Knowing Is Not Enough (17 page)

Muffled movement, laughter then quiet. He hung up.
Well, that didn’t exactly go as I’d rehearsed
. I stared into the television screen where the meteorologist informed me there was going to be a shift in the weather.
I’ll say
.

I rose from the couch and glanced down at my coffee cup.
What I’m feeling calls for something stronger than coffee
.

In the refrigerator, the bottle of wine Sanford and I had drunk from the first night we’d slept together hid in the back. I figured the relationship is dead, so should this bottle of wine. Only a quarter remained.
It’ll have to do
. I returned to the couch and drowned the emotions that never got the chance to escape the pit of my stomach.

In my office, recovered physically and mentally from the night before—but far from emotionally—I called Linda at her office. This time she answered.

“Where were you last night?” I demanded.

“Nowhere, here . . . what’s the matter?”

“I called Sanford,” I said, “and it didn’t go as planned.”

“Why? What did he say?

I sighed. “Not a whole lot. At least not to me. He seemed happy.”

“What does that mean? Happy is good, right?”

“No. Happy isn’t good.”

“The nerve of him,” she said. “That bastard!”

“Lovely. More sarcasm. Just what I need. Of course I want him to be happy, just not without me.”

“Wow,” she responded, “that doesn’t sound selfish at all.”

“Remember, you promised . . . a judgment-free zone,” I reminded her. “He wasn’t even talking to me half the time we were on the phone. I felt like I was bugging him.”

“So he didn’t say I miss you and want to see you?”

“He didn’t. But I did, blurted it out right at the beginning.”

She paused. “What did he say to that?”

“Nothing. Not one word.”

“Oh honey—I’m sorry. I feel like I put you up to calling him,” she said.

“You did, which is why I told him you were coming with me to visit him.”

“You still told him you wanted to visit him?” She laughed out loud at that.

I laughed with her. “I felt as though I needed a reason for my call. That was all I could think of, and it wasn’t a lie. I did call to see if we could come down.”

“Either way count me in, it’s the least I can do.”

“You
should
feel guilty,” I rejoined. “I was just fine in
my misery. At least then I thought he was miserable, too.”

“Well, maybe he’s hurting inside,” she said and paused. “Look, it may take an MRI to find it, but I’m sure he’s feeling some kind of way about this too. Maybe he needs time to catch up.”

“Versus him catching up with me, I’m going to catch up with him, and forget about us having a relationship just focus on us having friendship,” I said sensibly. “So are you booking the tickets, or am I?”

“It should be a cheap flight, so I’ll treat since this is sort of my fault−not completely, just sort of.”

“Yippee! Have Grace send them to my home address.”

“You mean Nancy,” Linda said.

“Nancy? I thought your administrative assistant name is Grace.”

“Oh, the last one. Grace has gone bye-bye, it’s Nancy now.”

“You know—that’s not normal to go through assistants the way you do.”

Singing. “I’m getting off the phone now Alex . . . bye, bye.

Buried in the work I knew best, I heard Karen ask, “May I tell her who’s calling?” She placed whoever it was on hold then my phone rang. I pushed speakerphone to answer her. “Yes?”

“Easton is on line one for you.”

I picked up the receiver. “Who did you say?”

“Easton,” she repeated.

“Are you sure that’s what you heard.”

“Yes, pretty sure . . . he said Easton.”

I felt puzzled. “How did he get my number?”

“Well, let’s see, we can try to figure all this out or you can just ask him,” she quipped. “He’s still on line one.”

“Huh.” I canvassed the walls and ceiling. No answers there. “Fine. I’ll ask him.” There was a click, and I answered the call. “Hello, this is Alex.”

“Well, hello, this is Alex.”

“Whom do I have the pleasure of speaking with?” I asked coldly.

“The receptionist didn’t tell you?” He paused. “It’s
Easton. We met at The Boulevard.” There was a warm undercurrent in his voice.

“Easton? Huh. I haven’t been to The Boulevard in over a month. How long ago was this?”

“It’s been about a month.”

I paused long enough to make it seem I had no idea who he was. “Oh, I know. Peter’s friend.”

“Right,” he agreed. “I know Peter.”

“How did you get my number?”

“I’m a lawyer you know.”

“Yes, I remember, you’re a lawyer not a cop. The question remains . . . how did you get my number?

“Fortunately for me you’re not hard to find. Google,” he said easily. “I’ve been wondering why you haven’t called.”

“Huh . . . that’s concerning.”

“That I contacted you?” he asked.

“No, I’m sorry not you in particular, just that anybody can find me.”

“Whew,” he said. “For a second there you had me going. I did wait for you to call me, but it didn’t look like that was going to happen.”

“Most people would’ve taken that as a hint.”

“A hint for what?”

Laughing I said, “That I didn’t want to talk to you.”

“Nah—not possible. I’m not most people,” he said.

I smiled as I looked at my nails that were in desperate need of a manicure. “I guess not.”

“How about you give me a chance and go to lunch with me?”

“Wait a minute—aren’t you married?” I felt I needed
to remind him. “I know some women don’t care, but I do.

“I’m separated—have been for a couple years. So yes, I’m married, but we’re not together.”

“Sure you’re not together,” I said. There was something about this guy. I was getting comfortable enough with him to say exactly what I thought, which was unusual for me. “Have you tried counseling?”

“Why? Are you offering your services?”

“Although I do counsel—No, I’m not.”

