barked when I closed the door.
“Don’t you want to hear my suggestions for the meeting?” He laughed as I removed his collared T-shirt and threw it on the floor.
“Later.” I kissed him.
“They’re really good.”
“So am I.”
“No wait.” He pulled away. “What about Josh? He’s crazy about you.”
“We have an understanding.” I ran my hands over his chest.
“What kind of understanding?”
“You’re right.” I kissed him again. “This is all wrong. People could get hurt.”
“And there’s enough pain in the world.” He unzipped my sweatshirt.
“Exactly.” I unbuckled his belt and forced off his jeans.
He went for my bra. I yanked off his briefs. We stared at the best show-and-tell we ever had, fondled everything forbidden until the anticipation was too great, then hopped aboard for what I thought would be a short joyride, only to discover my ticket was good for the please-don’t-stop-you-are-amazing Kenny Coaster.
Slowly we climbed, teasing and pleasing, until finally we plummeted into a delirious corkscrew spin, in and out, upside down, around and around…And just when I thought I could catch my breath, the ride started over. Exactly as I’d dreamed that night in his bed. Only this time it was for real.
“No wonder the line forms around the block,” I said as we lay in bed, mangled and mashed.
“Thanks, but I only did half the work.”
“Yeah, but you were…I’ve never…when you did…how much is an all-day pass?”
“I think I can get you a discount.”
“Good. Because I’m coming back tomorrow so I can go on again.”
“Great.”
But it was a hesitant “great” and my heart sank. After committing body and soul to him, it should have been a resounding, damn-right-you’re-coming-back reply. And though he tried to erase my pained expression by kissing my hand, it made me sicker, as that was the casual gesture of a man who had been in it purely for the sex.
Then I remembered the trouble with
great rides. As soon as they were over, someone else was waiting to get on the second you got off…Or waiting to go again…like Mira.
Every December when family and friends were picking out their new calendars for the coming year, my mother would remind them that if Harvey’s annual birthday barbecue wasn’t listed on the Sunday of Memorial Day weekend, they’d bought the wrong calendar. For your presence was not only expected, you’d better have a note from your doctor if you weren’t coming.
Even God had it marked down, for no one could remember it ever being rained out. Until this year, when it not only poured, the streets flooded. And nothing was sadder than watching my dad look out the window like a little boy, praying for the sun to appear.
Naturally, most everyone but family canceled. And as I looked around at those of us who had no choice but to come, I knew what they were thinking. No skirt steak à la Sheila? No bloomin’ onions? The Mets aren’t on until four? Are we actually going to have to talk to each other?
Meanwhile, I tried to estimate the retail value of what was on my niece Marissa’s back. The Seven Jeans. The Coach belt. The Louis bag. “Can I go shopping in your closet one day?”
“No. Then my mom would have nothing to wear.”
“Good point. Where is she anyway?”
“Duh. Where do you think she is? She doesn’t have to come to this stupid thing anymore.”
“Don’t let Grandma hear you say that or she’ll smack you…So how bad is it at home?”
She shrugged. “Em and Max are freaked out but I’m kinda glad it happened.”
“No way. What kid wants their parents to split?”
“Beats having to listen to them scream all day long…God I wish I could drive already so I could get the hell out of the house whenever I wanted.”
Phillip walked over to prevent me from pumping his daughter for more details, only to have Marissa glare at him and head for my bedroom where she could check out my old yearbooks and memorabilia. “God, I so don’t get what you saw in Davy Jones. What a dork.”
“How’s it going?” I asked.
“Couldn’t be better.” He gulped his vodka tonic. “You?”
Fate and Ms. Fortune Page 27
