An Ex to Grind (25 page)

"Come on, darlin'," he coaxed. "Just tell me you're rooting for me today. You can go back to hating me tomorrow."

"I…" I stammered is what I did. Such was my surprise at this turn of events. Stammered, blinked my eyes, felt my upper lid twitch, started winding my finger around a lock of my hair. The usual nervous tics and then some. "I hope you get the job, Dan," I managed finally.

He nodded. "That means a lot. Thanks."

There was an awkward pause—we hadn't been polite to each other for so long that we were out of practice—until his phone rang. While he went to answer it, I strolled around the living room, processing this apparent and rather dramatic change in my ex. Was the old hackneyed expression true? That the love of a good woman can turn a man's life around? And was that what had happened to Dan? I'd tried to turn his life around but failed miserably. Hadn't I been a good woman? What did Leah have that I didn't? And why was I suddenly and irrationally so threatened by her?

I was standing next to the sofa table, staring vacantly at all the framed photos displayed there while trying to understand this new but nevertheless genuine negativity I was feeling toward her, when I realized with a jolt that the photos of me—of Dan and me—were missing.

I took another look. There was the one of Dan playing for Oklahoma. There was the one of him playing for the Giants. There was the one of him arm wrestling with his father and the one of him fly-fishing with his brothers and the one of him taking a bite out of his mother's apple pie. They were all accounted for, except those of him and me.

I know I said I thought it was weird that he'd left the photos of us around the apartment after we'd split up; that he was lazy and passive and clinging pathetically to his glory days by keeping them around. But now the absence of them threw me. Instead of being euphoric that he had obviously moved on, thanks to Leah, the woman
I'd
arranged for him to move on with, I was miffed. Who the hell did she think she was, coercing Dan into hiding, burying, even flinging into the trash those lovely memories of his past with me? She had no right! She was merely a temporary girlfriend! How dare she kick me and all traces of me out of
my
old place? I was hurt
and
roiled!

"You're still here," said Dan when he returned to the room. "You're usually in a big hurry to get to the office."

"And you're usually in a big hurry to get rid of me so you can have Buster all to yourself."

He smiled and extended his hand to me. "What do you say we call a truce, darlin'? You want to stay here and spend a little more time with Buster? It's more than fine with me. I don't have to leave right away."

He stood there with his hand out for a second or two and I thought, He really isn't goading me today. He's being incredibly human, for him. Why not follow his lead?

Warily, I took his hand and shook it.

"There. That wasn't so hard, was it?" he said, then sat on the arm of the sofa. "We don't have to be enemies. I'd like it better if we weren't."

"We're only enemies because you insist on taking—"

He placed his fingers across my lips. "Truce, remember?"

I nodded. It was all so unexpected, this courtesy he was showing me. I didn't know how to deal with it, so I got down on the floor to play with Buster.

"So how's it going?" Dan said, watching me, a great big smile on his face.

"How's what going?" I said.

"Work. Friends. Whatever. How's Weezie?"

Was he really on the level? Or was he setting me up for one of his stupid put-downs? I was completely off balance. "She's fine," I said, sure that he was just baiting me, letting me think things were different and then throwing a zinger at me. "Somehow she manages to have a happy life while the rest of us struggle along."

"Is it still a struggle for you, Mel?"

I gave him a look. Who was this guy anyway? The Dan I divorced never asked me questions like that. Reflectiveness was not a character trait I'd ever attributed to him. "
Still
a struggle? What are you talking about?"

"One of the first things you ever told me was how nothing came easily to you. I was just hoping that wasn't the case anymore."

His tone was so kind that I found my antagonism toward him dissipating, in spite of myself. "I'm having a tough time with the divorce," I admitted. "I've been angry about the alimony."

"You've made that clear," he said without even the hint of a smirk. Another surprise. "Tell me about the other ways the divorce has been tough for you."

"I hate sharing custody of Buster," I said. "I miss him when he's here with you."

"I feel the same way when he's with you," said Dan. "But we're both doing the best we can. He's got two parents who love him. They just don't happen to live together." There was a second or two, then: "Is it hard for you to be out there dating again?"

"Dating?" I laughed. "Talk about a low priority. I have zero interest."

"Don't you get lonely?"

There it was again—the kind voice, as opposed to the taunting, goading voice. I was as puzzled by it as I was entranced by it, by the change in his demeanor. Evan was the kind one, not my ex. Or at least he hadn't been in years. I couldn't remember the last time we'd had a conversation that didn't involve accusations and insults, so I didn't know how to respond. "Why on earth would you care if I get lonely?" I said.

"I'll always care, Mel," he said. "No matter what happens."

