Isn't It Time (17 page)

“Oh, that’s too bad.  I could really use some meatloaf right
about now,” he said with a frown, resting a hand on his stomach.

“I guess you’ll have to get your meatloaf needs taken care
of somewhere else.  My kitchen is closed tonight.”

He turned his frown to Nate.  “Well, asking my mom is out. 
She’s a good cook, but meatloaf is the one thing she just can’t seem to get
right.” Then, swiveling his head back to me, he added, “Don’t tell her I said
that.”

I laughed at his worried expression and promised to keep
that to myself. I gathered up my things, including the report which I thought I
might have time for later, while they discussed their options.

“Okay, I’m out of here,” I said.

“Oh, that reminds me,” Jack said, his hand going to the
inside pocket of his jacket. “Here’s your key.”  He handed me a key, attached
to rectangular black key chain with my name embossed in neon pink script across
the front of it.

“How cute!” I said, touched again in that strange way at the
thought of him in a store, thinking of me while he made his selection. I
immediately hooked it on to my current key chain. “I guess I’ll have some
trouble losing that. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.  Have fun tonight.”

“I will and you guys do the same.”  I looked at them
pointedly then turned off the light in my office.

They both laughed and Nate said, “Well, I can take a hint.
Goodnight, Angie.”

“Night, Nate.  See ya, Jack.”

“See ya, Ange.”

They headed back to Jack’s office and I headed to the gym.

I stepped into the foyer of my parents’ house at exactly
6:30.  “Hi, Mom. I’m in your house!” I called out.

My dad came out of the living room and spread his arms. “How
about ‘Hi, Dad’?”

“Hi, Dad,” I said with a smile and moved into his open arms.

“Hi, sweetheart.” He gave me a tight squeeze and kissed my
forehead before letting me go. “Come on. Your mom made chicken enchiladas and
I’m starving.”

I followed him to the kitchen smiling at how alike most men
were.  Always hungry. For one thing or another.

“Hi, Mom,” I said, giving her a hug. “That smells
delicious.”

“Yes, I know. I’ve been fighting for the last half hour to
keep your father out of it.” She pulled away and gestured at the kitchen
table.  “Have a seat and let’s get him fed.” She winked at my dad, who winked
back, and we all sat down to eat.

It had only been a couple of days since I had seen them
last, but it seemed like longer and we had a lot to discuss while we ate. As
usual with my parents, they wanted to talk about me, not themselves. So we
talked about my job, and the shelves for my bedroom and my win at the casino
before my mother brought up Nate’s name.

“So, tell me more about Nate.” She pushed her empty plate
out of the way and propped her chin on a fist. For my mother, who was very
careful to never jump uninvited into my business, that statement practically
constituted prying.

“Not really much to tell.” I shrugged. “He’s a nice guy and
all and I like him.  But someone pointed out to me today that he’s not quite
right for me, and I think they may have a point.”

My mom and dad exchanged a glance that I couldn’t interpret
and my dad asked, “Is it because he lives in another state?”

“Well, there’s that. He has two kids that are really
important to him, so I doubt he’d ever move here – and I don’t have any
interest in moving there.”

“Thank God,” said my mom as she got up to pour coffee. “I’d
hate to have to drag your father to Ohio this late in the game.”

We laughed at that and I accepted the coffee she handed to
me before she sat back down.

“Plus, he’s got some kind of unusual situation going on with
his ex,” I confided. “He plays it like it’s the same kind of relationship Jack
and I have – you know, strictly platonic – but, still, the way he talks about
her, I get the impression he has feelings for her that he’s not admitting, even
to himself. And I think that’s the thing that’s really holding me back.”

“It’s good that you realize that now, before you got
yourself involved and got hurt later.” This, surprisingly, was from my dad.

“And I know you wouldn’t do anything so dumb as to have a
one-night stand with such a close friend of Jack’s,” my mom added.

My eyes bugged out at my mom.  She had never said anything
like that to me before and she said it with such conviction that I sat up and
paid attention.

“No,” I said slowly. “But I’m not sure what his being a
friend of Jack’s has to do with anything.”

“Oh, you know men – they get weird about stuff like that.”
She looked at my dad and said, “No offense, honey.”

“None taken,” he said amiably and I laughed.

“Well, to be honest, Jack has been acting a little…
different
…this
week – but it’s all very complicated and I don’t really want to get into it.”

