Thirty

THE NEXT MORNING, I awoke to the sound of the blender. While Kendra made her breakfast smoothie, I lay huddled under the blankets, my eyes still stinging from yesterday’s tears. When Angie had finally left last night, her parting words were: “Try to get some sleep. Things will look brighter in the morning.” While brighter might have been a bit of an exaggeration, the whole mess did seem slightly less insurmountable.

I had to talk to Nicola; there was no doubt about it. Once she realized that I, too, was a victim of her father’s lies and perhaps my own stupidity, she would have to forgive me. In fact, once she understood that I really had no idea that Jim was married, let alone to her mother, maybe we could commiserate? Discuss his numerous untruths and deceptions? Perhaps Eileen Davidson would even like to join us? We would meet at Nicola’s apartment, and over wine—or something a little stronger, say... martinis—we could bitch about our betrayal. Maybe we would even come up with a plan for revenge? We’d be like The First Wives Club—except we’d be The First Wife, The Ex-Mistress, and The Estranged Daughter Club.

When Kendra finally left, I stumbled into the kitchen and picked up the phone. As I began to dial, I had a sudden attack of nerves. What if Nicola refused to take my call? What if Eileen answered the phone? Or worse, Jim? What if the three of them had stayed up all night talking and crying and had reunited as a family? Maybe Jim had convinced them that it was all my fault. He might have told them that I seduced him, that I had worn a ridiculously short skirt and revealing top to our first interview, and he’d been powerless to resist me! No, I couldn’t call.

At that moment the phone rang in my hand. My heart began to beat rapidly with fear. It would undoubtedly be someone from Nicola’s camp calling to berate me. It was probably one of those look-alike bridesmaids. She might even be calling from a cell phone to let me know that the five of them were outside my building and could I please come downstairs so they could beat me with chains and tire irons. I couldn’t answer it! But amidst my fear, I felt a small glimmer of hope. Maybe it was Nicola reaching out to me? I picked up the phone.

“How are you feeling today?” Sophie asked, her tone not altogether unkind.

Well, it wasn’t Nicola but at least it wasn’t a menacing gang of bridesmaids. “A little better, I guess.”

“Good. I just got a call from one of Neil’s attendants. The wedding’s been postponed . . . indefinitely.”

“Oh . . . have you spoken to Nicola?”

“She’s not accepting calls right now. Neil’s friend is going to tell her that I’d love to talk to her, and that I had no idea—” She stopped.

“That I was dating her dad,” I finished glumly.

“Well . . . yeah. I mean, she’d feel even more betrayed if she thought we knew about it.”

“I know.”

“Well, I’m going to take Flynn to the park. If I hear from Nicola, I’ll let you know.”

“Thanks. So...will I see you Thursday at the stitch ’n bitch club?”

Sophie hesitated before answering. “I think we should maybe leave it for a while. You know... just until things calm down.”

“Right.”

When I hung up, I felt the prick of tears returning to my eyes. Any sense of promise for a positive outcome to this disaster had drained out of me. Sophie was pulling away from me, I could feel it. She was siding with Nicola, and who could blame her? She was probably afraid to have me over to her house in case her dad popped by for a visit. I couldn’t bear to lose the stitch ’n bitch club! They were the best friends and the cheapest therapy I’d ever had!

I was slicing a cucumber with the hope that the slices would soothe my irritated eyes, when the phone rang again. This time, I was too defeated to feel any fear.

“Hello?”

“Are you feeling any better?” Angie asked.

“No,” I said, my voice wobbling with emotion.

“Well, I had a call this morning from one of the bridesmaids.”

“Where was she?” I asked, a little fearfully.

“What? I don’t know. The wedding’s been postponed.”

“I know.”

“Did Sophie call you?”

“Yeah. I think she hates me now.”

“She doesn’t hate you,” Angie said supportively. “She’s just a little overwhelmed by all that’s happened.”

A sob shook my words. “She—she said we should cancel the stitch ’n bitch club.”

“Well . . .” Angie began ruefully, “it’s just for a while . . . until things calm down.” I nodded, mutely. My friend filled the silence. “Nicola’s not taking any calls right now. Her mother’s been sedated and she’s staying by her bedside. I’ll give her a few days and then try to contact her again. I’m hoping she’ll talk to me. I told her bridesmaid to let her know that I didn’t know about... uh . . . well . . . you know . . .”

“Yeah, I know.”

“So . . . I want you to get up, get dressed, and get some fresh air. I know it’s going to be hard for a while, but you can’t let this destroy you.”

“Okay.”

After I’d hung up, I was tempted to guzzle the family-sized bottle of Nyquil that Kendra kept in the medicine cabinet and head back to bed, but I followed Angie’s advice. Instead of lying around with cucumber slices on my eyes, I ate them. It was about all the solid food I could handle, but I desperately needed a coffee. Grabbing a crumpled pair of jeans off my bedroom floor, I slid them on, followed by a baggy sweater with no bra. Since I would never love again, it didn’t really matter what my boobs looked like. Hair uncombed and face devoid of makeup, I headed out to the street.

At the coffee shop around the corner I ordered a large latte. Hopefully, the caffeine would stimulate me out of my melancholy. When my order was ready, I methodically doctored the frothy beverage, adding two packets of raw sugar and stirring slowly until the sweetener dissolved. I dreaded going back to the empty apartment. I didn’t want to be alone with my thoughts and memories—not to mention the telephone that could only relay more anger and disappointment. But a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror behind the coffee counter told me I really wasn’t fit to be seen in public. Just because I would never have another relationship with the opposite sex didn’t mean I should go around scaring people. Holding the warm paper cup, I walked back out onto the sunny sidewalk.

