On Second Thought(26)

I loved Eric, had always loved him, had always been his biggest fan.

What an idiot. Me, I meant. I wiped my eyes with angry hands.

Okay, well, I had to unpack. I opened the door to the corner room and  sucked in a breath. It was impressive, all right, and so different from  my bedroom at home. One entire wall was brick, and a black, modern  four-poster sat in front of it, made up entirely in white. Fluffy white  pillows, white on white duvet cover, a fluffy white throw. There was a  vast black bureau topped with three modern long-necked bird sculptures. A  furry, blissfully soft white rug on top of the cherry-stained floors.  Ollie ran to it and flopped down, rolling in delight. Against one of the  white walls was an asymmetrical couch, a fainting couch, I think it was  called, upholstered in gray velvet with a small red pillow. The wide  windows overlooked the courtyard or patio or whatever they called it. A  Japanese cherry tree was in bloom, its elegant branches swaying slightly  in the breeze.

I couldn't help the juvenile pang of envy I felt. Let's face it-Kate  walked into this life without any effort on her part. A wonderful  husband (I would've dated him if I'd been single), the prestige of  marrying into the Coburn family, this incredible house.

Everything I had, I worked for. Yearned for. Spent years planning.

My own house-Eric's house-was filled with color and comfort. Sure, we  had nice things, too, but not like this. This was the kind of room an  Oscar winner would sleep in.

But it was mine for now. I would read on the couch, I thought, and sip  tea, and look out at the cherry blossoms while Eric rued the day.

The bathroom...whoa. I walked in and the lights turned on automatically,  dimly at first, then to full power. Wow! A little room for the toilet, a  separate shower and a huge wonking bathtub with eight (count 'em) jets.  Long quartz countertop, strange, beautiful sink, four little succulent  plants in a row.

I went back into the bedroom and pulled out my Winnie the Pooh, who'd  been with me since birth. For the past eleven years, Pooh had been  relegated to a shelf or chair in the guest room, as it didn't feel right  to have my beloved cuddle friend watching as Eric and I had sexy time.  Now I wanted him with me again.

"I love you more than Eric," I told Pooh and kissed his worn little  nose. He wasn't the classic Pooh; he was Disney's version-red shirt and  denim overalls. After thirty-two years of love, he was missing both  eyes, just a black thread trailing down from one socket like a worm, and  his red shirt had more patches than original fabric. Kate used to sew  him up for me.

I set him on the bed between the pillows, a splash of comforting tackiness in all this sophistication.

Then I took out the picture of my mother and me, and put it on the night table. It was the only picture I had of the two of us.

My mother had been a beauty, that was for sure. She'd had black hair  like mine. Hers was wavy in the way of a 1950s pinup girl, as if she'd  slept in rollers all night. To the best of my knowledge, it was natural.  Talking about her had never been encouraged.

Once, when I was about seven, I'd asked Candy if she knew my mother.  "Only in the sense that your father and she were having an adulterous  affair," she said, aborting the conversation with surgical efficacy. Dad  tended to say things like, "Oh, Michelle was...well. She was terrific,  your mom." And not much else.         

     



 

In the picture, she was holding me on her hip, smiling right into the  camera. Pooh was clutched to my chest, both eyes then intact, his fur a  yellow not found in nature. My mother's hair was blowing in the breeze,  and I had on a rather adorable pout.

I'd tried a thousand times to remember that moment. Tried, and failed.

I liked to think she and I would've been friends. That we'd be close  still, like Judy and I were, except even better. That she'd have visited  me at NBC and would've loved Eric, would've helped me paint the rooms  in our house and gone shopping with me for all the little things that  made our place so cozy and fun.

I used to think she'd have been proud of me.

Today, though, a rejected, underemployed woman who wanted nothing more  than to get back together with the man who'd dumped her...today, I  wasn't so sure.

* * *

By Monday morning, I still hadn't heard from Eric.

That scared me, but I was trying not to think about it. After all, it  had been only two days. And Kate seemed quietly glad for my company. On  Saturday night, we'd watched the last half of the Yankees game to catch a  glimpse of our father behind home plate, not that you could see much  with all his gear.

