One Last Lie (24 page)

“No way, Jonny. That won’t work. She’ll feel like we’re ganging up on her and that’ll kill it right from the start. I need her to be calm, to feel like she’s talking to her old college friend, someone who understands and sympathizes with her. I think I can do that, but I have to do it alone. You understand, right?”

“I understand,” Jonathan said. “But I don’t like it.” The whole situation made him feel uneasy. Having Philip confront Angela by himself while he, the father of their child, sat waiting at some Starbucks up the block, sent chills down his spine.

“I don’t trust her, Philip.” Jonathan shook his head in disbelief. He walked through the French sliders and into the suite, falling onto the loveseat. “And to be honest, I don’t trust you. You’re too nice, too giving, too compassionate. I can see you calling me from her house tomorrow telling me to pack my stuff because we’re moving into her house and she’s moving into ours.”

Philip leaned over the back of the loveseat and kissed the top of Jonathan’s head. “That’s why I love you so much. You’ve got an imagination that pretty much orbits another planetary system. Can you come back down to earth for a minute or two?”

“I don’t think you want me down to earth right now.” Jonathan slouched in the corner of the sofa and threw his legs over its arm. “Because if I was, I’d be dwelling on the fact that our only real vacation in almost two years has been ruined by a crazy, lying, lazy bitch who wants to suck our finances dry while she refuses to work and eats her way into donut heaven. And if I came back down to earth, I’d also have to come to the realization that my biggest fear has come true: our son’s future will be in the hands of a woman we despise. We’ll have no say in how he’s brought up, she’ll take her frustrations with us out on him, she’ll make him as obese and unhealthy as she is and…”

“Okay, okay. I get it, Jonny, I get it. And that’s why I have to go talk with her tomorrow. I’m going to make sure none of that ever happens.”

Jonathan twisted himself around and set his feet on the floor. “And let’s also make sure this doesn’t screw up you and me. Bad enough she’s getting between us and our son; we can’t let it affect our relationship.” His throat tightened and he found it difficult to swallow. “We promised we’d be together forever, remember?”

Before Jonathan had the chance to stand, Philip crouched before him and leaned his arms on Jonathan’s thighs. With their faces only inches apart, he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply as though trying to catch Jonathan’s breath with his own. Without saying a word Jonathan watched, waiting until Philip opened his eyes and smiled.

“Now you’re with me forever,” whispered Philip.

Jonathan kissed Philip gently on the mouth and smiled back, although at that moment all he really wanted to do was cry.

18

Philip was hoping for a sunny day, a good reason to pull open the curtains throughout Angela’s house and brighten the atmosphere before getting down to business. But the cold front that had been slowly moving in stalled just north of New England, bringing clouds and drizzle, overcastting the entire tri-state area with a somber mist.

It was almost 3:00 in the afternoon. They’d made good time, the traffic from LaGuardia unusually light, allowing them to stop at the house and drop off their luggage. On their way to Angela’s, the SUV was silent except for the sound of the tires eating up the road before them. The occasional squeal of the windshield wipers occupied more of the car than the two men inside, each of them working through their own thoughts. Philip watched the droplets on the window beside him crawl along the glass, the car’s sixty seven mile per hour speed keeping the water propelled in a straight line. An odd sense of awe hit him; a realization that once the car slowed down, the droplets would trickle down its side, onto the pavement and then evaporate into thin air, as though they’d never existed.
Just like people,
he thought.

He shook his head, trying to get his mind in a better place
.

Placing his hand on the armrest, Philip turned to Jonathan. “Hey, you know this is going to work, right?”

Jonathan nodded and laid his hand on top of Philip’s.

“And Jonny, please, when you drop me off, don’t sit in the car and wait down the block. Just go to the Starbucks on Blackrock and wait for my call. And don’t drink too much coffee or you’ll be more wired than you usually are… and we don’t want to have to deal with that on top of everything else!”

Jonathan squeezed Philip’s hand, hard. “Any more rules before I throw you to the wolves?”

