Reconcilable Differences: A 'Having It All' Novel (15 page)

“This is not a woman to admit to weakness.” Simon’s smile
was wry and deeply sad. “She handed Maddie over to my care the day she was
born. I was thrilled to be a father.” She was back at work in a week, leaving
him to work out the logistics of parenting and childcare. Kate could hardly
bear to look in his eyes; they were liquid pools of pain and disappointment. He
ended up taking the six-month parental leave his firm allowed, and then setting
up a nanny at home.

“That was four years ago.”

“I’m sorry. It must have been very hard for you.”

“Not hard, in the sense that—it was a relatively normal
life—just disappointing that I had to do it alone. The Rachel I thought I
married just didn’t exist. I had dreamt of things being very different.” His
voice faded. She wondered there was any fight left in him.

Kate took advantage of the lull in conversation to fetch
the tea, and, remembering his sweet tooth, grabbed a bag of store-bought
oatmeal cookies out of the cupboard. He dug into the cookies the way other
people ate potato chips, by the handful, dipping them into his tea and
continuing his story. Currently, Rachel was supposed to take Maddie every two
weeks for the weekend. They were lucky if she came through once a month. That
was why he’d lost his cool on Saturday night. Poor Maddie. Maybe she was young
enough it wouldn’t matter much in the long run. Kate doubted that. Madison
needed a mother, a real mother; every child did, no matter how wonderful her
father was. Four. Five. Six, she counted the cookies he ate.

“And you never met anyone else?” Seven. Eight.

Simon shrugged. “It’s only been two years. There hasn’t
been time for dating. Besides, I’m still too angry and too… exhausted.” Simon
ground his knuckles into his eye sockets, and she could see it was true. “And
Maddie comes first. Always.” His face was set in determination.

He reached for another two cookies. “Okay, that’s nine
already.” He froze with his hand in the bag, looking up with a guilty
expression.

“You’re counting?”

Kate grinned at him, happy to distract him from his
tragic tale. “I’m teasing, go ahead. But how do you stay slim if you eat sugar
and carbs like that?” She figured he’d had enough serious reflection.

“I run, mainly. And a few odd sports when I get a chance,
hockey, basketball, whatever.” He shrugged. “And I suppose I come by it
naturally.” He bit into number ten with a grin.

“I’m sorry about your finger, by the way,” she said,
indicating his bandage. “Oscar can be moody.”

He laughed. “My own fault. Don’t worry about it.”

Not long after, he apologized for spending the whole
afternoon eating up her food and her time. “What is it about you? You make me
want to tell you all my secrets?” he’d said, touching her chin with a
fingertip, and left, extracting a promise that she’d keep him informed about Sharon’s
maneuvers.

How had the day progressed in such a fashion? She’d begun
the day determined to put more distance between them. Instead, he’d spent hours
in her personal space, poured out his heart to her, and she’d come to feel more
warmth and compassion toward him than ever. Each time they shared a meal, she
reflected, she got deeper into trouble. Well, it was one thing to become
friends. She’d just have to work harder to keep herself apart, both physically
and emotionally.

Kate
arrived at the community center
to meet Alexa for their regular squash game, every Wednesday at four-thirty. It
was hard to get away some days, but Kate managed. They had made it a priority
years ago, when their busy schedules had caused them to drift apart, trying to
kill two birds with one stone, stay fit and keep in touch. It was one of Kate’s
favourite times. And over time she’d become quite a formidable squash player.

After checking in, she went to the locker room to change
into her gear, watching for Alexa. She was often late, squashing their late
afternoon squash appointment in between meetings and more meetings.
Architecture didn’t seem to allow her to work a regular schedule. Alexa was a
loyal friend, but unreliable.

While she dressed, Kate thought about how long she and
Alex had been friends, since meeting in an Art History class when they were
eighteen, and discovering they lived in the same dorm. Simon had reminded her
of her youthful interest in Urban Planning, and she wondered if she would have
ended up a consultant like Alexa, at her clients’ beck and call, living from
deadline to deadline. Well, she shrugged, it was a moot point now.

Instead, she had found her calling in mediation. She was
happy. And she was helping people in a way that was more direct and immediate
than work as a planner would have been, and that, she’d learned, was important
to her. All that bureaucracy would probably have driven her crazy, anyway. She
locked up her things and made her way through the weight room to the squash
courts. All the more reason not to risk screwing up her big opportunity for
recognition, and blowing this important case study, by being weak and naive
about Simon. She couldn’t afford to be off her game right now.

Sharon’s high-handed phone call this morning had
infuriated her, but she knew there was some truth in her accusations. Though
there was ostensibly nothing unseemly going on between herself and Simon,
except getting reacquainted, there was a disturbing undertone, and she wasn’t
sure what it meant. He made her nervous. She seemed to become so sentimental
and flustered in his presence, and really had no idea whether it was being near
him now, or remembering their time together then, that caused this reaction.
She was angry with herself for such lack of control, but even more, for not
knowing herself better. She’d worked so hard in counseling and training to
learn to separate her objective mind from her emotions, this state of confusion
felt like a major setback.