While staring at the TV, stroking Ollie's belly as he lay in the chair  next to her, Kate told me she hadn't had her period since Nathan died,  but didn't seem to be pregnant, either.

"I always thought you'd make a great mom," I'd said, once again sticking  my foot in it. Her face rippled with sorrow, and she didn't look at me.  When our father called the batter out, Kate said good-night. Ollie,  good doggy that he was, trotted up after her.

And yet, yesterday afternoon, we'd played Trivial Pursuit, the first  time we'd played a board game since Candy Land. Sean called, and I  talked to him a little bit-a rarity, as he never deliberately called me,  though Kiara did once in a while. Sean was under the impression I was  staying here out of the goodness of my heart, rather than because I was  currently homeless.

It would be good to go to work. Get my mind off things and on to such  burning issues as the latest trends in local goat cheese. I poured  myself some of Kate's great coffee-an Ethiopian blend Eric would covet  if he knew Nathan had once loved it.

Kate wandered into the kitchen, her hair a little matted. "How'd you sleep?" she asked.

"Like the dead," I answered. "Oh, shit. I'm sorry. Like a rock. Very  well. I slept well." I closed my eyes for a second. "How about you?"

"Not bad," she lied. The shadows under her eyes told the true story.

"I have to get to work. Jonathan's really anal about us showing up on time."

"Okay. Have a good day," she said.

"Can I do anything for you while I'm out?"

"No, no, I'm fine." She rubbed her eyes. "I have to go to the studio and return some phone calls and stuff."

"Good, good," I said. "Tell Max I said hi." Once upon a time, I had a huge crush on Max and his whisper-scary voice.

"Will do. And, Ainsley...you know, stay here as long as you want. Even  if Eric comes crawling back-as he should-you're welcome to have a little  breathing room here. But I don't need you to stay, either. I mean, just  do what you want. You're welcome here." Grief and exhaustion had  softened her a little; she was usually a lot more brisk where I was  concerned.

"Thanks, Kate. And hey," I added, "remember that, uh, that grief group I  found? It meets tonight. Maybe, if you don't want to go alone, I could  go with you the first time. Or something. If you want."

She nodded. "Yeah, that might be...good." Her mind was already  wandering. I wanted to hug her, but I always felt a bit like an ass,  hugging my ultracool sister (half sister, I could hear Candy saying).

I went out to my car, breathing in the sweet springtime smells from the  gorgeous flowers and trees of the landscaping. The exterior of the house  was just as sleek and fabulous as the inside. A sweep of grape hyacinth  grew along the steps and four flowering pear trees marked the curve of  the driveway.

I wasn't sure I was doing Kate any good by being there.

Then again, I wasn't sure where else to go. Candy and Dad's-no. Candy  would let me stay, of course, but I couldn't bear to be another nail in  her crucifixion. Plus, I didn't want her and Dad to think badly of Eric,  because once we got back together, it would be awkward.

Same with a friend's place. So it was Kate's, or Gram-Gram's. Despite  not being my biological grandmother, Gram-Gram adored me. And speaking  of the sweet old lady, I hit her name on my phone. "Hi, Gram-Gram!"         

     



 

"Is this Ainsley? Hello? The name says Ainsley on the phone. Is that you, honey?"

"It is! Hi, Gram-Gram!"

"How are you, sweetheart? Are you married yet?"

"Nope, not married. Just calling to say hi."

"Oh, dear. Was it your husband who died?"

"That was Kate, I'm afraid. Remember? Nathan was her husband."

She sighed. "That's so sad. Do you think she wants to be fixed up? I know a nice young man."

"It might be a little soon."

"How about you? Would you like to meet someone?"

"No, not right now. I'm on my way to work, Gram-Gram. I just wanted to say hi, and I love you."

"Aren't you sweet! Thank you, darling! You made an old woman's day! Oh, I  wanted to tell you something! Last night, I heard a noise! And you know  I live here by myself, of course."

Not exactly. She'd recently moved to a swanky senior housing  development, the same one where I brought Ollie once a week. She had her  own apartment, but it was in a giant building with about three hundred  other residents.