Happy Birthday (18 page)

“We were both lucky,” Jack said gently. She was impressed that he felt that way. And their friendship had resulted from that single horrifying event. She still remembered him helping the women out of the building. The sounds and smells of that lobby still haunted her and maybe always would. It was hard to erase it from her mind, although she knew that in time it would fade. But for her, it hadn’t yet. And probably not for him either in spite of what he said. He was just happy to be alive, regardless of the pain in his leg.

He told her funny stories about his days in football then, to distract her. He could see in her eyes that she was still pained by the memories of that terrifying day. At least for him, he had no memories from the time he had been shot. After that everything was a blank. Valerie knew there had been talk of his receiving an award for heroism. The mayor had called him personally to thank him several days before, and Valerie had heard about it at the network too.

He talked about his marriage then, the things he regretted, the things he still missed about it, the moments he had loved. He said that the high point of his life had been when his son, Greg, was born. It touched her to hear that it wasn’t winning the Super Bowl or being inducted into the Hall of Fame. It was when his only child had come into the world. It said something about him that she liked.

“I feel that way about April too.” It would have been the
perfect time to tell him that her daughter was having a baby, but she didn’t. Talking about it made her feel old. It was bad enough being sixty and single. She didn’t have the heart to tell him she was going to be a grandmother, or even admit it to herself. She hadn’t made her peace with it yet. Pat seemed more relaxed about it, but he was happily married and a man. And he was undisturbed about his age. Jack and Valerie had that in common, the fact that they were both struggling to accept how old they were and what it meant in their current lives. And both of them worked and lived in a culture based on youth. It wasn’t easy getting older surrounded by people half their age who were itching to step into their shoes, and waiting for them to slip in some way. Valerie was constantly aware of it in her work, and Jack was too. They had more similar experiences, far more than she’d ever had with Pat, or even more recent men in her life. And Jack had nothing in common with the girls he dated. They were just more trophies on his wall. There was rarely one he could even talk to. His only bond with them was sex. And what would happen when that went downhill? He worried about that now.

“My age didn’t use to bother me,” he admitted to her over ice cream he scooped into crystal bowls and set down on the table for them, after she helped him clear the remains of their dinner. “I never thought about it. I was always the youngest guy in the room. And then suddenly one day I realized I wasn’t. All of a sudden, I was the
oldest
guy in the room, and I was trying to convince myself it couldn’t happen to me. Now all of a sudden I’m fifty.
Fifty!
And I’m competing on screen, and at the network,
and in the bedroom with guys twenty years younger than I am, or half my age. It doesn’t matter that I was a star quarterback, or I have a room full of trophies, or I look good for my age. I still am what I am, and they know it, and so do I. It’s pretty scary, Valerie, don’t you think?” She was smiling at him somewhat ruefully, as they ate their ice cream. It was the most honest he had ever been with anyone about how he felt about it.

“To tell you the truth, Jack, these days fifty sounds pretty goddamn good to me.” As she said it, he laughed. She was candid with him too.

“I guess it depends on your perspective,” he said. It was relaxing and pleasant being with her. He didn’t have to work as hard as he did with younger women. He wasn’t trying to impress her. They could eat in his kitchen in jeans, and speak the truth. She was as successful as he was, or more so, and faced the same problems every day. In some ways, it was a little strange for him being with a woman as important as he was, but there was an equality to it that he liked and had never encountered before, nor sought out. He didn’t have the feeling she was older than he was. He felt like they were equals of the same age. They looked it, and both of them seemed youthful and looked at things in similar ways. The same things were important to them. They loved their children. They had even made some of the same mistakes, in their desperation to get ahead and establish who they were when they were younger. And without even really meaning to, they had become superstars when just being successful and good at what they did would have been enough. Instead, they
had overshot the mark by quite a lot. Success was a faucet that was hard to limit or turn off, and so was fame.

“You’re a much bigger star than I am,” Valerie commented, without sounding bothered about it. In some ways she liked it, but Jack denied it vehemently.

“That’s not true. There are plenty of people who don’t know who I am,” he insisted. “You’re a household word. You’re synonymous with elegance and lifestyle in every way. I’m about football and nothing else.”

