Better Than None (13 page)

“Better?”

I nodded as I picked at my scone. I wasn’t sure this was the best idea,
inviting him to sit down and chat, but he was already there and after the day
before I wasn’t going to kick him out.

“You’re supposed to actually eat it, Steph, not just make crumbs out of
it.”

“Has anyone ever accused you of being a Jewish mother?” I asked as I
shoved a huge piece that was way too big into my mouth just to make a point. I
started trying to chew it, but the scone was so damn dry and it was such a
gigantic piece that I started to laugh and cough as I tried to chew. As Marty
watched he started laughing, and the more I tried to get it down, the more we
both were laughing, and I knew this piece of scone wasn’t going to be going
down my throat but coming back out. It was just a matter of whether it came out
my mouth or my nose or both. He was cracking up and I finally leaned over the
trash can and spit it out.

Totally and completely mortified I raised back up and grabbed a napkin.
Marty was still laughing.

“See what you get for accusing me of being a Jewish mother!”

“Oh my God, I’m so embarrassed!”

“Don’t be, I haven’t laughed that hard in a long time.”

“Well I’m glad I could be of service!”

“We should just call it a day now. It’s definitely not going to get
better than this.”

“Yeah, let’s spend the day finding more food I can spit up.”

He motioned like he was leaving, taking me up on my offer.

“I’m kidding! That’s gross! Plus, if I blow off my work, my boss would
probably be pretty pissed off.”

“If you blew off anything, your boss would be completely and utterly
shocked. You’re easily the most responsible employee I’ve ever had.”

I had just taken a sip of coffee and almost spit it out when I heard
that, which just got him laughing all over again. The more he laughed, the
harder I fought to keep it down until finally I leaned over and spit it into my
trashcan.

“Now I know why you’re so skinny. You have an eating disorder!”

We both laughed more. It was so nice and free sitting there with him.
For that brief moment, things felt light.

“I can’t remember the last time I laughed that hard either. That felt
good. Though now you know my secret.” I teased.

“I highly doubt that.” He said, completely serious.

Just like that, the mood changed. I wiped my mouth and looked at my
computer screen to avoid looking at him.

“Hey, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring you down.”

“You didn’t. Just back to reality, that’s all. No worries.”

“Ok, but you didn’t answer my question. Why the coffee and the chat?”
Marty wasn’t going to let it go.

My instinct was to deflect, but it wasn’t about me this time.

“Pretty sure it was my turn to buy coffee… and I wanted to return the
favor and…” I paused, smiled slightly and held his gaze. “And you made me
realize yesterday that you might need a shoulder or sounding board sometimes.”
I bit my lip and looked at my computer screen. I wasn’t sure why that felt so
personal, but it did. I needed something to hide behind.

“I’m touched, Steph.” He said sincerely.

“By the coffee I spit at you?” I tried to make light of it.

“I’m serious. It means a lot. I know how much you have on your plate.
Coming from you… well, thank you.” As he said that he patted his heart. We sat
there for a beat and then, I knew if I asked the next question, it could change
things, but they were already changing.

“Can I ask you a question, Marty?” He must have known by my tone that
it was serious.

“Of course.”

“What happened with the girl you didn’t push? You said you didn’t have
the chance to now. Why not?”

Marty looked like he got the wind knocked out of him. His entire
demeanor changed. I was going to apologize but before I could, he cleared his
throat and spoke up.

“She killed herself.” He said softly. “I should have pushed, but I
didn’t, for a lot of reasons. But all that matters is that I didn’t.” He paused
but he didn’t take his eyes off of me and it was clear he had more to say. I could
feel the tears welling up but I didn’t dare move. “Not all of us get a second
chance. Some of us only get one. I can’t change what happened, so all I can do
is try not to repeat it.”

I nodded and swallowed as I tried to blink back my tears.

He pressed his lips together in a semi-smile. “Now I really think we
should blow off the rest of the day.”

“I’m so sorry for asking. I didn’t mean to pry or open up old wounds.”

“Don’t be. I put it out there. And there are some wounds that just
never seem to heal. Know what I mean?” I nodded. “I think maybe they’re there
as reminders to us.”

