THE GREAT BETRAYAL (7 page)

“
Hi, it’s me,” she said when Leslie answered. “Got your message. What’s up?”

“
Hey, thanks for calling back.” A pause. “I was just a little surprised earlier when you told the girls about Luke and me. It…it made me feel a little uncomfortable.”

Dawn took a deep breath. “Yeah, I kinda picked up on that right away. I’m really sorry. I didn’t realize it was a secret. I mean, you spoke pretty freely about Paul with us sometimes, so I just thought—” she broke off, feeling a bit uncomfortable herself.

“
See, I thought you understood,” Leslie continued. “I thought an understanding was there between us. At least in these past weeks since we’ve been hanging out, it felt like our friendship had developed to that point, you know?”

“
No, I’m not sure I’m following you. An understanding of what, exactly?”

“
Well…” Leslie trailed off, sounding hesitant. “Oh, never mind. I feel really silly now for even making an issue of this at all.” She laughed nervously.

“
Oh, now, come on, Leslie.” Dawn shifted her weight on the bed. “We
have
become good friends, and the last thing I want is for you to feel like you can’t talk to me…but I guess we do need to make sure we’re on the same page about some things. So you were absolutely right—we did need to talk. Tell me why I should’ve known not to mention Luke.”

She heard a long sigh; then Leslie replied, “Oh, you couldn’t have known—obviously. I’m overreacting. Let’s just forget it.”

Silence drifted loudly through the line and hung between them.

Finally, Dawn decided it would be foolish not to make the most of the conversation. Who knew when a more appropriate time would present itself?

“Um…hey, Leslie?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but…if we’re being honest, I can’t really say that I feel the ‘understanding’ you mentioned before. In fact, I’ve always felt like you’ve really been kind of distant…”

“
Distant?”

“
Yeah…emotionally. Like there’s a lot more going on with you than you let on.” There. She’d said it. There was no turning back.

“More going on?” Leslie repeated in an edgy tone.

“Well, what do I
really
know about you? Do you have any family? Any relatives at all? It’s just a strange feeling I get, because you don’t talk…or even behave like someone with a yesterday. It’s always superficial conversation with you…and it’s really weird. And now this…

“
I personally think it’s
wonderful
that you met a great guy like Luke. He seems really nice and down-to-earth. He’s rugged and cute as hell. Why would it be a big deal to share that with Mel and Shirley? That we were invited over to watch the fight with him and his family?”

No response.

Dawn sat up. “Hello? You still there?”

“I’m still here,” Leslie answered. “I was just thinking about what you said.”

“And?”

“You know, it’s funny, but it just occurred to me as you were talking: This is exactly why I’ve never had any close friends.”

“Why?”

“Everyone has a past, Dawn…but not everyone talks about it.”

A bit unsettled, Dawn was at a loss for an adequate response. What did you say to something like that?

After another lengthy silence, Leslie continued. “Listen, it felt as if we really clicked when we ran into each other again at work. I guess I saw something in you I could trust—more so than the others. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt that comfortable about anyone.”

“
Well, I’m glad you feel you can trust me, but Leslie, how can I ever know that I can trust you? You seem to feel a closeness that I don’t—” She broke off. “Wait, I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I meant that—”

“
No,” Leslie cut in softly. “It’s okay; I think I know what you meant.”

“Oh, God.” Dawn flopped back onto the pillow. “Now I feel
really
bad.” This was going all wrong.

“No, don’t feel bad,” said Leslie. “I overreacted, is all. You’re right. It really shouldn’t have been a big deal to tell Mel and Shirley about Luke.”

Dawn couldn’t be sure, but her friend sounded close to tears. “Leslie, you said you felt you could trust me…Well, you can.” She paused. “Now, I’m no shrink, but I can tell something’s definitely wrong. Something big. Did anything bad happen to you?”

Silence.

Dawn waited patiently.

It seemed like ages before Leslie replied. Her voice was scarcely above a whisper. “Well…Luke just looks a lot like…like someone I used to know. That’s all. It bugged me for a while, messed with my head. It’s not a big deal.”

“
Who
, Leslie? Who does he remind you of? An old boyfriend? Your father? A brother? Who?”

Another deep sigh came through the phone.

“
I can’t say any more just now, Dawn. Not right now.” Leslie coughed, sounding muffled. “I just can’t.”

“
Okay, I won’t press it. But please know that I
am
your friend, and I’m here. Any hour of the day or night, if you want to talk, I’m here.”

“
Thank you. You have no idea how much that means. Really.” Leslie paused. “Oh, and about what you said before…I hope you know that you can trust me, too. I know how important real friends are—and how hard they are to come by. No pretenses, no judgments. Just a genuine friend.” Leslie’s voice lowered and she added, “‘Not now’ doesn’t mean ‘not ever,’ Dawn. One day…we’ll talk.”

“
Whenever you’re ready,” Dawn replied, still feeling a little out of sorts. She decided to bring the puzzling conversation to an end. “So, I’ll ‘C and C’ you tomorrow?”

“
I don’t know. I was thinking of calling in sick. Not sure I’m running on a full tank right now…I could use the break.”

“
Oh…okay…Well, if I don’t see you, take it easy. No worries. Things have a way of working themselves out.”

“
Yeah? Well, that’s probably what I’m most afraid of: things that are beyond my control.”

“
Leslie?”

“
Hmm?”

“
Monsters hide in the dark.” Dawn paused. “My mother always said that.”

This time the silence that followed was deafening.

“
I hope she’s right,” said Leslie finally. “Good night, Dawn.”

“
Night, Leslie.”

That weekend, as they strolled through Costco, Dawn filled Brenda in on her recent conversation with Leslie Phillips.

