A Clean Slate (19 page)

I watched him talk to the bartender, noticing how different it was to be here with him, in a dark, crowded bar drinking too much wine. So different from the steaming mugs and the cozy comfort of Katie's Coffee. It seemed more adult
now. Closer to sex—a possibility that was eating away at my mellow buzz. I mean, let's face it, I hadn't had sex in God knows how long, and human beings simply weren't made to abstain forever. There was also the fact that I was feeling physically fantastic, lean and mean in my new clothes and my new body, all of which had been bringing sex to the forefront of my brain lately.

“Here you go,” Ben said, placing another fat glass of red in front of me and hitching himself back onto his bar stool. He wore a dark gray sweater that I'd never seen before. Cashmere, I could tell. Something from Therese? Or maybe a gift to himself after he'd made partner?

“Thanks,” I said, giving him a flirty smile. I couldn't help it. I couldn't help thinking about sex with him because I knew how it would be. How
good.

“So, tell me more about this Cole guy. What's with the attitude?”

“Ben, don't.”

“Don't what?”

“You know. Don't slam him. He's my boss, and I like him.”

“Fine, then tell me what you've been working on over there.”

I told him about the models, about my shots of Tracy. Yet as the words came out of my mouth, my head was a little detached, because I kept seeing Ben naked. I kept seeing the barely there hair on his chest, the mole on his left hipbone. Each time I let my mind's eye wander lower, I'd blink madly to scare away the image, and focus again on what I was saying, what Ben was asking me. Thank God I'd agreed to meet Laney so that I wouldn't have to make any kind of decision about sex with him. He hadn't made any advances toward me, except for that near kiss today at Cole's, and I didn't even know where we'd go if we wanted to do it. Hell, I wasn't even sure if he lived with Therese or if she'd just been at his place that day. We didn't talk about stuff like that.

Ben was beaming at my success with Tracy, his eyes clear and happy, like they used to be in our first few years together, before we both got bogged down with climbing the ladder at Bartley. “Bogged down” was how I used to think about it, because Ben and I had gone the way that so many couples do—we'd gotten inordinately busy and inordinately used to one another, and as a result, we didn't treat each other quite as well as before. Aside from sex, which was always wonderful, we just weren't as close as we had been in the early days. I assume that there are couples who actually grow closer as they grow older, but I haven't met them yet. Jess and Steve might qualify someday, yet they've only been together two years, so it's hard to say.

“You're loving this, aren't you?” Ben was smiling at me, sort of an indulgent, proud smile, like the one he'd given me at Jess's wedding when I was singing the bawdy love songs.

“What?”

“This whole photography thing.”

I shrugged, trying for nonchalance, but I couldn't stop myself from smiling, too.

“You do. You love it,” Ben said.

“Yeah. I mean, of course.”

“It's like having a hobby for a job.”

“I guess that's true.” God,
was
it true? Ben's statement seemed insulting but with an underlying layer of truth.

“You don't make much, right?”

“In terms of money? No.” Why did I feel so defensive? He was right. My hourly wage would barely support a teenager's Mountain Dew habit.

“You know…” Ben's words drifted off as he took a swallow of his beer. He looked at me. “I could support both of us now that I've made partner.”

My own glass was halfway to my mouth by the time I processed his words. I quickly lowered it back to the shiny wooden bar. “What are you talking about?”

He was nervous. I could tell from the way his face colored a little. “I'm just saying that if we, you know, got back together, you could get a job with some other photographer, someone better, or if you really wanted you could keep your job with Cole.”

“I can already keep my job with Cole. I'm supporting myself.” Sort of. I didn't mention the severance or the money from my town house.

“Hey, Kell.” Ben's tone was soft. “Don't get like that. I'm just saying that long-term, down the road, if we're together, you can keep this job as long as you want or take any kind of job or even just do photography on your own, because I can afford it.”

His words scared and thrilled me at the same time. Did he really want to get back together? And if he did, was he talking about today or “down the road”? Why was he
now
able to make plans that sounded decidedly long-term? And what was this about supporting me? It seemed a nice gesture, but it rubbed me wrong, too. An even better question—did I want to officially get back together?

“No pressure,” Ben said. “But think about it. We can travel to amazing places, go out to the best restaurants, you can do your photography, whatever you want. We can have a blast together, and still have enough money to live in style. You know what I mean?”

