Authors: Katherine Owen
Not To Us (23 page)
He sits up and stares back at me with too many questions and this sudden dawning of understanding in his eyes.“Ellie, you’re pregnant,” Court says this, as if it is the most wondrous thing. I’m undone by his tone. He is an angel, here to save me from drowning.
“I am.”
“And, when were you going to tell me this?” he asks with this crooked smile. Mr. Court Chandler is unflappable, calm, and composed.
“I was working up to it.” I give him an uncertain smile, undone by his amazing touch, and the way he looks at me now. All the pain of the day seems to fade away in his presence.
“What else haven’t you told me,” he asks now. “Because I’m pretty sure there’s more. What causes a beautiful
pregnant
woman to get on a plane and fly from one end of the country to the other side in a single day with the cremated remains of her children in her suitcase? Why does this goddess lie about her name and who she is? Why would someone do that? Unless, things are so bad, so awful at home that she can’t take it anymore? What can be worse than losing your children?” Court asks; and then with sudden clarity, he says, “What did Michael
do
? What happened, Ellie? What did he do to you?”
Mr. Court Chandler is bringing me down. The combination of alcohol, no food, and the sadness that is my life catches up to me now.
“Do we have to have this conversation? Can’t we just drink the martinis?”
“No.”
“It’s so easy…this untenable situation. Infidelity is so easy, don’t you think, Court?”
“No, it’s not something I normally engage in.” I hear the misery in his voice and look over at him, scrutinizing him, weighing my ability to trust him.
“What’s Eve like?” I ask.
“She’s beautiful, intelligent, and independent. She doesn’t want kids,” he says with desolation.
“And, you do.” He can only nod. “Maybe, she’ll change her mind. You can buy my empty house on Bainbridge Island, get a Golden Retriever, and then, she’ll want kids. Your paradise will be complete.” I sound disillusioned even to myself. I try to smile, but fail.
“What’s Michael like?”
His question catches me off guard. I’m at a loss to describe Michael. I shake my head and finally sigh. “He’s beautiful, intelligent. Michael’s…everything. He loves me even on my worst day.”
“What’s been the worst day?” Court asks.
“It should be February 10
th
,” I say slowly. I look up at him. “But...It’s probably today.”
This acknowledgement troubles me. I’m sure it shows on my face.
“What happened today, Ellie?” Court asks the question in such a thoughtful way that I’m compelled to answer.
“I found him kissing Carrie, his ex-wife.”
Words have left me. I can’t talk anymore. I slide off the bed and cross over to the drapes at the window, push them aside, and stare out into the dark night. I’m unable to see anything, nothing at all. “Carrie is everything. You know? She’s beautiful and sexy. She gets what she wants,” I say in this bitter tone. “She wanted Bobby and she got him. She loses Elaina and she wants Michael back, so she takes it, my life, takes
him
. Takes him away from me.”
“Who’s Carrie?”
“She was my best friend.”
“Geez, are you sure they were together? I mean, are you sure?”
I turn back from the window. I’m dry-eyed. Tears have left me. I feel this sudden burst of anger.
“I
saw
them together. He was kissing her…he…yes! Yes! I’m sure.” The pain engulfs me as I re-live the scene of Michael and Carrie from earlier today.
“I can’t believe this has happened. We were so happy. We were…He loved me so much. But, I knew, deep down, I knew something wasn’t right. He hasn’t been the same since Nick died and then…Elaina. He doesn’t touch me anymore. I can’t explain it, but I think I knew; and then, today. Today, I followed him and I saw them together and…” Words finally fail me. I cross the room and take a swig of the martini. Court is there. He takes the glass from my trembling hands.
“You shouldn’t be drinking,” he says.
I shrug and walk back to the darkened window, unseeing of anything. All this talking of Michael and what happened brings about all this all this heart wrenching sadness. I feel outside of myself, vulnerable, and out of sorts. I stare at Court’s reflection in the window.
