The Opposite of Love (11 page)

“Another chardonnay, please,” she said, and the waitress went back inside.

“You didn’t want to hear about echolocation I take it.”

“Not really. As much as I know you’d love to tell me all about it, other things are on my mind.”

“Do tell.”

Melanie hesitated, then asked, “I saw from the program you’re presenting a new seminar this week. New Best Practices in a Recovering Economy.”

“A mortgage seminar is what’s on your mind?”

“No, just dancing around it a bit. Humor me.”

“I don’t mind watching you dance a little. Yes, I’m giving a new seminar.”

“How are things with you? How’s your wife?”

“The wife is good. We’re good. And you?”

“I’m good. I’ve been seeing someone.”

“Good for you. I mean it. Is it serious?”

“Not yet, but it could be. Maybe down the road.”

Joel sat back in his chair and interlaced his hands over his stomach. His dark curls were cut short and he wore a close-cropped goatee. He still looked fit and young and sported his ubiquitous half-smile that made him look as though he had either just told a joke or was about to.

“That’s a big deal for you isn’t it?”

“Bigger than I’d like. It’s brought up some issues, some questions.”

“Like what? Can I help?”

“I guess I was hoping you could. I don’t know if I learned everything I should have from our relationship.”

“And you’re afraid of making the same mistake?”

“Something like that.”

Joel shook his head. “I think we can both agree that in our case timing was a major issue.”

“That’s how I see it too.”

“But there were other things. Things that I never really understood.”

“Like?”

Joel looked out at the river and the bats hurtling out into the night. “You always held back a little bit. You were never all-in, so to speak. It’s not that you were distant, or cold…”

“Then why say the words?”

“To keep you from jumping to the extreme.” Joel winked at her. “You were always receptive to affection, but you never went first. You never initiated.”

Melanie thought about this. It was true. There was always a reason to be careful. They could break up at any moment, so it hadn’t felt safe to invest herself completely. But she’d assumed that all-in would come when she got married.

She took a sip of her chardonnay and nodded. “Self-preservation maybe.”

“But for what? Didn’t you feel like we had a good relationship? Did you not trust me?”

“I trusted you. Our relationship was great. You were the best boyfriend I’d ever had. It’s just that, well, things change. You could become someone else overnight and cheat or lie or run off with some trollop and leave me with a broken heart.”

“But don’t you think that would have been out of character for me?”

“Completely.”

“Then why did you worry about it?”

“I can’t say I was worried about it consciously, just that I was always aware of the risk.”

“I see.” Joel flagged the waitress and ordered another beer. They sat in silence until it came.

“Do you think I was unfair to you?” Melanie asked.

Joel shook his head. “I think you shortchanged yourself.”

“How so?”

“People are going to do what they’re going to do. There’s nothing you can do about it. If someone is a cheater or a liar, they’re going to cheat and lie. And fortunately, you will find out about it at some point. The only people who don’t find out are the ones who deliberately look the other way.”

“So how did I shortchange myself?”

“I don’t think you ever got to see what it feels like to be vulnerable and have things turn out the way you want them to. There’s a freedom in trusting someone to have your best interest. And when they respect that trust, when they come through for you, it makes the relationship deeper.”

Melanie nodded. That was the thing then, the thing that she was missing that made the risk worthwhile.

“Was there anything you wished I’d done differently?” said Joel.

“Nothing big. Little things. Like I remember always wanting you to hit the snooze button in the morning instead of jumping out of bed, just so I could roll over and snuggle you for a few minutes.”

“You were never much of a snuggler.”

“I know. I always got too warm to sleep. But that last chance—those last few minutes before we started our day—that was something I would have loved.”

“You never once asked me. Why? I would have loved it too.”

Melanie looked down at her lap. “I don’t know. I really don’t.”

“You didn’t hold back in other ways,” said Joel. Melanie looked up and saw the devious expression on his face. She realized she was pouting and he was trying to cheer her up.

“Pervert.”

“Hey, you have to admit, it was great. You were great.”

She blushed, nodded. “It was.”

And she remembered, she
had
let go with him, if only sexually. She had given herself in a deeper way and it had felt amazing. The connection, the trust. But Joel was right, when she thought about it; she had only let herself go in bed, not in their entire relationship. Each lovemaking session had been a short foray into the world of vulnerability, letting herself feel and express and be loved. But it was not something that had reached beyond the bedroom door and into the real world where careers and families existed, where betrayal and pain were much more prevalent.

Melanie looked at Joel. Still so kind, so handsome, easygoing. She felt a pang of regret that it hadn’t worked out. But he was right that the timing had been the main thing. Her inability to go “all-in” was only a secondary cause of their relationship’s demise. But knowing that it was a factor at all was eye-opening. There didn’t appear to be a timing issue with James, and she didn’t want to make the same mistake again and sit across a table from him four years from now wishing things had turned out differently.

Joel was watching the bats with that half smile on his face, so relaxed, content. Melanie put on a flirtatious smirk, leaned in and rested her arms on the table. “Joel, tell me something.”

“Anything,” he said, and took a sip of his beer.

“Tell me all about echolocation.”

He grinned. “You’re the best.”

Austin was stiflingly humid and the conference was tedious and eternal. Melanie was glad to be home. James took her to her favorite Henderson sushi spot—I Love Sushi—and they stuffed themselves into a stupor. There was still plenty of food left when they gave up, so they packed it up to take home.

