Your Song (25 page)

From: Caroline Durand

Date: Sunday, June 24, 2012   2:18 AM

Subject: Dreaming of You

To: Eric Martin

Thoughts of you are keeping me awake. Pleasant thoughts, I might add.

What are you doing right now?

Caroline

Hmmm…
thoughts of me? Interesting.

From: Eric Martin

Date: Saturday, June 23, 2012 8:21PM

Subject: For the Record

To: Caroline Durand

If I kept a tally of every time I have thought of you this past week, it would be ‘
MARK-ed
’ by at least a million tick ‘
MARK
s.’

I am sitting by myself at a restaurant waiting for some friends to join me for dinner.

How have you been spending your days?

Eric

From: Caroline Durand

Date: Sunday, June 24, 2012 2:26PM

Subject: Wish I Was There

To: Eric Martin

Eric,

Between my daily walks to the
MARK
et, passing several land
MARKS
along the way,
I usually stop by the library for a couple of hours each day where I have book
MARK
ed numerous reference books for some research I am doing.

Is there something you want to ask me?

Caroline

Oh, isn’t she playful. I glance up and notice Lara and her boyfriend speaking to Hot Hostess Donning Leather. I quickly reply to Caroline before they arrive at our table.

From: Eric Martin

Date: Saturday, June 23, 2012 8:29PM

Subject: Oui

To: Caroline Durand

Have you seen him?

Eric

“Great to finally meet you,” Rob says extending his hand out for a handshake forcing me away from the temptation of my iPhone. A tall guy… about my height, with a full head of blond wavy hair, green eyes and a fair, very fair, complexion.
Nordic heritage perhaps? 
Standing next to Lara, a statuesque woman, they make a great looking pair. All legs and… blondness between the two of them.  I bend over and kiss Lara in my typical European-style-on-both-cheeks. She looks tanned, rested and happy.

“It’s my fault wh
y we’re late,” Lara apologizes, “
that
client is back in town and she kept me later than scheduled,” Lara rolls her eyes as she takes her seat at the table. Rob takes his seat after he tucks her chair in. Hot Hostess lingers longer than normal at our table. After taking our cocktail order (a martini for Lara and gin and tonics for Rob and me), her royal Hotness is off. Suddenly, I feel the vibration of my iPhone in my blazer pocket.
Caroline’s reply to my email.
Shit, I can’t check it now.

“Which client was that?” I ask Lara feigning interest while feeling the weight of the iPhone against my chest. 
Has she seen Marc?

“Oh, you know the one I was telling you about…the babe from Chicago with the mega-rich old guy husband. Demanding one. Tonight it was the full facial, glycolic peel, and the works. She’s in town for a week this time…wish us luck,” Lara is nattering on about spa treatments while all I can think of what’s waiting for me on my phone.
Of course Caroline has seen Marc…didn’t she say he was picking her up at the airport?
The image of some wealthy, charming and not to mention, handsome French dude laying his hands on Caroline burns me up with rage. Clearly, I am a jealous guy. When it comes to Caroline, that is.

These disturbing thoughts of Caroline with Marc are interrupted when Hot Leather Pants returns to our table. Placing Lara’s and Rob’s drinks in front of them first, she makes her way over to my side of the table, where she rests my gin and tonic down and tucked beneath the glass is a folded up slip of paper. Her phone number, no doubt. I look up at Lara and Rob who’ve also taken notice of Her Hotness’ smooth move.

“And this is the Eric I’ve been telling you about, Rob. Heart breaker. Ever so suave lady-killer,” she says after our server has walked away.  I grin and look away.

So, how was Bahamas?” I ask changing the topic.

“Very relaxing. Hot as hell. We loved it,” Rob says looking lovingly at Lara as he says it. She’s nodding and smiling back at him.

“Apart from missing Paige, Rob’s daughter, we had a beautiful holiday,” Lara adds. She is so in love. Missing his daughter too? Wow.

“Tell me about your daughter. How old is she?”

“And that’s another thing about Eric, Rob. He
loves
kids. You should see him with his nephew,” Lara cuts in. My thoughts turn towards David. She’s right. I do love kids. Especially David, he’s my favorite.

“Paige just turned six last week. Growing like a weed. She’s at a sleepover at my parents’ place tonight. Tomorrow we’re going horseback riding with her support group.”

“Support group?” I ask.

“Paige has been in a bereavement group for children who’ve lost a parent. She goes to therapy sessions twice a month and a few times a year; the group plans outings and events for the children to participate in with their living parent. You know…like nature hikes, fishing trips, cross country skiing…”

“Sounds like communing with nature activities, my favorite kind.” I envision myself on my bike riding the trails, bathing in the forest.

“Exactly. Lara tells me you cycle?” And I’m off…waxing on and on with tales from my biking adventures. I realize how amazing I feel just talking about cycling; I could only imagine how excited I must sound. Rob is a great conversationalist. He tells me all about his building projects at work and about his love for sailing. In between all this talking, the three of us have ordered our steak dinners and finished off our second round of drinks.

The iPhone in my pocket has
pinged
once again and I am brought back to the angst and anxiety I was feeling before Lara and Rob arrived.
Caroline’s response.
Nerves fully rattled now, I get up and excuse myself from the table and make my way to the men’s room. When I reach the restroom door, I glance up and spot Hostess-Dressed-As-Dominatrix watching me.
Not now,
I think and push the door with a little too much force and speed.

