Before We Were Strangers (24 page)

She pulled away and whispered near my ear. “You still have this?”

“You were always with me, Grace. I never found a way to let you go.”

She dropped her head to rest on my shoulder. “What are we going to do?”

“Date?”

She laughed. “You want to date me?”

I’d marry you right now if you’d let me.

“Yeah, I want to date you. You’re my favorite ex-wife.” She lifted her head and I searched her eyes. I was relieved to find amusement in them.

“I’m free on Tuesday after class.”

“Want to meet in front of Senior House around three?”

She laughed again but her tears shone in the moonlight. I
had made Grace cry too much for one night. “Yeah. I’ll see you there.”

I leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. “Sorry I woke you up. Go back to sleep, young lady.” I kissed her nose, turned, and jogged down the steps. “Tuesday at three,” I called back. “I’ll see you.”

“Keep it down,” Charlie shouted from the window.

“Go to bed, Charlie!” Grace yelled.

MATT

My entire weekend was devoted to buying things for my apartment and making it feel lived in, just in case Grace came over.

When I woke up Monday morning, I could already feel the anger boiling over in me as I prepared to see Elizabeth at work. I went for a run to blow off some steam, took a shower, and headed to the office. I saw Scott in the hallway as I headed to my cubicle.

“Hey, can I talk to you?” I asked.

“What’s up, man?”

“Can we go into your office?”

“Sure.”

We sat across from each other at his desk. “I can’t be in this office anymore. Can I work from home?”

Scott leaned back in his hair. “Bro, you’ve hit me with a lot of requests in the last couple of years.”

“I know, and I’m sorry, but I can’t handle this office bullshit.”

“You and Elizabeth made the decision to leave the field and settle down here.” He arched his eyebrows, as if to say¸
Remember?

“Scott, I’m going to be frank with you. It’s not about working in an office. I think it would be in everyone’s best interest that I not work in the same building as her.”

“Really? I thought you handled the divorce surprisingly well. And it’s been over a year already. Are you really that hung up on her?”

“New information has surfaced. I can’t work with that psychopath anymore.” I smiled, which probably made me look like the psychopath.

“Come on, Matt, let’s be reasonable.”

“I’ll go freelance, Scott. I did it before, and I won a goddamn Pulitzer.”

Scott narrowed his eyes. “Don’t fucking threaten me, Matt.”

“I’m not threatening you, and I’m not going to go into detail about what she did. Suffice it to say, she ruined my life and I can’t work with her anymore, okay? And I don’t think it’s unreasonable for me to not want to work with my pregnant ex-wife and her new husband. I put in a fucking request months ago and I’m still here. It’s either her or me.”

He signed heavily. “We want you on our team, but you know Elizabeth’s not going anywhere. She’s pregnant; she’d sue our asses off if we tried to get rid of her.”

I threw my hands up. “I don’t care, man. I’ll walk.”

Scott swiveled around in his seat while I stared him down. He ran his hand over his shiny bald head and then crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back. “Okay, you can work from home. We never do this, by the way—I need
you to know that you’re getting special treatment here. But it’s only until we get you going on something else. You’ll need an assistant to be your proxy at the production meetings if you really can’t stand to drag your ass back into this building. Maybe Kitty?” He grinned.

I stood up and clapped once. “That’s a great fucking plan, Scott. I love you.” I walked over, grabbed his face, and kissed him on the cheek. “I’m outta here. Oh, and I’ll find my own assistant,” I called over my shoulder as I left his office.

Moments later, I was cheerfully strutting down the hall with all my belongings in a cardboard box when I ran into Elizabeth.
Just remember, Matt: if you kill her, you’ll go to jail.

“What are you doing with all your stuff?” She put her hand on her hip, blocking my path.

“Move.”

“Why are you being so mean to me? I’m pregnant, you jerk.”

“I’m aware, and so is every other person with their vision intact. And where I’m going is none of your business. Outta my way.”

“Did you get fired?”

As desperate as I was not to engage her, I couldn’t control myself. “I know about Grace’s calls and letters and how you hid them from me. Thank you for that.”

