Back In the Game (18 page)

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Authors: Holly Chamberlin

BOOK: Back In the Game
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Laura looked to the ground again. “I know. I know I have to tell her. But I'm afraid. What if she hates me?”
Really, I almost lost patience with her then. I could almost—almost—understand why Nell felt compelled to harass her younger sister.
“She's not going to hate you,” I said. “No one hates you, Laura. You really should try to stop thinking that way.”
Laura nodded but I doubted she was taking my words to heart.
“Look,” I went on, “Jess will probably be surprised and maybe she'll feel a bit uncomfortable around you for a while, but she's a reasonable person. She'll be fine. But the sooner you tell her, the better for you both. Okay?”
Laura looked up to me and, though the night was getting dark, I thought I saw a glimmer of a smile in her eyes. “Okay,” she said. “I'll tell her right away. You really think she'll be okay?”
“I really do,” I said. And to myself I added, “She had damn well better be or we're going to have a freak show on our hands.”
Chapter 41
Jess
Punishment #57: Pay a brainy high-school kid to break into your ex's personal e-mail and forward it to all of his colleagues. He's sure to have a ministroke.
—Revenge Is Sweet: 101 Fun Ways to Wreak Havoc on Your Ex's New Life
“R
emember Matt, your ex-husband?”
I looked up from the piece of bread I was dipping in a small bowl of olive oil. Really, Laura has the ability to bring ditzy to a whole new dimension.
Either that or she was nervous for some reason. I noticed she'd scrunched her napkin into a ball and was squeezing it tightly. She'd done the same thing the other night when the four of us had been at dinner. She'd also spilled her water, choked on her drink, and dropped her fork.
“Um, yes,” I said, “I remember him.”
Laura looked down at her plate. “Well, it's just that . . . it's just that I'm seeing Matt. We're dating.”
I carefully put down my fork. So much for lunch.
“You're seeing my Matt?”
Laura looked up from her plate. “He
was
your Matt,” she said a tad defensively. “He's mine now.”
Yes. Of course.
“Why?” I said. “Why him? Why not some other average, decent single guy?”
“I like him.”
Yeah, you like him. And you weren't doing too well in the dating game so why not poach your friend's ex-husband?
“How long has this been going on?” I asked.
Laura took a gulp of water before answering. “About a month,” she said hurriedly.
“I can't believe you didn't tell me before now!” I took a deep breath. There was no point in getting thrown out of one of my favorite bistros for bad behavior. “Who else knows?” I asked.
“Nell.”
I felt like I'd been hit in the stomach with a very large fist.
“But I swore her to secrecy,” Laura said urgently, “and she's only known for a few days, I swear! It's just that I wanted to tell you myself. Please, Jess, don't blame Nell. She was really angry with me for not talking to you right away. She made me promise to tell you soon, and I just did.”
I imagined Nell's reaction to the interesting news. I almost smiled at the thought. Almost. And then Laura said, “Grace knows, too.”
I closed my eyes. I don't know why. I opened them after a moment to see Laura with her shoulders hunched and her face scrunched into that “please don't hate me” look.
“You told Grace,” I said.
“She asked me. I mean, after dinner the other night, when we walked home, she asked me if I was seeing Matt. She guessed, Jess. I tried to lie but she wormed it out of me.”
I doubted that worming was Grace's style, but I didn't argue with Laura's version of what had happened between them.
“Give me a minute with this,” I said.
Laura picked at her hamburger. My own lunch was long abandoned.
“Were you attracted to Matt when I was married to him?” I asked finally.
“Oh, no! I had Duncan. I thought Matt was nice and all, but I really didn't give him much thought.”
And then something occurred to me, just like that. “Until Duncan wouldn't take you back. Until you were desperate.”
Laura paled. “How did you know about Duncan?”
“I didn't.” I almost felt like grinning. “It was a good guess.”
“Anyway,” Laura said huffily, “I'm not desperate. That's not why I'm with Matt.”
