A Different Kind Of Forever (19 page)

“Oh,” she whispered, as she broke into a smile. She felt a rush of happiness. She stared down into her coffee, then back up at Michael. He had a half smile on his face.
 

“I’m overwhelmed.” She put the mug back on the tray. She was still smiling, feeling young and silly and happy. “Michael, I just – oh, my.” She reached out and grabbed him, pulling him toward her, kissing him, small, excited kisses on his lips and face. She was half laughing, and he took her by the shoulders, kissing her deeply.

She stopped laughing. “I don’t know, Michael. I think I am in love with you. But I’m not sure.” She stroked his cheek. “Is that going to be enough for you?”

“Are you kidding? It’s fine, it’s great.” His eyes were bright. “I’ll take it.” He kissed her again, and she sank into the pillows.

“I need to celebrate again,” she whispered.

“Again?”

“Long story. Move the tray. Kiss me again.”

He did.

The next week she stopped by her house and there was a message from Sharon for her to call.

“I need new toes,” Sharon complained. “Let’s get a pedicure and have lunch. I haven’t seen you in days.”

Diane looked at her feet. “Good idea. Actually, I think I need a total tune up. How about TonyO’s?”

“Wow, aren’t we fancy schmancy? Can we get something for tomorrow on short notice?”

Diane flipped through the phone book. “It’s summertime and everyone is off somewhere else. I’ll call. I’ll let you know.”

When Sharon walked into Antonio’s Day Spa the next morning, Diane was waiting for her. Sharon looked at her closely as they sat down, plunging their feet into foaming water.

“Did you get your eyebrows done?” Sharon asked.

“Yes. And a bikini wax, mud treatment and a facial. I feel like I’ve been here since dawn.”

“Since when do you spring for all the extra treatments?” Sharon spoke cautiously. She knew that Diane, while financially comfortable, did not have a lot of extra money. And everything at Antonio’s was very expensive.

Diane looked guilty. “Well, with the girls gone and Michael feeding me, I felt I could splurge.”

Sharon nodded her head slowly. “Sure. But since when have you been getting facials? And mud? What the hell is that about?”

Diane took in a deep breath. “A couple of nights ago, Michael and I went to the movies, and afterwards, I went to the bathroom, and you know how those lines are, so I was in there for a while, and when I came out, this incredible girl was talking to Michael. Sharon, she was gorgeous, legs up to her neck, boobs out to there, swinging all this long hair around. I just looked at her and felt, well, old and run-down. So I figured I’d treat myself to a little sprucing up.”

“Shit.” Sharon said angrily. “You look fantastic, Diane.”

Diane looked at her friend. “I know I do. I think I look great for my age. But I’m still forty-five, you know? My boobs sag, I’ve got those great little lines around my eyes, my jaw line is soft and puffy, not to mention the gray hair.”

Sharon snorted. “Now wait. Your hair always looks terrific. I haven’t seen gray on your head in a long time.”

Diane made a face. “I’m not talking about the hair on my head,” she said wryly.

Sharon sighed. “Oh, that gray hair. Yeah, that really sucks.”

Diane shrugged her shoulders. “I’ve never been very self conscious about my appearance before, but now it seems important, you know?”

Sharon was watching her friend’s face. “What does Michael say about all this? I mean, I don’t know him all that well, but he seems very, I don’t know, unimpressed by the physical. Or material. He’s really down-to-earth, isn’t he?”

Diane chewed her lip. “He is. He would never say anything. He tells me I’m beautiful and sexy and gorgeous, no matter how I really look.”

Sharon sighed. “So, what gives?”

Diane watched as bright coral polish went on to her toes. “He told me he was in love with me.”

“But that’s great!” Sharon exclaimed.
 

“I know it is. It’s better than great. I’ve been walking around with this huge ridiculous grin on my face, feeling like a silly fifteen-year-old. And then I saw him with this woman and it just, I don’t know. It made me feel perfectly awful. I wanted to scratch her eyes out.”

“Jealous? My goodness. So you must be in love with him after all.”

“I don’t know, Sharon.”

Sharon looked at her closely. “What’s holding you back?”

“Well, for one thing, I just spent a small fortune trying to make myself look ten years younger because of him.”