She rolled her eyes and looked to the ceiling. “Oh, for God’s sake, I knew this would come up. Look, when you came back to New York in ’97 and she was gone, you were a fucking mess, Matt. I had to pick up your sorry ass and carry you for years. You think you’d have this job if it weren’t for me? You were an incipient alcoholic, fumbling around like
a loser. I saved you from destroying yourself. And she wasn’t here for you.”

I laughed. “Incipient alcoholic? Is that the narrative you created for yourself to justify your deception? That’s such bullshit. You and I never would have gotten married if I knew she was trying to get in touch with me.”

“Do you know how pathetic that makes you sound?”

“You always have to get your way, no matter what the cost. You wanted me, so you did what you had to do. You wanted a baby, and I wasn’t around to give one to you, so you went out and found the next willing participant, even at the expense of our marriage. You’re the pathetic one, Elizabeth. Not me.”

She was tongue-tied. “I thought . . . I thought you loved me.” This was a typical fighting tactic for Elizabeth. She could do a 180 from angry and accusatory to self-pitying in one second flat.

“I loved the person I thought you were, but I realize now she never existed. I have to go.” I tried to move past her but she blocked my way again.

“Wait, Matt.”

“Please move out of the way.”

“Why was she still pursuing you after she knew we were married? I mean, it was public knowledge. Don’t you think there’s something wrong with that?”

“Can you blame her for wanting closure? For wanting to know what happened between us? She was torn up inside, Elizabeth. Just like me.” Pausing, I looked down at her growing belly. “For the sake of that poor human being growing inside of you, I hope you learn something from this. Despite your every effort, we didn’t work out. We’re not together. It
was all for nothing.” She started crying, but it didn’t phase me. “Please, Elizabeth, get out of my way.”

I had hit the crest of my anger, and now everything seemed totally ridiculous. I was beyond yelling and screaming now; it was all a fucking joke, but the joke was on me. I could either take it and move on or I could give this life-sucking person another second she didn’t deserve.

I brushed past her. “See you never.”

It was spring in New York, and I was free to pursue what I wanted.

The sun was shining down between the skyscrapers as I made my way to the subway, clutching a medium-sized box filled with career mementos. I was smiling on the train as I tried to recall every detail of my kiss with Grace the Friday before. How soft her hair felt between my fingers, how she always, even fifteen years later, kept her eyes closed seconds after the kiss was over, like she was savoring it.

I couldn’t let anyone, or anything, get in my way again.

ON TUESDAY, I
went for a run in the morning and counted down the minutes until three p.m., when I was supposed to meet Grace. I arrived way too early and sat on the steps of Senior House until she came striding up, right on time. She seemed revived since I’d last seen her, and she had a Grace-like bounce in her step. She was wearing a flowery skirt with tights and a sweater. It was a slightly more grown-up version of her college style. Glancing down at myself, I realized my style hadn’t changed much either: jeans, T-shirts, and Chucks. Had that much time really passed? If it had, there was little physical evidence beyond a few wrinkles on our faces.

I stood up and shoved my hands into my pockets.

“Have you eaten?” she asked.

“I’m starving.” I lied. I wanted to do whatever she wanted to do. “What do you feel like?”

“How about a hot dog and a walk in the park?” I smiled. Nothing had ever sounded better. Granted, she could have said, “How about a gondola ride through the Venice canals?” or “How about we sit in Death Valley with no water?” and it all would have sounded equally good to me, as long as she was there.

“Sounds good.”

We walked shoulder to shoulder as we exchanged small talk. I told her about my job, skimming lightly over the confrontation with Elizabeth.

“How are your parents?” I asked her.

“The same, except my dad is sober now and my mom is remarried. My brother and sisters have all grown up and moved away. I’m closest with my youngest sister. She lives in Philadelphia and I see her often. I thought about moving back to Arizona after Dan died, but I love New York so much. I have friends here and I could never sell the brownstone.”

I felt an ache in my heart. I wished I had been the one to buy her the brownstone.

We ate our hot dogs on the fountain steps in Washington Square Park and watched two toddlers splash around in the water. One tiny blonde girl, about three years old, was laughing hysterically. I mean, really belly-laughing for, like, five minutes straight as her little brother splashed her.

“That kid is adorable.”

“Yep. Got any pot?” she asked, casually.