“I think you’re right.”

He got up and raised his coffee. “Thank you again for this and for
spitting your food all over the place.” He smiled big enough so that his dimple
appeared.

“I’m sure the cleaning people are going to be thrilled.”

“Well, you made
my
morning.”

I couldn’t hide my blush this time as I sat there and grinned like an
idiot.

My father wasn’t a bad man. He never hit me or abused me emotionally.
He was just never there. Physically, he was, but he was never involved in my
life. Ever. He didn’t come to one soccer game in the over 10 years that I
played. He didn’t once help me with homework. I never sought his advice. In
fact, he didn’t participate in anything as far as I could remember. Perhaps it
was because my bond with Barb was so great that he couldn’t possibly compete. Now
that I had the perspective as an adult, I think a lot of it was that he just
didn’t have it to give. He was the embodiment of the phrase ‘you can’t get
blood from a stone’. It wasn’t the stone’s fault. It simply didn’t have any
blood. My father simply had no interest, no passion in my life or really, in
anything. I had always blamed my mom for so much of why I never sought anything
other than sex from men. Perhaps my father was a little to blame, too.

In the short time that I’d worked at Blank Slate, Marty knew more about
who I was as a person than my own father did. Marty’s gentle, and sometimes
not-so-gentle prodding of me was foreign on so many levels. His care and
interest were genuine. He was the first person that wanted to know about me.
I’d never thought men really cared about what women said or thought or felt. My
dad didn’t care about what my mom or I did. The men my mom was with couldn’t
have cared less about her, no matter how much she threw herself at them. And
the men I’d been with, well, I never gave them the chance to care.

I still couldn’t quite figure Marty out. He was paternalistic and
avuncular with everyone, and maybe it was only because we had our mornings
together that I thought it was somehow special with me. But what I was feeling
for Marty wasn’t just cared for, though that was an emotion that was new to me.
I would have been lying to myself if I didn’t admit attraction for him. It
wasn’t like what I felt with Brad, not that I had any idea really what that
was, but whatever that was felt raw. With Marty, I felt safe.

Yet as flawed as Brad was, there was no denying the attraction or what
I felt when we were together. I understood what he meant when he said that when
we were together, he forgot. In those moments with him, I wasn’t anywhere else.
Except of course our horribly failed attempt at dinner when we talked about
real things. And then I wanted to be anywhere but with him. Even then, I
couldn’t deny the passion with Brad. I may have wanted to, but whatever that
pull was, I couldn’t pretend it didn’t exist.

If he were a different person, I think we could have helped each other
out of our respective morasses. If he had more of Marty in him, if he weren’t
so terribly calloused... But he was. Except for those brief moments when he
wasn’t, when he shed the rough exterior and let me see what he must have been
like before life and work and the disease beat him down.

But life wasn’t made up of ‘ifs’. Fantasies were. I’d read far too many
self-help books about women and their almost hard-wiring need to change the men
they were with.
They
were going to be the ones who fixed the cheats, the
liars, the abusers, the louts. None of the other women could, but
they
would be the one. Whether it stemmed from the need for validation or was simply
ego, I wasn’t immune from it. Not in the least. I strove for validation, just
in very different ways than many women. As much as I hated to admit it, the
fact that Brad, Dr. Rosenberg, somehow liked me, as screwed up as he was, I
knew deep down that it fed something in my still messed up psyche.

Of course, Marty’s validation was very different. I sought it out as I
had from all the bosses I’d had before him. The difference was, he made it
personal, which just made me want to please him more. The more time I took off,
the guiltier I felt, the more I knew I had to impress him, prove to him that I
was worthy of the affection he seemed to lavish on me. 

Regardless, Marty was my boss and Brad, well, he was the one crossing
the ethical line, not me. But Brad was so damaged. Maybe it was my father that
I saw in him, I knew his limitations and didn’t expect to get any more than
what I saw at face value. At least for self-preservation and protection, that’s
what I told myself.

****

The number on my cell was from Dr. Rosenberg’s office. It wasn’t the first
time they’d called to reschedule an appointment, so seeing it didn’t alarm me.

