A Clean Slate (6 page)

“We had a little makeover day,” Laney said. “Shopping at Saks and then the works at Trevé.”

I smiled at her, thankful for her answer and the diversion from the question about where I'd been for so long. I wasn't prepared to broadcast my memory loss, and I couldn't very well use Ben as an excuse for not being around, since everyone probably knew we'd broken up months ago.

“I won't even ask what you spent,” Jess said, “but whatever it was, it was worth it. You look beautiful!”

Behind her Steve nodded, and I thanked them profusely, the compliments making me sit taller on my bar stool.

“So the wedding's soon, right?” I asked as Laney turned to the bar and ordered drinks for Steve and Jess.

“One week from today,” Steve said. “According to the schedule Jess set, we should be home right now writing out place cards, but we needed a break.”

“
He
needed a break,” Jess said. “Anyway, Kell, we're so bummed you can't be there.”

I couldn't be there? Why not? These were two of my good friends. An uncomfortable silence fell.

“Right. Well, I was going to be busy.” I glanced at Laney for some help.

“With that charity thing,” she said.

I had no idea what she was talking about, but by her expression and the way she was nodding slowly I could tell that she was making it up. I had, apparently, declined the wedding invitation because I had another date with my couch and my antidepressants.

“Right,” I said. “The charity thing. But I'm not doing that anymore, am I?”

“No,” Laney said. “It got cancelled, right?”

“Right. So I'll be able to go, after all. Is that okay?”

“We'd love it,” Jess said, but she and Steve exchanged worried looks. “The thing is we already turned in our seating chart. I don't know if we can change it.”

“I've got an idea,” Laney said. “I was planning on bringing Gear, but he was going to have to leave early to go to some gig, so why don't I just bring Kelly as my date. Would that work?”

“That would be perfect!” Jess said in a relieved voice. “I'm so glad you'll be there.”

“Me, too.” I squeezed Laney's hand.

I loved being out and about like this, loved seeing my friends. So why hadn't I done it for so long? Why had I
holed myself up in that apartment and turned down a wedding invitation? I wouldn't think about it. Not now—maybe not ever.

I helped Laney order another round of drinks, then more cocktails when other friends arrived. We made a tight circle near the bar, shouting over the music, laughing at old stories, clinking glasses. And then I felt him. My mouth slowed down, my head turned. Ben. Pushing through the crowd. He looked handsome in a thick wool sweater, his brown hair tamed and combed away from his face, his cheeks a little flushed from the cold outside. Behind him, another Toni look-alike trailed along, and when I looked closer, I could see they were holding hands. Therese. The girlfriend.

Ben was smiling, looking right at our group, and I was panicked at how I was supposed to act. From what Laney had told me, I'd been trailing after Ben like a puppy for the last few months. But if Ben or Therese were unhappy about seeing me, they didn't show it. They walked up to us, calling hello, hugging a few people, while Laney glared at him. Ben knew Steve from college, but clearly Laney hadn't expected him to be here tonight.

When he reached us, Ben nodded at Laney. I felt my heart beating hard under my new bronze sweater, and I wondered if anyone could hear it. Laney gave him a terse nod back, and then Ben turned to me with an expectant smile.

“I'm Ben,” he said, apparently not recognizing me. He started to raise his hand to shake mine, but then froze, the smile dropping from his face. “Kell?”

“Hi, Ben.”
Be brave. Be brave.

He gave a little shake of his head, the one that reminded me of a dog shaking water off its coat, the gesture he made when he was trying to clear his brain of something he couldn't make sense of.

“Jeez.” He stared at my hair, my face, my clothes. “What…ah…what happened to you?”

He made it sound as if I'd been mauled by wild dogs.

“I'm sorry,” he said. “I didn't mean it like that. You just look so different, especially from this morning.”

Was it only that morning that I'd stood in front of his apartment, frenetically pushing the buzzer?

“You look great, though.” His words came fast now, almost tripping over themselves. “You look better and beautiful, and I'm glad to see it, and—”

Just then the woman I assumed to be Therese wedged herself into our conversation and cast a look of disdain at me, then one at Ben for good measure.

“Hi,” I said, as politely as possible. “I'm Kelly.”

“I know who you are.” She raked her hands through her sandy, streaked hair and shot me an expression of pure disgust.

I felt myself falter. It had been such a shock to be so close to Ben that I'd forgotten for a second that I'd met this woman sometime over the last five months while I was hounding her boyfriend.

“I need to use the powder room,” Laney said in a too loud voice. “Kell?”

“Sure,” I said, grateful beyond belief.

“Are you all right?” Laney asked once we were in the safe confines of the tiny pink bathroom. She gripped my shoulders and peered at my face.

“I was just surprised, that's all.” It was true, and I was also surprised to find that I didn't feel like falling apart. I didn't feel like crying or shrieking. I had just been so startled to see him, the guy whose kids I thought I'd have, whose underwear I thought I'd wash for the rest of my life. How strange it was to have known him so intimately—to know the way he squeezed his toothpaste tube into a triangular roll and the way he liked to have his forehead rubbed when he had a headache—and yet not to have a relationship with him anymore.

Laney hugged me, then proceeded to give me a rousing pep talk about not letting him get to me, how I was gorgeous and smart and starting a new chapter in my life that didn't involve him.

By the time we made it back to the bar, I was better. We ordered another round, and I was just starting to enjoy a chat with Jess about their honeymoon plans when Ben interrupted.

“Can I have a second?” He shot me his meaningful look, the one he'd probably given me on my birthday before he'd handed me my walking papers instead of a diamond solitaire.

