Sometime Soon (20 page)

I nod my head.

“You couldn’t make an excuse?”

“No. She’s a good friend.”

He hangs his head and rests his
hands on his narrow hips. “Well, I guess that speaks well of you and your
commitment to your friends.”

“I really am sorry.”

He moves close to me and slowly
brings his hands to either side my face, caressing my cheeks with his thumbs as
he tells me, “We’ll have to reschedule then.”

I nod my response, and he halts my
nodding by putting his lips to mine. His tongue sweeps into my mouth and I hear
him groan with what sounds like frustration before he steps back and releases
me completely.

I think I sway for a second before
I finally get a hold of myself and turn to pick up my purse.  Ryan follows
me out outside and waits while I lock the door behind me. Then he lingers
beside me, smoothing my hair, rubbing my back, and kissing me softly one last
time before we move away from the doorway and head toward our cars.

“Where did you say you went again
on your business trip last week?” I hear myself say as I lead him down the
walkway. The minute the words leave my mouth I know I’m ruining things, but I
can’t seem to stop myself.

“What?” he asks

“Where did you go on your business
trip last week?” I repeat, turning to face him, keeping my expression neutral.

He tilts his head to the side,
eyeing me curiously. “Chicago. I told you.”

“In your message you said you were
in New York.”

“What message?”

“The message you left me on Labor
Day. In it, you said you were in New York last week.”

“Well,” he shrugs. “I was in
Chicago. I was in New York a few weeks ago. I must have said New York by
mistake.”

I nod at his answer, not sure if I
can believe it.

He eyes me carefully. “What are you
thinking, Andrea?”

“Nothing,” I say. I really want to
believe him, but a nagging voice inside me tells me not be naive. This is his
second strike.

“Have you been wondering about this
since dinner? When you first asked me about my trip?”

“No, I didn’t remember your message
until later.”

His jaw clenches and a muscle jumps
in his cheek. His eyes narrow at me, and I can see he’s angry. “Do you really
have a friend who is suddenly having a crisis?” he asks.

 I gape at him, anger flaring
through me. “Of course I do.”

He stares at me, his eyes
challenging and dark. Then he glances away and shakes his head slowly. He opens
his mouth to say something and stops, clamping it shut again as he runs a hand
through his disheveled hair. With his eyes back on mine again, he closes the
small distance between us.

I stare up at him not knowing what
to expect.

“Goodnight, Andrea” he says
quietly. But his calm voice is betrayed by the hurt expression on his face.
Then he walks to his car, slips inside, and drives away without glancing at me
again.

My tense shoulders slump under the
weight of growing regret as I watch his car disappear down the road.

Once I pull into a dimly lit guest
parking space in front of Katie’s brick apartment building, I grab a tissue
from my purse and wipe at the wet tracks trailing down my cheeks. I’m not sure
what bothers me more, the fact that I suspect Ryan is lying and I probably
would have slept with him anyway if Katie hadn’t called, or the fact that I
accused him of lying when in fact he may not have been. If he travels a lot, I
suppose he could have mistakenly said New York when he meant Chicago. In my
mind, I keep seeing his expression darken as he realizes what I’m implying. But
it wasn’t unreasonable for me to be suspicious, was it? First, he claims to
have forgotten our date. Then he says he was in New York last week only to
later say he was in Chicago. It also seems that he was very quick to anger.
Couldn’t he have laughed at his mistake and his own absent-mindedness when I
pointed it out? Of course, when he implied that I was lying about my friend’s
crisis, I had immediately been offended.

The fact is, I don’t know him well
enough to make any judgments about him. I can only go on what I see and hear
from him. Although what reason would he have to lie about where he was last
week? It doesn’t make any sense.

I suddenly feel the need to call
Laura, explain every detail to her, and get her opinion. That in itself reveals
how upset I am. Discussing my problems is not a pastime in which I am generally
interested in participating. But I can’t do it now, anyway. Not tonight, at
least. Compared to Katie’s situation, my problems are minor. Although, they
certainly don’t seem that way at the moment. What on earth does Ryan think of
me now? Humiliation twists inside me. I’m sure I’ve seen the last of him, and I
don’t know if I’m better off or not. The horrible pit in my stomach is telling
me that the answer is
not
.