“Is your real name Courtney?” I turn back toward him.
He gives me a wry smile. “I usually go by that, but my PR firm is trying to make me seem older.”
“How
old
are you?”
“I’m almost thirty.” He sounds so defensive; it makes me laugh. The comedy of our situation overtakes me for a few minutes. I just laugh. Then, I stop.
“Why are you here? Why did you find me?”
“I didn’t like the way things ended at the airport.” He walks over to me. “I…I don’t do this kind of thing, but you…you are so incredible, Ellie.” Court traces my collar bone with his finger and I involuntarily shudder at his tender touch. “I had to see you, again, to determine if this is real or not.”
“You’re married to Eve,” I say for both of us.
“You’re married to Michael,” he says back to me.
“Not for long. This is untenable.”
“Untenable, but real,” Court says. He leans over me and then kisses my neck and then the connection between us starts up again. “Not possible,” he murmurs and then kisses me.
“Impossible,” I say against his lips. I hear his quiet laughter. He has unhinged me from sadness. He has unchained me from the heartbreak. I am undone because of him from both of these things. In this moment, I believe he can cure cancer, too.
This infidelity thing is too easy. It is the good and the bad.
≈≈
We have come to our senses at the same time; we both pull away from each other. “It’s not too late for either of us,” I say now. “Is Eve a good person?” I stare at him, imploring him to answer.
“Yes,” he says with this crooked smile. I hear his reluctance and regret.
“And you…you are a good person and… so am I. Michael is…Michael is a good person, too.” The truth of my words hits me full force. I get up from the bed where we’ve been kissing and exploring each other; we’ve come so close to consummating this thing between us, half undressed, half in half out, we share this jagged breathing between us.
He’s touched me everywhere and I’ve done the same. Yet, we stopped all at once, at the same time.
I stagger over to the chair by the fireplace and sit down. Court comes over and kneels in front of me, staring up at my face, his bare chest heaving up and down, his erection evident through his boxers. I catch my breath, staring at this magnificent man, this rescuer of me this day. His hand reaches out and catches the trail of the fresh tears that run down my face. His touch is exquisite.
He would never hurt me
. This thought assails me, cutting through the web of heartbroken misery and grief that sequesters me like a permanent prison.
“Ellie, you’re so miraculous.” Court brushes his lips with mine. Slowly he gets up. I watch him as he pulls on his jeans, his t-shirt, and then his jacket. In one swift motion, he picks up the two martini glasses and the metal shaker. “I’ll take these back to Dan.”
“Court,” I say. “Thank you.”
“Ellie.” I look up in surprise because I hear this heartbreak in his voice. “I don’t think… I can see you, again.”
“Why?” I ask with a faint smile, even though I already know the answer.
“Because we can’t…just
be
friends.”
“I know.” He seems to feel my sadness from across the room. He comes back over and sets down the bar ware. “Thank you for being…my friend, Courtney Chandler,” I say just as he pulls me up from the chair and into his arms.
“Sure.” His kiss is so final and so passionate that I feel light-headed, when he pulls away. “Goodbye Ellie Shaw.”
I watch him leave. He flashes me his crooked smile one more time; and then, the door clicks behind him.
I let out a slow breath and with it go the final remnants of today’s brief fleeting moments of happiness with Mr. Courtney Chandler.
≈ ≈ ≈
If Nothing Happened
I
lay on the rumpled bed in my hotel suite for an interminable amount of time. The Boze clock radio on the hotel night stand flashes 10:00 p.m. Mr. Court Chandler left over an hour ago and I haven’t moved. I check the menu for room service and order a steak and salad and a slice of cheesecake. Within a half hour, the food is delivered to my room. Food makes me feel better. I leave the cheesecake untouched because it reminds me of Michael. I can only stare at it now. The headache lessons from my martini binge. I change from the blue mini dress and slip into a long hot bath. Then, I put on a white silk camisole and black yoga pants. I pull the clasp out of my hair and leave it down. I’m now officially out of things to do. I’ve entered that I-should-be-tired-but-I’m-not-phase and glance at the clock. It’s almost midnight.