“Okay, that’s fine,” said my mom. “It’s your business and I
know you’ll do the right thing.” She finished off her coffee in one gigantic
swallow and stood up. “Let’s get this kitchen cleaned up and then I’ll show you
what I made for you.”

The three of us made quick work of the cleaning and my dad
and I trailed behind as my mother led us into her craft room.

The rest of the house was spotless, but her craft room
always looked like a creative bomb had exploded in it.  Half-finished paper
projects were on her work table, lying among assorted pens, inks and
adhesives.  Boxes of photos were stacked on another table, and various fabrics
were piled haphazardly next to her sewing machine. It was her version of my
closet.

“You’ve been busy,” I said, looking around as we entered the
room.

“Yeah, I had a bit of a creative spurt on Sunday night and
got carried away.” She walked over to her desk and reached behind it, pulling
out a canvas that looked to be about 16 x 20. She turned it over and showed it
to me.  “What do you think?”

It was a picture of Jack and me, and I recognized it as
being taken at his thirtieth birthday party. He is sitting sprawled in a chair
and I am leaning in from behind, my head right next to his. My arms are around
his neck and crossed at the wrist over his chest and one of his hands rests on
top of mine. I am laughing into the camera and the picture was taken just as
Jack turned his head and kissed my cheek.

My mom had converted the picture to black and white and blurred
out the background so its entire focus was Jack and I, filling the canvas and
exuding happiness. She had inked the edges in black, giving it a framed look,
and I thought it was one of the most striking photographs I had ever seen.

“Oh, Mom,” I said, taking the canvas from her and examining
it closely. “It’s just gorgeous. I love it!”

“I’m glad,” she said, coming around to my side, joining me
and my dad as we admired the picture. “It was my first attempt at transferring
a picture to canvas and I’ll admit I was pretty happy with the way it turned
out.”

“You did a fantastic job. I can’t stop looking at it! It
will be perfect over the couch in my living room, don’t you think?”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking. Your grey walls will
really make it pop.”  She took the canvas from me and studied it.  Then she let
out a long, almost melancholy sigh.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Oh, it’s nothing, really,” she said, shaking her head with
another sigh and handing the canvas back to me.

“No, tell me,” I insisted.

“Well…it’s just that the two of you look so happy in that
picture and it makes me sad to think of the day when you won’t be together like
that anymore.”

“What do you mean? Why wouldn’t we be?”

“Oh, Angie. Life moves on and things change. You know that.
Think of the friends you were so close to in high school and college. Are you
still as close as you used to be?”

I thought of those friends – the friends I had loved and
spent all of my days with. We had shared every detail of our lives - exchanging
confidences, laughing together when things were good and crying together when
they weren’t.  They had all been so important to me but, in a slow process of
changing priorities, we had drifted apart as they moved away, or got married
and started families.  I remembered feeling depressed one day not too long ago
as I looked at the pictures they posted on Facebook, realizing I no longer knew
anything but the most superficial things about their lives.

But that couldn’t happen with Jack.  He would always be an
integral part of my life. I just couldn’t – and wouldn’t - imagine it any other
way. Or the horror of one day being relegated to the position of Facebook
friend - while his real life went on without me.

“No, we’re not close anymore,” I answered my mom. “But it’s
different with Jack.”

“Yes, it’s different, but you have to understand it will end
the same way. One or both of you will get married and then you’ll have spouses
to deal with.  Let’s face it – you and Jack are both attractive people and
neither your husband, nor his wife, will be happy with the relationship you two
have.  So Jack, in order to keep the peace with his wife, will start putting
distance between you – or you’ll do the same to make your husband happy. Then,
before you know it, you’ll realize it’s been ten years since you last saw him.”

I sucked in an audible breath at that distressing thought.
“No,” I protested again, although I had a sinking feeling she was right.  I had
already been subjected to that kind of unwarranted jealousy with men I had only
been casually dating.  They didn’t trust my relationship with Jack and said so
– and more than once that had annoyed me enough to stop seeing them.

“Yes, honey,” my mom said gently.  “I can almost guarantee
it will happen. Your dad had that exact same situation with a girl he grew up
with. Didn’t you, Mike?”

My dad looked startled and cleared his throat.  “Well, yes,
but it was a long time ago.”

“What happened?” I asked, curious about this unknown part of
my dad’s history.

He shot a small glare at my mother, who raised her eyebrows
in response. He seemed upset that she had revealed something that maybe he
would prefer to keep secret, but he answered my question easily enough.