“Ouch!” Philip yelled. “Not so hard!” He pulled his hand away, rubbed it and examined it for wounds. “Yes, there’s one more rule. You have to give me
at least
a half hour before you start freaking out and trying to call me. I mean, I’m hoping after about fifteen minutes I can call and invite you to partake in a reunion of the happy trio. But if not, don’t be concerned.”

He knew his words were going in one ear and out the other. Jonathan was a born worrier and no words would stifle his edginess. He’d hoped that giving Jonathan a timeframe would help ease his nerves, but from Jonathan’s expression it was evident that trying to keep his anxiety at bay would be fruitless.

“Whatever you say, boss.” Jonathan tapped Philip on the knee. “Whatever you say.”

Jonathan got off I-95 and made a left on North Benson, the main route cutting through the center of Fairfield. The clamminess in Philip’s palms told him they were getting close and he wiped them on his jeans. The car made a right onto Osborne Hill, which within seconds would turn into Jennings, just one block from Angela’s house. As Jonathan slowed down, Philip had the sudden urge to call the whole thing off. For a brief moment he considered waiting until after their appointment with G tomorrow before trying to reason with Angela. But he stopped himself. Like he’d told Jonathan, he needed to try and reason with Angela before things got out of hand. Otherwise, the lawyers would take over and there’d be no turning back.

Before making the left onto Angela’s street, Jonathan pulled off the road to the right, halfway into the shallow, gravelly ditch that served as an emergency shoulder. He put the car in park and turned to Philip.

“Are you sure about this, Philip?” He moved his hand up to his face and brushed the hair from Philip’s eyes. “You don’t have to do this, you know. G is totally on the case and we can have her take care of everything for us.”

Philip took Jonathan’s hand, kissed it, and held it against his face.

“Yes, I’m sure. I want to make this happen for us. There’s some logic somewhere inside Angela’s head and I’m going to make her find it.”

The drizzle turned into a heavier rain that pelted the car like a thousand pebbles, creating metallic echoes that slammed throughout the car. Philip and Jonathan looked at one another in silence, listening to the rain, trying to think each other’s thoughts. Philip smiled, kissed Jonathan’s hand again, then placed it on the steering wheel.

“Let’s get this over with, Jonny,” he said.

Jonathan put the car in drive. “You’ll call me if you need
anything
, right?”

“
Anything
,” Philip replied.

They made the left onto Angela’s block, drove past her house on the left, continued to the dead end, and then made a U-turn so the passenger side door was facing the house. Phillip snapped up the umbrella from the back seat and grabbed the door handle.

“Wish me luck,” he said.

“Good luck, Babe. I’ll be waiting,” replied Jonathan.

Philip was about to reinstruct Jonathan to go to Starbucks and not wait up the block in the car. But he knew it would be futile. “I’ll see you in a few!”

Philip got out of the car and slammed the door.

Without opening the umbrella, he ran up the driveway and onto the porch steps. As he reached the top step, droplets of rain fell from the roof’s gutter into his collar and trickled down his neck and back. He wasn’t sure whether the cold water gave him goose bumps or the strange sense of heaviness he suddenly felt around him. He tried shaking the feeling off, along with the rain that had soaked his hair. Nothing worked. The odd feeling still hung on top of him like viscous rain and his hair was still wet.

He peeked in through the porch window. Angela lay on the sofa with one leg stretched out in front of her and the other falling over the side. The television was blaring and countless bags of snacks were scattered on the coffee table beside her. He shook his head in disbelief. What had become of the woman he met not even a year ago — the beautiful, vibrant, confident woman who swaggered into his home with finesse and refinement to capture their hearts?

He turned to the street, half tempted to call Jonathan back, but the road was empty except for a few puddles lining the curb on the other side of the street. He turned back and rang the bell. A faint smile crossed his lips as he remembered Angela’s words on the day she moved in, “Mi casa, es su casa!”

I hope she still means that,
he thought, waiting for the door to open. He heard the television noise lower, but the door remained closed. He swung open the screen door and knocked on the wooden door behind it.

