Breathe: A Novel (28 page)

“But Haley, weren’t you the one who said we could have it all?” I asked and stood up.

“Hell, yeah. And I still believe it.”

I gave her a long hug. Then we went home, Haley to hers, and I to mine.

Today was the day.

Andy’s event.

That morning, I’d skipped breakfast to avoid the calendar on my fridge. Now I was home from yoga class, had showered, and was hungry. I threw on jeans and a sweater, tied back my hair, and looked down at Billy.

“Okay,” I said.

With a deep breath, I walked into the kitchen and stopped square in front of the calendar. There, in black and white, was the reminder of what I’d been missing. I’d promised myself to erase it. But as time passed, I started thinking that maybe I would send a card when the day came. It had been three months since I’d seen Andy, and I thought of him every day.

Still, I knew that taking this time for myself was the right thing to do; I finally had a sense of peace and self-acceptance. My life was full: working during the day, studying at night, attending classes on weekends. I was saving every extra penny for my vet school fund, and though it wasn’t much, it was growing steadily. I allowed myself the small but treasured luxury of attending a weekly class at the Garden with Jenny and Nancy, and had agreed to meet Haley every Sunday morning for coffee and a walk. She’d promised not to ask me about Andy, who hadn’t even attempted to contact me, or Tripp, who’d been calling relentlessly since the workshop. Wanting to talk, wanting to have dinner, wanting me to join him on some business trip in Hawaii, Montana, Alaska. It took all of my willpower to stay away, and I’d almost caved when finally, he’d asked me to come riding with him.

“For Delphino,” his voicemail said.

That day I wrote him a letter. I’d hung up the phone, found a yellow legal pad, and four drafts later, sealed it in an envelope and walked it to the post office.

Dear Tripp,

I am writing you because I can’t say no in person. And I NEED to say no to you right now. Leaving me was, in many ways, the best thing you could have done for me, because it has forced me to try to figure out who I am, and what I truly want from life. When I am with you, everything else disappears. My world becomes your world: your voice, your eyes, your dreams, your direction. I am just beginning to rediscover myself. You said it yourself, “I was stuck.” Please give me this time to fully unstick myself. If we, this, our marriage, is meant to be, it will be.

Love,

Alex

I received an e-mail the following week.

Alex,

I think you know we’re meant to be together. I knew it that first evening. If you need time, fine. I will wait.

I love you.

TE

(Are we talking months or years here? Maybe my new guru could help you speed up the process. Five-star couple’s retreat in Belize this April—we’ve got to book by March 1.)

I’d sighed at the thought. Even his e-mails sucked me in. I wanted to call him. To meet him at the exquisite restaurant. To jump on a plane and check into some fabulous hotel with him. A hotel with a big, beautiful bed . . .

Quickly, I replied, before I got swept away.

It all sounds amazing, Tripp. But I’m serious. Please don’t contact me. I’ll get in touch when I feel ready. Please respect this request.

Thanks,

A

Send.

There, it was done.

For about a week, my heart rate would increase each time I checked my e-mail. But he never did contact me again. And neither did Andy. I was alone, and it was about time. Still, I thought of them both all the time; Andy, when Billy and I would pass a garden or farmer’s market, and Tripp, whenever I went to Marin or someone ordered a glass of fine wine. Eventually, I did begin to feel and enjoy the fullness of my own life though, and the ache of my longing subsided.

However.

That morning in the kitchen, I stood and stared at the all-capitals BENEFIT! that filled the entire March 27th block.

Andy and I hadn’t talked since the rooftop. I wondered: was he happy? Had he met someone? What would happen if I attended the benefit . . . Every ounce of me wanted to go, to support him, and for once, to live authentically. As Haley taught me, do what feels right and not doubt my decision. I wanted to see Andy. With all of my heart, I did. I missed him terribly. It had been enough time. And this was his life’s work. I grabbed my computer, searched Rooftop Garden Project, and bought a ticket for one.

Then I texted Haley.

A:
Going to andy’s benefit tonight

H:
Great! U 2 talking again?

A:
No. It’s a bad idea, isn’t it?

H:
No! You should totally go. He’s good now. He’s over it.

Over it. My heart sank. Maybe this would be a way for me to make amends. To show up for him, needing nothing in return. I could do that.

H:
And i’m going, so it will be so much fun!

I was actually incredibly relieved and grateful that Haley had somehow gotten herself invited.