Back at Melanie’s house, James went upstairs to take a shower and Melanie realized they’d left the sushi in the backseat of James’ SUV. She grabbed his keys and went out to get it.

She probably wouldn’t even have noticed it if the streetlight hadn’t been shining on the window at just the right angle. But as she grabbed the leftovers from the seat, she glanced up and saw it on the opposite window—a footprint.

More like half of a footprint really, but the toes of a small, presumably female foot were clearly visible. Melanie went around and opened the other door, ran her finger over the big toe print, and it smudged. She stared at it and gripped her midsection, feeling that hollowness deep inside. Anger? Jealousy? It had been such a long time since she’d felt betrayed that the situation was now unfamiliar, and therefore, so was her reaction. So foreign, in fact, that she was fascinated by it. She closed her eyes and felt the pain of emptiness and was reminded of the infant, the accident, her reaction then. She couldn’t fathom what the two situations had in common.

Melanie left the sushi in the car and went back inside. When James came downstairs, she told him that her sister had just called. The baby was sick and Sarah’s husband was on a business trip, so Melanie had to go look after five-year-old Stella while Sarah took Braden to the hospital. James offered to wait at her house, and her stomach lurched at the idea. She was very close to just firing him right then and there, as lying to him was becoming a tad of an effort, and in any case, more than it was worth. Firing him would be easier, and hopefully quicker.

But she couldn’t allow her mother to think she’d been impulsive. Or rigid. Or whatever else she’d be accused of. She knew she was in the right on this, and that gave her time. She didn’t have to react, not yet. She assured James that she’d probably spend the night at Sarah’s, and mercifully, he left.

She swam thirty laps in the pool, went to bed at ten, slept late, then went to a nine a.m. spin class. These actions were as habitual and effective as popping a couple of Advil for a hangover.
This is what will make me feel better.
Spin class was the ultimate exorcism of aggravations and the banishment of stress. Her focus was singular as she pounded the pedals, and the way the sweat drained off her face in torrents and puddled on the spin mat was acutely satisfying and more cleansing to her spirit than a monastic retreat.

After her class, she drove to her mother’s house with a sense of unapologetic self-righteousness and a barely concealed relief. The former, even she could see, was counter-productive if one wanted to be in a relationship. The latter, she found, was clearly because she did not, in fact, want to be in a relationship.

To Melanie’s disappointment, Catherine was not as eager to accept the dissolution. Melanie leaned against the dining room wall, arms crossed, and presented the evidence with the cool temperament and finality of a judge, but her mother only nodded and looked thoughtful.

“Did he tell you that he was going to be monogamous?” she asked.

“Yes,” she said. “When we started dating, we both said we weren’t seeing other people.”

“And you agreed not to, going forward?”

“It was implied.”

At this, Catherine gave Melanie a look that said
you know better
.

“Mom, come on. You’re looking for loopholes. I’d expect that from him. But why would you defend him?”

“I’m not defending him. I just think it’s a misunderstanding.”

“Him fucking someone in the backseat of his truck isn’t a misunderstanding,” she said.

“Language.”

Melanie ignored her. “It’s juvenile, it’s disgusting, and it’s dishonest.”

“Let’s say it’s dishonest. Are you sure you want to split up with him?”

Melanie was dumbfounded. She stepped away from the wall and pretended to look behind her, then looked back at her mother, putting one hand to her chest. “Who, me?” she asked. “Yes. Yes,
please
. I’d like to split up with him if that’s ok with you.”

Catherine rested an elbow on the dining room table. She looked down at the Berber carpet and gave an exasperated little shake of her head. “You know, your father wasn’t perfect.”

The implication was unintended, a mistake. Melanie was sure of it.

“No one is perfect, Mom. I’m not looking for perfect. I’m looking for faithful. For honest.”

Her mother gave her a look then, her brow furrowed, studying Melanie as if she were gauging how far she should take this—whether she’d gone too far already.

“Wait,” said Melanie. “What are you saying?”

“I’m sorry, but your father was not a superhero, and it does you no good to see him that way. He was human, and he was unfaithful.” Catherine’s voice shrunk into the back of her throat but her eyes stayed sharp and dry.

“You’re lying.”

“And I would do that why?”

“To get me to stay with James.”

“But why would I want you to stay with James if he wasn’t good for you?”

“I don’t know!” Melanie screamed at her mother, losing her battle for self-control.

Three quick strides to the slider and she was out into the backyard gulping one-hundred-and-two-degree air that went down like fistfuls of warm cotton.

The situation was bad already. Why bring her father into it?

Catherine stood in the doorway. Without intending to, Melanie had left herself cornered. There was no way out of the yard unless she wanted to hurdle the eight-foot block fence.

“I’m not simply saying this to upset you. I really think it will help you to understand what you’re going through.”

Melanie turned toward her mother. “You’re bashing my father. He’s not even
here
. He can’t defend himself.”

“I’m not bashing him. I loved him,” Catherine said. “I knew him better than anyone, and I loved him. But you need to know he wasn’t perfect. He cheated on me. And it wasn’t the end of our relationship. I didn’t leave him.”

Melanie turned away from her mother and covered her face with her hands. She thought of her handsome father with his prickly, scruffy chin stubble that she liked to scratch. It was repulsive to think of him with someone besides her mother. It was unnatural.

It occurred to her to blame James; if he’d never cheated on her, this never would’ve come up. She could have gone her whole life without this reality-changing knowledge had it not been for him.