My cell phone rings. I go over to it and stare at the screen.
Michael
. He is five plane hours away and thousands of miles further than that from me.
I pick up the cell phone and slide my finger across the screen bar to answer. “Michael.” My voice sounds strange and faraway.
“Ellie.” I close my eyes as he says my name in that special way of his. I can feel his love for me as if he has reached out and touched my face. In that moment, the happiness of Mr. Court Chandler all but fades and is replenished by Michael’s voice alone.
“Michael, I’m so…far…away.” I start crying. “I’m in New York.”
“I know,” he says. “I just got here. The plane just landed. Where are you, Ellie?”
It is the love in his voice and the apparent release from the spell of Mr. Court Chandler, all at once, that have me undone, now. I cannot lie. That, alone, gives me pause. I am willing to only speak the truth and I do not completely understand it. The experience with Mr. Court Chandler has done something to me. Something has been resolved within me. It has shown me another side of myself
,
another side of Michael, inadvertently. I try to tell him this now, but my words come out garbled and confused.
“Michael, I need you,” I finally say. “I’m staying at Gramercy Park.”
I hear him say the name of the hotel to someone else; I assume it’s his cab driver. “I’m almost there, Ellen Kay,” Michael promises. I can hear the remorse in his tone. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
Call ended comes up on my phone. I stare at it for a long time. He sounded so close; I’m suddenly afraid. I think of Mr. Court Chandler and where that particular encounter was leading.
I’m at the precipice and I’ve lost so much: the people I love, and me, myself and I. I have to find a way to keep from losing anyone else.
It is 9:15 p.m. in Seattle. I finally pick up my cell phone and call Robert.
“Ellie?” Robert’s tense voice answers on the first ring.
“Bobby.”
“Where have you been, Ells? What’s going on? Michael is out of his mind. He got on a plane to New York this afternoon after he tracked down the most recent charges on your American Express. Emily is beside herself and Mathew won’t even talk to me. What happened?” In what all he has just said, I ascertain that Bobby Bradford has not been apprised of the role that his current wife has had in all of this.
“Bobby, I’m sorry. Michael and I…had a misunderstanding. I know he’s on his way. We’ll work it out. Put Emily on. Let me talk to her.” I hear the background noise of my youngest child’s voice. She is asking him to read her
Winnie the Pooh
. We have regressed by three years in a single day.
“Momma. Is that you?” She sounds wary; I cringe.
“Hey Emily. How are you, Em? How was school?’
“School was fine,” she says in this firm little voice back to me. “Where are you, Momma? Daddy is worried; Michael, too. Where are you?”
“I’m sorry, baby. Mommy had to leave. I had to be alone to think some things through, but I’m going to be home soon.”
I spend another ten minutes telling Emily about my day. She wants to know all about the plane ride, what New York City is like. I make up a bit of a story about seeing my editor, but she is having none of it.
“Michael is sad, Momma. So
sad
. He said you needed a break. That you were too sad. Why Momma? I like Michael. He’s the best. I don’t why you had to leave. Are you mad at him? Mother?”
“I know, baby. Sometimes, grown-ups don’t agree. And, it just takes time and we have to talk things through. You know, we’ll work it out.”
“Uh-huh. Well, I guess,” she sighs. “I’m going to have Daddy read me a story. He promised.”
“Okay, Em. I’ll see you...soon. Go give the phone to Mathew. I love you, Emily.”
“I love you, too, Momma.” I hear Mathew say that he doesn’t want to talk to me, but Emily, being Emily convinces him. There’s shuffling noises as the phone is handed off to Mathew from his little sister.
“Mom,” says my sullen middle child.
Nick is no longer with us and Mathew will always be my middle child, probably even more so.