I regarded him the way you would a laboratory rat. He hadn't spoken of his feelings for me in a very long time, and while I didn't trust them—I was still fixated on the idea that a man who cares about you doesn't take money from you—I wasn't turned off by them. Once I let down my armor, I realized that there was something comforting about having a simple, honest give-and-take with my former spouse, the one who knew me best; the one who slept next to me and listened to me and confided in me; the one who was there in the beginning and there in the middle and, yes, there in the end. I had no parents and no siblings and no family to bolster my confidence in bad times. Dan had been and still was the most important person in my life. But the notion that we'd ever be able to sit in the same room and not only be civil to each other but compassionate seemed impossible.

" 'No matter what happens'," I said, repeating his words. "That sounds a little mysterious. Are you referring to your own dating experience? Is your thing with the vet still going on?" Well, so much for the honesty part. You should have heard how innocently I posed the question.

"Very much so," he said, his face getting all "lit up," to quote
Ricardo. "Leah and I have been spending a lot of time together, and I think her good qualities might be rubbing off on me."

A
lot
of time together. And all of it fully documented. "In what way?" I nodded at the sofa table. "By convincing you to remove all evidence of me?"

"Oh. The photos." He shrugged. "Hey, she's a woman. She doesn't like coming here and seeing my ex-wife's face all over the place. You can't blame her."

Of course, I couldn't blame her. Of course, I did blame her. It made no sense to blame her, but even as I thanked God for her, I was building up a nice little resentment toward her.

"Was it Leah who suggested you go out on this job interview today?" I asked.

"Has she been encouraging me to embrace life instead of running from it? You bet. I know you tried to get through to me on that score, but she has a way of communicating with me that resonates."

Resonates
. Like he'd ever used that or any other three-syllable word before. "Very interesting," I said, aware that I was now feeling outright hostility toward this woman. Not only did she make Dan happier than I made him, but she also communicated better with him than I did
and
improved his vocabulary! She was turning me into chopped liver.

"All I can say is that she doesn't judge or criticize when she talks to me," Dan rhapsodized. "She has an incredibly generous spirit."

No,
I
was the one with the generous spirit! She didn't pay for that amethyst necklace. I did! "So you two are getting pretty close. And in such a short time."

He wagged a finger at me. "We're close, but don't go pushing me down the aisle. I already told you: I'm not marrying anybody."

"What about living together?" I fished. "Is Leah thinking about moving in?"

"More than thinking," he said. "She's got some of her stuff here. We're testing the togetherness thing." He eyed me. "There's nothing in our divorce settlement against her staying here, right?"

How about that for a moment of truth? As I sat there staring into the baby blues of my ex-husband, the tarnished-but-still-golden Traffic Dan Swain, I asked myself: Can you really take advantage of him this way? This guy who seems to be trying to get his life on track but doesn't remember the terms of his own divorce settlement? Can you face yourself in the mirror every day if you sucker him out of the alimony? Can you do it?
Can you, Melanie
?

As I felt my enthusiasm for my plan weaken just a little, I reminded myself that it was Dan who'd suckered me. He was the one who'd had no compunction about going after every cent I earned and then frittering it away once he got it. He was the one who'd said, "I love you and I'm sorry you're leaving me, but I'll let you work your ass off so I can buy myself lots of shiny new toys." He was the one who was always flaunting the toys in my face and making me lose my concentration at work. He was the one who'd taken advantage of
me
.

So, yes, I could follow through with my plan. I
would
follow through with it.

"Nope," I said. "Nothing in our settlement about that. Leah can stay here and you'll still be in compliance. Happy?"

"Very." He smiled. "She's great, Mel. I don't know how long it'll last between us, but I feel like a new man since I met her. She reminds me of you in some ways."

"Really?"

"Yeah. She's beautiful, independent, good at her job." He paused. "Come to think of it, she's you without the wiseass." He laughed. "I bet you'd like her."

I wasn't so sure, but I was about to find out.

I was still sitting on the floor, enjoying my extra time with Buster and shooting the breeze with the newly pleasant and professional-looking Dan, when I heard a key in the door.

"Doesn't Isa clean in the afternoons?" I said, since it was only nine o'clock—too early for our cleaning lady to put in an appearance.

Before he could answer, in walked a vision. A vision with a briefcase. Wearing a tight-fitting black skirt-and-sweater outfit under a nifty little black leather jacket, the woman had mile-long legs, a flat stomach, melon-shaped breasts, and thick, glossy, shoulder-length, chestnut brown hair, the kind that's so silky it should be made into a mink coat. Oh, and the face? Picture a flawless complexion, almond-shaped green eyes, and a nose and mouth in perfect proportion to the other features. Well, Desiree had promised me Leah was bee-uteeful, but this was ridiculous.

"Hey, honey," said Dan as she opened the door. Due to an odd sort of flashback, it actually took me a second before I realized he was not referring to me. "Did you forget something?"