Vampires and Sexy Romance (90 page)

“So you weren’t going to pick up if you’d realized it was me?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“But is it what you meant?”

“What?”  I suddenly felt like I was talking to the goddamn sphinx.

“Well, just yesterday you were saying you weren’t in love with Dean, and now you’re engaged to him.” 

“I did?”  I was trying to remember.  So much had happened since I’d seen her.

“So what’s going on?  Are you marrying the man you don’t love or what?”

“Mother ... I-I ... I gotta go.”  And I hung up, turned my phone off and shoved it deep into the depths of my book bag.  I needed to be alone.  I needed some peace and quiet.

*****

Stuck to find somewhere private and secluded -- since my apartment would soon become Grand Union Station -- I found myself hiding in the children’s literature section of the public library on Cordon Street.  I was sitting in an overstuffed chair staring out a window.  The window only showed the brick wall of the neighboring building. 

Blessedly there were no children, just a few parents sifting through the aisles of time worn books, probably searching by politically correctness alone.

It was cool and smelled nice -- like cinnamon toast -- so I tried to clear my mind.  But as a New Yorker the rather sound proof library proved too damn quiet for me to clear anything, not to mention my mind.  But if I was going to stew over my problems, might as well let them percolate somewhere peaceful that smelled good.  I had to admit, the joint smelled better than anywhere in the city.

“Uhem ... Lucy?”

I turned and looked up into the face of a vaguely familiar man.  I gave him a cursory smile and said, shaking my head, “I’m sorry, do I know you?”

His smile turned into an awkward grimace.  “The last time you saw me I was in a suit, and unfortunately you were lying on your back on the floor of a coffee shop.”

“Oh god,”  I felt my whole body tighten with the memory.

“Nope, not him.  Just Richard.”  He smiled and the next thing I knew we were laughing.  Not just a little, but belly laughs.

“You look different out of the suit.”  He was wearing an old polo shirt and khaki shorts -- and sandals.

“And you look --”  He gave me an appraising look.  “You look the same.  Same uniform, same ill look on your face.  You haven’t met another funeral director have you?  I’d be hurt.”

“I don’t remember you being this funny,”  I said, now looking him over.  “There’s something more changed about you than your wardrobe.”

“Yeah, I finally figured out that I’m gay.”

I laughed and rolled my eyes at him, but the look he was giving me said he wasn’t kidding.  “Oh cripes, you’re serious.”

“Yep, I really had never thought about it -- too career orientated I guess.  Then right after you fainted I started talking to the guy behind the coffee counter.  About a week later, and three dozen cups of coffee, we went on our first date.”

I suddenly got this preposterous, humiliating idea in my head.  “Did I turn you gay?”

He looked up for a beat, pondering it.  “Maybe ...”

I groaned and sank further into the overstuffed chair.

“Jesus, Lucy!  I’m just pulling your leg.”

Suddenly a little girl--maybe ten years old--raced up and tugged on Richard’s arm.  “I want you to read this one to me!”  Holding up a small, thin book.

“Hailey, you know you hate for me to read to you.”  He looked to me.  “I have an awful reading voice.”

The little girl stared at me, her eyes suddenly slits.

“Oh, Lucy, this is my niece Hailey.  I’m watching her for the afternoon.  Hailey, this is my friend Lucy.”

I smiled the best I could, the little girl’s eyes squinted harder and she folded her arms over her chest.  “Are you a nurse?”

“No.  I’m not a doctor either.”

She laughed sarcastically.  “That’s obvious.”

Richard broke in.  “Hailey hates doctors and nurses.  They always show up with needles.”

“I hate needles.”  She said, worry blossoming in her little green eyes.

“Well, I’m just a physical therapist.  I help people walk and move better.”

The little girl’s eyes turned round again, and her arms unfolded.   “Will you read this to me?”  She said, handing me the book.

I’d never in my life read to a child.  I was dumbfounded.  “What if you hate my reading voice too?”

“You have to be better than me,”  Richard said.

“He’s the worst.”  Hailey gave him a haughty glance, and then pushed the book at me again.

I looked up at Richard.  “Do you have that much time?”

“Sure.  I’ll just browse around...maybe catch a few winks in the stacks.”  And he winked at me.

“Okay,”  I said to the little girl, taking the book from her.  Suddenly Hailey climbed up on the chair with me, positioning herself on my lap.  It was a shock, I hadn’t thought she would sit in my lap, but she did it as if it were common place.  She was so light, but she seemed so solid and finished.  I’d always thought of children as not being finished.  Guess I didn’t remember myself at that age very well.

I looked at the cover of the book, “The Tiger Rising,”  I read.  The cover had a little girl riding a tiger through the woods.  I started reading to Hailey, at first just reading the words, but as the little girl leaned into me, listening intently, I started to see the story in my head.  The sad little boy with the broke-out legs, the little girl in the fancy dress, and the weight of it all, of the boy’s loss of his Mother, and his present yet distant father.

I read for what seemed like hours, and Hailey only moved when I turned the pages.  Not saying a word, but sometimes gasping or laughing.

When I’d finished I felt like crying.

“That was sad,”  The little girl said, hopping off my lap and leaving me with the book, waving at me as she skipped across the marble floor to her uncle.

“Thanks,”  he said, with a wave, as Hailey grabbed his hand and started yanking him toward the door. 

“I want ice cream!”  She demanded.

“Huh...”  I said, looking after them and then back to the book.  There was something in the story I should have gotten, but it hadn’t registered yet.  I stood and felt the awful tingly entropy of having both my legs fall asleep on me.  I staggered yet took the book up to the front desk and handed it to the librarian.

“Would you like to check it out?” 