“No, Diane, you did that because of you. He doesn’t care, remember?”

“I’m suddenly feeling very insecure about things. Does that make any sense?

Sharon raised her eyebrows. “You? Insecure? Jesus, Diane. That’s ridiculous.”
 

Diane shook her head miserably. “I know. It’s becoming serious and I’m a little freaked.”

“That’s understandable. I can’t imagine what it would be like to fall in love at our age, with all we know and have been through. It’s got to be huge.”

“It is. And I feel I’ve got more at stake than he does, but that’s not very fair, is it?”

“Maybe not fair, but true. You’ve got kids to think about, and he may be a smart guy, but he’s clueless when it comes to all that.”

“Exactly.”

“Still, I think the two of you are great together.”
 

“I do too. I just wish I were ten years younger.”

“Hey, don’t we all?”

When she got back to Michael’s, David Go was sitting in the kitchen, watching Fred take apart three large, cooked lobsters. David reminded her of a garden gnome, small, bald, and ugly. He was charming and funny, and, according to Michael, very talented.
 

He grinned up at her. “Hello, love. You and Michael will be feasting tonight. Look at the size of those blighters.”

“Fred, I said I’d cook tonight,” Diane admonished.
 

Fred shrugged. “You will make him fat. Too much carbohydrate. Too much dessert. You very good cook, I can tell. You treat food with much respect. But he needs protein tonight. He worked all day. Mr. Prescott called four times.”

Diane looked at David. “Oh, no. How bad?”

David shrugged. “Prescott is a fucking maniac. But Michael’s tough. Go on in, we’re done. He’s floating around in there somewhere. I’m off to Manhattan. I’ll be back tomorrow sometime.”

“Have fun. Are you sure I can go back there?” Diane never interrupted Michael when he was working.

“Yes. Have him play for you what we did today. He’s bloody brilliant, our Michael. Really. I’ve been doing this a long time. He’ll win awards, if Prescott doesn’t kill him.”

She walked back towards the studio. Music was playing, a woman’s voice, very sweet and Celtic. She looked into the studio, a long, windowless cave-like space that always intimidated her. It was empty. She took another few steps into his office and looked in.

Michael’s office was covered on two walls with floor-to-ceiling bookcases, crammed with books, papers, his awards, and souvenirs of his travels. There was also a television and stereo equipment on the shelves, a few videos, and CDs. One wall was solid glass, overlooking the front expanse of yard. The last wall was filled with his desk, a long, cluttered work table filled with two computers and various printers, fax machines and a copy machine. There was a battered leather sofa by the window, and a large leather swivel chair in front of the desk

He was there, barefoot, dressed in shorts and a polo shirt, listening very carefully to the music playing. She could see the concentration on his face, the complete stillness of his body. She did not interrupt him, but listened with him as the song ended. He sensed her, turned, and broke into a smile.

“Hi. You’re back.”

She crossed over to him and kissed him lightly. “Yes. David says you’re to play something for me. He says you’re bloody brilliant.”

“Listen to this girl. Prescott wants her for the ballad. What do you think?”

“I like her. She’s got a great quality to her voice.”

Another song started up. “Yes, she does,” Michael said. “She’s well trained. I never had voice lessons. I just open my mouth and hope for the best. But she’s got great control.”

Diane sat down and began to spin around on the swivel chair. Michael reached over to pick up a stack of papers, a fax from Prescott, frowning. He glanced at her.

“I like your toes,” he said, smiling quickly.

“Thanks. They’re supposed to make me look devastatingly sexy.”

He chuckled, still reading. “You’re already sexy,” he murmured, flipping a page.

“As sexy as that blonde the other night?”

He was frowning again. “What blonde?”

Diane stopped spinning and was watching him as he read, eyes moving, looking displeased.

“At the movies.”

He was shaking his head at something, then glanced up at her again. “You mean Janice?”

“Janice? She told you her name?”

Something in her voice made him look back up. “Yes. Her name was Janice.”

“Did she come on to you?”

He put down the papers. “She invited me for a drink.”

Diane sat up straighter. “What did you say to her?”

Annoyance flickered in his voice. “What do you think I said? I said sure, and we drove to her place, had a couple of drinks, then I fucked her and drove back to the theater, just in time for you to come out of the bathroom.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Are you pissed off at me now?”