I need to stop dating. It’s only
making me miserable. I take a deep breath and try to shake off the tension.

Katie’s place, in nearby Newton,
has a spacious loft-like feel to it. It’s after eleven when Katie opens the
door to me, still dressed in her work clothes, a navy print blouse and a
matching navy skirt, but her hose and shoes are gone. Her eyes are red-rimmed
and her skin is blotchy. “Hi.” She gives me a watery greeting. Then she studies
me more closely. “Have you been crying?” Taking in my outfit, she asks. “Did
you have plans tonight?”

“Nothing major,” I lie. “Are you
going to let me in?”

She nods, moving away from the door
and allowing me to pass. I automatically move toward the couch in the living
room. The apartment appears similar to the last time I saw it. It provides no
hint of the earth shift that occurred here earlier.

“I’m sorry if I interrupted your
plans.” Kate apologizes as she follows me. “You should have told me you were
busy.”

I sit on the couch and Katie plops
herself down beside me, gripping a crumpled tissue in her hand.

“I had a date,” I explain,
searching for a way to put a humorous spin on the ending because I’m not about
to cry on her shoulder. “But I pretty much accused him of being a liar, and for
some reason he took offense and left.”

Her eyes widen at me. “Is this Ryan
you’re talking about?”

I nod.

“What did he lie about?”

“Nothing worth mentioning. I’m not
even sure he did lie. I think now that he probably didn’t. But it doesn’t
matter. It’s a terrible mess.”

“Oh Andy, I’m so sorry.” Despite
her own significant issues this evening, I can see that her distress on my
behalf is sincere.

I rest a hand on her nearby
forearm. “Now tell me what happened here tonight.”

She takes a breath as pain flashes
in her eyes. “It was awful, but somehow it wasn’t a surprise. I’ve been fooling
myself.”

“What do you mean?”

“I told myself that I’d imagined
all Mike’s doubts. I even let myself believe that Mike was happy about the
baby.”

“He wasn’t?”

“He went through the motions. He
said all the right things. He listened patiently while I went on and on about
baby names and buying things for a nursery. But he was never as excited as I
was. I knew it, too. Deep down, I knew that he wasn’t as happy about the baby
as he should be.”

“So, what happened tonight?”

Katie glances around her apartment
as though she’s reliving it again. Her eyes stop when they land on a smiling
picture of Katie and Mike together, both happy and attractive enough to be the
model couple sold along with the frame. She sinks further into the couch, her
gaze bouncing quickly off the picture.

“Did Mike come home from work
wanting to talk to you about the baby?” I prompt gently.

She shakes her head. “He was here
waiting for me when I got home. His suitcase was ready to go, on the floor by
his feet, like in a bad movie or something.” She brings the tattered tissue up
to her sniffling nose. “He said he couldn’t do this anymore. This being
us
.
Our relationship.” She catches a fresh tear before it rolls too far.

My throat tightens as I watched her
eyes fill.

“I asked him if things were moving
too fast. I asked him if he still loved me. He claims that he loves me, but he
looked as confused as I felt. He just told me that he needed to get away and do
some thinking and that he’d call me.”

I nod at her, not sure exactly what
I’m nodding about. Mainly, I want to show her that I sympathize and care.

“When it comes down to it, I think
he’s still traumatized by his divorce. He may never get over it enough to make
a commitment to me.”

“He’s been divorced for two years?”
I ask, trying to recall what she’d told me when she first met him.

 “Separated for one year and
divorced now for just over three years.”

“Same as you,” I comment.

“But his was messier--with the kids
and everything.”
“Yours was tough enough. Don’t minimize it to yourself or to Mike. I’ve always
admired your willingness to pursue another relationship. I don’t even have the
excuse of a divorce, and I’m a big scaredy-cat when it comes to this stuff.”

This earns me a sliver of a smile.
“I must be a glutton for punishment,” she says. “Besides, I’ve always admired
you.”