A:
Meet you there.

I grabbed my meditation cushion and settled myself in the center of my apartment. What was I thinking going to this thing? What if he didn’t want me there? I should just invite him for coffee. Or call him.

Stop thinking!

I noticed how I felt. I watched my breath. And after suppressing the usual urge to fidget, letting go of my thoughts and then,
starting again,
I finally felt myself calm down. My cushion had become as familiar as my walks with Billy. I no longer needed to force myself to sit. It was a part of my day, when I woke, and again before bed. Of course, my mind wandered, and I was restless, and I was never quite sure I was doing it right. But it didn’t matter. I felt less reactive and more peaceful.

I trust. I trust that today will be exactly what it’s meant to be.

I will allow “what is” to be.

I drew a deep breath, slowly opened my eyes, and with a renewed sense of calm and clarity, decided to do something that I hadn’t done in months: go shopping. If I was going to attend tonight, I wanted to feel like me, and the only formal clothes I owned were from my time in Marin. I grabbed my purse and headed to 24th Street.

I probably should have gone shopping first, but I was starving. I’d never tasted a more delicious burrito. However, after trying on five dresses that were clearly meant for a size zero, I told the woman in Hot Box Betty I’d be fine just browsing on my own. Then I found it. A simple, navy silk slip dress. It got a round of applause from a grandmother waiting for her granddaughter to try on twelve pairs of jeans.

Later, when I finished getting ready, I put on some mascara, blush, and lipstick, and glanced in the full-length mirror. I looked at the clock on my bedside table. It was 5:49pm and I was supposed to meet Haley at the venue at 6:15pm. I went into the kitchen and searched through my old mail, hoping I’d kept the invitation from months ago. It was beautiful: handmade paper embossed with leaves and eggplants. When I found it, I noticed it read “Black-tie optional” in the bottom left corner.

Andy in black-tie?

I couldn’t picture it.

I pulled the map from the envelope and decided to call a cab. I still didn’t know the city outside my neighborhood well, and this address looked like it was on the outskirts. The cab arrived eight minutes later, during which time I sat quietly and focused on the rise and fall of my chest, noticing the energy and anticipation that would creep in every time I thought of Andy.

When we pulled into the parking lot, I was shocked by the number of cars and people. I paid my driver and was escorted from the cab by a man in a tux. Tiny white lights glittered everywhere, and plush black carpet covered the asphalt, extending toward the entryway of an enormous white tent. The guests were impeccably dressed, sparkling and laughing, walking arm-in-arm around the sprawling lush lawn that surrounded the tent. Scattered around were a dozen wooden easels holding poster-sized mounted black and white photographs. Some were of gardens; some were of kids. One was of a man on his knees surrounded by curious children. He was holding up a small seedling. I stepped closer to get a better look.

Andy?

“Alex?” I spun around so fast I almost knocked over the photograph.

“Tripp?” I gasped. “What are you doing here?”

“Nice to see you too, Alex,” he smiled. “I was going to ask you the same thing.”

“I’m sorry, you just took me by surprise.” I composed myself. “I’m here for a friend. Are you interested in the Garden Project?” I wasn’t sure whether I was curious or horrified. Then I remembered that Tripp and Andy had known each other at the Workshop.
How had I forgotten that?

“Louise is a contributor. Or I should say the Edwards Foundation. You look beautiful, Alex.” He took a step toward me, and I took a step back, conscious of the fact that this was Andy’s event. I turned my ankle on the lip of the carpet.

“Ouch,” escaped my lips. I met his eyes.

“You okay?” He smiled.

“I’m fine,” I replied, embarrassed. “Ladylike as ever.”

“You look radiant.”

“Thank you,” I said, allowing myself to receive his compliment. “I think you may have been right about yoga.”

“Did you just admit that I was right about something?”

“I think I did.” I laughed.

“I can’t believe it.” He stepped closer.

I felt the heat of him on my bare arms; could hear him breathing. And yet I felt . . . nothing. Nothing? I looked at him with curiosity now. Misinterpreting my look for interest, he leaned in and said, “Unstuck yet?”

“Whoa! Alex?”

Andy!
How did this keep happening?

Tripp turned first. Andy extended his hand.

“How are you, Tripp?” he said, then turned to me. “Alex, what a surprise.” I held my breath. “It’s good to see you.”

I looked from smoldering Tripp to adorable Andy and back again. My mind was spinning.