“Should we argue maybe about who’s the most famous?” she suggested, and then giggled. She sounded like a kid when she did. He was having fun with her. It was the nicest New Year’s Eve he’d had in years.

She mentioned to him too the recent news she’d heard at the network, that he was due to be given a citation for bravery by the mayor. And as soon as she said it, he looked embarrassed and brushed it off, saying that the police department and their SWAT teams deserved it, and he didn’t.

After they’d finished eating, Valerie put the dishes in the sink. She offered to put them in the dishwasher, but he said that someone would be in to do it in the morning, and after they put the leftovers in the fridge, they went upstairs to his study, which had an even more spectacular view. They stood looking at it together for a moment, as the lights sparkled around the skyline of the city, and then Jack pressed a button and blackout shades came down over the windows, so they could watch a movie. He had a screening room too, but said this was more comfortable
and cozier. They sat in two big armchairs side by side and he stuck a bag of popcorn in the microwave. He offered her several choices of films, and they picked one that neither of them had seen yet but wanted to. Valerie said she hadn’t been to a movie in months. She never had time. She often worked on her books and shows at night.

“You work too hard,” he reminded her, and she agreed readily. “I play more than you do,” he confessed. “Or at least I used to. I haven’t been out for two months, since Halloween.” He didn’t go into detail about it, and didn’t want to, but she knew something drastic had happened, since she had seen him the day after in the elevator at work, on their birthdays. He had said it was an accident, but she sensed there had been more to it than that. He wouldn’t have admitted it to Valerie, but he had only had sex once since, with one of his more sedate younger dates, but he had been so nervous about injuring himself again that he had barely dared to move, and it hadn’t been good for either of them. He was terrified to rupture the disk, and hadn’t dared to try it since, with anyone. The night before his birthday had changed his life, maybe forever, he was afraid. In an odd way, he and Valerie were at opposite ends of the spectrum, but with the same end result. He had a flock of women around him, she had no one, and in the end, both of them were alone, in all the ways that really mattered. It hadn’t occurred to either of them, but it was true. They were both lonely, in their own way, and worried about the future, although for all intents and purposes, to anyone looking at them from the outside, they had golden lives.

They happily munched the popcorn while watching the film they had selected. It was a romantic comedy about an actor with a million girlfriends who falls in love with his snooty leading lady, who is disgusted by him and wants nothing to do with him. Throughout the film, he tries to convince her that he’s a decent person, while the women he’s been involved with drop in, drop by, run into them, show up, climb in windows naked, and show up at his house, while the leading lady loathes him more and more. Some of the incidents portrayed in the movie were truly funny, and they both laughed loudly. The film particularly resonated for Jack, who could see himself easily in the role of the beleaguered actor if he ever truly fell in love. It was light fare and they both enjoyed it as they guffawed and giggled at the leading man’s discomfort and ate the popcorn. It had a happy ending, of course, which pleased them both. It set just the right tone for their friendly New Year’s Eve as buddies, recovering from their recent trauma, and trying to keep things light.

“I loved it!” Valerie said, looking delighted, as Jack switched some soft lights back on. They were cozy in the big chairs, and he had handed Valerie a cashmere blanket to snuggle under since he liked keeping the apartment cooler than most women liked. She hated to get up, she was happy where she was as he turned on the lights. “I hate sad movies, or violence, or anything about sports,” she said without thinking, and then laughed out loud, and apologized to him.

“Okay, I heard that!” he said, referring to her comment about sports. But it didn’t surprise or offend him. He watched movies
with women all the time, and they felt much the way Valerie did. He watched the violent ones on his own, and the guy films about wars and sports. “I like happy movies too. I’m kind of a softie and I like chick flicks with happy endings. Life is tough enough without watching films that depress you for three days after you see them. I hate that stuff,” he said, and he meant it.

“Yeah, me too,” she agreed. “I like thinking that things can turn out okay.”

