Before We Were Strangers (23 page)

She looked shattered. “What about that article in that photography magazine? It basically said you had a job with
National Geographic
and you were going to Australia after South America.”

“Back in ’97?”

“Yeah.” She threw back her entire glass of wine. “There was a photo of you taking her picture and it said you were going to Australia with her for six months.”

“I’ve never even read this article you’re talking about, so I’m not sure what you mean. Elizabeth asked me to go to Australia, but I turned her down. I came back here to be with you after my internship was over, but you were gone.”

“No.” She shook her head. “I thought you were going to Australia. That’s why I ended up joining Dan’s orchestra.”

I was shaking my head now, too. “No, I didn’t go to Australia. I came back at the end of August. I tried to call you before I left, but I couldn’t get through. I went straight to Senior House, thinking you’d still be there. When I couldn’t find you, I thought maybe you had moved to grad student housing, so I went to check with the registrar. He told me
you had deferred your grad school admission. On my way back to Senior House, I saw Daria and she said you had joined Pornsake’s orchestra.”

Grace started crying, full, quiet sobs into her hands. “Grace, I’m so sorry.” I grabbed napkins from the dispenser on our table and handed them to her. “I thought
you
were the one who left
me
. I didn’t know how to reach you. I didn’t even accept the job at
National Geographic
until I found out you were gone.”

She let out a laugh through her tears. “Holy shit. All this time . . .”

“I know. I tried looking for you a few times, but I could never find you online. I didn’t know until tonight that your last name was Porter.”

Grace was hysterical now. “I married Pornsake, Matt. He changed his last name to Porter.”

My heart was murdered. “Oh.”

“Not right away. I waited almost five years. He’s dead now. You know that, right?”

“No. How would I know that?”

“I wrote to you.”

“You did?”
Elizabeth
. Turned out she still hadn’t told me the whole truth. It was like I had fallen into some alternate universe, where Grace loved me and I was the one who had left. All these years I had spent depressed over losing her, yet all this time she had been trying to find me.

I reached across the table and took her hands in mine. And she let me. “I’m so sorry about Dan. He was very kind. How did he die?”

“Enlarged heart. He died with a damn smile on his face,” she said, proudly.

“Did you love him?” I knew I had no right, but I was dying to know.

“He was good to me.” She looked up at the ceiling. “I loved him in my own way.”

“Yeah?” I was getting choked up again.

Her eyes met mine. “Yeah. But not the way I loved you.”

“Grace . . .”

“What the fuck happened, Matt?”

“I don’t know anymore. I thought I knew. Elizabeth just told me she sent you a letter?”

“I got one letter from you, maybe in ’99 or 2000. The rest of my calls and letters went unanswered.”

“Elizabeth wrote that letter, not me. I swear to God, Grace, I never would have ignored your calls.”

“Well.” Her voice got very quiet, shrinking in on itself. “It’s too late now, isn’t it?”

“Why? Why does it have to be too late?”

“I would say fifteen years is pretty late. So much has happened to us and . . .”

I squeezed her hands. “Let’s get a piece of pie or pancakes or something, like we used to.”

“Are you insane?”

“Yes,” I deadpanned. “We need to get out of this place.”

“I don’t know . . .” She withdrew her hands from mine.

I looked at my watch. “Breakfast for dinner?”

She ran a hand across her face and sat up straight, putting some distance between us. I couldn’t tell if she was contemplating the idea or trying to think of a nice way to say no. I searched her eyes and she smiled. “Okay. I’ll go with you, on one condition.”

“What’s that, Gracie?” She laughed at the nickname
and then her eyes started welling up again. “Please don’t cry,” I said.

“We have to forget for a little while who we are to each other. No talking about the past. That’s my condition.”

“Deal.” I left a fistful of bills on the table, grabbed her hand, and pulled her toward the door. But just before we left, I turned to her. “Wait. Let’s do a shot first. We’re young, the city is ours, you don’t have to wake up early tomorrow to teach, and I don’t have an asshole for a wife.”

“Sure. Why not?” Her cheeks turned pink. She suddenly seemed happier, younger. And though I had promised her we wouldn’t talk about the past, I couldn’t help but feel like we had traveled back to the best time of our lives.