“Me? Why?” I ask surprised.

“You’re so self-sufficient.”

I eye her skeptically. “Is that
code for terminally single?”

“No.” She actually laughs now. “I
mean it.”

“Well, it’s true. I do like to be
self-sufficient, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t also like someone to lean on
occasionally.”

She leans back into couch cushions
and stares at the photograph of her and Mike again. After a moment, she asks,
“What am I going to do?”

I rest my back against the cushion beside
her. “You’re going to get up in the morning and go to work. Then you’re going
to do it again the next day. And the day after that. And with lots of help from
me, your family, and the rest of your friends, you’re going to continue
planning for the beautiful baby you’re going to have.”

She sighs. “What choice do I have,
right?”

“Have you told your folks what’s
going on?”

She shakes her head. “They’re still
getting used to that fact that there’s a baby and there’s no wedding.”

“When Mike calls you, you might
suggest that he talk to a professional.”

“A therapist you mean? I’ve thought
of that.”

“Do you think he would go?”

“I don’t know.”

“Where do you think he’s staying?”
I ask.

“Maybe he went to Bryn’s,” she
offers casually, as though it hasn’t pained her to put the thought into words.

I shake my head. “I don’t think
so.” I hope I’m right.

 “Have you spoken to her?”
Katie asks.

“No.” I pause. “Would you be mad at
me if I did?”

Her glossy eyes are drying now as
she turns to me. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

I nod in understanding. Even though
I haven’t made the decision to end my friendship with Bryn, I have effectively
done so by not speaking to her since she told me. Was I foolish to think that I
could be friends with them both and that I didn’t have to choose sides?

I sit with Katie for over an hour.
She invites me to sleep over, but I don’t have any clothes with me, and I don’t
want to leave Tiger alone all night. I hug her, hating to leave, but she does
seem better than when I first arrived.

Foolishly, even though I haven’t
heard it ring, I check my phone once I’m back in the Hyundai, with some small
hope that Ryan may have called to apologize for his reaction, or for getting
confused about his travels, or to yell at me for practically calling him a
liar. But there are no messages.

I drive home from Katie’s and the
dark quiet roads mirror the darkness I feel inside tonight. I’m completely
exhausted, and I just want sleep to take away my tumultuous thoughts for a few
hours.

 Tiger’s desperate mewling
greets me as I enter the townhouse. His food dish is empty and stale water from
this morning is pooled in his bowl. I go through the familiar motions of
refilling his kibble and refreshing his water, and then I wearily trudge up the
stairs, pretending not to notice his attempts to hold my attention. Once in the
bedroom, I look at myself in the mirror with my now slightly disheveled hair
and the red wraparound sweater I’d been so excited about wearing earlier. I had
such high hopes at the start of the evening.

I take off the sweater and hold it
to my nose, but it carries no scent of him. If he wore cologne it might have
lingered, but his clean scent does not.

There is no greeting from Joan the
next morning when I arrive at work. It appears that I’ve beaten her into the
office. The reception desk is empty when I walk past it just after seven. I
tossed and turned restlessly last night, finally giving up and jumping into the
shower around five. Now back in the familiar environment of my office, a place
where I like to believe I am successful and in control, I feel less out of
sorts as I sip  my coffee and get down to work.

Laura calls me at the office that
afternoon. I start to tell her, in hushed tones, about Katie’s situation, and I
relay cryptic details of my date with Ryan before she becomes frustrated with
her inability to hear me and invites herself over to my place tonight for a
chat. Jonathan is likely working late again, and she’s on her own anyway.

On my way home from the office, I
exchange the Hyundai for my repaired Honda. My first encounter with Ryan has
now been erased. I turn up the radio and open the windows to distract myself.
The air has a chill to it tonight as it filters into the car. For the first
time this season, the breeze smells of fall with a crisp, fresh feel to it,
punctuated by a hint of musky wood smoke from a fireplace. Living in
Massachusetts, each season has a distinct texture. Memories are often tangled
up with white winter snow or brilliant fall foliage.