“I guess.” It was true that the money from my town house and the funds from my severance package, combined with my meager salary from Cole, wouldn't last forever. I'd have to make some major changes if I wanted to keep my job with him.

“Look, I'm just throwing it out there,” Ben said. “I've been having so much fun with you, and I think we can keep doing that for a long time. But we don't have to worry about this now, okay?”

I nodded.

“In fact,” Ben said, lifting his beer glass, “let's have a toast to good times.”

“Good times,” I said, clinking my glass to his, my head bustling with everything he'd said.

“Want an Attila story?”

“Sure.”

Ben started cracking up before he could even tell me the tale about my ex-boss, and soon I was laughing along with him. I let his words about the future drift away in a merlot haze. I wouldn't worry about it now. I wouldn't worry about anything, just like Ben had said.

Thirty minutes later, I glanced down at my watch. “Shit! I'm supposed to meet Laney in half an hour.”

“Where?” Ben said.

“The Metro.”

“Well, c'mon. It's only a few blocks from my place. We'll share a cab.”

We slipped into our coats and climbed the stairs to the street. The Loop was mostly deserted now, only a few random squares of golden light glowing from the office buildings.

We tucked ourselves into a taxi. The back seat was ripped and dirty, but the driver had the heat cranked up and jazz blaring from his CD player.

The cab got onto Lake Shore and the glittering lights of the city flew past us as we sped north. By the time we got to the Metro, I was laughing again, this time at Ben's imitation of his younger brother's drunken speech at a family dinner a few weeks ago. We stayed in the cab, sitting just outside the Metro, while Ben finished his story.

“I should go,” I said after a few minutes. “Thanks for the drinks.”

“No problem. Highlight of my week.”

We sat there for a moment, which started to grow awkward. “Can I give you a hug?” Ben said, sounding a little
shy. It was sexy, somehow, and I had an urge to say,
You can give me more than that.

Instead I nodded, and he tugged me into his arms, pulling me across the cab seat and into his body. I closed my eyes tight, feeling the weight and warmth of him, letting it lull me.

I heard a terse tap on the window. Without letting Ben go, I opened my eyes, and saw it was Laney.

“L
aney!” I chased her down Clark Street. “C'mon, just wait!”

The minute she'd seen us, Laney had stormed off, and I'd said a quick goodbye to Ben.

The tiny black heels of her boots clicked on the sidewalk now as she hurried away from me, her dark hair flying behind her.

“Lane! Talk to me!”

I broke into a jog. She spun around right as I reached her, and we nearly crashed into each other.

“Sorry—” I started to say, but Laney's words rolled over my own.

“I can't believe you. I can't
fucking
believe you!”

I noticed that her eyes were a little teary, which surprised me. I assumed she'd be annoyed—disgusted even—if she knew I'd been seeing Ben again, but why the tears?

“Lane, I…”

“This is what you've been doing while you've been avoiding me, right? Sleeping with Ben? Just jumping right back where you left off?”

“What? No!”

“You've been sleeping with him!”

Three guys dressed in baggy jeans and baseball hats walked past us, snickering. “Take it easy, honey,” one of them said. “I'm sure she'll come back to you.”

Laney turned to him with a murderous look. Usually it was me who had the temper, but she seemed pushed to the very edge right now. I grabbed her arm before she could think about punching him, and pulled her down the street until we were behind the Cubby Bear Lounge. Laney leaned back against the blackened brick wall and gave me a stony stare, shaking her head over and over. Music thumped from inside.

“Look, I'm so sorry I didn't tell you about it,” I said, “but it's no big deal. We've talked on the phone, we've had coffee a few times and that's it.”

She scoffed and kept shaking her head, her eyes growing watery again. She stayed quiet. I would rather she screamed at me than give me the silent treatment, especially when she looked so sad.

“Please talk to me,” I said.

“Gear didn't even put me on the fucking guest list tonight, and now this.” She bit her bottom lip, chewing off her peachy gloss.

“Oh, honey, I'm sorry about Gear.”

“It's the same old shit I always take from these guys. But that's not what I'm pissed about. I can't believe you!”

