Every Other Saturday (32 page)

“I’ll walk you inside, okay?” Caroline closed her door and walked around the SUV to open the passenger door for Julia. They had spoken very little since Caroline had picked her up from the hospital an hour before.

“Did they say how long you have to wear the boot?” Caroline supported her with one arm and carried the crutches Julia detested with the other.

“Supposedly they are going to x-ray it again Monday before they put it in a cast,” Julia said. “Until then, I just have to stay off of it.”

“Adam has the kids?”

Julia nodded. “It was his weekend anyway.”

She was glad now they didn’t have to see her like this, or be trapped in the house with a mom who couldn’t do anything for them or take them anywhere.

New Year’s grief had driven her insane. She’d decided this in the emergency room the night before. Why else would a grown woman go chasing down a man at a crowded bar at on the craziest night of the year? She’d had to break her ankle to come to this realization, but she was relieved that she hadn’t caught Dave last night.

Caroline settled her on the couch with the remote, her phone, a large bottle of water, and a box of Wheat Thins. “Need anything else?”

A man who wouldn’t desert her. A job. A new life. “No, thanks. I’m good.”

“Okay. Ben and I will pick up your van. I’ll bring it to you this afternoon.”

It had been two weeks, and Julia hadn’t even asked. “God, Caroline, I’m sorry. How did it go with Ben?”

“Horrible.” Caroline sat at the other end of the couch, careful of the inflatable boot containing Julia’s right foot. “Horrible doesn’t begin to describe it.”

“I can imagine.” Julia fidgeted with the couch cushion, trying not to think about all the awful conversations she and Adam had a year ago today.

“You understand.” Caroline’s composure from the hospital had evaporated. She looked miserable. “You’ve been on the other side of it. Am I an asshole? Am I as bad as Adam?”

Julia sighed. There were degrees of betrayal, obviously, but her heart hurt for poor Ben nonetheless. “I don’t think so,” she said carefully. “But for me, the emotional infidelity was almost as bad as the physical stuff.”

Caroline heaved a sigh and fell back into the cushions. Julia could tell her sister didn’t know what to say, so she spoke instead. “Ben’s not… Are you staying together?”

“So far. He insisted I fire Sean, for starters.” She sat up again suddenly. “Do you know that Irish bastard threatened to sue me? Can you believe it? I told him I’d have him deported first.”

“Can you do that?”

“No. But he doesn’t know that. Anyway, that leaves me without a bartender and six events lined up for the next two weeks and…”

“
Caroline
.”

“What?”

“You repeatedly sucked face with your twenty-six-year-old bartender, who by the way was your subordinate, while your husband was at home with your teenage sons. Ben is not leaving you, and so far you haven’t been featured on the local news or shot in a jealous rage. Let’s focus on the good here.”

“You’re right,” Caroline said, resigned. Then she added, “He was twenty-four.”

Julia ignored this. “Would he really sue you?”

“No. He’s pissed off. I made it clear things weren’t going anywhere, but I think Sean romanticized it in his head. Guys are like that. You can’t always tell how deep their feelings are until it comes out as anger.”

Julia was surprised at this insight. “I guess you know more about men than I do, since you’ve raised two and stayed married to one. In spite of everything.”

“Actually, I read that in
O
Magazine
.”

They both laughed, and Julia shuffled her foot without thinking, which made her ankle throb painfully. Seeing her wince, Caroline went to the kitchen for her pain prescription. “What are we doing about the store?”

“I guess we have to sell it. There’s not much choice. Even if I wanted to keep working there and waiting tables,” Julia gestured at her foot, “my short-term options are very limited.”

“What will you do next?”

“No idea. I might have to borrow money from Adam. Or Mom, God help me.”

Caroline bit her lip. “Okay, I haven’t talked to Ben about it in a few days—obviously we’ve been having other conversations—but as of a month ago, we were discussing helping you buy Adam out.”

“What?”

“We could still own the store fifty-fifty, you and us. You deserve something for running it by yourself all those years. I know you didn’t always pay yourself.”

“That was my choice. You wanted to sell years ago—”

Caroline waved away the argument. “Let’s see how it goes. Maybe I can help with marketing and stuff. I’m not winning any awards in my personal life, but I have managed to grow a successful business over the last decade. I should’ve offered sooner.”

“Since we’re being honest, why didn’t you ever help? I know you had your own business and hardware isn’t your thing, but… It sucked doing it alone.”

Caroline stared at her hands, folded in her lap. “I’m sorry, Jules. You and Dad were always close, especially after the divorce. You worked in the store; you spent time with him. But I never felt that connection with him. I guess I resented you. And the store.”