“This is Stephanie.” I answered.

“Stephanie, it’s Brad.”

Three little words and my heart started beating in double-time. Of
course, not those three little words, but my expectations were low. Practically
non-existent.

“Doctor, eh, Brad, um, is this about my mom?”

“No, it’s about last night.”

I exhaled loud enough for him to hear. I wasn’t sure if I was relieved
that he wasn’t calling with bad news or somehow, in my sick mind, glad he was
calling me.

“How’d you get my number?”

There was a long pause, and then with his typical delivery. “It’s in
your mother’s file.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle. “That’s a little sad, don’t you think?
That you have to troll your patient’s files for girl’s numbers?”

“Stephanie.” Was all he said, like he was chastising me. I was thankful
I was on the phone because I could feel myself blush. Still, I wasn’t going to
give him the satisfaction of thinking he got to me.

“Brad.” I countered.

“I’d like to try again.” Was all he said.

“Try what?” I sounded so small, but with him, with the roller coaster
that my emotions were on, I just couldn’t spar with him at every turn.

“Us. Last night didn’t turn out how I’d planned. Any of it.”

“How could you have planned? You ran into me in the hallway.”

“I came back to the office when I saw you and your mother were on the
books.” He paused and then added. “I came back for you.”

Was I so pathetic that my heart skipped a beat hearing that? Probably.
I didn’t have a snappy comeback. And my door was open. And I was at work.

“Steph?” he asked after I’d failed to speak.

“Yeah?” I asked tentatively.

“Do you have plans tonight?”

“No.”

“Come out with me. On a real date.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle. “What’s a real date?”

He chuckled too. “Hell if I know. I haven’t asked a girl out since I
was in college.”

“So we’re the blind leading the blind?”

“Looks that way.” He said and we both laughed at his pun. “Come on,
blind Stephanie. Take a chance.”

“Brad, you have no ideas how many chances I’ve taken in my life.”

“Is that a no?”

There was a long pause. No, it wasn’t a no.

“Aren’t you risking your career?”

“You’re not a patient. Your mother is. Answer the question.” Though it
was obvious that he already knew he had me. I wouldn’t have asked about his
career if the answer were no.

“Fine.” I huffed and he laughed.

“Well that sounds enthusiastic. Where can I pick you up?”

“Can’t you find
that
in my mother’s file?”

“Stephanie.” He warned.

“Fine. I have to go to my mom’s after work to check in on her, take
care of things and make her some dinner. I don’t think picking me up from her
home is a good idea. Just tell me where to meet you.”

“I can’t pick you up at your house?”

“No.”

I’d never had a man over to my house. It was my sanctuary. It was
personal. I didn’t want them to get that close to me, ever. Odd that I’d been
willing to give myself so freely, but not this.

“Okay… You’re going to get the wrong idea…”

“Brad, we’ve had sex in your office while my mom was down the hall
getting chemo. I’m pretty sure I’m past getting the wrong idea.”

I heard a snort. “That’s one of the reasons I like you. You call me on
my shit.” He paused and I waited. “Okay, I’d like to take you to dinner at the
Bel Air hotel or the Bungalow, where I have a room, because… because, this
sounded a lot better in my head. Okay, because I want to be able to take you
upstairs afterwards and make love to you and hold you, and not have this be
like what we’ve done in my office.” He paused again. “I want to try.”

I was speechless. Maybe some women would have been offended as his
blunt admission of how he saw the night ending, but I wasn’t most women.
Perhaps I heard what I wanted to hear. Still, I had to ask, “Why?”

“I’ve already told you. But, hell, I don’t know.” He sounded
exasperated.

I knew enough to know that he probably didn’t explain himself to most
people. I liked that this was hard for him, because it was fucking hard for me.

“I like being with you. I want to be with you. I don’t know why, I
just, I start to feel like I used to feel when I’m with you. I want to prove to
you that I’m not the man you think I am.” He sounded pained. “Maybe if you come
out with me, we can figure it out. For both of us.”

