Mixed Blessings (31 page)

They rented an erotic movie and watched it on the video, and they both laughed, and ate the chocolates provided by the hotel. "You know, these could become a habit," Brad said, grinning at her.

"The chocolates?" she asked, feigning innocence, and he laughed.

"No, the movies!"

They made love when the movie was over, and then drifted off to sleep in each other's arms, still not sure of the answers.

On Valentine's Day, Charlie went to buy Bowers for the woman at work who helped do his reports for him. She was an enormous woman, with a big heart. He bought her pink and red carnations with baby's breath, and she threw her arms around him and cried, she was so touched when he gave them to her. He was such a nice boy, and poor kid, she knew he was getting divorced, and sometimes he looked pretty lonely.

At lunch, he went and bought himself a sandwich and took himself to Palms Park near Westwood Village, where he could watch old people stroll, and lovers kiss, and children playing.

He liked going there sometimes, just to watch the kids.

He noticed one little girl with long blond braids, big blue eyes, and a cute smile, and he laughed as he watched her playing with her mother.

She played tag and hopscotch and jump rope and jacks, and her mother was almost as pretty as she was. She was a tiny little blond, with long straight hair and big blue eyes, and a childlike figure.

Eventually they played catch, and neither of them could throw or catch the ball. Charlie was still watching them and smiling long after he had finished his sandwich. And suddenly, he was startled when one of their wild throws hit him. He took the ball back to them and they thanked him. And as she did, the little girl looked up at him and grinned. All her front teeth were missing.

"My goodness, who knocked out your teeth?" Charlie asked her.

"The tooth fairy did. And then she paid me a dollar for each one. I got eight dollars," she said, still grinning.

"That's a lot of money." Charlie looked vastly impressed, and the little girl's mother smiled at him. She looked just like the child, except for the missing teeth, which Charlie mentioned. And the young woman laughed.

"Yeah, I guess I'm lucky the tooth fairy didn't kick mine out too. Mine might have been a little more expensive." In point of fact, she was grateful that her husband hadn't knocked them out before he left her. But she didn't mention that to Charlie.

"I'm gonna buy my mom a present with the money," the little girl announced and then asked him if he'd like to join them. He hesitated, but only for a moment, not wanting to annoy her mother.

"Okay. But I'm not a great ball thrower either. By the way, my name is Charlie."

"I'm Annabelle," the little girl announced, "but everyone calls me Annie."

"I'm Beth," her mother said quietly, looking Charlie over carefully.

She seemed cautious, but friendly.

They had a good game of catch, and then hopscotch again before Charlie had to go back to work, reluctantly, to sell textiles.

"See you again sometime," he said as he left them, knowing that he probably wouldn't. He hadn't asked for their number or their names.

He liked them both, but he had no interest in pursuing an unknown woman and her child. He hadn't had a date since Barbie left and he didn't want one, and he figured she was probably married anyway. But she sure was cute.

"Bye, Charlie!" Annie waved as he left the park. "Happy Valentine's Day!"

"Thanks," he called back, and left them, feeling good. There was something about them that brightened up his whole day, even long after he left them.

It took Andy almost a month to find out where she lived. And at first, once he got the address, he wasn't sure what to do with the information. Her attorney had told him, in no uncertain terms, that Mrs. Douglas was through with the marriage. It had been eighteen months and a lot of tears, and she didn't even want to see Andy again.

She wished him well, but she had made it very clear that it was over.

He had continued to call her at work several times after that, and she still wouldn't take his calls. And all he could think of was that stupid lunch with the surrogate and her husband. That was where it had ended. What a pathetic way to end a marriage.

They were ridiculous, both of them . . . the "sperm seekers" . . . looking desperately for babies. He didn't care anymore if he never had a kid. All he wanted in his life was Diana.

And then, inadvertently, when he ran into Seamus and Sam, they told him where she was living. She had rented an old cottage in Malibu, and she was living on the beach. It was one of the first places they had looked before they were married.