“So how do you two know each other?” Tripp asked.

Awkward.

Andy, the only one able to maintain composure, said, “Alex is an old friend.” But his expression gave him away.

Tripp raised his eyebrows. It was subtle, but I caught it. He was ready to compete, to beat out his rival. This was how he worked.

“Friends from where?” Tripp responded.

Andy looked down at his watch.

“Sorry, guys,” he replied. “I gotta go take care of something.”

“Actually, we should be heading to our table,” Tripp said.
Our table?

“I’m not here with—” I tried, but Tripp cut me off.

“Nice seeing you, Andy.” He smiled his captivating, powerful smile before escorting me to “our table.” I could feel Andy’s eyes on me as we walked away.

“Tripp, why did you do that? We’re not here together!”

“No, but we should be,” he said. I stepped away from him and went to find my place card on a table by the entrance.

“I’ll be sitting at my own table,” I said, rejoining him where he stood waiting. “I’m here for the benefit. That’s all.”

He laughed, “Love that stubbornness. At least let me walk you to your table.” He put out his arm.

“Fine,” I replied.

“Fine? That’s all I get?”

I put my hand on my forehead, trying to stay clear.

“Alex, I know you felt what I did that day at the workshop. Why are you resisting it? I gave you your space. Now can’t you see that this is fate? Why would we be here together if it weren’t?”

He had a point. I heard my mother’s voice, “Trust that the universe is guiding you.” Although she might reconsider if she saw this trajectory.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

I looked at him, directly into his eyes. But I still felt . . . nothing. Just then, a man I didn’t recognize stepped up to us.

“Tripp, good to see you, buddy.”

“Matty,” Tripp shook his hand then turned to me. “Alex, Matt Siegel.”

Matt shook my hand then said to Tripp. “Our table’s up there, man.” He looked back at me. “Will you be joining us?”

“Actually, I’m back here.” I pointed. “Nice to see you, Tripp. Nice to meet you, Matt.”

As I turned, I heard Matt say, “Your mom’s looking for you.”

Oh, God, Louise was here? I took a few more deep breaths and reminded myself that it no longer mattered.

Tripp replied, “Tell her I’ll be over in a minute. I need to escort Alex to her table.”

“Tripp, really,” I said.

“Alex, you really need to get better at picking your battles.” He smiled.

I sighed, but I was no longer agitated. He was being sweet.

Acceptance.

When we got to the empty table, Tripp pulled out my chair for me and said, “Are you sure you want to be here all by yourself?”

“Haley’s coming. I’ll be fine. Thank you.”

He crouched down next to my chair, looked at me and said, “I’ll be over to check on you in a few.” Then he stood and strode across the room, people watching as he passed.

I looked up at the chandeliers that were hanging from the tent scaffolding. At the centerpiece of flowering almond branches. I turned the place card over in my hand, rubbing my thumb across its embossed shovel and fork. When I placed it back on the table, Andy was seated next to me.

“Hi,” I said, startled. “I hope it’s okay that I came. I just . . . ” What, Alex?

“Listen,” he said, sounding rushed. “There’s something I need you to know. The timing’s not great, but I didn’t expect you to be here. And—” Oh, no . . .

A voice suddenly boomed from a speaker off to our left.

“Please take your seats.”

Andy laughed. Nervously? I couldn’t tell.

“Guess it’ll have to wait. Unless you want to pull a hamstring or something—might buy us some time?”

“This is so low budget,” I said. “I save public humiliation for big events.”

“It’s really good to see you.”

“You too,” I replied.

He smiled, squeezed my shoulder, and headed toward the stage.

I watched him make his way through the crowd. Then just before he reached the stairs, a woman, a stunning woman in a sexy green dress and turquoise jewelry, stood and took both of Andy’s hands. She had thick, dark hair that curled down her back, golden skin, and luminous dark eyes. She held his face in her hands as they spoke for several seconds, her face very close to his. I gripped the edge of my chair. I felt jealously rising so fast I couldn’t do anything to stop it. When she leaned in and gently touched her forehead to his, I considered leaving. Walking out of the tent and leaving Andy behind for good. But I was rooted to the spot, and I realized that this was my opportunity to be an adult. To be true to myself and maintain my integrity. To be present, grounded, accepting, enlightened, and whatever else I was supposedly trying to be. I sat up and directed my attention to the stage. The chandeliers dimmed, voices grew hushed, and the stage brightened.