Settled into the stall, I pull the phone out of my pocket, like a revolver, ever so carefully, dreading the power it has over me in this minute.

From: Caroline Durand

Date: Sunday, June 24, 2012 2: 38 AM

Subject:
Oui

To: Eric Martin

I have seen him. In fact, I see him every day. Marc works here in my father’s winery…he’s my father’s business partner.

Have your friends arrived for dinner? 

Missing you,

Caroline

And then another email.

From: Caroline Durand

Date: Sunday, June 24, 2012
3:31 AM

Subject: How’s dinner?

To: Eric Martin

Eric,

I hope my last email didn’t leave your imagination running wild. I assure you that Marc and I are done.

I hope you’re enjoying dinner with your friends.

Going to sleep now dreaming of you.

Caroline

I reread both emails at least a dozen times.
He’s her father’s business partner?
I remember her telling me she would never join the family business. Is that because of him? There’s a lot more to this story than she’s letting on and I endeavor to find out more. In time. But for now with Caroline on the other side of the world, there’s nothing I can do. Except send her one last email before she falls asleep.

From: Eric Martin

Date: Saturday, June 23, 2012 9:45 PM

Subject: My Imagination

To: Caroline Durand

I can tell there’s a lot more to this story about you and this Frenchman.
MARK
my words; I look forward to hearing all about it.

In the mean time, sweet dreams.

Eric

I tuck my phone away and take a piss while I am still in the stall. As I’m washing my hands in the sink, I look up at myself in the mirror and see an older version of me staring back at me. A few flecks of grey hair hover over my ears.
When did those get there?
The young, mischievous look that used to reside on my face has been replaced by a more severe, burdened frown. When did I get so old looking? All those complaints I’ve been hearing my parents make about aging over the years…is this where it starts? And I’m only 32!
You have some serious thinking to do about your life
. I know that I can’t continue with the pace I have been living these past few years… nor do I want to.

Money in the bank…I can do something with that, something more…impactful…something that could make a difference. Change is ahead, I assure myself
, as I make my way out of the washroom and back to Lara and Rob.
Ping.

From: Caroline Durand

Date: Sunday, June 24, 2012 3:51 AM

Subject: Skeletons

To: Eric Martin

The ‘story’ between Marc and I… is a long and complicated one…and one that, frankly, I am less than proud of.

I am going to dismiss your
re
MARK
about wanting to hear all about it. Some things are just better left in the past. I am looking ahead to future days with you.

Good night,

C

P.S. Are you still reading
Les Miserables?

P.S.S. Would love to know what your song of the day is…

Skeletons in her closet, too.
Now,
that
I can relate to.

Over espressos and dessert, I mention to Lara and Rob that I’ve been seeing someone. I share with them the story of how we met and the nothing less than ironic role Amy played in it. Lara seems happy for me and makes a point of asking if we can all get together again soon once Caroline returns from France so she they could all meet. Knowing both Lara and Caroline
, I’ve no doubt they will hit it off and get along like two peas in a pod.

For the rest of the evening, Lara and I talk about Mr. Callahan’s rapidly declining health. Unfortunately, it looks like his days are numbered. In palliative care at a Toronto hospice, Mary and Mrs. Callahan have been keeping vigil day and night. Lara visits often, she tells me, and has run into my parents and Claudia there as well. Feeling the tinge of guilt for not having visited him in a few weeks, I vow to go by the hospice tomorrow. Thinking of Mrs. Callahan now, I’m reminded of the
Grandy character, in the
Tear Soup
book that Leslie lent me, who was grieving an unnamed loss. Mrs. Callahan will soon be starting on her second pot of Tear Soup in three years
.

On the short walk home from the restaurant feeling somewhat morose, it dawns on me that tomorrow when I visit Mr. Callahan for likely the last time, I’ll have the chance to say goodbye. An opportunity I was robbed of, that we were all robbed of, when Danny died. How do you say goodbye to a man who has been there, just a few doors away, all your life? Who watched you, together with his son, play and wrestle and watch sports for countless hours on end? I laugh quietly as I think about the night when Danny and I, both of us fifteen or sixteen years old at the time, got piss drunk for the first time and Mr. Callahan was hiding behind the living room curtains watching and laughing at us as we puked our brains out on their front lawn.

Memories come flooding in as I walk into the foyer of my condo building and make my way to the elevator. Unlocking my condo door, I recall Mr. Callahan, numb with shock and doubled over in pain, at Danny’s funeral. I shudder at the thought of his pain; a father losing his son. Unimaginable to me.

The red flashing light from my answering machine welcomes me home and sidetracks me from further depressing thoughts.

Beep.

Hello, Eric. It’s me.

I freeze. A woman’s voice. I can’t place it but I’ve heard it before.

“
You’ve been ignoring me. I need to talk to you. I’d like to see you. I will try you again.”

Beep.

The stalker! I quickly check the call display and once again, a blocked call that came in at 9:50 P.M. Why won’t she reveal herself to me? I’m ready to talk to her and to finally confront her, I think, as I make my over to my bedroom and start to undress. Taking my keys, wallet, change, and phone out of my pockets, I notice the slip of paper that hostess gave me in the pile of stuff I place on my dresser. I unfold the paper.