“I know he dumped me, Lane, but I made some mistakes, too. I pushed him into a corner and tried to make him do things on my time. We're just talking now, that's it. We haven't slept together. It's just been a few cups of coffee.”
I remembered the wine tonight and so I added, “And a few drinks. But that's it.”

“Are you getting back together?”

“No!” I said defensively, but then I thought of Ben's words about the future. “Well, he mentioned something, but we haven't really talked about it.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What did he say?”

“Just that he could take care of us now that he's made partner. He said I could keep my job with Cole, and we could still live in style and have a lot of fun together.”

“Right. Fun. You and Ben can have all sorts of fun.” Her voice was heavy with sarcasm, and it pissed me off. I still wasn't even sure what she was so upset about, and now it seemed as if she was insulting me.

“What in the hell is that supposed to mean?” I said. “He's been a hell of a lot more fun than you lately.” I regretted it as soon as I said it.

She reared her head back as if I'd raised a hand to her. The tears crept back into her eyes. “You know what?
I'm
the one who took care of you all summer.
I'm
the one who brought you food and tried to get you out of the house. Not your mom, not fucking Ben.
Me.
And now, all of a sudden, I'm not fun enough for you? I'm a drag? And so you just flit back to Ben like nothing happened, because you can have
fun
with him? Guess what, Kell? He's only crawling around again because Therese gave him an ultimatum. Just like you did.”

It was my turn to flinch. Was it true? Was that the only reason he'd been coming around?

“Yep, that's it, Kell. The commitment-phobe is on the run again, this time back to you.”

I hated that she could read me so well. “How do you know this?”

“Steve talked to Ben, and Jess told me.”

“Oh.” That was the only response I could muster. I felt so
miserably second-rate. But it couldn't be true. I wouldn't believe that Ben was just running from one woman to another. He'd known he'd made a mistake about not marrying me right after my birthday, and it was only my strange behavior that had driven him away. He was realizing that now, especially since I'd turned over a new leaf.

“He'll just balk when you get close again,” Laney said. “He'll take off on you, too.”

“I don't think that's true. He wants us to have a future together. He went on and on about it tonight.”

“Really? Well, you'd better take a close look at what that future will entail.” She shook her head as if in disgust. “Call me when you get your shit together. I'm done saving you.”

She turned and walked back toward Clark Street, her heels making sharp, angry clicks on the sidewalk.

 

I looked up at my town house—my
old
town house. I'd taken a cab here after my fight with Laney. I wanted to go somewhere that would soothe me, and this was the only place I could think of.

The street was dark, except for the golden globes of the old-fashioned streetlamps. In my town house, there was only one small light on—in the master bedroom. Probably Beth Maninsky reading a book next to her husband, while her baby slept in the other room. I was so jealous of Beth Maninsky right then.

Ever since that horrible day about a month ago now, when my key wouldn't fit in the lock, when I'd realized that I couldn't remember a chunk of my life, I'd sworn to myself that I would appreciate every day. I wouldn't think about what I wanted to happen in the future or what was missing from my life. And I'd done that pretty well. I'd been proud of my new job, my new look, my new ability to get along in the world even without Ben or Dee or my mom.

But now, on a chilly night outside my old home, I lost
my ability to appreciate what I had, because it seemed that I didn't have much at all. Dee—gone. My job at Bartley Brothers—gone. My mom—across the country, probably digging up dirt on Britney's favorite new thong. My town house—still there, right in front of me, but actually owned by someone else. Laney—pissed off at me, and rightly so I supposed, although I still didn't understand the force of her anger. My new job, the one I'd been so proud of as of late—only a hobby, just like Ben said. And Ben—a big question mark.

Another light went on on the second floor. The kitchen. I wondered if they'd kept the walls the same rust color that Ben and I had painted them. It'd been hell painting those walls, all that taping and trying to maneuver around the appliances. At first we'd tried to make it fun. We'd made a pitcher of gin and tonics and cranked up the stereo, but Ben became more and more annoyed the longer it took. We thought we could finish the whole room in an hour or two, but it stretched into four. Ben grew crabby with each passing minute, snapping at me when I tried to tell him he'd gotten paint on the trim.

Now that I thought about that time, I realized there'd been others like it. Ben often grew cranky and irritated with a house project or even a discussion about other work around the place.

“Can't we just pay someone to do it?” he'd said one time when I told him how I wanted to rip off the wallpaper in a bathroom.