We each had a tequila shot, left the bar, and found a little twenty-four-hour diner. “I think I want pie,” I said as we stared into the refrigerator case.

“Me too. You wanna share a piece?”

“Let’s share two pieces,” I said, practically daring her.

“You’re talkin’ dirty now. I like it. Let’s do a slice of chocolate cream and . . .”

“A slice of peanut butter?”

“That’s so perfect. I’m gonna eat the crap out of that pie.”

God, I loved her.
“Same here,” I said.

We ordered and then sat in a green vinyl–upholstered booth. She traced the sparkles in the retro tabletop with her finger. “So, how are Alexander, your dad, and Regina?”

“Great. My dad will never retire. He and my brother are partners at the same firm. Alexander and Monica have two kids and a big house in Beverly Hills. Regina is the same, except her face is tighter.”

Grace laughed but then her smile faded. “I’m sad to hear about your mom. I really liked her. I felt like we were kindred spirits.”

I thought back to the days before I lost my mom. She asked me what happened with Grace, and I told her it just didn’t work out. I was confused as to why my mother was bringing Grace’s name up after so many years had passed. She had no idea Elizabeth and I were having marital problems, but it was like she wanted me to know she still thought of Grace. I think she must have felt that they were kindred spirits, too. Elizabeth was never close to Mom, even after knowing her for a decade. One visit, and Grace was in my mom’s heart forever.

“Yes. She went peacefully. My dad actually came to see her before she died. It was heartbreaking because, after all they went through . . . she still loved him. That’s why she never remarried. I think, once everything was stripped away and he saw her near the end of her life, he loved her, too. At least, that’s what he said to her. If he didn’t mean it, at least my mom died believing it. I came to respect him more after that.”

“I can understand that.” She said it as if she spoke from experience.

I took a deep breath. “Let’s talk about something happier.”

“I followed your career for a while and saw that you won the Pulitzer. What an amazing accomplishment, Matt. Congratulations.”

“Thank you. It was unexpected and hard to appreciate because, I think, at the time, I was in a really dark place.”

“That was before your mother got sick though, right?”

“Yeah. She got to see me accept the award. She and my dad were really proud.”

Grace was so interested, so compassionate. I thought I had made up all those things about her in my mind. How fitting her name was. How real, beautiful, and genuine she was in the flesh. All those times I had stared at her photos and wished I could hold her, touch her, or just see her in person, in color, here she was, just like I remembered.

The slices of pie sat untouched between us. I stabbed a piece and held the fork up to Grace’s lips. “Pie makes everything better.”

She took the bite, and I couldn’t take my eyes off her mouth. I licked my lips, thinking about how she tasted—what it had been like to kiss her.

“That’s soooo good.”

“I know we aren’t supposed to talk about the past, but I’m dying to know what you did after we graduated. How was the orchestra?”

“It was wonderful, actually. We traveled for a couple of years. Tatiana did, too. When we came home to New York, Dan got his old job back at NYU, and I got my master’s in music theory in an online program. I taught at the college level for a few years, and now I direct the orchestra and band at the high school.”

“That’s fantastic, Grace. How is Tatiana?”

“She’s good. Still single and feisty. She’s with the New York Philharmonic so she travels a lot. She’s a very dedicated musician.”

“What happened to Brandon?”

She chuckled. “He was just one of many for Tati.”

“I should have guessed. So you never wanted to go down
the same path as Tati? I might be biased, but I always thought you were a stronger musician than her.”

“I did, but . . .” She started fidgeting. “I, uh, never had the discipline she had. She was always better.”

“I don’t think so at all.”

“To the trained ear, Tatiana has more talent.” She smiled. “Last bite?” She held a fork full of peanut butter pie up to my mouth.

I grabbed her wrist, leaned in, and took the bite. The instant intimacy between us felt too familiar.

“I’m so sorry, but I have to get back. This has been so nice. It was good to see you again, looking so well and healthy,” she said.

“Let me walk you home.”

“It’s not necessary.” She moved to the edge of the booth to stand.

“It’s late, and I would feel better if you’d let me walk you.”