I was about to tell her I’d just read it, but then I suddenly said, “Yes.”

*****

When I finally went home my answering machine was about forty messages deep.  I wasn’t going to listen to them, but then again I was kind of hoping Dean would’ve changed his mind and that would let me off the hook without actually having to hurt him.... and possibly not having to break up with him at all.

After all, all I knew about Gus was he was good with plants and that he wanted me.  All the other stuff was just stuff my mind made up while I was dreaming.  Gus was probably horrible in bed, and my romantic feelings toward him were probably as based on reality as those erotic dreams.

And then I hit play and the messages started talking to me.

First, second and third were my Mother, fourth through eight were from Bess.  Then there was one from Dean.  He was thinking about me and was going to stop by after his shift at the hospital.  “I’ll bring the Chinese.”

After that was alternating messages from Mother and Bess, a few congratulatory messages from colleges from work, and a few from old classmates that I hadn’t seen or heard from in years.

But when the machine suddenly said, “Messages completed.” I suddenly found myself disappointed.  Disappointed that Gus hadn’t called.

I gave myself a head slap, and as my palm clapped against my forehead I heard a knocking on my door.

I shook my head and tried to decide whether or not to open the door? I stood perfectly still and kept my breathing light.

“Come on cupcake!”  Bess’ voice cut through my scarred wooden door.  “I know you’re there ... I can smell you.”

I opened the door and gave her a scathing look.  “You can smell me?”

Bess sauntered smooth and sleek through the door.  “Yeah, the musk of the guilty.”

“Ha, very funny.”

“So what the fuck?”  She sat down on my couch and plucked a cigarette from her purse, then offered me one.  I accepted, and we lit up together, inhaling deeply, trying not to break down and cry.  Well, I was trying not to.  Bess was staring at me, practically willing me to confess my sins to her.  “So spill it already.”

“What’s to tell?  Dean asked me to marry him ... and I said yes.”

“You said yes.  That’s all?”

“What else would there be?”

“Well, we spent all yesterday in a bathtub going over you having the hots for the florist--”

“He’s not a florist, really ...”

“And you said you weren’t in love with your boyfriend.”  She kicked her legs up and threw them across my lap.  “And now you’re engaged to the man you don’t love.  So what happened since yesterday?”

“Well ... he asked me.”

“We’ve established that, and that’s a bullshit answer, so tell me what really happened.”

What had really happened?  “Gus was there for therapy.”

Bess’ eyebrows rose.  “And?”

“He was asking about Dean and me ... and then he ...”  I blew out the rest of my breath in a sigh.

“Then he what?”  Bess jabbed me with her toe.

“He said I should sleep with him.”

Bess laughed.  “He just came out with that one...out of nowhere?”

“Some how we’d gotten on the subject of how good Dean was in bed.  I said he was the best I’d ever had, and Gus said ‘wait until I’m in your bed.’”

Bess sat up and slapped my arm.  “You’re shitting me, right?”

I shook my head.  “And then Dean showed up, with a ring and proposed.”

“And you said yes?”

“No, I ran.” 

Bess burst out in hysterics, pulling her legs off my lap and throwing her head back.

“It’s not funny!”

“Sure it is, cupcake.  It’s pathetic too!”

“Feel the love in this room.”

Bess stopped laughing long enough to take a few calming breaths, and then tried to repress the smile that was surgically grafted onto her face.  “So when did you say yes?  Whilst running out the door.”

“No, he caught me out in the hall.”

Bess just stared me down.  “And?”

“And there was Gus at the door, watching, looking like...well, like he knew I wouldn’t say yes.”

Bess’ brow knitted and she shook her head.  “So?”

“So that pissed me off.  Next thing I know I said yes, Dean picked me up and twirled me around, and Gus was gone.”

And now you’re engaged to a man you don’t love, and the man you do love --”

“I ... don’t ... love ... Gus!”

Bess put up her hands, “Okay, okay ... the man you have indeterminate romantic and lust-provoking feelings for is MIA.”

“Pretty much.”

Bess snorted and started laughing hysterically again.  “Only you cupcake ... only you!”

I punched her in the arm.  “I said it wasn’t funny!”  But Bess kept laughing, holding her stomach.  “Stop that!”

Bess howled then tried to pull herself together.  “I’m sorry.  I’m a shitty friend.”

“I could think of a few other words for you too.”

“Hey, I said I’m sorry ... so what can I do?”

I knew I looked perfectly pathetic when I asked, but ...  “What am I going to do?”

The look on Bess’ face was pure empathy, which was so not like her.  “Leave town?”

“Who’s your travel agent?”

*****

Chapter
23

No, I didn’t leave town.  For one thing my entire life was here, and being a native daughter I knew instinctively that I’d be miserable any place else but New York.  Plus I had an eerie thought that if I skipped town my problems, Dean and Gus, would show up wherever I went to.  Knocking on my hotel door, both of them camping out in my living room ... both of them coming into my bedroom “to talk” and each wearing nothing but boxers...

I shook my head and tried to push such a moral-less thought from my mind.  That’s when I remembered I was in my bathroom, taking yet another cold shower.  Oh well, I was using a ton of water, but I was conserving energy by not bothering to heat it.

Bess had vacated my apartment in search of non-Chinese/non-Italian food -- I wasn’t in the mood for a culinary stroll down memory lane.  I’d left a message on Dean’s voice mail saying Bess and I were having a “Girl’s night in ... to celebrate” and that I’d see him tomorrow.  But in truth we weren’t celebrating.  My best friend was going to spend the night to console me, and to help me make a freaking choice -- and then to console me after I made my choice.  And while she was procuring the food of heart break bingeing, she was also getting ingredients for cocksucker milk shakes.