“Dad loved you. So much.”

“I know. But you were his little tomboy buddy. I could never relate like that. And, I know she wasn’t perfect, but…I guess someone needed to be on Mom’s side.”

“Mom has pretty much always been on her own side.”

“See? You’re so hard on her.” Caroline’s eyes glistened. “Or maybe I’m too easy because I’m turning out just like her.”

Julia put a hand on her arm. “Hey. Those boys have a better mother than we ever did. No matter what is happening with you and Ben.”

Caroline stood. “If you need anything before I get back, just text me, okay? Love you, Jules.”

“Love you, too.”

When the front door closed behind her sister, the silence was deafening. Julia had no interest in TV, so she lay there, thinking the pain medicine would eventually knock her out. But there were too many thoughts tumbling around in her head. Not about the man who left her a year ago. She simply no longer loved Adam enough to hate him.

Dave crossed her mind, but she couldn’t submerge herself in that sadness either. Her broken ankle had been a message from the universe, saving her from making an ass of herself in front of the friend who had come to mean so much to her. Maybe she did feel attraction to him, but that was normal considering the situation: how lonely she’d been, how close they had become.

It was proximity, pure and simple.

The experiment was over, and with proximity gone, the feelings would fade. Dave had found someone better suited to his religious and family life, who Julia had to admit was lovely. He had said it himself, all those months ago: if God had chosen one person just for him, that person would be Jewish by definition. Not the crazy shiksa who cried on his shoulder and broke her ankle chasing after him. Julia’s job was to be his friend, to be happy for him. Maybe that was the first step to finding happiness for herself.

She lay there, staring at the green spot on her ceiling where either she or Dave had let a roller get away, and cried. She didn’t wipe her eyes—her arms felt too heavy from the meds—and the tears rolled down her temples into her ears. She wasn’t grieving for Adam or even Dave, but for the one man who had loved her unconditionally. The man whose memory and legacy had become her lifeline, and her burden.

Her dad’s store had been something to grab onto when his death threatened to wash her away in grief. She had been clinging to it for so long that she had barely noticed when the waters around her had calmed. Or maybe it was just that she’d become a strong enough swimmer that she no longer needed it.

The tears brought clarity and relief. Julia would not let Caroline put more money into a dying business. She wouldn’t let her kids suffer for her stubbornness. She lay there for hours, drifting in and out of sleep, painting scenarios in her head until she could see one image more clearly than the others. When it started to get dark, she picked up her phone from the end table, knowing exactly who she needed to call.

When Debbie’s number lit up his phone the Saturday after New Year’s, a thousand unpleasant possibilities went through Dave’s head.

“Hey.” The wariness crept into his tone before he could stop it. “Everything okay?”

“Everything is fine. Lyric is outside with Aaron. And you don’t have to sound so excited to hear from me.”

“I am over-the-moon excited to speak to you,” he said robotically.

She laughed. “You always were a terrible liar.”

“What’s up? I’m working on my last dating blog.”

“Going out with Natasha again tonight?”

“Natasha is her nickname. It’s Sandy. You met her, remember?”

“Of course.” Debbie’s tone was unreadable, which made him nuts. He knew she had an opinion about Sandy, and wished she would just say whatever it was so they could move on. Instead, she changed the subject. “I was just wondering if you were going to see Julia today?”

“Julia Mendel?”

“Of course
Julia Mendel
.” The “you idiot” at the end of the sentence was implied. As though she and Julia had been best friends for ages. “I need the key to her store so I can stop by Wednesday night. I thought if you were going to be at her house, she could give it to you. I can get it when you pick up Lyric tomorrow. You’re still taking her to the Hawks game, right?”

It was like Debbie was speaking a foreign language. “Deb, I can’t even count all the things you just said that I don’t understand. But yes, I am still taking Lyric to the Hawks game tomorrow. And why do you need a key to Julia’s store?”

“I’m doing the renovation design. She didn’t tell you? I assumed you guys were still talking.”

“We are talking. I mean, we’re not
not
talking.” This was beginning to feel like a high school drama. He was missing something, and as usual Debbie was willfully making him feel stupid before cluing him in. He took a steadying breath. “Will you please just back up and tell me what the hell is going on?”

# # #

Two hours later, Dave pulled the truck into the parking lot at Sandy’s condo. She lived in a tucked-away complex next to the Chattahoochee River, near the trailhead of a popular hiking and biking path. Admittedly way cooler than his suburban townhouse.

He took a deep breath before ringing the bell, promising himself that he would focus only on her, on their second date. Everything else could wait until tomorrow.