Yes. And I'm a three-hundred-pound pro-football tackle.
“Now I know why we're in a restaurant,” I said. “You know I won't make a scene in public.”
“Yes,” Laura said. “I was scared you'd really explode.”
“Oh, I'm exploding. Except it's all inside and if I don't leave this lunch with an ulcer, it will be with a migraine.”
Laura winced. “I'm sorry, Jess. Really.”
And right then I remembered once thinking that someone like Laura would be more of a fit with Matt than someone like me. Maybe I did know a little about human beings, after all.
“What are you sorry for?” I said. “You're right; Matt isn't my property anymore.”
“Well, he's not really mine yet, either. I mean, we're not engaged or anything. We haven't even, you know, had sex.”
This was way too much information.
“I don't know,” I said, “if I want to hear the answer to the question I'm about to ask, but I'm going to ask it anyway. Does Matt talk about me?”
Laura shook her head. “No. We agreed we wouldn't talk about you.”
“That's something.”
“I'm not a complete monster, Jess. I wouldn't stay with him if he said bad things about you.”
I didn't quite believe her. “You know he's obsessed with football.”
“I remember your telling me. I'm sure I can handle it.”
I realized I didn't really know what Laura was capable of handling.
“Yes,” I said, “you probably can. You don't want much from Matt, do you? You don't want a soul mate.”
Suddenly, Laura looked pained, sad, old. She looked me right in the eye. “I want him to marry me,” she said with deliberation. “I want him to make me pregnant. And I want him to support me and my child.”
I had expected to hear some such statement. Still, it felt like big news.
“So,” I said, “Matt's changed his mind about having a family?”
“Yes.”
“And in return for his sperm,” I said, “what will you offer him?”
Laura's shoulders hunched just a bit under the blow. “The opportunity to be a father,” she said. “My loyalty.”
“What about your love?”
“People grow to love each other,” Laura said. It sounded as if she'd rehearsed the line for just such situations. “Matt and I really like each other right now. We'll be fine.”
No, I thought, they won't.
“I hope so. Matt doesn't need his heart broken a second time.”
“I won't break his heart,” Laura said, leaning over her half-eaten lunch toward me. “I'll try my best not to. Anyway,” she said, sitting back, “I don't think I can go through another divorce. I feel I've aged ten years in the last few months.”
“Yes,” I said drily, “divorce can be murder on the appearance. Let's get the check.”
 
I was very happy to get home that night and lock the door behind me. It had been hard to concentrate all afternoon after Laura's surprising and unsettling news.
I checked my machine—no calls—poured a glass of wine and sank into the comfy chair I'd bought on sale at Macy's when Matt took most of the living-room furniture for his new place.
Just when I'd begun the process of forgiving myself, this strange news from Laura. But what, really, did it mean for me?
There was no more need for guilt, was there? Matt had moved on, he would probably get married, and though I knew Laura wasn't in love with him, I thought he just might be in love with her. Matt needed to have a woman in his life; he needed to believe that he was in love.
And what did this one-sided relationship portend? It seemed likely that one day Matt would find himself suffering through another divorce.
Matt was one of the good guys, in spite of his flaws. He hadn't deserved me. I wasn't sure he deserved Laura.
But Matt's life was his own as was mine; our lives were no longer intertwined. He would fend for himself, as would I.
Suddenly, I felt very hungry. Laura had ruined my appetite for lunch but now, hours later, perspective had revived appetite. I reached for the phone, dialed the number of a local pizza place, and ordered a large pie with mushrooms.
One of the best things about living alone is that you don't have to share your junk food.
Chapter 42
Nell
Start poisoning your ex-husband's character as soon as he walks out the door. Make sure his kids know what a lying, cheating bum their mother had been duped into marrying. Only in this way will you be sure to have the kids on all major holidays.
—Getting What You Want: The Post-Divorce Woman
T
hey were sitting at a table near the back of the room, Richard and Bob.
I took a deep breath and headed toward them.