“It was like your mother said. Sarah and I grew up next door
to each other and we were best friends practically from the time we could
walk.  We spent every day of our childhood together and that continued through
high school and college. We were just friends, never anything more, but we were
like this,” he said, crossing his index and middle finger together tightly and
holding them up. “You know, like you and Jack.”

“So what happened?  I’ve never heard you mention her
before,” I said.

“Well, yeah, that’s kind of the point.  We both got married
to other people and that was pretty much the end of our friendship.  I haven’t
seen or heard from her in at least twenty years.”

“Oh my God,” I gasped, full of sorrow for my dad’s lost
friendship.  I turned to my mother.  “Was it because you didn’t like their
relationship?”

“God, no!” she exclaimed. “Just shoot me if I’m ever that
insecure. No, it was her husband. He did not like your father.  At all. He made
Sarah’s life miserable to the point she stopped even talking to your dad on the
phone because it upset her husband so much.”

“I’m so sorry, Dad. That must have really hurt you.”

“Thank you, sweetheart, but like I said – it was a long time
ago and I hardly ever even think of her anymore. It’s been so long, it’s almost
as if I never knew her at all.”

Twenty years. I stared blankly at the picture in my hands
and tried to imagine twenty years going by without having so much as a single
conversation with Jack. Twenty years of not hearing his laugh, seeing his
beautiful smile, or feeling the kiss he was forever planting on the top of my
head. I hadn’t really given much thought to it before, but now I was seeing
that I took what we had for granted. It was special and I knew it.  In that
moment, my heart broke a little to think he might someday be nothing more to me
than a dim memory occasionally flickering through my mind.

An overwhelming need to talk to Jack swept over me. Right
now. To hell with the fear. There was no question in my mind that he wanted
more – and I needed to give him the opportunity to convince me we could make it
work, that he wouldn’t resent me later for not being able to give him the kind
of sex life he needed. I loved him – and I didn’t intend to let him slip out of
my life without first making every effort to keep him there.

“I have to go,” I said abruptly and, clutching the picture
to my chest, turned to leave the room.

“Wait,” said my mom.  “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” I said, rushing out of the room as they hurried
after me.  “I just remembered something I have to do.”

They caught up to me in the foyer and my mom stopped me from
running out the door with a hand on my upper arm.

“Angie. Wait. For God’s sake – you don’t even have your
purse.”

I came to a stop and calmed myself down, taking a deep
breath and shaking my head to clear it. “Oh. I guess I might need that,” I said
with an embarrassed laugh.

My mom patted my arm. “Just wait long enough for your dad to
put the shelves in your car.  I’ll go get your purse – and I have something for
you to take to Jack.”

“Okay,” I agreed and they scurried off in opposite
directions.  I was leaning against the door, lost in anxious thought when my
dad returned with three short, thick unfinished shelves under his arm.

I moved out of his way and he gave my shoulder a comforting
pat as he passed me. “Everything will be okay,” he said quietly.

I nodded in response and he walked out just as my mother
walked in. “Here you go,” she said. I carefully set the picture I was still
holding against the wall as she handed me my purse and a gallon-sized plastic
bag filled to near bursting with white chocolate chip cookies.

I laughed at the number of cookies she had made. “My God,
Mom! Are you determined to make Jack fat?”

“Pffft. Like that will ever happen. I just like baking for
someone who appreciates it, that’s all.”

“Oh, he’ll appreciate it. My guess is that these will all be
gone by noon tomorrow. Sooner if he shares – which I doubt.”

We laughed as she picked up the canvas and I slung my purse
over my shoulder. We walked together out to my car and arrived just as my dad
slammed the hatchback shut and walked to the side of the car.  He held the back
door open as my mom slid the picture onto the backseat then closed it and
turned to me for a hug.

“Thanks, Dad. I’m going to try to paint those shelves on
Saturday. Will you have time to help me hang them on Sunday?”

“You bet,” he said, squeezing me before stepping away. “Give
me a call when you’re ready.”

“Okay.” I turned to hug my mom. “Thanks for everything, Mom.
I love the picture.”

“You’re welcome, honey.” She held me tight for a second then
released me. “Let me know what Jack thinks of it.”

“I will. Love you guys,” I said as I got into my car.

“Love you, too,” they replied as one. My dad shut the door
behind me and stepped back, putting his arm around my mom’s shoulder.  They
stood in the driveway, waving as I pulled out, and I felt a little guilty for
ditching them so hastily. But I really needed to get home to make that phone
call and I knew they would understand.