“That’s too bad. I would definitely get to see you then,” he said.

I cleared my throat. “It would be couples counseling, and inappropriate, but I could definitely recommend someone.”

“Alex I’m joking—we don’t need counseling.”

“Okay, that was weird.”

“Weird in a cute way or don’t ever call me again kind of way?”

“Really, is weird ever cute?” I laughed. “I’m sure you didn’t call me to talk about my divorce or fixing your marriage. Do you want to talk about something else?”

“You’re right. I didn’t for either of those reasons. I know looking you up may be a little presumptuous of me, but I knew you wouldn’t call me, so here I am taking a chance you’ll go out with me.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m a little psychic, and I don’t see lunch with me in your future. I guess you have to come up with another way.”

He laughed. “You got jokes. Okay, I guess I will. So are you free this weekend?”

He doesn’t give up
. “Oh, you know what? I might be going out of town this weekend to visit a friend of mine.”

“When will you be back?”

“Sunday, we’re leaving Friday. Maybe some other time.”

“Can some other time be lunch tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow? I usually don’t go out on weekdays.”

He chuckled. “You don’t have to go to school the next day, you should be fine.”

I caught a reflection of myself in the computer screen and thought of the conversation I’d had with Sanford the night before.
What are you saving yourself for . . . prom?
“You know what—sure, I could get away. What about that wife of yours? How do you think she would feel about you going to lunch with another woman?”

“Alex, its just lunch, and we’re separated—remember. She might be having lunch with somebody too.

“How do you feel about that?” I asked.

“Alex, are we going to lunch?”

“Sorry, I do that sometimes . . . go back and forth. Where do you want to meet?”

“That’s fine. I’ll get used to it. How about Italian?”

A chill fluttered down my spine. “Yeah sure, Italian’s good.”

“What time?”

“Around one?”

“That works for me. So, I guess it’s a date . . . until tomorrow.”

“It’s not a date, and yes, I’ll see you then.”

Easton may be just what the doctor ordered
.

I tried to get a mental picture of him, but it wasn’t working. I can’t remember what he looks like. The alarm on my phone jerked me back to reality. Ten-thirty. I know
this means something, but for the life of me I don’t remember what. I checked my calendar and there it was—big as life, and I was going to be late.

“Hey, Karen! I leaped out of my chair and grabbed my purse, while heading toward the door. Karen darted right in front of me. I almost plowed her down. “Oh my God Karen, I didn’t see you!”

“Where’s the fire?” she said.

I squeezed around her. “I got to go. I’m supposed to meet Jake and his mom at St. Mary’s at eleven. There is no way I’m going to make it.”

My car was parked right out front and I couldn’t open the door fast enough. Inside it occurred to me to call Jake and let him know I would be late, which I attempted, but no answer. I really should have planned this out better. I guess I couldn’t have with my unexpected phone call today.
Easton’s causing trouble already
.

Without talking to Jake I wasn’t quite sure where I was going. I took a chance and got on the freeway headed downtown, hoping something along the way something would jog my memory. I’m thinking St. Mary’s, but that’s probably because of Tobey. I tried him again.
Still nothing
. I drove toward St. Mary’s Medical Center. If they weren’t there I don’t know where to go.

It took fifteen minutes to make it to the hospital. I pulled into the parking lot at eleven. In the first available spot, I threw the car in park, grabbed my purse, and raced out. Speed walking through the parking lot, I heard my name. I stopped, scanned the lot to figure out what direction the voice came from.

Jake and Ms. Thomas were slowly navigating their way to the entrance. I ran over to catch up with them. The
closer I got, my heart sank at the sight of her. Another mystery solved. I knew why Jake had called me. I’d only looked at her for a few minutes and even I could see the essence of her former self slipping away.

“Hi, Mom, are you okay?”

She looked up, didn’t appear to recognize me at first, then slowly at first, her face brightened as it came back to her. “Hi, baby, I’m so glad to see you.”

“It’s good to see you too.” Jake looked on, appearing pleased to see me as well. I wouldn’t let him down—not about this.
Well, I almost let him down. Thank goodness I made it
. “So, we’re going in?”

“Yeah, let’s get on in here. I told you these doctors don’t know anything.”

I smiled. “I know, let’s just see if the doctors have something new to say. All of it’s new for me, so if you don’t mind, we’re going to sit a minute and see how we can help make you comfortable.” I grabbed her free arm and smiled at Jake while his mother rested her head against my arm.

“I’m comfortable now. At my age, to relax is to die. These aches and pains let me know I’m still alive. I think it bothers Jake more than me.”

Ms. Thomas took slow deliberate steps. I assisted her managing to catch Jake’s eye.

After a brief wait in the lobby we were in. Ms. Thomas entered the exam room while Jake and I met with the doctor. As it turned out, this was only a physical examination, but we still needed to get some clarification on patient care. The doctor was gracious enough to take some time after her examination to go over everything one
more time for me, while the nurse finished up with Ms. Thomas. The short of it, which I already knew, was breast cancer and the location of her tumor made it inoperable. Ms. Thomas refused radiation and chemotherapy.

At her advanced stage, her doctors estimated six months to a year—maybe.

Jake maintained his silence for most of the meeting. I reached over and grabbed his hand as we waited to hear other options. As soon as the doctor left to check on his mother, Jake let every emotion he stored up flow down his cheeks. I sat there holding him tight in my arms, crying and paralyzed by the knowledge of what’s to come.