As I approached my building, I heard a car door slam across the street. Still a little frightened about a bridesmaid swarming, my head jerked nervously toward the sound. I recognized the car first, the dark blue BMW that had once so impressed me. And there he was, walking briskly toward me, his face set in a grim expression. Something about the steely look in his eye made me want to run inside and hide. I took a step toward the door, but he called out, “Beth!” In contrast to his hardened expression, his voice was plaintive.

“Go away!” I called back, but stood my ground. He broke into a jog and was soon face-to-face with me.

“We need to talk.”

He looked tense and tired, but nowhere near as bad as I did. “I told you at the wedding, there’s nothing to talk about.”

“But there is,” he said softly. “Please . . . can we go inside?”

I wanted to tell him to go to hell, but curiosity got the better of me. I needed to know why he did it, how he thought he could get away with it, and what was going on with his family now. “Fine,” I muttered, and dug the door key out of my jeans.

We were silent through the lobby and up the elevator until we were finally in my quiet apartment. As soon as I closed the door behind us, he reached for me. “Oh, Beth,” he said, his voice heavy with sadness.

I backed away. “Are you kidding me? You can’t touch me after everything you’ve done!”

He put his hand to his brow and massaged his temples. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’ve been such a shit.”

“Ha!” I gave a humourless laugh. “That’s a gross understatement.”

“Look, I know what I did was wrong, and trust me, I’m being punished for it. But you need to understand . . . I never wanted to hurt anyone.”

“Right,” I spat, “these situations where a man cheats on his wife with an unassuming mistress usually turn out really well.”

“I just—I thought . . .”

“What did you think?” I growled. “I’d be really interested to know.”

Jim tried to reach for my hand but again I snatched it away. He gave a defeated sigh, but launched into his explanation. “After the wedding, I was going to tell you everything. When we went on our holiday... I thought by then we’d be close enough that you’d understand. I was going to end my marriage when we got back. I really did want to be with you, Beth, but I just couldn’t . . . I—I couldn’t ruin the most important day of my daughter’s life.”

I asked quietly, “Why didn’t you tell me you had a daughter?”

“I didn’t want you to think of me as . . . old. With you, I felt so young, so alive! I thought if you knew I had a twenty-eight-year-old daughter you’d realize . . .” He trailed off.

“You’re not forty-eight, are you?”

“Fifty-three,” he admitted ruefully. “But my doctor says I have the blood pressure of a thirty-year-old.”

“Well, good for you,” I retorted. “You’re going to need it. You’ve got a stressful time ahead.”

There was a long silence, finally broken by Jim. “I know you’re angry and you have every right to be, but... if, after a cooling-off period, you’d like to continue this relationship . . .”

“Oh my god!” I said, completely flabbergasted. “You’re serious!”

“Well, everything’s out in the open now. Eileen and I . . . well, I’m sure it’s over. She won’t even talk to me. And Nicola... she’s very upset and angry, of course, but I think with a little time, she’ll come round.”

“You just don’t get it, do you?” I cried, angrily. “I’ve been devastated by this. I thought we had a future together. I thought we wanted the same things in life—children, a family . . . I broke up with a sweet, wonderful boyfriend because he didn’t want to get married, and when he promised to change, I turned him down. I thought you were my future.”

“I still could be . . .” Jim pleaded.

“No,” I said. My voice had gone soft. “You did more than just break my heart. I had a really great group of friends. We were there for each other, you know? When times were tough, we knew we had a support system we could rely on. I needed them . . . I really did. And you’ve blown us all apart.” My volume increased. “Your daughter meant the world to me. And she cared enough about me to ask me to read that stupid poem at her wedding! And now, because of your lies and deception, she hates me!”

“She’ll get over it,” he said. “She’s always held me up on a pedestal. She needs to realize that I’m a fallible human being... that I can make mistakes too.”

“What did you tell her about me?” I asked. “Did you tell her I didn’t know you were married?”

“We haven’t spoken since the rehearsal dinner. She’s refusing to see me, but as soon as she does, I’ll tell her. I promise.”

“Like your promises mean anything,” I said, tears suddenly stinging my eyes. No, I would not cry. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. I took a deep, calming breath. “This must be really hard on you,” I said, “especially given the timing.” In answer to his questioning look I elaborated, “You know . . . with your mom’s stroke and everything.”

“Uh . . . yes,” he answered nervously. “It is . . . really hard.”

My eyes narrowed. “Did your mom even have a stroke, Jim?”

“She did . . .” There was a long pause. “. . . in 1998.”

I gave a sardonic laugh. “So, the page you got that night when we . . .” I couldn’t finish the sentence. It made me sick to think about it. “You lied about that, too.”

“I had to. I couldn’t very well tell you that the daughter you didn’t know existed was falling apart because her wedding photographer had been in a car accident.”

I nodded mutely. “So . . . What’s going on with the wedding?”

“It’s been postponed,” Jim said. “We’ll lose our deposit on the room, obviously, but I’m trying to work something out where we can put the money toward a rescheduled date.”

“Oh . . .” I said, with mock sympathy, “that’s really too bad that you’re going to lose your deposit.” Then I shrieked, “How can you even care about your stupid deposit?!”

“I don’t!” he cried back. “I’m just saying that I’m still hopeful that the wedding will happen. Once Eileen and I talk things out...” He trailed off. “What I mean is . . .” He cleared his throat nervously. “We have a daughter together so it’s important that we discuss the situation and try to build some sort of a relationship. But it doesn’t mean we’re getting back together.”

“Jim . . .” I said, exhaustion suddenly taking hold of me, “if you can salvage your family, do it. If Eileen will take you back, you’re a very lucky man.”

“Beth . . .” he tried, but I wanted no more of it.

I pushed past him and opened the apartment door. “Goodbye, Jim.”