On Second Thought(36)

Al brought over a bottle of fumé blanc and poured me a glass. I took a sip. Hello, wine, my old friend.

The last time I drank wine was the night my husband died.

The wine soured in my mouth, and I had to force myself to swallow. If  wine was ruined, Nathan's death would really be a tragedy. Right? Get  that? Gallows humor. Ha. I forced myself to take another sip to ease the  spike in my throat.

I'd brought Nathan to this restaurant a couple times. We'd sat in that  booth over by the window. Once, we'd come with Paige, before we were  engaged, before Paige had such a bug up her ass. Something got us women  so silly we couldn't talk, and Nathan just sat there, smiling, and I  remember just loving him so much, feeling my whole insides warm and-

Porto's door opened, and there was Paige as if I'd conjured her. She did a double take when she saw me, then came over.

As ever, she wore an awesome suit; she was the real deal of a corporate attorney. Heels, too. She looked fantastic.

I felt a stir of oily black anger.

"Kate?"

"Hey."

"What are you doing here?"

"Work."

"Oh." She set down her gorgeous leather bag. "Um, can I sit for a minute?"

I didn't want her to, but I shrugged. She sat.

"So. How are you?"

Well, my husband died, and I seem to be having heart attacks every other  day or so, and thank God my sister got dumped and moved in with me,  because I'm so sad my bones hurt, Paige. They actually hurt. "I'm fine."

What was it about female friendships? Why was it so crushing when they failed?

"Look," she said, and her tone was a little impatient. "I've been  wanting to call you, but I really didn't know what to say. But you're  good?"

"Fine."

I guess she could read something in my face. "Well, you're here, having  dinner with a friend, I guess. That's a step in the right direction.  It's good. You should get out, see people."

"I appreciate your input."

She took the veiled insult.

I'd talked to Nathan quite a bit about Paige after she dumped me. His  take was that I was better off without her. Men never could understand  women and their friends.

But I was a little obsessed. Who dumps a friend because that friend is  happy? Though I did it on the sly, I checked her Facebook page, her  Twitter, looked at her Pinterest board. She had one for wedding dresses,  for God's sake, and it was public and under her real name. If there was  a better way to scare off a potential boyfriend, I didn't know what it  was.

She'd been my closest friend, and I didn't make friends easily. My very  best friend, and all she could manage was to write her name at the  bottom of a shitty card from Duane Reade.

"So you're just going to sit there and judge me?" she said.

"Pretty much, yes."

"Hey, Paige." Daniel returned, shoving his phone into his jeans pocket.

Her mouth fell open and her eyes widened. "Really? Daniel?"

"Yeah," he said. "Hi. How are you?" He sat down. "You joining us?"

"No," she said. "Wow, Kate. You're doing much better. Better than I would've thought."

That oily black anger bubbled, hot and sticky.

"Paige, don't be such a bitch," Daniel said easily. "She took some  pictures of my sister as a favor. It's dinnertime. We're eating, not  getting married, and how about a little compassion for your friend? Her  husband died, in case you forgot."

Damn. That was perfect.

"Who can forget?" She stood up. "You two have a nice dinner."

She left. My cheeks were hot with all the things I didn't say. The wine went down faster now.

"You okay?" Daniel asked.

"Yep. Fine."

"Why would you say fine? She's a pill. It's okay to admit it."

"We were friends for years."

"I know." There were those kind eyes again.         

     



 

"So what's going on with you these days, Daniel? Got a girlfriend?"

"Nah. Not really. You know me." I smiled. "Family's good. Well, not really. My sister Jane, you know her?"

"No." I'd never met any of Daniel's family until today.

"Well, her husband left her. And she's seven months pregnant."

"Good God."

"Yeah. So I've been helping her out. She's got three other kids. My other sister has six."

"Nice. I have two nieces and a nephew myself. The baby's only three."

"Great age." He smiled.

We ordered, eggplant parm for me. He got steak (such a cliché) and a  side of pasta, and a Caesar salad, too, and ate four pieces of garlic  bread. Hungry lad.