“What does ‘turning out okay’ mean to you?” he asked with interest. He often asked himself the same question, and had a relatively clear idea of what he wanted out of life. He just hadn’t found it yet, and the goal shifted slightly year by year. His version of a happy ending had been different at thirty and forty than it was now. So was hers.

“Happy, peaceful, no big drama in my life,” she answered his question, looking thoughtful. “Sharing my life with someone,
if
it’s the right person, not if it isn’t. I don’t want to do that anymore. Good health obviously, but that’s kind of an old fart answer. Mostly just being happy and peaceful, loving someone and being loved by him, and feeling good in your own skin.”

“That sounds about right to me too,” he said, and then he chuckled. “And don’t forget good ratings for our shows, please God.” She laughed in answer.

“Yes, but I have to admit I don’t think about that when I’m making a wish list for my personal life.”

“Do you do that often?” He looked surprised. “Make a wish list for your personal life?”

“Not really. I do it in my head sometimes, when I think about what I want. Most of the time, I just roll along, doing what I have to. I think I do it on my birthday, or on New Year’s, those milestones always get me. I think about what I should have and be doing, but it never matches up, so I try not to anymore. Life never happens on the schedule you want, and I think I’m kind of past all that now anyway.” She looked sad when she said it, but she had felt that way for months now. This last birthday had hit her hard.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He looked puzzled, as though he didn’t understand what she meant. And she took a breath before she answered. They were friends now, and she felt like she could be honest with him. She wasn’t a candidate for romance with him anyway, and she knew he had no interest in that with her, or any woman her age. They were friends, and that was enough.

“Let’s face it, women my age are not a high commodity on the market. Men my age want to go out with women like the ones you go out with. No one’s looking for sixty-year-old women, except maybe ninety-year-old guys. The eighty-year-olds are taking Viagra and looking for twenty-five-year-olds. Most men would rather go out with my daughter than with me. That’s simple fact. Add success and fame to that mix, and what you get is a guy screaming out the door, or who never shows up in the first place. I don’t have a lot of illusions left about it. I used to, but I don’t anymore.”

She didn’t tell him that she hadn’t had a real date in three
years and couldn’t remember the last time she’d had sex. It had begun to occur to her that maybe she never would again, which seemed sad to her. But you couldn’t invent a man out of thin air, and no even remotely possible dates had crossed her path in a long time. She had given up on the terrible blind dates people used to fix her up with, with men who were severely damaged, very angry, or had a chip on their shoulder about who she was and what she had accomplished and were sometimes even nasty about it. Meeting them was always depressing and disappointing, so she didn’t bother anymore.

And there was nothing else and hadn’t been in a long time, despite the Botox shots, good haircuts, well-toned body thanks to her trainer, and expensive wardrobe. Old was old, and she was, or so she thought. “I have this psychic I talk to a couple of times a year. He’s been telling me for years now that I’m going to meet a terrific man. I think he says it to give me hope. It never happens, or hasn’t in a hell of a while. I’d been to see him that morning I saw you in the elevator, doubled over with your back.”

“He must have fangs,” Jack teased her, remembering it perfectly, despite the pain he’d been in. She was very striking, and had made an impression on him. “Your face was bleeding.”

She hesitated and then laughed again, not worried about what she said to him. “I had just had Botox shots
after
I saw him. My dermatologist has fangs, not the psychic.” He was touched that she was so open with him. She was a surprisingly honest woman, given who she was.

“I get them too,” he admitted, equally honest. “So what, if it
makes us look good? I don’t usually advertise that, but shit, we both make a living on screen, and with high-definition video now, you need all the help you can get.”

“Isn’t that the truth? You can’t lie to the camera anymore, although God knows I try.” They both laughed at their reciprocal confessions, which didn’t seem so shocking. Even schoolteachers and younger women were getting Botox shots now. It was not just for the very rich or movie stars. “The vanity of it is a little embarrassing, and I think my daughter thinks I’m pretty silly. She doesn’t even wear makeup, probably in reaction to me, but I also make my living, or part of it, based on how I look, and so do you. And it makes me feel better if I look a little younger. It’s not fun or easy getting old.” They both knew that was the truth, and had been wrestling with it for the past two months, each in their own way, since their birthdays.