Having tossed her racquet, towel and water bottle inside
the court, she was pacing around in the hallway, glancing at the large wall
clock every few minutes. It was already ten minutes into their court time;
something must have held up Alexa. The muffled sounds of squeaking shoes and shouts
echoed from adjacent courts. She paced back and forth and fidgeted, frustrated
to be missing her workout. She needed to let off steam.

“You look fit to be tied,” said a familiar tenor from
behind her. She jumped and spun.

“Huh?” Speak of the devil. “You again!” Simon, of all
people, was standing in the hall in gym gear, glistening with sweat, his dark
blond hair clinging in damp tendrils to his neck and forehead.

“This is getting kind of woo-woo, huh?” he laughed. He
had his arms folded across his chest, a squash racket tucked under his arm, and
was soaked with perspiration down the front of his shirt. He had a bemused grin
on his handsome face that made her insides lurch and her pulse flutter wildly.
Or was it the long, lean muscles of his bare arms and legs?

“I’m here
every
week,” she said, shaking her head in disbelief. “Are you stalking me?” Oh, God.
How could she say that?

“I’m not. Just subbing for a friend today.” Rivulets of
sweat trickled down the sides of his face and he grabbed the towel from around
his neck and mopped himself, messing up his hair even more. “Did your partner
stand you up?” he asked languidly, looking her up and down, taking in her
attire and apparent possession of the empty court beside them.

She was taken aback by the relaxed physicality of him. He
was so tall and thin that a suit concealed his lanky strength. Looking at him
now, she was reminded of the sinewy musculature of him. His long limbs were
lean but strong, like a long distance runner’s. Liquid heat unfurled in her core,
making her nipples contract, and arrowing downward. She crossed her arms over
her chest, succeeding only in drawing his attention there. “Um. It looks like…
maybe.” She couldn’t think of anything else to say, she was so unnerved by his
half-dressed, sweaty presence. “Uh, Alexa’s often late,” she added awkwardly.

“Well, I just finished my game,” he drawled, “but I’d be
happy to help you warm up while you wait.” He glanced at the empty court again.

“Oh. I don’t know… ” She was getting warmer by the
minute. Did she want to play squash against him?

“If she shows up, fine. If not, we can play a game. I’m
wiped, but… ” he shrugged.

Kate shrugged too. She couldn’t think of a gracious way
to decline his offer. It seemed kindly meant, and she didn’t want to offend
him. “Thank you,” she said.
Why
can’t I get away from him?

“I’ll just get a drink of water and be right back,” he
said, and turned down the hall and strode away on those long, lean legs. She
watched his butt for a moment, transfixed, then gave herself a mental shake and
entered the court. She picked up her racket and bounced the ball in the air a
few times before flicking it against the wall.

At last her phone dinged, and she read Alexa’s text:
Sorry,
sorry! I’ll explain later.

When he returned a few minutes later, he had toweled off
and changed into a fresh snow white t-shirt. He looked even sexier, if that was
possible. He stood close enough that she could smell the heady mix of fresh
laundered cotton warmed by his body, mingled with the masculine musk of his
sweat and a hint of soap.

“No Alexa yet?” he asked.

“Not coming. I guess she got sidetracked with work,”
replied Kate, restless now. “Let’s get started.” They decide to launch right
into a game. At first, they were courteous and volleyed agreeably
bing, bonk, bing, bonk
. She
thought he was more tired than he admitted.
Or
does he think I’m such an amateur he can take me on in his exhausted state? I
need a challenge.
Neither of them had missed a single shot, so Kate
decided to lever up the speed and aggressiveness of her play, to see what he
would do. He matched her shot for shot without apparent effort. Finally she
scored a point, then he did, and so on. He smiled serenely while he played,
saying nothing.
He thinks he’s
toying with me. What nerve!
The intensity built minute by minute
until Kate was playing more the way she was accustomed to; they were very
evenly matched. She was getting hot. In more ways than one. Even the skin on
her knees and shins prickled with sweat.

“I’m not sure why I put a clean shirt on,” he laughed
when they stopped for a drink of water between sets. His t-shirt was soaked
under his arms, and down the center of his back and chest already. She pulled
her t-shirt off over her head and tossed it on the floor. Underneath she wore a
stretchy yoga tank top, a bit revealing, but she couldn’t bear the heat. It was
her serve. He seemed distracted, and watched her shot whizz by. She turned
around with her eyebrows raised and a smirk on her face.

“Was that too fast for you? Or did you just stand there
because you’re determined to be a gentleman and lose? That won’t be necessary,
you know. You’ll lose anyway. Gracefully or otherwise.” She laughed, grabbed
the ball and turned away before he could reply. “Here’s your second chance.
Don’t screw it up.”

The ball smacked the front wall and headed in his
direction with ferocious speed and precision. He lunged at the side wall
snapping his wrist, but just couldn’t get near enough.

“No fair,” he whined. “You took your shirt off. That’s
fighting dirty.” He smiled sheepishly when she looked at him, her eyes large
and astonished.