“Angela, it’s Philip!” he yelled, knocking a few more times. “Can we talk for a minute?”

He pressed his ear against the door. Other than muffled sounds from the television, he couldn’t hear a thing. He moved back to the window and peered in. The sofa was empty. Searching the room, he saw no sign of life. Maybe she planned to ignore him. A picture of her hiding in a back bedroom crouched in the corner with a blanket over her head passed through his mind.
I really hope it hasn’t come to this.
His hair was still wet and shirt damp from the sweeping rain and the cool breeze now whipping around the porch sent chills throughout his entire body.

“One more try.” He walked back to the front door and rang the bell. “This is it, Angela. Your last chance.”

Still no answer. He grabbed the phone from his shirt pocket, but before he could dial Jonathan, a shuffling sound came from behind the door, like an old man who could no longer lift his legs to walk. Philip stood motionless, waiting, listening carefully as the scuffling grew louder and then suddenly stopped. When it did, the door opened and Angela stood before him, staring at him through the dirty screen.

She looked much worse than the last time he’d seen her. Her face was as he remembered from their college days: turgid and puffy as though ready to explode from too much fluid; her eyes empty with dark shadows painted beneath them; the corners of her thin lips pointing downward, a permanent frown tattooed above her chin. Her greasy hair was pulled back and held in place by blue rubber bands, the only semblance of color anywhere near her face. She wore an oversized housedress that exposed only her forearms and her legs from the knees down, four limbs the size of winter bark tree trunks, blanched and colorless but for the small tributaries of blue vein lining their surface.

“What is it, Philip? Why are you here?” Her voice was cold, without any sort of inflection.

She sounds like a zombie,
Philip thought, forcing a smile and stuffing his hands in his pants pockets. “I thought we could talk, Angie. Just for a few minutes.”

Angela didn’t move or change her expression. “I don’t think my attorney would like that.”

The warmth from the house crept through the screen and hit Philip in a way that sent another chill through his core. His muscles tightened and he pushed his fists deeper into his pockets. He was losing his patience and was about to turn around when his eyes caught sight of Angela’s stomach. Even rounder than the rest of her body, her belly protruded almost to the screen door. Her palm was flat against its edge, rubbing in full circular motions, her face seemingly unaware of this behavior, as though it was as natural as taking a breath. Jonathan’s child was inside that belly, and in that moment his anger receded.

“Please, Angie. I’m just asking for a few minutes. Just us… two friends. Me and you. That’s all.” The look on her face didn’t shift and he thought he was losing the battle until she dragged her feet backward along the wooden floor and opened the door wider for him. “Great. Thanks. It’s starting to get cold out there.”

Angela didn’t respond, but Philip could feel her gaze on him as he strolled past her and into the dining room. The tension was like a thick fog, her silence and unmistakable defiance helping him realize this would be much more difficult than he originally thought.

He looked around the room, surprised at its tidiness. Someone had recently cleaned up and put everything in its place, except for the bags of Cheez Doodles, pretzels and boxes of cookies spread out on the table next to the sofa. He placed the closed umbrella on the counter that passed through the living room and into the kitchen. Although she didn’t offer him a seat, he plunked down on the chair next to the sofa, hoping she’d sit on the couch next to him. She slowly closed the door and shuffled to the end of the table, slipping her pudgy hands in the pockets of her housedress. Her body concealed the view of the television, but Philip could hear the faint voices of soap opera actors reciting their lines as if by rote. He couldn’t understand how anyone could watch such drivel and had to bite his tongue not to say what he was thinking. “I really don’t think this is a good idea, Philip. My attorney specifically warned me not to speak with you or Jonathan before…”

“Screw the attorneys, Angela. They don’t know
us.
They don’t know what we’ve been through together, how we all feel about each other. They have no idea the plans the three of us made and how we only want the best for the baby. To them, it’s all about money. And that’s why I just want you and I to talk this out.” He patted the sofa cushion next to him, gesturing for her to sit down. “As far as I’m concerned, this is a rough patch we need to get through and I know we can get through it by working together.”