“Abrupt subject change, no?”
I squinted at her for a moment. “Wait, are you serious?”

“Why not?” She reached up and wiped mustard from my lip with her index finger, then stuck it in her mouth.

Jesus Christ, woman.

“I can get us some pot,” I said in a daze.

“Maybe next time.” She shrugged goofily, a flash of Grace from the past.

“Aren’t you worried one of your students will see you?”

“I was thinking we could go back to your place.”

“Uh, sure. We can.” I nodded vigorously, like an overeager schoolboy. “Yeah, not a problem.”

“Look!” She pointed to a young guy giving his girlfriend a piggyback ride, running in circles as she screamed joyously.

Grace smiled up at me and then her eyes filled with tears.
Fuck, don’t cry, Grace. Please. I’ll die.

“I can still do that. I’m not that old,” I told her.

She started laughing as tears ran down her face. “Well, Old Man Shore, I’d let you try, but I’m wearing a skirt.”

“You were saying something about going back to my place?” I tried to pull off an innocent look.

“Yeah, if you want. I’d like to see your place.”

“You would?”

“Of course. I want to see where you live; I’m not offering to sleep with you.”

“Pfft. I know. . . . I wasn’t thinking that.” Though I was totally thinking that.

The subway was crowded during rush hour. Grace stood with her back to my front and leaned against me. I wondered if her eyes were closed. I bent and whispered near her ear,
“We could have taken a cab or walked. I forget that we’re grown-ups now.”

“I like taking the subway with you.”

I pulled her closer against my body. It felt like all the years I’d lost with her never existed.

When we got to my building, the elevator opened to my loft on the fourth floor and Grace stepped out in front of me. She immediately looked up to the exposed-beam ceiling. I flipped on the lights. “This is gorgeous, Matt.”

“I like it.”

There was still a little bit of light left in the sky, casting a nice glow throughout the room. Grace walked to windows. “You can probably see the top of my house from here.”

“No, you can’t.” She turned and smiled. “Can I get you a glass of wine?” I asked.

“That would be great.”

She walked around my sparse loft as I went into the kitchen. The bedroom, kitchen, and living room flowed into each other within a large, high-ceilinged, open space, separated only by a few beams. As I poured the wine, I watched her run her hand across my white comforter.

“Your place is really nice. I like the rustic feel. Usually people go for modern in a space like this.”

“Call me old-fashioned.”

“I don’t think you’re old-fashioned.” She was standing near the wall, staring up at the picture that had won me so many awards.

“Passé?” I asked as I handed her the glass.

“Timeless,” she answered with a grin. I wished instantly that she was speaking of us. Weren’t we though? Timeless? Nothing could change what we’d had all those years
before, even if the idea of what might’ve been lingered between us.

“Oh, well, thank you. That’s a nice sentiment.”

She pointed up to the picture. “But that . . . that’s powerful. Children and guns . . .” She shook her head. “How tragic. Were you scared when you took that?”

“No, not scared. Sometimes the camera feels like a shield. In the beginning, when I was on location like that, I took a lot of risks.”

“Do you think you’ll win another Pulitzer?”

“It’s kind of a once-in-a-lifetime thing, but I do want to go back into the field.”

“I bet some of the best photos are happy accidents.”

“Such is life.” I stepped toward her and tucked her hair behind her ear. “I want to kiss you.”

She took a quick sip of her wine. “Um . . . do you ever go to any shows around here?”

I chuckled. “You’re an amazing subject changer.”

“I don’t think I can say no to you much longer, and I really want . . .” She swallowed and looked around.

“What, Grace?”

“I really want a do-over.” The conversation was making her nervous; her chest was heaving in and out.

“What do you mean?”

“You were my best friend.” She choked back tears and looked away.

“Please don’t cry.”

When her eyes met mine again, they were intense, blazing. “I’m trying to tell you something, Matt.”

I took her in my arms and held her against my chest. She wanted to take it slow, the way we had done before—all
of those amazing moments in our dorm just being together, dancing, singing, playing music, taking pictures. That’s the problem with adults. There’s no taking your time because you think, even at the relatively young age of thirty-six, that your days are numbered. You think you know everyone inside and out, heart and soul, after talking to them for five minutes.