****

Trying to focus on work for the rest of the day was a challenge, to say
the least. It wasn’t just nerves. Some part of me felt guilty for having
laughed and talked with Marty and then accepted a date with Brad. Of course,
nothing was going on with Marty, but logic rarely ruled emotions, and I was
fresh out of reason. Even in the best of times, I’d have felt unsettled. And
this was far from the best of times. I was exhausted and running on fumes.
After work, I went to my mom’s, which only furthered my feelings of emotional
pinball.

It’s just a date, Steph. Just an hour or two with a man you’ve
already been with. If it goes badly, you can just leave. Again. Breathe.
I
repeated this over and over in my mind the entire drive from my mom’s to the
hotel, and then all through the lobby, but it was of little help. When I walked
into the restaurant the pounding got faster and my breathing got shallower. I
stopped to steady myself as I watched Brad talking with the same bartender from
the first time I’d run into him. Scott saw me and must have said something as
Brad turned towards me with a smile. He didn’t hesitate as he slid off the
barstool, walked over to me and leaned in, kissing me on the cheek, totally and
completely disarming me.

“I’m glad you came, Steph.”

I just smiled my response as he put his hand on the small of my back
and led me to the hostess who seated us immediately at a window table towards
the back. It had the same view as Brad’s room and I was grateful for the
distraction and the privacy. I looked out the window as he took his seat and
thanked the hostess, but forced myself to look at him once she was gone.

“I can’t tell if it’s dread or fear or repulsion that I see on your
face.” He said with a small smile and I relaxed a bit.

“A little of the first two,” I admitted.

“Well, at least you’re not repulsed by me.”

“Low expectations,” I started and then he chimed in when I finished,
“low disappointments.” We both chuckled.

“You really are nervous being here with me, aren’t you?” he asked with
genuine concern.

I nodded and felt the blush rising.

“Why?” Gone was his usual snippiness, replaced by actual interest.

“I suppose if I knew that then I wouldn’t be nervous.”

“Or full of dread and fear.”

“Or that.”

The waiter came by and took our drink orders. He too knew Brad and they
exchanged pleasantries.

“This really is your home away from home.” I said, and the minute it
was out I’d regretted that I did. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

“That’s ok. If we’re going to talk like normal people on a date, we
can’t just tip-toe around the minefields.”

I laughed. “We should just step right on them and get blown to bits?”

He smiled. “I was going to say we could disarm them…”

“No you weren’t.”

He cocked his head, “No, you’re right. I wasn’t. But it sounded good
after the fact.”

Silence settled in and I was back to being nervous. He obviously got
that and filled the pause.

“So you mentioned you don’t know how to date. How’s that possible?”

I shrugged my shoulders and figured I had nothing to lose by being
honest with this man. He was either going to like me or not. “I never really
dated in high school or college, I just wasn’t ever comfortable with any of
it.”

“You don’t strike me as a wallflower.” He said with a smirk.

“Because of what we’ve done?”

“Kind of.”

I wasn’t offended by his statement. It was legitimate.

“This is kind of a landmine for me.” I admitted.

“Dating or talking about dating?”

“Yes.”

“Then what about ex-boyfriends. How did you meet them if you didn’t
date?”

I swallowed and then looked straight into his eyes. “I’ve never had a
boyfriend.” I could see the question forming on his lips but before he got it
out I added, “I think I’d prefer to talk about how you threw your marriage down
the drain again.” It was a split second, long enough for me to wonder if he was
going to get up and walk out this time, but instead, he laughed out loud.

“That painful, huh?”

I nodded.

“So tell me about what you do for a living.” He said and leaned back
with a small smile on his face. I thanked him with my eyes and started talking
about my job as an art director. The longer I talked, the more relaxed I
became. It may not have been the most titillating conversation, but at least I
didn’t feel like my heart was going to explode with every question he asked. I
was describing some of the clients I worked with, some of the insane requests
and impossible deadlines, and I used a line I had used for years, “and the way
they panic and yell and stress about the font or a slight color adjustment,
you’d think we were solving world peace or on the verge of finding the cure for
cancer!”

I looked down, took a sip of my drink and then back up at him. “And we
were doing so well.”

He nodded and gave me a small smile. “Landmines everywhere.”