I had been surprised when Richard suggested the three of us have lunch. It was the first time he'd ever suggested a meeting, at least to me. Maybe Richard and Bob had talked about it many times. What did I know about their relationship?
Nothing. And what I knew about Bob could fill a small Post-it. I knew that Colin thought Bob was “okay.” I knew that Clara thought he was a “dreamboat.”
And I knew that he had stolen my husband's heart.
Richard saw me coming and stood. He always was a gentleman. “Nell,” he said, “it's good to see you.”
“Hi,” I said, and my voice sounded odd, a bit too high.
Richard and I took our seats. “Nell,” he said, “this is Bob Landry. Bob, this is Nell Keats.”
The man directly across from me extended his hand. I thought I saw it shake just a little.
“It's very good to meet you,” he said, quite seriously.
I shook his hand. “Hello,” I said.
Bob cleared his throat. He straightened his knife. He was nervous and that made me feel a bit more in control of my own nervousness. Which, of course, made me feel superior. Ridiculous, I know, but I can't always be noble.
We made small talk and ordered, though I wasn't at all sure I could eat.
“So,” Richard said when the waiter had gone off. “I thought it would be nice for you and Bob to get to know each other a bit.”
I smiled wanly. “Yes.”
Bob said, “Sure,” and nodded. Clearly, the lunch was all Richard's idea.
“Bob is an electrician, an independent contractor.”
“Yes,” I said. “I know.”
Richard took a sip of water. “Oh. Yes,” he said, “I suppose I told you that already.”
“Richard tells me you're involved with the MFA and various charities around Boston.” Poor earnest Bob, coming to Richard's rescue.
“Yes,” I said. And then, “Have you ever been married? I mean, like Richard was.”
Bob didn't flinch. My abrupt question seemed to have broken the ice.
“No,” he said easily. “I came out in college. I did take a girl to our high school prom, but she was just a friend. And she knew that I was gay.”
“So you didn't lie to her.”
Bob shot a look at Richard. Richard blanched.
“I'm sorry.” I shook my head, ashamed. “I shouldn't have said that.”
Richard smiled a wan smile. “It's okay, Nellie. I know this is hard for all of us.”
Our lunch was served and while I picked at my salad, Bob told me he was thirty-five and that he'd grown up just outside of Portsmouth, New Hampshire. He'd gone to Clark University in Worcester. He had a brother and a sister, two nephews, and his parents had moved to Florida.
“That's really pretty much it,” he said with a small, self-deprecating laugh. “I'm not a very exciting person.”
Richard squeezed Bob's hand. “I think you're an exciting person.”
Bob squeezed back. “Well,” he said, gazing into Richard's eyes, “I guess that's all that matters.”
I've never been keen on public displays of affection, whether verbal or physical. And to watch my ex-husband engage in a romantic moment with his lover . . . It was a terribly uncomfortable moment for me. If Bob had been a woman, I don't think it would have been any easier.
At that moment, as the third person at the table, a barely touched salad before me, I felt my loss more keenly than I'd ever had. There was no one in my life telling me that I was an exciting person, no one to greet me at the end of the day. There was no one to make coffee for in the morning except me.
We kept the conversation light for the rest of the meal. It was hard to find topics that felt entirely safe, and by the time the check was paid, I was exhausted.
The three of us emerged into the high midafternoon sun. I felt as if I could drop to the sidewalk and sleep. Bob extended his hand. This time, it was steady.
“It really was nice to meet you, Nell,” he said. “Thank you again for joining us.”
For joining
us.
The invited guest. Not part of the couple.
I took his hand. “It was nice to meet you, too, Bob,” I said. I turned to Richard. In the bright sun I saw a weariness in his eyes. None of this, not the years of secrecy, not the divorce, not the coming out had been easy for him.
“And it was good to see you, Richard,” I said.
Would he kiss my cheek or shake my hand or give me a hug?
“Thank you, Nell,” he said, from a distance. “Thank you.”
And then Richard and Bob left me there, alone.

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