And he knew how much she loved the ocean.

He got the address from them by telling them he needed to drop off some of her things. And they said how sorry they were about what had happened.

"It was a lot of stupidity and bad luck," Andy explained sadly. "She got the bad luck, and I was the moron."

"Maybe she'll get over it," Sam said softly. She looked as though she were about to have her baby any minute, and in fact she and Seamus were on their way to the doctor for a checkup. For an instant, Andy felt jealous of them, and then he remrnded himself that that was still not an option.

For two days, he mulled over what to do with the information they'd given him. If he just dropped by, she wouldn't let him in, or maybe he could hang out on the beach waiting for her to go out and get some air, but what if she didn't? And then on Valentine's Day, he decided the hell with it, he bought her a dozen roses and drove to Malibu, praying that she'd be there, but she wasn't. He lay the roses down carefully on the front steps, with a note. It didn't say much, just "I love you, Andy," and then got back in his car, and just as he did, she drove up.

But she didn't get out of her car when she saw him.

He got out of his, and went over to talk to her, and reluctantly, she rolled down her window.

"You shouldn't have come here," she said firmly, trying not to look at him. She looked thinner and more beautiful than he remembered her.

She was wearing a black dress and she looked sexy and elegant as she got out of the car, and stood near it, as though she needed it for protection. "Why did you come?" She had noticed the Bowers on the doorstep and didn't know if they were from him. But if they were, she didn't want them. She was through torturing herself and she wanted him to be too. They had to let go now.

"I wanted to see you, he said sadly, looking like the boy she had married, only better. He was handsome and young and blond and thirty-four years old, and he still loved her.

"Didn't my lawyer tell you what I said?"

"Yeah. But I never listen to attorneys." He grinned, and she smiled in spite of herself. "In fact, I never listen to anyone.

Maybe you know that."

"Maybe you should. It might do you a lot of good. You could save yourself a lot of headaches."

"Really? How?" He feigned innocence, he was just so happy to see her.

He wanted to keep her there talking, so he could be near her. And even in the sea breeze, he could smell her perfume. She wore Calche, by Herms, and he had always loved it.

"You could stop banging your head into walls, for one thing," she said gently, telling herself she wasn't affected by him. This was the test, being near him and not giving in to him.

"I love banging my head into walls," he said softly.

"Well, don't. There's no point anymore, Andy."

"I brought you some flowers," he said, not sure what else to say. And he didn't want to leave her.

"You shouldn't have done that either," she said sadly.

"You've really got to stop now. In five months you'll be free, and you can have a whole new life without me."

"I don't want that."

"We both do," she said firmly.

"Don't tell me what I want," he snapped at her. "I want you, dammit. That's what I want. I don't want some stupid fucking surrogate, I can't believe how dumb all that was. . . . I don't even want a baby. I never want to hear the word again. All I want is you . . Di. . . Please give us another chance . please . . . I love you so much." He wanted to tell her that he couldn't live without her, but the tears in his throat stopped him.

"I don't want a baby either." She was lying, and they both knew it.

If someone could have waved a magic wand over her at that exact moment and made her pregnant, she would have grabbed the opportunity in a second. But she could no longer allow herself to think that. "I don't want to be married. I have no right to be," she said, trying to sound convincing. She had almost come to believe it.

"Why? Because you can't get pregnant? So what? Don't be so stupid. You think only fertile people are allowed to get married anymore? That's the dumbest thing I ever heard of."

"They should marry people like themselves, so no one gets hurt."

"What a great idea! Why didn't I think of that? Oh, for chrissake, Di, grow up. We got a rotten break, but it's not the end of the world. We can still make it."

"We didn't get a rotten break," she corrected him, "I did."

"Yeah, and I ran around like a lunatic interviewing Buddhist starlets as surrogate mothers. Okay, so we both went a little insane. So what? It was tough. It was brutal, in fact. It was the worst thing I hope I ever live through. But that part of it is over. Now we have the rest of our lives to live. You can't just give up on us because we got a little crazy."