“It'll be fun,” I said, and I believed it. I
loved
doing projects around that place. I loved putzing around when I came home from work—arranging flowers in a vase, cleaning up the kitchen, throwing some towels in the dryer. I adored all that because it was my place, and the place where Ben and I would live when we got married. I felt as if I was preparing a little spot for our future. And I couldn't blame Ben for
not wanting to spend his weekends hanging wallpaper. It wasn't his place, at least not yet.

But as I stood there now on a lonely Friday night, it occurred to me that it was something more than that. Those things weren't fun for Ben because they meant growing up a little, spending less time at the bars and on his races, and he didn't want that.

He still doesn't want it,
Laney's voice said inside my head.

I thought back over the times we'd spent together the last few weeks. Light, easy times. I thought about the words he'd used tonight when he'd talked about our life together “down the road.” He'd spoken about traveling and great restaurants and allowing me to keep my hobby of a job. He hadn't mentioned a home or children or growing old together, things I'd always told him I wanted. Maybe he hoped that I didn't want those things anymore. Maybe he was having thoughts about restarting our relationship because he wanted something simple, something
fun.
He hadn't been around when I was so depressed this summer, and now that that time had passed, Ben was, conveniently, back.

I stared up at the town house, my body motionless. The kitchen light went off. A few seconds later, the master bedroom went dark, too.

 

Standing in the dark on Bissell Street, I dialed Ben's number on my cell phone.

“Hello?” It was Therese. I shouldn't have felt hurt or surprised, but I was both.

Then I felt guilty. Therese had never been particularly nice to me, but I'd been just as bitchy. And why? Because of Ben, because of some guy. Wasn't that what usually kept women apart?

I felt so guilt-ridden that I couldn't bring myself to ask for him.

“Hello?” Therese said, in a caustic, angry tone, and I knew that she knew.

I still didn't say anything. She slammed down the phone.

I waited a minute, then called back.

Ben answered this time.

“I'm sorry,” I said, “but I need to talk to you.”

“Yeah. Sure.” He sounded nonchalant—like Therese wasn't next to him. How easily he ran back and forth between us.

“Can you meet me at Chuck's?”

“When?”

“Fifteen minutes?” I said.

“No problem.”

I grabbed a cab and was at the bar before Ben. I don't know why I'd picked Chuck's. It was close to his apartment, sure, but it was also the place I'd come that day when I realized that Ben had broken up with me and I couldn't remember a part of my life. Maybe I wanted, inadvertently, to remind myself of that day.

Inside, the place was smoky and loud. Luckily, there was an empty table by the front and I slid into it, ordering a glass of water from the annoyed waitress.

Ben was there a minute later, running his hand through his light hair as he stepped in the doorway, his cheeks tinged pink from the cool air. He saw me and broke into a smile.

“Sorry about calling you like that,” I said as he slid into the chair across from me.

“No problem.” He smiled again as if Therese wasn't waiting at his place, in his bed. Or maybe she wasn't. Maybe she'd stormed out after I called. My stomach churned.

“How's Therese?”

His eyebrows shot up. We never mentioned her. “She's, uh, she's okay.”

“She wants to marry you, I hear.”

He paused. “Where'd you hear that?”

“Around,” I said. “Good news travels fast.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“I don't want you to say anything. I want you to be honest with me.”

He sat back, away from me. I could see him growing annoyed. “I
have
been honest, Kell. I told you tonight that I want to be with you. I want to have a good life and—”

“I know. You want to travel and have fun.”

“Hell, yeah. Don't you?”

“I want more than that,” I said. “And so does Therese, evidently.”

“I don't want to talk about her.”

“How can we not? How can we keep ignoring her, like you aren't cheating on her with me?”

“Hey! We haven't even slept together.” He sounded like I did talking to Laney, spouting mere technicalities.

The waitress delivered my water then, and I gave her a few bucks for the trouble. Ben ordered a gin and tonic.

I leaned in, moving the water aside. “What did you tell Therese when you left tonight?”

“I told her I had to meet a friend.”

“And she just let you go?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Because she wants to marry you,” I said.

“What do you want me to say?”

I couldn't stop thinking about Therese then, probably crying in Ben's bed, wondering if she'd pushed too hard.