Confessions of an Ex-Girlfriend (26 page)

“He called back within the hour, but by then Lulu had stopped vomiting, though she was very weak.”

“Did he come by?”

“No. Turns out he had gone out to Fire Island for the weekend and there was no way he could get back to the city until Sunday, what with the ferry schedule and all. He just advised us to keep fluids in Lulu, to keep her from dehydrating. So that's what Richard and I did. We sat up with Lulu all night, taking turns feeding her water from an eyedropper, which is the only method we could find to get water into her. And we comforted her. And each other. Emma, I never realized how much Richard really cared about Lulu. About me. We just held each other through the night and talked. Really talked. It was…beautiful.”

My eyes misted over and a lump thickened in my throat. “That's wonderful, Alyssa.”

“And get this,” she continued. “I took Lulu in to see Jason
today. Apparently she had had an allergic reaction to the painkillers he prescribed!”

“The bastard.”

“It's not Jason's fault. How could he have known she was allergic? She had no history.”

“Still, he might have done some tests….”

“Emma, I'm very grateful to Jason. Especially since he also gave me the news today that the biopsy on Lulu's cyst showed it's benign.”

“That's wonderful!”

“I know. I was so happy, I gave Jason a big hug. And the best part is, I didn't feel a smidgen of attraction for him anymore. Can you believe it?”

“Yes, I can,” I said, disavowing all images that suddenly came to mind of Dr. Jason Carruthers and his blatant sensuality. I was so damn happy Alyssa and Richard had found each other again.

“You know, I'm even considering going homeopathic next time,” she continued. “Natural remedies might be easier on Lulu's system. There's a vet in the East Village who specializes in holistic treatment. I've been doing some reading, and I'm starting to realize that Jason might not be as up-to-date as I thought he was.”

I smiled. One thing was certain: No matter what happened with Lulu, I knew Alyssa and Richard had passed a test that showed they would withstand anything together. Forever.

“I've got to go,” she said now. “Richard is cooking
me
dinner tonight, and from the sound of clanging pots in the kitchen, he might need some help.”

We hung up a few minutes later, and I was filled with hope once more. I had known Alyssa and Richard were Meant-To-Be. I had felt it in my bones, and I had been right. And now, as my thoughts turned to Max, I felt an odd tingling inside that filled me with anticipation, and with hope. Maybe my intuition was telling me he just might be The One for me.

Confession: My body has been taken over by a brave new woman: the Über Single Girl.

 

W
ith all these good vibes in the air, I couldn't hold out much longer on Max. By Tuesday night, there was no stopping the inevitable. I called him. I couldn't help myself. And at the sound of his happy voice on the other end of the line, I knew I had done the right thing.

“Emma! Good to hear from you. How's everything?”

“Wonderful. Yourself?”

“Great, great. Sorry I took so long to get back to you. I—”

“Long? I hadn't noticed. Been so busy and all,” I fibbed. “Working on a proposal for a special issue of the magazine. Writing a novel. You know how it is.”

“Oh, I do,” he said with a chuckle. “So, you up for a little entertainment?”

“Depends on what you have in mind,” I replied, though I knew in my heart even if he suggested watching football with a roomful of his beer-swilling fraternity brothers, I'd go.

“Well, the new Bart Freely movie is opening this weekend—
The Lone Lover?
Freely's one of my favorite directors.”

A shiver went through me. Bart Freely was Derrick's favorite director, too. But this thought was erased by Max's next words.

“It's playing at the Beekman Theater, right by my apartment. Thought you might want to try the Upper East Side for a change.
Besides, the Beekman is a great old theater and it's been renovated recently.”

He was inviting me into his 'hood. My antennae were raised.
He wants to show me his world. Maybe even…his apartment.
Gulp. “That sounds like fun,” I replied, as if the sexual implications of his suggestion didn't even faze me.

“I could pick you up at your apartment, if you want…” he started.

Amazed and flattered that he would suggest something so insanely chivalrous as coming all the way downtown to pick me up for a movie all the way uptown, I quickly replied, “Oh, that's not necessary. How about I meet you at the theater?”

“Great. Great,” he replied, relief evident in his voice. “There's a nine-fifteen show. Maybe we can meet there about eight-thirty? You know how crazy it is getting seats on a Friday night.”

“Oh, yeah,” I said, remembering how anal Derrick had been about getting to the movies early to insure himself a center-screen, midtheater view that hopefully wouldn't be impeded by some pituitary case. Since I had already lived with this particular neurosis for two years, I knew I could handle it. “That's fine.”

“Then it's settled. See you at eight-thirty on Friday.”

“See you then,” I replied.

Then he added, “I'm really looking forward to it, Emma.”

“Me, too.” I replied. And I was. If I didn't have an anxiety attack due to sheer nervous anticipation.