“Hey.” Sandy opened the door with a smile. “I should’ve offered to meet you at the restaurant. My place is kind of off the beaten path if you’re not used to it.”

“It’s great. You ready?”

“Sure.” She called up the stairs, “Kimberly, we’re heading out! Gabe, Mommy will see you in the morning, okay?”

A boy younger than Lyric, with round eyes and dark skin, watched from upstairs, face pressed against the wooden banister. He waved solemnly as a girl in her twenties looked on behind him.

“You’ve never been married?” Dave asked on the way to his truck.

“Nope. I adopted Gabe on my own when I was thirty-five.”

He held the door open for her and crossed to the driver’s side. “Kind of early to give up on marriage, wasn’t it?”

“How early did you give up on yours?” she asked pointedly.

“Touché.” Dave tried a charming smile. “I’m known for being an insensitive dick sometimes. It’s part of my brand.”

“I told you, I read your blog.” She returned the smile. “Anyway, I didn’t give up on anything. Gabe just sort of fell into my lap. But you don’t want to hear that whole story—it’s only our second date.”

“What the hell else are we going to talk about?” he said. “Certainly not hockey.”

She grinned. “I was working in the ER when a couple came in after a car accident. It was awful; neither of them survived, but they had this beautiful baby boy with them. I happened to talk to the social worker when we were examining him. They were in the process of adopting him from Guatemala, but they had no family, and it was murky if he would be accepted into foster care stateside. It was me, or back to an underfunded orphanage in Guatemala.”

“Jesus.” Dave whistled.

“It’s okay. Obviously horrific, but Gabe doesn’t remember it. He was only six months old. And he is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“That, I understand,” Dave said. They reached the main road and he turned toward the restaurant.

“I don’t know you that well yet,” Sandy said an hour later, over the brick-sized piece of chocolate cake on the table between them. “Is this like pasta-coma distracted, or not-enjoying-the-date distracted?”

“What?” Dave said. “Oh, sorry.”

“Is it the blog? Do you think it’s too much pressure? Because I was starting to feel that a little.” She forked a bite of the cake.

“You’re feeling pressure?”

“Well, now I feel stupid for saying it.”

Dave shook his head and put a hand on hers. “Don’t.”

She took a deep breath. “It’s just so public. On your last few blogs there were all those people I’ve never met, rooting for you to pick me.”

“That’s good, right?”

“Sure,” she said. “But it worries me a little. This was supposed to be my first step back toward dating, and now it feels too big to fail.”

He didn’t respond, just put a fork in the cake and took a small bite. He was stuffed, but needed something to do with his hands.

“Not that I
want
it to fail,” Sandy said. “I like you.”

“I like you, too.” He meant it. Sandy was great: Kind, funny, beautiful, and liked sports. She was a nurse, like his mom. And Jewish. She had a kid she’d adopted under amazing circumstances who was a year younger than Lyric, the perfect age. And as a bonus, no ex-husband baggage. J-Date had chosen better than he ever could have hoped.

And still.

“So you read the other date blogs, right?” he asked Sandy.

“Most of them,” she said. “Why?”

“Who would you have picked, if you were me?”

“Besides myself? Well, Esmeralda, obviously. She was awesome enough to scare me away the first time.”

Dave nodded. “She was great. I think she was more interested in getting exposure for her charity, though. Don’t tell anyone, but I got the impression she already had someone special.”

“Boyfriend?”

“Or…” Dave held out a hand to suggest the other possibility.

“No way!” Sandy stopped, cake halfway to her mouth. “Are you saying I almost let myself get beat out by a lesbian?”

He smiled. “In your defense, she was a very hot lesbian. But yeah, I think so. Your instincts are good; she was one of the few I would want to hang out with again.”

“I could tell from the blog,” Sandy said. “So, not Esmeralda… You liked Frances Houseman—I
loved
the Dirty Dancing reference—but she was too young. Ariel and Betty Rubble tried too hard to please you. Sandra Dee and… who was the other one? Jane. Jane from Tarzan. She seemed kind of uptight, right?”

He nodded, sitting back to listen. It was strange and fascinating to hear the last eighteen weeks of his life through the lens of someone who’d read a few paragraphs about each one. He wondered who Julia would’ve picked for him, given the chance. She’d heard more than anyone else about his dates—at least the half that fell on their shared Saturdays. Had he asked her what she thought?

“Holly Golightly. The yoga teacher. She sounded fun. I remember because she was the week after…I stood you up. I thought it was weird you didn’t connect with her, and I blamed myself.”

“Eh, I don’t think you get all the credit on that one,” he said.