He told me about work, brushing off the danger, sadness and fear that  his job must entail, as was the way of every firefighter I'd ever met. I  told him about Ainsley coming to stay with me, though not why, as well  as some of the lesser challenges I faced as a widow: not understanding  the complexities of Nathan's light switches, and having to jazz-hand in  the bathroom, and eating under what seemed like an interrogation light  because I couldn't figure out the dimmer switch in the kitchen.

We'd never really talked before, other than a few hey, how's it going  conversations. Once in a while, we'd run into each other while teaching  the ex-cons. Otherwise, no.

This was nice. Daniel laughed in the right places, kindly.

There was that word again.

He paid for dinner, and I realized with a little shock that it was past eight.

"I'll walk you to your car," he said.

"No, it's fine. This is my old turf."

"I'll walk you, Kate."

"Okay. Thank you, Daniel the Hot Firefighter. And thank you for dinner."

We headed down the street, Daniel carrying my camera bag and reflector  over one shoulder. The lights from the town houses glowed warm and  little bits of music threaded through the air, but it was quiet, as Park  Slope tended to be. Prospect Park was quiet, too. You'd never know you  were in the city.

It was getting cold, and I shivered a little. Without a word, Daniel put his arm around me.

I wasn't sure how to feel about that. On the one hand, he was just  Daniel the Hot Firefighter. On the other, he was Daniel the Hot  Firefighter. He smelled good, a combination of soap and a little sweat  and garlic.

I wasn't cold anymore. There was that, too.

When we got to my car, I stashed my bags in the trunk. "Thank you," I said. "This was an unexpectedly nice day."

"Well, thank you for doing this for Lizzie. She's already texted me six times about how great you are."

I smiled.

"Kate..." He shifted his weight and crossed his arms. "My sister Jane? The one who's pregnant?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, she lives in Tarrytown." It was the town south of  Cambry-on-Hudson. "Maybe when I go up there, we could grab a beer  sometime."

I hesitated.

"As friends," he added.

"That would be really nice," I said, a wave of relief washing over me. I  liked Daniel. I always had. Just not that way. And obviously, I didn't  want to date anyone.

"Good. I have your number. From your website. I'll call you sometime."

"Have a good night, Daniel. Be safe."

He winked at me, back to Daniel the Hot Firefighter, Conqueror of Vaginas, and headed off.

I took the long way home, opting to cross the East River via the  Brooklyn Bridge and go up the West Side Highway, since it was more  beautiful that way. I'd driven this route many times, back when Nathan  and I were dating.

For a cruel, beautiful instant, I forgot he was dead. I imagined telling  him about Lizzie and Daniel and seeing Paige, imagined him waiting for  me, his sweet, shy smile, his good clean smell.

The image was so powerful that I didn't realize the light had changed, and horns were blaring behind me.





Chapter Fifteen

Ainsley

In the past week, Eric was on TV four times.

It seemed that dumping your girlfriend after "surviving a horrific  battle with cancer" played well in Peoria. Good Morning America, The  Doctors, Live with Kelly (and I loved her, damn it!) and Jimmy Kimmel  Live!. I DVR'ed them all. Of course I did, and watched it in Kate's  media room one night when she was asleep, furiously eating popcorn,  weeping, yelling at the TV and nearly choking at least twice.

He looked fantastic, the bastard, not like me, with red-rimmed eyes and  popcorn in my cleavage. He said all sorts of sanctimonious things about  the death of this great friend of mine ("One game of golf and your  man-crush doesn't make him your great friend, you dick!") and about how  Sunshine was one of those people who had a pretty strict agenda of her  own ("To raise your children? That agenda? The reason we bought a house  with four bedrooms?").         

     



 

Wine was chugged from the bottle, I'll admit it.

To my relief, the hosts all gave him a hard time. He answered their  questions with ease. "I do regret hurting her, believe me. But you can't  live your life according to what you once wanted when something as  radical as a near-death experience completely changes your priorities."

He used the words live life large eleven times in the four interviews.  He'd gotten two tattoos since posting the Corpse blog. One  said-surprise!-Live life large! The other was NVC... Nathan's initials.