 

Confession: I finally understand why sex is a four-letter word.

 

“You don't
have
to sleep with him, Emma, just because you're in his neighborhood,” Jade said when I called her later that night to tell her about my big date plans.

“I know
that,
” I replied, though I had already mentally picked out my whole outfit, right down to my black lacy underwear.

“In fact, I changed my mind. I don't think you should sleep with him just yet,” she said.

“Look's who's advocating celibacy!”

“Yeah, well, I don't like how he's maneuvering things. You
need to keep him reminded of who is in charge. If you don't sleep with him, he'll realize he can't run things his way. Believe me, they will always
try
to run things their way. Even Enrico, dewy youth that he is, likes to think he's the one running the show. I humor him sometimes, only to keep the peace. But I'm really the one calling the shots.”

“So I gather you and Enrico are going strong?”

“Going strong?” she said defensively. “We're not
going
anywhere. We are having sex.”

“Okay, okay. No need to get so touchy.”

“Who's touchy? I'm just tired of reminding everyone, including him, that we are
not
having a relationship. We are having sex. Amazing sex, I might add. In fact, the other night, I'm getting ready to go out and he's waiting for me in the living room. Or so I thought. Next thing you know, he's in the bathroom with me as I'm putting on my lipstick, yanking my skirt up and shoving me against the mirror.” She sighed at the memory. “He took me right there on the bathroom sink. All my hair products and cosmetics flying everywhere with one swipe of his beefy forearm. Totally fucking amazing.”

I tried to picture Max and me having a wild moment of passion in my bathroom. Then I realized the sink was a little too close to the toilet in that tiny space to make it anything but a rather awkward affair. I tried to picture Max naked, and it wasn't a bad image. It was so good, in fact, I had to force myself to refocus once more on the conversation at hand. “Good sex is important to a relationship—not that you're having a relationship,” I added quickly before driving my real point home. “It's too bad Enrico isn't a little older. And more your type. You guys might have something.”

Jade sighed. “That's the problem with you, Emma. You're always thinking a man and a woman together has to equal happily-ever-after.”

“I do not!” I said, suddenly defensive. “I was just thinking how nice it could be. Me and Max. You and Enrico. Alyssa and Richard.”

“You're assuming way too much there, Emma. I mean, even Alyssa and Richard aren't sure where they're going….”

“Oh, yes they are,” I replied happily, then proceeded to fill her in on all the heartwarming details of Alyssa and Richard's reunion.

By the end, I could tell she was pleased for them. How could she not be? I knew Jade saw Alyssa and Richard as soulmates, just as I always did. Of course, she couldn't help but turn the tide of the conversation from warm and fuzzy coupledom back to sexually adventurous femaledom before we hung up.

“Does this mean that Dr. Doggie is free?” she asked.

“You are insufferable,” I replied.

“That's why you love me,” she said.

“It's true. What would I have done after Derrick without you to remind me of all the other fish in the sea?”

“You mean vermin in the basement, don't you?” she replied. “This is New York City, after all.”

“Jade!” Her sexually adventurous side I could accept. It was her cynicism I worried about.

 

Confession: Cynicism might be my only protection right now.

 

Friday night came way too fast for my taste. I only had time for one gym session, and even that was somewhat halfhearted, as Alyssa and I spent most of it dawdling in the steam room and talking about her and Richard's relationship revival. A surprise bouquet of roses sent to her office on Monday. A full body massage when she got home on Tuesday. He'd even shut off the Yankees game last night so they could spend some quality time together. All this plus Lulu was back to her perky self again. I was amazed at how far a little personal trauma could take a relationship.

I had also barely had time to recover from two jarring bits of news I received during the week. On Wednesday I learned my proposal for the Older Bride issue had ultimately been nixed by Patricia. Though Caroline did suggest, in her usual soothing tone, that I could do an
article
on the older bride for Rebecca's special issue on second marriages, I didn't respond warmly to the idea. Especially since Rebecca, Marcy Keller and anyone I happened to strike up a conversation with at the office these days couldn't help
but inform me how beautifully Rebecca's special issue was coming along.

The second bit of news, which I received via voice mail on Thursday, was considerably more disturbing. My father's wife, Deirdre, had called me at the office, and finding me away from my desk, left three menacing words after the beep for me to return to: “He's drinking again.” Then, in a voice somewhat more resigned, “Call me when you get a chance.”

I will confess up-front that I did not call back right away. I couldn't go there, couldn't descend into my family's particular brand of madness while I was trying so hard to make my life resemble something normal, if not fairytalelike. It wasn't as if I could do anything anyway. I'd had such messages before over the course of the past few years. I knew the drill. Three or four days of drinking, lack of appetite and sleeplessness. Two days where he attempted to sober up. One day of helplessness and self-pity. Then, if things got really bad, rehab.