“You liked Annie Savoy. I rented
Bull Durham
after that one. It’s what made me decide to call you after Thanksgiving.”

“I’m glad you did,” he said, ready to change the subject. The postmortem on all his failed dates was starting to grate on him.

Sandy smiled. “Guess I shouldn’t ask who else you were considering, if you hadn’t chosen me. It would probably just make me jealous.”

“Honestly, it wasn’t a large pool.”

“Oh! Lisa Simpson. She was early on—a nurse, like me. But your blog about that date seemed to veer off a little—you talked about first impressions and rejecting people based on appearances, some conversation with Princess Diana. That’s Julia, right? Your friend at the carnival?”

Dave nodded and reached for his empty wine glass before setting it down again. He waved at the waiter. “Do you want some coffee? Or another glass of wine?”

“Coffee, thanks,” Sandy said to the waiter, and Dave held up two fingers. “You know, I didn’t meet Julia for long, but Princess Diana doesn’t seem to fit her. Is it an inside joke?”

“Sort of.”

His tone must have conveyed how ready he was to move on, because Sandy opened her mouth to ask something else, and then popped it closed again. She looked around the little restaurant, seeming to admire the warm brick fireplace in the center. Dave fidgeted with his napkin in annoyance. With himself, with Julia, with the whole damn thing.

The waiter returned to set two coffees between them. “You know,” Sandy said. “I have to admit that Esmeralda wasn’t the only person on your blog I found intimidating.”

“No?” He took a sip of coffee. “Well, if it’s my ex, you don’t have to worry about that. She’s dating my best friend now, so it’s all good.”

Sandy’s auburn eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Seriously?”

“The good news is, we’re all going on
Jerry Springer
to hash it out, which is really going to help my publicity.”

She laughed. “Actually, it was Diana I was worried about. I know you guys are just friends, but you seem so fond of her, and you respect her opinions so much. I was afraid when I met her in person that if she didn’t like me, I’d get the boot.”

“It
was
kind of unfair,” he acknowledged. “You had to meet real people on our date. Including my ex. No one else had to do that.”

Her red ringlets shook. “Totally fair. It was my penance, remember? I just hope she liked me. Julia, I mean.”

“She did like you,” he assured her, clutching the napkin under the table. “She definitely did.”

# # #

When Dave got to the familiar door, it was almost ten thirty. Way too late, but there was nothing for it. He had hemmed and hawed and driven in circles for at least half an hour, after dropping Sandy off and apologizing for being the world’s worst date.

Sandy, of course, had been completely cool about it. Damn her.

Julia opened the door in an oversize flannel shirt, looking sleepy. Except for the air cast, her pale, curvy legs were bare. This made him more incensed for some reason.

“Hey?” She was confused to see him. All the better.

“Can I come in?” It was a formality, because he was already pushing past, one arm on her elbow so not to topple her over. Her right foot stuck out so that he had to step over it to enter the living room.

“Please do,” she murmured.

“Any beer in the fridge?”

“Sure, I’ll—”

“I’ll get it. You should be off your feet. Obviously you have a broken ankle you opted to tell me nothing about.”

Her eyes widened. “Dave—”

He ignored her, going to the kitchen before she could finish. When he returned with two open bottles of beer, she was straightening up the couch. It was littered with papers, her laptop, and various snack containers. “I wasn’t expecting anyone.”

“How could you be? When you didn’t even bother telling me what happened, why would you expect me to show up?”

She stopped, gaping at him with a pile of papers in one hand and a cracker box in the other. He waited for her to say something.

“Sit.” He took the piles from her arms to the kitchen table and returned, handing her one of the beers from the side table. He sat next to her and stared at her until she looked up. No makeup, and her cat eye glasses were spotted. Still beautiful. “Why didn’t you tell me? I would have come.”

“To do what?” she said.

“I don’t know. Carried stuff. Carried you. Lifted things. Man stuff.”

She smiled but didn’t look at him. “I thought you had a date tonight.”

“I did. A second date. It didn’t go well, Julia.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You are?”

“Yes. I want you to be happy.”

He couldn’t control the anger seething out of him. “You called Debbie. My fucking ex-wife knew what happened to you before I did.”

“She’s going to help me and Caroline renovate Dad’s store.”

“So she said. Still doesn’t explain why you didn’t tell me what happened.”

Julia tucked both sides of her dark, messy hair behind her ears. She looked tortured. “Dave, I was—embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed that you broke your ankle?”

“I was doing…something stupid when it happened. But it’s more than that.”

There was a lump in his throat. “I thought we were friends. What did I do wrong?”