“So, what do you think it could be?” Brenda said, tossing a bag of rice into her cart. “Maybe she’s an ex-con? Killed somebody?”

“Nah, I don’t think it’s anything that dramatic. I think she just doesn’t like talking about her past. I know one thing for sure—she hates it when I talk about Michael. I picked up on it, so I stopped. I think she must’ve lost someone, too.”

Brenda laughed. “Well, in her defense, you’d drive anybody bat-shit crazy talking about Michael. I know it’s supposed to be a healthy thing, but I wonder about you sometimes when—”

“Oh, shut up,” said Dawn testily. “That’s
my
way of coping.” She grabbed a bottle of olive oil from the shelf. “When you lose your husband in a senseless car crash the week after your wedding, you can talk to me about the healthiest ways to cope.”

“Okay—down girl,” said Brenda, adequately contrite. “I’m sorry I brought it up.”

“Anyhow,” Dawn continued, “she said she’d tell me about it in time, so who am I to push her? Her life, her business. Whenever she’s ready, she’ll talk. But I have a hunch that it’ll be a while before that happens. Whatever it is, the last thing she wants to do is talk about it.”

“Well,” Brenda said, eyeing the Betty Crocker cake mixes, “the minute you find out, call me. This I have to hear!”

“
Don’t hold your breath.”

Later that evening—after Brenda had left, taking her animated and gossipy chatter out the door with her—Dawn worked out in the living room with Jane Fonda. The vigorous workout hit the spot, leaving her drained and sweaty. She showered and changed into a set of Michael’s enormous pj’s.

Drifting into the kitchen, she pulled the carton of Breyers mint chocolate ice cream from the freezer. It seemed exceptionally quiet in her apartment this evening. Why? Was there less traffic going by outside? No children playing? No dogs barking?

She took her bowl of ice cream over to the kitchen window and gazed out. No less activity than usual going on outside. There were a few kids running around playing, riding bicycles. A neighbor was unloading groceries from her car. The usual happenings. Yet her apartment seemed so still, so devoid of life. She missed Michael. Here it was a Saturday night and she was sitting at home in his pajamas like a cooped-up spider. What happened to her resolve to stop this? To start building a life again?

Her nostrils tingled and she realized she was crying.

Damn
.

Leaving the ice cream on the counter, she found herself heading straight for her bedroom. She crawled into bed, covering herself with the thick, flowery comforter. The low hum of the air conditioner was the only sound in the room.

Unable to hold it in any longer, Dawn cried.

Who was she kidding? There was no starting over, was there? She reached for the photograph of Michael on the nightstand. Why did this happen? Why is he gone?

She lay there and cried the evening away—lost in the why of it all. Lost in the old grief. It felt never-ending.

When the phone rang she jumped, instantly panicked and disoriented. It was dark. Had she fallen asleep? When?

She groped for the handset. “Hello?”

“Oh, you were sleeping.” It was Leslie. “I’m sorry I woke you up. I’ll call you back tomorrow.”

Dawn sat up, blinking her bedside clock into focus. “What time is it?”

“
Just after nine. Listen…go back to sleep; we can talk tomorrow.”

“
No, it’s all right. What’s up?”

“
Well…” Leslie hesitated. “To put it plainly, I’m being a hypocrite.”

Dawn switched on the lamp. “A hypocrite? How’s that?”

“
Dawn—” She broke off. “I’ve never spoken about this. It’s been a constant struggle to live with, but after we talked the other night, it struck me that here I was expecting you to feel as close to me as I feel to you…but you don’t know about…”

“
About what?”

“
How could I be stupid enough to expect you to—”

Dawn cut her off. “Just say whatever it is, Les.” Her back stiffened with anticipation. She heard Leslie take a deep breath.

“
I had a Michael,” she blurted. “His name was…Jeffrey. And I lost him”—another deep breath—“five years ago.”

Closing her eyes, Dawn clutched the phone to her ear, absorbing this news. “I think I’ve known it all along. It’s odd, but I think I
sensed
it.”

“
Please don’t be upset with me for not telling you. It’s just that”—she hesitated—“well, it’s not exactly my favorite topic for conversation…”

“
No, no, of course not—believe me, I know. I completely understand, so don’t give it another thought.” She paused. “I’m glad you called tonight. I’m glad you told me.”

When they’d hung up, Dawn lay back down, snuggled into the bed, and studied the ceiling. Her stomach fluttered with an odd sensation.

So, all this time, that was what she’d seen in Leslie eyes—her own pain staring back at her.

That night she dreamed of Michael, of introducing him to Leslie. Dawn’s inherent yen for isolation, for solitude to nurse her memory of Michael, dimmed.

She drew comfort from the knowledge that, all along, Leslie Phillips had understood. She’d known her pain.

They could start over together.

Chapter 14

She had done something to him.

Luke couldn’t figure out what it was, but he knew that he was hooked.

He thought about Leslie Phillips constantly. And this hadn’t happened to him since puberty. What the hell was going on with him?

Leslie’s gorgeous hair. Leslie’s fabulous smile. Her nice white teeth. Her endless legs.

Leslie. Leslie. Leslie.

And then, of course, there were those distant eyes.

Sometimes it was as if she had quietly retreated without even leaving the room, sinking deep within herself.

Where did she go? Was she in emotional pain?

Luke wanted to know.

One evening over dinner they sat for over three hours in a Chinese restaurant near Leslie’s apartment.

They talked about everything from music to movies to politics. They laughed. They ate. They smiled at each other.

Luke spoke about his parents, his brothers, his ambitions as an architect. How his dream was to establish his own firm. Leslie shared about her job, her hobbies, her new best friend, Dawn. They were getting a great sense of one another.