“Mattie, I’m sorry. I…look, Michael and I had a misunderstanding and I…I’m sorry that I probably worried you today. I’m sure your Dad has been great. Just know that I love you and I’ll be home soon.”
“Is everything all right with you and Michael, Mom?”
“We’re working things out.” I wipe the tears away that stream down my face and try to keep an even tone, but I think he knows I’m crying. “It’s been hard, you know. I promise. I’ll be home soon. Mathew, I love you so much.”
“Mom,” he says. “You have to get the chemo. You have to promise as soon as you get home that you’ll get the chemo.” How does he know this? Before I can blame Michael for telling him about this, he starts talking again. “Lisa called. She’s very upset that you left. She told me that we have to find you and you need the chemo now.”
“Mathew, everything is fine, really. I’ll be home soon. I don’t want you to worry.”
“Promise me, Mom.”
“I promise.” I have carefully chosen my words. I have promised him something, but I’m not sure what that is, yet.
“I love you, Mom.”
“I love you, Mathew. Things are going to be okay. I’ll be home soon. Love you Mattie. Can you find Carrie and give her the phone?”
After a few minutes more, I hear the shuffling of the phone and then I hear my former best friend’s voice say my name. The sound of her voice sets me off and I’m furious all at once.
“Tell me,” I say. “Tell me what happened.” I hear the sound of a door closing and I hear Carrie crying. “Tell me!”
“It was…while we were at the hospital with Elaina. We…got a hotel room. We were tired and just wanted to sleep. I…I just wanted her back. I just wanted what we had back. I just needed him. I needed to know if we could get it back. I’m sorry.”
I hear her crying and listen to it from this faraway place. Something deep inside of me gives way. Michael lied to me when he said that nothing had happened. I cannot speak.
“He wanted it, too, Ellie. He was hurting and he kissed me and it just happened…we both agree it’s wrong. We’re ending it,” Carrie says.
My head snaps back up at her defensive words.
We’re ending it.
Her words sting my soul. “And what I saw today, you call that ending it?” The bitterness is my voice cuts away at us both. Carrie’s sobbing gets louder. “What about Robert?”
“I haven’t told him.” I hear the remorse in her tone.
“You’ll break him with this news. He won’t be able to handle it,” I say now. “He won’t understand it. Damn you, Carrie.”
“I know,” she says. “I’m a terrible person. I’m weak, sad, and awful.”
I don’t say anything for a long time and the silence between us grows. There is only the sound of her crying now. I feel the rage at both of them just build inside of me; it practically incinerates me where I stand.
“This is your last chance at happiness, Carrie.” I’m barely under control as I let the anguish wash over me. “Use it wisely. Don’t you
ever
cross the line with Michael; again, because if you do, I will tell Bobby and you will lose
everything
.” Her sobbing gets even louder with my words.
“Okay. Okay. I’m so sorry, Ellie. You need to come back. We need to make this right between us, between all of us.”
“I’m not coming back, right now.”
“What? But, you have to!”
“No, I don’t. I have to figure my life out, Carrie. Please take care of my kids. I need you and Bobby to do that for me.”
“Okay. I promise; we’ll take care of the kids. But, Ellie, please come home.
“I can’t,” I say in this broken voice. “I can’t. Put Bobby back on the phone.” I hear the door open. Carrie says a broken goodbye. The minutes go by and I finally hear Robert’s voice in the background.
“Ellie?” he asks. “Why is Carrie crying?”
“I don’t know, Bobby. I think she’s upset about my missing chemo…but, I think she’s really still trying to deal with Elaina. Bobby, you need to be there for her. You need to take care of her and be there for her. She won’t always tell you what she needs, but you just have to be there.”
“Okay,” he says uncertain. “Ellie, is everything okay?”
“Almost,” I say. I hold back the tears that threaten again, until after I say goodbye to him.
≈≈
I turn off all the lights and open the drapes to the star-filled, night sky. The moonlight filters through the windows shining light on me and the polished urns holding Nicholas and Elaina.
