Living Lies (16 page)

“I’m interested.”

“Good. Because I …
we
have a plan.”

Melanie could feel the anger beginning to simmer in the pit of her stomach – it was the most emotion she’d felt in days. She didn’t want to fight with these people, but they had no idea what her life was about.

“You haven’t talked about a boyfriend in some time and your father and I were wondering, well, what we thought was…” She stammered.

My mom at a loss for words? This is big.

“Your mother and I have this idea that maybe it’s not a man that you ... prefer. We know there are other options these days and we’re open to whatever it is that makes you happy.”

“Dad!” Melanie suddenly remembered why she’d moved across the country.

“We’re hip,” Rita said.

“Well, I’m not.” Melanie rubbed her eyes. “I am not a lesbian. Just because a woman chooses a career over a man doesn’t mean she’s gay.

“You think I’m gay?” She turned to look at each person in the room. She had limits and knew her fuse was much shorter than normal. She looked directly at her mom. “Not having a man is, like, the least of my worries. Seriously, Mom, I don’t need a man to fulfill my life. Can’t you understand that?”

“No, I can’t. Melanie you are 33 years old and you’re going to wake up one day old and alone. You’ll have missed everything and I don’t want that to happen.”

Melanie closed her eyes, remembering the promise she’d made to her dad.

For her father sake, she asked, “What do you want from me?”

“As it turns out each of us has the name and number of a single man we think you’d enjoy meeting.”

“Great.” Melanie sighed and accepted the seven business cards from her mother.

“We’re done here?” Trish asked standing to leave. “Sorry about this, Mel, but I was trapped.” Trish kissed the side of Melanie’s head. “I’ve got people to see and things to do. Or is it people to do and things to see?” She giggled and waved, “Hope you like Jason.” She was out the door.

“Your first date is tonight,” Carla said, also standing. “I, too, have got to run. Bye-bye.” She hugged Melanie and raced to the door.

Jenny was the next to bolt. “You’re not mad, are you?”

Melanie shook her head, too upset to answer.

“Why are you all leaving? I made lunch.” Mrs. Ward was following the girls to the front door.

Melanie and Cheryl exchanged small smiles.

“You know, Mom, I’m tired. I think I should go home and rest.” Cheryl said with a exaggerated yawn.

“Really, ’cause I think
Mom
would be happy to whip up a high-protein meal for you.”

“Don’t start, Melanie,” Rita’s said, lightly tapping Melanie’s forearm. Jovial, that was her demeanor as she fished through the business cards. “This is your first date tonight,” the card read Dennis Gossett, Divorce Lawyer. “He’s picking you up at 8 for dinner.”

Melanie shuffled through the rest of the business cards.

“I’m curious,” she said, looking up at her mom. “What if I had turned out to be gay?” Melanie gestured to the cards in her hand.

Rita raised her eyebrows. “We had a whole different set if that had been the case.”

Melanie leaned back in her seat.

They really thought I was gay?

“Get up,” Rita chirped. “You and I are going to the salon and then to the mall. Honestly, Melanie, don’t you own anything other than jeans?”

This is worse than actual torture.

Seven dates had been crammed into six days: two lunches and five dinners. The explanation: “We didn’t want you to miss an opportunity with any of the men, in case you had to
get back to work
.” Translation: ditch us and escape for higher ground.

Rita introduced Melanie to her stylist who enlisted a team to “fix” Melanie’s hair and nails. The facial, manicure and pedicure were pleasant enough. She tuned out her mom directing the experts. The pain began with the reshaping of her eyebrows and the hot wax that stripped her legs. She won the clash against the Brazilian wax. After hours of trimming, soaking and primping, she left the salon a different person.

Sitting in the car, she looked over at her mom, who was staring out the front windshield.

“Do you really think this looks better?”

Rita stifled a smile. “Well, maybe it is a trifle overdone, but it’s something.”

“Yeah, it’s something all right,” Melanie said, dropping the mirror from the sun visor and pulling out the two-dozen bobby pins.

She saw the disappointment on her mother’s face.

“The nails, I like.” Melanie said, admiring her hands. “Thanks, Mom.”

Rita beamed.

The next stop was the mall. Even Melanie had to admit her wardrobe needed updating. She’d forgotten the pleasures of the mall and she’d forgotten the enormity.

“With all these stores, how can I not find anything?” she asked, shuffling through racks and racks of undesirable clothing.

“Because, you’re too picky. Always have been,” Rita answered, pulling out a black sleeveless dress. It had a ruffle along the bottom and along the neckline, which dipped a bit lower than Melanie would have liked.

But it was the best so far, and it was her ticket out.

Melanie decided that the dates had a two-fold benefit. First, they would make her mom happy, and second, they took the focus off making a decision about her life and what her next step would be. She wanted her job back but her confidence was a roller coaster, one minute knowing it was just a matter of time before the Board came groveling, and the next minute wondering, … what if they didn’t? But the good news was: By the end of the week she would have successfully completed seven dates, eased the tension between her and her mom and accepted the sincerest of apologies from the Agency. By this time next week she’d be heading back to D.C.

“Melanie? Hi, I’m Dennis.” Average in height and slight of build, his morose eyes were dark against his pale skin, even as he attempted a smile.

“Nice to meet you, Dennis.”

Melanie turned to wave goodbye to Rita, who was watching merrily from the screen door, gesturing with her hands to shoo them away. Melanie wondered if a 33 year-old woman should still be rolling her eyes at her mother.

It was Saturday night and she was on a date – albeit not of her own volition, but nevertheless, a date. A sickening feeling gnawed at her. She had less than zero expectations for any of the seven men she’d been set up with, yet still, sitting in a stranger’s car added a slight level of apprehension.