Michael took in a deep breath. “What are you doing? What is this all about?”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“Yes, you are.” He was angry. She could hear the hard edge in his voice. She had heard it before, but never directed toward her, and braced herself against him.

“You’re trying to pick a fight,” he continued. “I had never met that woman before, and will never see her again, and you’re trying to make something out of it. If anyone has a reason to be jealous, it’s me, not you.”

She stared at him. “What have you got to be jealous about?”

“Your old boyfriend is coming back, isn’t he? In a couple of weeks?”

“Who are you talking about?” she asked, angrily.

“The Englishman. Harris.”

Diane clamped her jaw. “He has nothing to do with this.”

“And what the hell has Janice to do with anything? I didn’t spend three minutes with her and decide I wanted to spend the rest of my fucking life with her, as you apparently did with Harris. It’s funny, we’ve been together every day for weeks and you can’t figure out if you’re in love with me or not, but you made up your mind about him quick enough.”

“I told you that was a long time ago.”

“Not so long, Diane. Only two years ago. Were you in love with him?”

She chewed her lip. “Yes.”

“Did you fuck him?”

“No.”

“Did you want to?”

“Yes.” She looked at him, her eyes blazing. “Yes, I wanted to. I wanted to go off to London and marry him. I fantasized about bringing up the girls in England. I used to imagine terrible things happening to his wife so we could be together.” The words were coming faster now. “I thought that if I could spend the rest of my life with him, I’d never ask for another thing. When I made up my mind not to see him anymore, I spent two days in my room crying. If I saw him on campus, I’d have to run in the other direction because it hurt so much. After he left, I actually bought a ticket to London so I could fly after him. When I cancelled the ticket, I was drunk for a night and a day. Is that what you want to hear, Michael? How much I wanted Quinn Harris?”

“Do you still want him?” Michael’s voice was quiet, his face pale.

“I’m with you, Michael,” she said softly.

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“No,” she said tiredly. “I guess it doesn’t.” She stood up and walked across the room, staring out the window.

“Quinn was like a dream come true,” she said softly. “He was kind and thoughtful and charming and brilliant, really brilliant. It wasn’t just who he was that I fell in love with, but what he represented, the kind of life I could have had with him. It was the kind of life I had always thought I wanted. Until I met you. Now I don’t know what I want.”

She turned and looked at him, taking a deep breath. “I never imagined I could be happy with somebody like you. Not just the age thing, but everything about you is just so different from what I’ve been planning for the rest of my life. Do I still want Quinn? How can I? What I feel when I’m with you is so far removed from anything I imagined with Quinn. It’s like wanting to walk and then learning to fly. It’s overwhelming. It makes everything in my head so much harder to figure out.” She hugged herself tightly. “I don’t know if I love you, Michael, but I know I can’t lose you. I couldn’t stand it. When I saw you with Janice the other night and thought that maybe you might want somebody younger, I felt so awful, God, this huge empty feeling in the pit of my stomach.” She spun around, spreading her arms wide, laughing shakily. “I just spent about three hundred dollars to look younger and sexier so you won’t leave me.”

He was watching her. “I’m not going to leave you, Diane,” he said carefully. “You know, my father never found another woman after my mother died. He said that she had been his great love, and he wanted no other. I believe in that. I believe that you can find one person to love forever. And I love you.”

“I know.” She nodded and hugged herself again. She chewed her lip. “Do you think we have a future, Michael?”

He pushed his hands into his front pockets and leaned back against his desk. “Why wouldn’t we?”

“I think about it, that’s all. When you’re my age, I’ll be retired. I’ll probably be a grandmother. You could still have a great career going, I mean, look at people like McCartney and Jagger, they’re in their sixties. When you’re in your sixties I’ll be in a walker, going to the MTV Awards hooked up to oxygen. Do you ever think about that stuff?”

He chuckled and shook his head. “No, I don’t.”

“What about kids? Because if you want any, you’re with the wrong woman.”

“I haven’t thought about that either. My dad has plenty of grandchildren, I have lots of cousins to carry on the family name. If I wanted children badly enough, we would find a way. It’s not a deal breaker.”