“Oh, really. We’re using lame excuses now, are we?”

“Well… I am getting a bit worn out; I’ve been at this an
hour and a half already,” he said.

“You must be getting old. That didn’t
used
to be a problem, as I
recall,” she teased, then immediately smacked a hand over her mouth, her face
suddenly burning hot. At his raised eyebrows, she mumbled, “Oh. My. God. Did I
actually say that out loud?”
How
could I do such a stupid thing?

He looked amused at her reference to their past intimacy.
She had fastidiously avoided any specific mention of their romance, not just in
front of others, but even when they chanced to be alone. Now this.

His mouth curled up and he stepped toward her shaking his
head. “It’s okay. Sooner or later one of us had to mention it. Maybe its time
we talked about it, got it out in the open.”

Her stomach twisted as he stepped closer, panic rising.
She rubbed her arms, feeling even more heat flood through her. “I was really
hoping we wouldn’t, actually,” she tried, unsuccessfully, to smile, and her
eyes danced across his gleaming shoulders.

“Well, why not?” he asked, suddenly serious. “I’ve been
following your lead, but I really don’t understand why we’re playing games. Who
are we fooling, anyway?”

“I would rather pretend it never happened, actually,” she
said, aware that her breathing and her heart-rate were escalating. She looked
back and forth at the floor, avoiding his eyes, wishing she could be anywhere
but here, having this conversation with Simon. They stood where they were,
facing each other in the squash court, a few feet apart.

“Don’t say that. Those are some of my fondest memories,”
he laughed, trying to lighten the mood. His eyes shone as he spoke, and his
eyes dropped to her mouth, lower, and up again to meet her eyes.

“Ooh. You can’t be serious,” she hissed.
How could he…What did he think…?

“I certainly am. I mean, really. I thought you enjoyed
our time together too. Maybe I was wrong.”

“I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.” Her
face tingled with heat, and she rubbed her brow with her hand, head down, still
clutching her squash racquet with white knuckles.

He strode toward her and stopped, a foot away, gently placing
his fingertips on her bare shoulder, warm and slick with perspiration. She
flinched and stiffened at the jolt of electricity that made her skin tingle.
“Hey. You’re really having a hard time with this, aren’t you?” He lifted her
chin with one finger and tried to meet her eyes, but she kept them averted,
trying to hide the tears that welled and burned.

She turned her head to the side, rubbing at her chin
where he’d touched her.

He suddenly dipped his head and kissed her tense lips,
quickly and firmly, sending a shock of heat through her, confusing her further.
He pressed his mouth harder onto hers with a small moan.

Stop!
No!
She pushed away,
sucked in her breath and stood immobilized, staring at him as though she’d seen
a ghost, her heart thrumming.
Did
I do this? Did I encourage him?
She checked herself. She’d learned
not to blame herself for everything that went wrong in her life. But she
couldn’t very well pretend any longer that this chemistry between them wasn’t
real, or that he wasn’t interested in her.

He backed away with a wan smile, his eyes searching hers.
“Let’s go to the cafeteria and sit down. It would be good to talk a bit,” he
suggested. “I think we’re done with squash for today.”

She nodded stiffly, avoiding eye contact, and they
gathered their things and left the court. Numbly, she followed him to a small
cafe to one side of the reception desk, and they sat at a table near the window
overlooking the street.

The sky was clear intense blue and vivid, and a brisk
wind jostled and shivered the still clinging brown shriveled leaves on the
sidewalk trees, like Lilliputian flags. A steady stream of people came and
went, people in suits and overcoats, mothers with strollers and kids in tow,
some dressed for sport and others in street clothes, hunched against the wind,
their clothing flapping violently.

For several minutes, they sat in silence staring out the
window. Kate searched for some understanding of her extreme agitation. It
wasn’t what she’d expected. She felt him turn to gaze steadily at her,
searching, then he spoke in a subdued voice.

“Look, I know it didn’t end well. I’m not sure I
understand exactly what happened back then.”

She squinted at him accusingly, skeptically, but he continued.
Could she blame him for being clueless about busting her heart?

“But it was such a long time ago and we were just kids.
Can’t we just chalk it up to experience and move on? We’re adults now.” He
stretched his hand toward her. “We’ve been getting to know each other… liking
each other, haven’t we? Can’t we just keep doing that and relax?” He reached
across suddenly and picked up her hand, which lay limply on the table between
them, stroking it lightly with his thumb.

She yanked her hand away.
How dare you?
Her reaction was immediate and
violent. She glared at him, frowning furiously. “Don’t think for one minute
that because you kissed me, I’m suddenly ripe for picking. I’m no easy target.
The past doesn’t give you… I’m not interested in starting… starting…
something!”

“Whoa.” He drew back, lifting both hands, palm out. “I
thought… I know you’re seeing someone, but it seemed to me we
were
heading here. Take it easy.
I thought you… I just wanted to make the point that we don’t have to sweat the
past. Just forget about it. Let’s start over.”