How long has it been,
she wondered,
since the last time you felt anything remotely similar?
The silent drive left her time to ponder.

“This was our favorite restaurant,” Dennis said, steering his Lexus into a parking space outside a Japanese restaurant.

Melanie nodded, pressing her lips together so as not to ask the question.

“Oh, Mr. Gossett, it’s been a long time,” the man in the suit said, shaking Dennis’ hand and checking Melanie out from the corner of his eye.

“Yeah, Clare and I split up two months ago,” Dennis said.

His jaw was taut and a throbbing vein on his neck exposed his quickened heartbeat. Melanie took off her sweater and put her sunglasses inside her new purse. She was completely uncomfortable with the questioning stares.

“I am so sorry to hear that, you were a lovely couple,” He said, leading them to a table in the back of the little restaurant. “Your table is available.”

“No, we can’t sit there.”

The host stopped abruptly, then shifted course to a table near the front.

Quietly, a little Asian girl placed a square plate with thin slices of raw fish on their table.

“Thank you, Peggy.” Dennis picked up his chopsticks. “She’s the owner’s daughter. Isn’t she beautiful?”

Melanie nodded.

“She was only a baby when Clare and I started coming to this place.”

Melanie didn’t want to ask, but here it was being pulled from her. She looked around at the other patrons washing down their California rolls with tiny cups of sake, then back to Dennis, who continued to fiddle with his chopsticks as if lost in a memory. Melanie closed her eyes for strength.

“So, Dennis?”

He looked up, his eyes reddening and welling with tears, as Melanie glanced down at the plate with slivers of squishy white and pink fish.

Just because something is consumable doesn’t mean it should be,
she thought, giving Dennis time to man up.

“Sashimi,” he said, pointing a chopstick at the bait. He cleared his throat and used the napkin to dry the wet patches on his face. “I apologize about this evening. It’s been difficult moving on. Clare was in college when we met, young and beautiful. I fell immediately.”

Dennis’ words were sad and his voice was hypnotic. It was going to be a tragic love story. She barely looked up when he ordered for both of them. Intrigued as he outlined their six years of peaks and valleys, family deaths, a miscarriage, her graduation, his promotion. It wasn’t difficult to leave her dish untouched as she listened. Even glancing at the squishy food made her stomach roll.

By the end, Melanie was engrossed. “Why’d you break up?” She anticipated some ancient Greek misfortune.

He sniffled. “She wanted to get married and I, well, I’m a divorce attorney.”

“That’s it?” Melanie was at the edge of her seat, disappointed at the lackluster end to a fabulous romance.

“Listen, you have no idea what I see on a daily basis – shattered lives. I can’t do that to Clare, I love her. Don’t you think I want all the things these other people wanted when they said ‘I do’? Look where it got them … screaming over Tupperware.”

Melanie studied Dennis, his lost, weepy eyes that looked as dead as any corpse she’d ever seen. “You’re making a mistake.”

“Excuse me?’ he asked, clearly offended.

“If you’re both in love then what do you have to lose? You’re being an ass.”

Melanie picked up the less ugly piece of fish. The cold slimy meat slid down her throat whole. She suppressed her gag reflex.

Dennis sat with his mouth agape for a moment. “You women are all romantics. I can’t marry, I’m a realist.”

“I’m not a romantic,” Melanie clarified, insulted by the charge.

“Do you believe there is true, everlasting love, like in fairy tales?” he asked with sarcasm.

Instantly she knew her answer, without a doubt. She did, somewhere, at least she hoped. She stayed quiet.

“My point. Marriage is an unattainable dream that ultimately only leads to disappointment.”

Melanie shrugged, “Okay, then, stay stubborn. But do everyone a favor and quit crying.”

She wondered if she pushed him too far – they finished their dinner in silence. Melanie hadn’t hated the pink stuff but she wasn’t a sushi girl. She liked her dinner cooked.

“Listen, I’m sorry, I was out of line,” Melanie said when the silence stretched into the car ride home.
Like I’m one to be giving relationship advice, anyway.

“No, you got me thinking,” Dennis rubbed his ear lobe. “Maybe you’re right, maybe Clare’s right. What if…”

He stopped and Melanie smiled.

“What if?”

“Good luck, Dennis.”

Melanie grinned as she stepped out of his car and jogged up the walkway to her parents’ front door.

“How was your date?” asked an eager Rita.

“It was good,” Melanie said, dropping onto the comfortable couch.

Rita beamed. “Will you be seeing Dennis again?”

Melanie sighed. “No, he’s going back to his girlfriend.”

Rita froze.

“Don’t worry, Mom, you have six more chances.” Melanie hopped off the couch, patted her mom on the back and raced up the stairs.

Rita would simmer overnight and Melanie knew there’d be consequences in the morning. But for now she laughed at the irony, or was it karma? Either way, she was amused at how the world had a way of kicking you right in the ass.

But the next morning Rita Ward’s determination had returned in full force. The woman wasn’t going down without a fight.

“Of course it’s a disappointment, Dear, but this is only Round One,” she said, coffee cup in hand.

By 11:15 am Melanie found herself driving her dad’s 1972 metallic green Chevy Nova up Interstate 5, heading toward her date with Phil Malone, a grocery store manager. Sunday traffic was light and Melanie easily made it to the mall by noon for her lunch date. Pacing back and forth by the north side entrance, Melanie looked expectantly at every single male.

“Hi, you must be Melanie since there isn’t anyone else loitering.”

“Hi. Phil, right?” she said, with a polite chuckle.

“Yeah, Phil Malone. Sorry I’m late, I stopped at the store on my way over.” He pointed across the street to a huge supermarket buzzing with activity.