Jess patted me on the shoulder as if to say good luck, then left us alone.

“So.” Ben looked me up and down again. “You must have had some day.”

“A great day, actually. A little shopping with Laney.”

“And a new haircut.”

I said nothing. Did he really want to talk about my hair?

“You really look amazing.”

“Thanks.” I hated myself for being flattered.

“Well, anyway,” he said, with another doggy shake of his head, “Therese asked me to speak to you about today.”

I looked over my shoulder at his girlfriend who was pretending to be engrossed in a conversation with Steve, but I could sense her antennae pointed in our direction. “Yeah, I'm sorry about that.”

“This coming over to my place really has to stop.”

“I know. It's done. It won't happen again.”

He gave me a look of patent disbelief. “Seriously, Kell, Therese is getting upset. This can't keep happening.”

His mouth continued to move, talking on and on about how poor little Therese could barely sleep, how I needed to get on with my life, et cetera. The more he talked, the more I wanted to laugh, because right then the thought of waiting for Ben at work or calling him repeatedly or buzzing his apartment was ludicrous to me. He'd dumped me, the ass
hole, and although I still had a hard time wrapping my mind around that, I wasn't stalker material. I couldn't believe I'd ever gotten close to it.

Finally I interrupted him, putting a hand on his arm. “I can't even remember doing those things you're talking about, but I promise you, it won't ever happen again. I've had a little memory problem….” I let my words trail off, suddenly unsure whether I wanted to admit to anyone other than Laney my loss of memory. Would people think me crazy?
Was
I crazy?

“What are you talking about?” He actually looked concerned, his gray-brown eyes worried and blinking, and that expression got to me. I found myself telling him the whole story of my day, explaining that I had no recollection of us breaking up or the way I'd been unwilling to let him go.

“Are you joking?” he asked a few times, his eyes skeptical now, as if this might be another one of my crafty ploys to get him back.

“It's true. I can't remember my birthday or anything after that until today. But I feel okay.”

“Well, shouldn't you go to a doctor or something? Get yourself checked out?”

I made a show of holding out my arms, looking down at my legs. “Everything else is intact, so…” I shrugged.

“I don't know.” He fingered the dark-brown freckle on his right cheekbone. That freckle had always made him self-conscious, because it resembled a speck of dirt, and people were forever telling him he had something on his face. But I used to love that spot. I'd kiss it whenever he walked in my door.

“You do look good.” His eyes trailed over me again.

I wanted to make a snappy retort, something like
Yes, I look damn good and you're not getting any of it,
but I kept quiet.

“So how's Bartley Brothers?” I didn't want to talk about us or my memory any longer, but wanted to occupy Ben for a while, just to piss off Therese. “How's Attila?”

“Demoted. He's pushing paper,” Ben said.

“No!”

Ben nodded. “Lots of people are getting moved around or let go.”

“Yeah, so I heard.”

“Well, obviously. You'd know that since you…”

“Got fired.”

“Right.”

There was an uncomfortable pause.

“So tell me what happened to Attila,” I said.

Ben launched into a story about Attila being investigated for insider information right around the time of the budget cuts. From there, our conversation was easy, catching up on all our co-workers—my
ex-
co-workers—Ben telling me stories about trades gone awry, and bringing me up-to-date on the market.

We were laughing about another Attila story when Therese sauntered up to us and placed a proprietary hand on his arm.

“Benji,” she said—and I couldn't help it; I snorted. Benji was a nickname he hated, the name Ben's brothers used to make fun of him. Both of his brothers were much bigger. They excelled at football and other bone-crunching sports, while Ben had been relegated to running and tennis.

Ben sent me a look as if to say,
Shut up, please.
I tried to quell the giggles.

“I'm ready to go,” Therese said, shooting me little knives with her eyes. “It's getting
way
too uncomfortable in here.”

“How about one more and then we'll head out?” Ben said.

Therese's bottom lip dropped a little. I got the impression that she wasn't used to Ben saying no to her. “I want to go now. We've got to be at my mother's for brunch tomorrow, remember?” She sent me a look of triumph, clearly expecting me to be crushed by this news. Strangely, I wasn't. In
fact, I felt so much better now that Ben and I had had a normal conversation.

“Sure,” Ben said, “I was just updating Kelly on what's going on at Bartley.”

“Great. Did you tell her that you made partner?”

Ben sent a quick, guilty look in my direction.

My good mood, my ease at talking to Ben, evaporated like steam. “What? When?”

“Last week,” Therese bragged.

I fought hard not to smack her.

“Is that true?” I said to Ben.
I
was the one who was supposed to make partner first.
Me.
Ben had started at Bartley two years after me. I was next in line. How had I gotten the ax while he was elected to goddamn partnership status? I felt my neck go red.

Ben nodded sheepishly.

“He deserves it,” Therese said. “He's worked really hard and—”

“Excuse me,” I said. “Could you shut up for one minute?”

Her eyes narrowed, and she sent a glance at Ben as if to say,
Are you going to let her talk to me like that?

“Kell,” he said. “Take it easy. It just happened. I didn't even know it was coming.”

Something about the way he had said that, the way his words got incrementally softer at the end of the sentence and the way his mouth became tight, told me that he had damn well known it was coming. He probably knew back in May. For a horrified moment, I wondered if he'd known that I was going to be fired, too. I stood there, completely stumped for words, wishing my temper would take over and do something rash that I would later regret—something like head-butting Ben—but nothing came. Finally, Therese tugged on his sleeve.