I just wasn't ready to deal with it.

So I avoided it for the time being. Even managed to mercifully blot it out of my mind completely as I blew out my hair on Friday night and slid on my best pair of jeans. After throwing on my slides and a sleeveless, funky orange T-shirt that Jade had discovered at a sample sale and given to me after having worn it only once, I was ready to face my date with Max Van Gelder. As ready as I would ever be, anyway.

Max was waiting in front of the theater when I arrived, much to my satisfaction. Jade had advised lateness, and though it was a struggle for me, I managed to make myself a full five minutes behind our scheduled meeting time. “Hey,” I said, as I approached.

“Hey, yourself,” he said, his eyes roaming over me. Then he kissed me, hard and fast, on the lips.

Well, I thought. Things were certainly getting off to an…
interesting
start. That kiss felt awfully like the kind of casually intimate kiss one received from a…a boyfriend.

Then he grinned at me. “You look great.”

More points for Max. “Thanks. You're not so bad yourself,” I replied.

Another smile, while his eyes studied mine for a few moments, almost as if he were measuring something. It made me vaguely nervous, but in a shivery, exciting way.

“Want to go in and find seats? I already got us tickets,” he said, taking my hand.

He led me into the theater, and I thrilled at the way we must look together, he in dark denim with a groovy camouflage T-shirt, me in matching denim and funky orange. We looked more the part of the hip New York couple than Derrick and I ever had, I realized with satisfaction. After all, Derrick was from
New Jersey.
And there was no hiding that fact, no matter how many black turtlenecks you owned.

But then my brand-spanking new beau did a perfectly Derrick thing: He started obsessing over the seating arrangements.

First, he buzzed me past the snack bar, muttering something about finding seats first before the crowds got there. Then, once he opened the door to the theater, I saw him survey the room. “Okay, looks like some strong possibilities in the center aisles still, though some of them may be too close to the screen. Wait—” With a firm hand to my back, he escorted me to an aisle that was completely filled, except for two seats which still remained empty midrow. “Can you excuse us?” he said to the burly guy on the end, who looked down the row first, almost in disbelief that there were still any seats left. After we plowed through the left half of the row and took our coveted position, Max sat down carefully, inspecting his view from every angle, even slumping down a little bit to see if the somewhat short person in front of us might obstruct his view at any angle other than the straight back position. Once through with his routine, he turned to smile at me. “Perfect,” he whispered. “How are you? Comfortable?”

“I'm fine,” I said, smiling dumbly at him, amazed at how similar he suddenly seemed to Derrick. It was almost as if I were experiencing déjà vu. Were all men like this? Maybe it was just a New York thing. Overcrowded theaters and all.

“Want anything from the snack bar?” he said.

“Uh…” I gazed at the row of people to our right, hoping he would choose to disturb
them
this time, rather than push past Burly
Guy and his group of disgruntled friends once more. “Okay. A Diet Coke?”

“Sure. And I'll get us some popcorn.” With that, he made his way down the right half of the row, thank God, leaving me to openly gaze upon his beautiful posterior. I sighed. Suddenly the night felt full of promise once more.

Max came back about fifteen minutes later, gallantly juggling two sodas and a giant vat of popcorn. Once settled in beside me, he handed over a soda and gave me another one of his toe-curling smiles. “I've been waiting all week to see this movie,” he said, then positioned the popcorn strategically between us as the lights dimmed and the first preview lit up the screen. After a few barbs passed back and forth concerning the ridiculous quality of the three movies previewed, we settled into silence as the opening credits rolled. Judging from what I remembered about Derrick's movie fanaticism, I knew a word uttered during the feature film could be damning when on a date with a true film buff, so I kept my mouth shut.

During the course of the movie, which followed the life of a young urbanite torn between his love for his impossible neighbor and the woman he has lived with for seven years, I became painfully aware of two things. First, that Bart Freely, director extraordiniare according to Derrick and Max, seemed to structure all his films around the utter impossibility of two people ever finding each other on any sort of emotional level. And second, that there seemed to be a somewhat jarring amount of physical space between Max and me for the entire duration of the movie. His eyes were forward, knees a careful yet relaxed distance from mine, his arm embracing the popcorn like a lover. Plus, he took over my armrest, as did the other male movie-goer to my right, leaving me with no other option but to keep my hands folded on my lap. We weren't even touching shoulders. It was as if I were at the movies by myself, so cut off from him was I.

By the time we got to the final scene in the movie, which closed on a shot of our young hipster hero reading Nietszche in a dimly lit restaurant mere weeks after having been thrown out by his live-in and abandoned by his lover, and looking incredibly content in
his solitude, a strange, ominous feeling began to pervade my system. I risked a glance at Max, who was completely engrossed in the movie, his handsome features highlighted by the flickering screen. It was as if he had completely forgotten I was there.