I’m in an introspective place. It’s as if none of the revelations from Carrie have affected me. I feel this unfamiliar serenity. Peace that I have not known or found for forty-four days.
My mind sifts through the events of the day. Carrie and Michael. Court Chandler. Dan the bartender. Elaina Miles. Ellie Shaw. Nicholas. Elaina. Mathew. Emily. Bobby Bradford. Carrie. Michael.
Michael
. Michael lied to me. Something happened.
Something happened. Infidelity happened.
Carrie and Michael happened.
One lone tear makes it way down my face. I wipe it away with the back of my hand. Before talking to Carrie, I’d resolved to tell Michael
everything
, as in, everything about my encounter with Mr. Court Chandler, my reservations about chemotherapy, my fear about wishes, my fear about Carrie, my fear about him.
Everything.
I had wanted to talk through it all. Now, I have nothing to say.
I glance at the clock. It is one in the morning in New York. Michael should be here any time, now. My heart pounds; my breath is uneven. I feel unsteady.
And, then it comes to me this thought, unexpected and true:
my chance to see Paris is fading
. It will probably never happen. This thought takes over my senses. I feel the last stirring of Elaina Miles looking for a different life, a different result. Elaina Miles does not want to return to Bainbridge Island and shop at Safeway or even Town & Country Market and make kids’ lunches and send a surgeon off to work and wonder if she can ever trust him again. Elaina Miles wants a different life, even if it’s short.
I glance at the urns of my two beloved children. Dying young is the most tragic thing of all. They haven’t seen Paris. Nicholas and Elaina will
never
see Paris. This makes me sad. And, so, in that cataclysmic moment, I choose a different path
—
a different life because Nicholas and Elaina never got to see Paris and neither has me, myself and I. Somehow, in some way, I have to salvage that particular wish for one of us.
I look down and see my packed suitcase. I’ve thrown all my clothes into it, while I was thinking of Elaina Miles’ life and thoughts. I pack the laptop. I sweep the make-up into the suitcase and I gently lay the urns back in as well and zip the sides of the bag together. I pause long enough to write a note on the linen stationery that the Gramercy provides for its guests.
Michael, I didn’t think this would happen. Not to us. Bobby doesn’t know. So there’s one of us left who’s happy. Ellen Kay
Ellen Kay
. I don’t even know who that is anymore. Ellie is gone, too. Elaina Miles closes the door and hears the finality of the click of the lock and makes her way onto the elevator. She expresses her surprise and delight, when she discovers Mr. Court Chandler just sitting there near the concierge’s desk, just waiting
for her
, it seems.
“Hey,” I say.
“Hey,” Court says back to me.
“I’m going to Paris,” I say.
“So am I.”
I look around at the empty lounge
,
empty as it should be at 1:30 in the morning in New York, and I don’t see the reason for why I shouldn’t do this. Michael isn’t there. He isn’t standing there. He doesn’t touch me anymore.
I look over at Court. He stands and comes over to me. His arm encircles my waist and we walk out to the limousine that appears to be waiting for him. My suitcase and the laptop bag are already ensconced in the trunk. “How did you know?”
“I know how much you want to see Paris,” Court says.
I don’t even look back, when the limousine pulls away from curb side. Court tells me we’re flying out tonight on his company’s private plane. When I ask why he flew commercial earlier today, he just gives me that enigmatic smile and doesn’t answer. Elaina Miles just smiles over at him, now. She watches its effect on this engaging twenty-nine-year-old man as he gazes down at her.
Elaina Miles doesn’t have cancer. She doesn’t have kids. She doesn’t have a past. She doesn’t have a future. Elaina Miles has the present and she holds on to him as tightly as he holds on to her.
“We’re not friends,” Court says meaningfully to me now.
“I know.” I’m fearless. This man can cure anything. I smile.
≈ ≈ ≈