She hesitated. “Okay. You can walk me to my street.”

On the walk over, she twisted her hair up into a bun, exposing her tattoo.
Green-eyed Lovebird.
I couldn’t resist reaching out and running my fingers across the back of her neck.
So it really happened.
She flinched. “What are you doing?”

“I just wanted to touch it, to see if it was still there.”

She laughed. “Tattoos are pretty permanent.”

“I just wondered if you had it lasered off in anger.”

“I was more heartbroken than angry.”

Ouch.

I took her hands in mine. “I’m sorry. You don’t know how sorry I am.”

“I know. I am too. You still have yours, I assume?”

I stretched the neck of my black T-shirt, pulling it down to reveal the tattoo over my heart. “Yep, still there.”

She ran her fingers over it and whispered, “Just the ash.”

Her head dropped to the ground. I lifted her chin to look at me and her eyes were full of tears. “We were victims of bad timing. But here we are again.”

She smiled weakly. “I have to go.” Before I could stop her, she turned and rushed quickly down the street. I waited until I saw her walk up the steps of a brownstone, and then I headed home, pissed at the world, wanting to murder Elizabeth for screwing up my life in more ways than one.

As soon as I got home, I called my brother. It was only nine o’clock on the West Coast. Monica answered. “Hello?”

“Is Alexander there?”

“Hello to you too, Matthias. Alexander’s not here. He’s filing a big motion tomorrow so he’s still at the office.”

“Monica, you said you and Elizabeth were like sisters, right?”

“Well, we were family for eight years.”

“Uh-huh, sure. Did you know that Grace tried to contact me, and each time, Elizabeth found a way to keep that information from me?” My voice was harsh, accusatory. “Did you help her with these little deceptions, by any chance?”

“Stop.”

“No. You gave her the fucking family bassinet. You talked to her all the time. You told me yourself that she said things to you about how I was hung up on Grace. You didn’t like Grace from the beginning, and I knew that. You were both so jealous of her.”

“I’m going to hang up in two seconds if you don’t stop.”

I was breathing heavily, my pulse racing. There was nothing left inside of me but pure anger and adrenaline.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was never jealous of Grace. She was in your life for five minutes, and now you accuse me of this? Elizabeth never said anything to me except that you had a bunch of pictures of Grace that you refused to get rid of.”

“Elizabeth is the main reason I haven’t talked to Grace in fifteen years. Elizabeth is probably the reason I’m not married to Grace at this very moment.”

She sighed heavily. “Matt, you’re being melodramatic.”

“I don’t even know why I’m telling you all of this.”

She was quiet for a moment. “I think you’re telling me because we’re family.” Her words surprised me. “You should get some sleep, Matt. You sound torn up. I’m sorry if what you said is true. I never saw Elizabeth as a conniver.”

“Me neither. But she did it.”

“I’ll let Alexander know and have him call you, okay?”

“Okay. Thanks, Monica. Goodnight.”

I was still staring out the window at two in the morning. My head was foggy, so I decided to take a walk. Before I knew it, I was drifting toward Grace’s street. It was totally quiet as I stood staring up at four brownstones. I didn’t know which one was hers—they were completely identical.

“Grace!” I called out. I could have phoned her and said, “Gracie! Grace, please, I need to talk to you!” but if you’re going to insist on talking to someone at two in the morning, you might as well pay them a visit. “Grace, please!”

A man across the street opened a window and yelled, “Get out of here or I’m gonna call the police.”

“Do it!” I yelled back.

“He’s fine, Charlie!” It was Grace’s voice. I turned back to see her standing in the doorway of one of the brownstones. I ran up the five steps to the door, my chest heaving. I was inches away from her face as she looked up at me. She was wearing a pink flannel pajama set with Christmas trees on it. It was May. I smiled.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

I took her hands in mine and stared down at them between us. “I wanted to kiss you earlier but I was too chicken.” I leaned in and kissed her slowly, tenderly. Her lips were soft but her movements were eager. She kissed the way she always kissed, with passion. She threw her arms around my neck, pressing our bodies together as we deepened the kiss. She moved her hands to my sides, then to my waist, and under my T-shirt. Her fingers traced the designs on my belt.