Two by Two(27)

"I love you, Daddy."

"Love you, too," I said.

When I stood, I watched as she rushed toward a young blond boy and when they were close, they hugged each other, too.

Cute.

Then, all at once, I frowned. On second thought, I wasn't sure what to  think about my little girl already hugging boys. I had no idea what was  normal in such situations.

After a quick wave to the art teacher, I left for the coffee shop with  my computer, figuring I'd start looking into the latest trends in legal  advertising as well as any regulations that may have changed since my  last advertising campaign.

I ordered a coffee, found a seat, and opened my computer. I pulled up  some preliminary information and was reviewing it when I heard a voice  coming from off to the side.

"Russ?"

It was impossible not to recognize her. Her chestnut hair brushed her  shoulders, and was styled in a way that accented her naturally high  cheekbones, while her hazel eyes were as striking as they'd always been.

"Emily?" I asked.

She started toward the table, holding a cup of coffee. "I thought that  was you in the studio," she said. "How are you? Long time no see."

"I'm doing well," I said, rising from the table. Surprising me, she  leaned in for a quick hug, which triggered a flood of happy memories.  "What are you doing here? Why were you in the studio?"

"My son's in the class," she said. "Takes after his mom, I guess." Her smile held genuine warmth. "You look great."

"Thanks. You, too. How are you doing?" Up close, I noticed that her eyes  were flecked with gold, and I wondered whether I'd never noticed  before.

"I'm doing okay."

"Just okay?"

"Yeah, you know. Life."

I understood exactly what she meant and though she'd tried to hide it, I  thought I heard in her tone a flicker of sadness. The next word came  out almost automatically, even as I realized that spending time with a  person you once loved and slept with can get complicated if one isn't  careful. "Would you like to join me?"

"You sure? You look busy."

"I'm just doing some research. No big deal."

"Then I'd love to," she said. "But I can only stay a few minutes. I've  got some things I want to ship to my mom and depending on the line, it  can take forever."

When we were seated, I looked at her, amazed that it had been almost  eleven years since our breakup. Like Vivian, she hadn't seemed to have  aged at all, but I pushed the thought away, steering myself back to  safer ground. "How old is your son?"

"Five," she answered. "He'll be starting kindergarten in the fall."

"My daughter, too," I said. "Where will he be going?"

When she mentioned the name of the school, I raised an eyebrow. "What a coincidence. That's where London's going, too."

"It's supposed to be great."

And expensive, I thought. "That's what I hear, too," I said. "How are  your mom and dad doing?" I asked. "I haven't talked to them in years."

"They're doing well. My dad is finally retiring next year."

"From AT&T?"

"Yup-he was a lifer. He told me he wants to get an RV and travel the  country. Of course, Mom wants nothing to do with that, so she's going to  continue to work at the church until my dad's whimsy passes."

"St. Michael's?"

"Of course. Both my parents worked at the same place their entire lives.  That just doesn't happen anymore. How about you? Are you still working  for the Peters Group?"

I raised an eyebrow. "I'm impressed you remembered. But no, I left there a few months ago and went out on my own."

"How's it going?"

"It's going," I hedged.

"That's exciting. I remember you telling me you wanted to be an entrepreneur."

"I was young and naïve back then. Now, I'm old but still naïve."

She laughed. "How's Vivian?"

"She's doing well. She just started working again. I didn't realize you knew her."

"I don't. I saw her at the studio a few times earlier this summer, but  she never stayed for the class. She was always dressed in workout  clothes."         

     



 

"Sounds like her. How's …  your husband?"

"You mean David?" She tilted her head.

"Sure," I said. "David."

"We're divorced. As of last January."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"I'm sorry, too."

"How long were you married?"

"Seven years."

"May I ask what happened?"

"I don't know," she said. "It's hard to explain. To say we drifted apart  sounds clichéd …  Lately, when people ask, I just tell them that the  marriage worked until it didn't, but that isn't the answer most people  want to hear. It's like they want to be able to gossip about it later,  or boil it down to a single incident." As she spoke, she rubbed her  thumb against her index finger. "How long have you and Vivian been  together?"

"We're coming up on nine years now."

"There you go," she said. "Good for you."

"Thanks."

"So Vivian started working again?"

I nodded. "She's working for a big developer here in town. Public relations. How about you? Are you working?"

"I guess you can call it that. I still paint."

"Really?"

"My ex was good about that. Encouraging me, I mean. And it's been going  well. I mean, I'll never be a Rothko or Pollock, but I'm represented by  one of the galleries downtown and I sell ten or twelve pieces a year."

"That's fantastic," I said, meaning it. "You always had such talent. I  remember watching you paint and wondering how you knew what to do with  the colors and the … " I trailed off, trying to recall the right word.

"Composition?"

"Yes. Are you still doing modern?"

She nodded. "Sort of. I work in abstract realism."

"You know I have no idea what that means, right?"

"Basically, I start with realistic scenes as a base, but mostly I follow  the brush …  adding vibrant colors or geometric shapes, or random  splatters and swirls and drips until I feel that it's done. Of course, a  painting is never really done; I have pieces I've been tinkering with  for years because they're just not right. The problem is, I'm not always  sure how to make them right."

"Sounds very artsy." I grinned.

She laughed, the sound exactly what I remembered.

"As long as it would look good hanging on most people's walls and makes a person think, I'm pleased with the result."

"Oh, just that?"

"That's what the gallery owner likes to say when he's trying to sell one of my pieces, so yes."

"I'd love to see your work."

"You can stop by the gallery any time," she said. She gave me the name  and I committed it to memory. "How's Marge doing? I always wanted a big  sister like her."

"She's doing well-still with Liz, of course."

"The same Liz I met when we were dating?"

"Yeah. They've been together ever since. Almost eleven years now."

"Wow," she said. "Good for them. What's Liz like?"

"Kind, and thoughtful and supportive. I have no idea what she sees in Marge."

There was a glimmer of reproach in Emily's expression. "Be nice."

"You know I'm kidding. They're a great couple. I'm not sure I've ever seen them argue. They just sort of go with the flow."

"That's a good thing. And your parents? Are they still working?"

"Mom retired, but Dad's still at it full time."

"Still working on his car?"

"Every weekend."

"And your mom?"

"She's now a member of the Red Hat Society, and she wants to plant  tulips." When Emily furrowed her brow, I told her about the week before.

"You know you can't be mad at her for that. She already fulfilled her parenting duties."

"That's what Marge said. Marge wouldn't help me either."

"And yet, you got everything done anyway."

"Marge said that, too."

She let out a long breath. "It's amazing where life has taken us, huh?  Since we knew each other? Of course, we were just kids back then."

"We weren't kids."

She smiled. "Are you kidding? Maybe, technically, we were old enough to  vote, but I can definitely remember some youthful exuberance on your  part. Like the time you decided to see whether you could eat that  monstrous steak, so you could get your picture on the wall of the  restaurant. How big was that steak again?"         

     



 

The memory came back in a rush. We'd been out at the lake with a group  of friends, and I spotted the restaurant sign just off the highway,  advertising that in addition to my photo on the wall, there would be no  charge for the meal. "Seventy-five ounces."

"You didn't even make it halfway."

"I was hungry when I started … "