"I don't want craziness anymore," she said, and she meant it.

"There's a lot of things I won't do to myself anymore, things I used to think I had to.  I don't go to baby showers, or christenings, or hospitals when babies are born. Sam had her baby yesterday and I called and told her I'm not going. And you know what? It's okay. It's what I have to do to survive these days, and maybe one day I'll be able to handle it, and if I can't, then that's tough, but that's the way it is. I'm not going to make myself uncomfortable anymore or miserable, or be married to someone who should be having kids and isn't because I'm his wife and I'm sterile. And I'm not going to drive myself buggy with surrogates, or donor eggs. Fuck all that shit, Andy. I'm not doing that to myself anymore. I'm just going to live my life, and get on with it. I've got my work. There are other things in life than children and marriage."

He loped at her, thinking about what she'd said. Some of it made sense and some of it didn't. And work was not an adequate substitute for children and a husband.

"You don't deserve to be alone for the rest of your life. You don't need to be punished, Di. You didn't do' anything. It happened to you. That's bad enough. Don't make it worse by being lonely." His eyes filled with tears as he said it.

"What makes you think I'm lonely," she said, irritated with him for his assumptions.

"Because you've been biting your nails. You never do that when you're happy."

"Oh, go fuck yourself." She smiled in spite of herself. "I've had a lot going on at work." And then she looked at him, they'd been talking for an hour, and they were still standing next to her car in the driveway. There couldn't be any harm in letting him in for a little while. They'd been married for eighteen months, and together for a long time before that, surely she could let him into her living room for a few minutes.

She invited him in, and he seemed surprised, and she put the roses in a vase and thanked him.

"Do you want something to drink?"

"No, thanks. Do you know what I'd really like?"

She was almost afraid to ask him. "What?"

"To walk on the beach with you. Would that be all right?"

She nodded, and changed her shoes, and put a warmer jacket on, and he let her lend him one of his old sweaters that she'd taken with her.

"I wondered where this thing had gone." He smiled as he put it on. It was an old friend and he liked it.

"You gave it to me when we were dating."

"I was a lot smarter then than I am now."

"Maybe we beth were," she conceded. They walked down the steps of the balcony off her living room, and onto the beach they both loved. He wondered why they hadn't looked harder for a house here. The beach was so beautiful and they both loved it, and there was something soothing about it now. It was so simple and so close to nature.

They walked in silence for a long time, looking at the ocean and feeling the wind on their faces. And then, without saying anything, he took her hand in his, and they walked some more.

And after a while she looked up at him, as though trying to remember who he was. But it was too easy now to remember as she walked beside him. He was the man she had loved so much . . . who had made her so happy . . before everything went sour.

"It's been tough, hasn't it?" he said as they sat down against a dune, far down from the house she had rented.

"Yeah, it has. And you were right . . . I am lonely . . . but I'm learning things about myself, things I never knew before. I was always so obsessed about having kids that I never stopped and thought about who I was and what I wanted."

"And what do you want, Di?"

"I want a whole life, a real marriage with a whole person that doesn't depend on having kids to hold it together. I still wish I could have them, but I'm not so sure I couldn't survive now without them. Maybe that's what I needed to learn from all this. I don't know. I haven't figured it all out yet." But she had come a long way since she had left him. "I've always been confused about who my sisters were, and who my mother is, and who I am. And whether or not I'm different or the same. They always say I'm so different from them, but I'm not really sure I am. I've always been driven by the same things, family, kids. But I'm driven by other things, too, that's where I'm different. I've always worked harder than any of them did, I needed to achieve, to be the best." Maybe that's part of why this hurts so much. I failed this time. I didn't win. I didn't get what I wanted." It was an honest appraisal, and Andy admired her candor.

"You're someone very special," he said softly, as he looked at her.

"You didn't fail. You did your best, that's what matters."