A Slight Change of Plan (7 page)

Cheryl drove, always an interesting experience. Once, she rolled down her window so she could scream at the guy idling next to us at a red light to stop talking on his cell phone. We got to the restaurant without inciting a riot, and ordered. We chatted for a few more minutes before she nailed me.

“So what’s bothering you?”

I played with the stem of my wineglass. “Do you believe God is interested in our happiness?”

My Italian mother belonged to one of the more complicated religious affiliations—Lapsed Catholicism. She made sure that both my sister and I received our first Holy Communion, but after taking care of that first brush with sin, she ignored any further religious education. My father was a Methodist, the most laid-back and undemanding of organized religions, so I spent most of my young life believing in God but not taking him too seriously.

Cheryl frowned. As well as I knew her, I had never discussed religious beliefs with her. I knew that she’d been raised Catholic, but beyond that, I had no idea what her spiritual outlook was.

“Do you mean in a general sense, like God loves us and tries to keep us on the right path?” she asked.

“No, not exactly. Do you think God personally cares if I, Kate Everett, die alone in a rest home somewhere instead of holding the hand of a man I love?”

Cheryl looked at me through narrowed eyes. “How hypothetical is this question?”

“Well, an old boyfriend is on the same dating site as I am, and Laura thinks it’s divine intervention and that we’re meant to be together.”

“What kept you from being together before?”

“He cheated on me and broke my heart.”

“Ah. That old boyfriend.”

I looked at her. “I don’t remember ever telling you about Jake.”

She shrugged. “Is that his name? We’ve all got one, Kate. The guy that should have been. Mine was Will Marcetta. Bass player in a folk-rock band. I would have lived in the back of his van and traveled all across the county with him,
if he’d let me. But I don’t think he was willing to give up the freedom of the road, you know? The one-night stands? I never thought I’d love again. But I did. Just like you did.” She stopped and let the waiter slide a Cobb salad in front of her. She picked up her fork and played with her food for a minute.

I leaned forward, listening. Cheryl could be a real space cadet at times, but she had a rock-solid core of good sense.

“I’m not sure going back is a good thing,” she went on. “We can never be the same people we were. Do you want to risk finding out that the great love of your life has turned into a boring old fart? Or do you want to keep remembering him the way he was?” She shrugged. “I don’t think God has set you up. There’s a difference between God and fate. And fate is not always kind. Neither is God, for that matter, but he always has better intentions.”

“I know. You’re right. I’m actually meeting a retired science teacher for coffee next week. He seems very smart and friendly, and no bizarre personality traits have emerged so far, so I’m giving it a shot.”

“Meeting someone? You’re stepping out beyond the world of virtual relationships and going to try someone in real life?”

I made a face at her. “Yes, a real someone. Not a real Jake. I still haven’t decided what to do about him. Maybe meeting somebody else will prove to me that going forward is better than looking back.”

“Good for you, Kate. I’m proud of you. You are a shining example of the New Single Woman: facing the world alone and unafraid of change, putting everything on the
line, willing to take chances with the unknown. Some magazine needs to do an article about you.”

I stared at my lunch. Lettuce and grilled chicken swam in and out. I felt suddenly nauseous. I didn’t want to face the world alone. I didn’t want to put everything on the line. I was only taking chances because I didn’t have that many choices. Any magazine article about me would be titled “Caution: Midlife Crisis Coming Through.”

“Would you be disappointed in me if I told you that I hope the retired teacher and I hit it off, get married, and live Happily Ever After so I never have to take another vacation alone?”

She reached over and patted my hand. “I’d never be disappointed in you, Kate. You’re one of the best people I know. But you really need to do something with that living room. Ever since I walked out of there, I’ve had this weird urge to go shopping at the mall.”

I had invited Sam and Alisa to have dinner with me. Twice. They declined, saying they were trying to get their own place set up. But then they invited me to see their apartment. I was quite excited about the whole thing.

I must admit that my feelings about New York City were first and always colored by the movies I had seen as a kid. Remember Audrey Hepburn’s apartment in
Breakfast at Tiffany’s
? Even though she had no furniture, it was cute and chic, in a great neighborhood with fascinating neighbors.
Barefoot in the Park
, anyone? What Jane Fonda did with that little place was amazing, and again with the great neighborhood, etc. Even during the late sixties, when Times Square had hookers and junkies instead of Disney, I still thought
that living in Manhattan would be as close to perfect as anyone could imagine. So even though Sam’s new place was in Harlem, and I had never been to Harlem, my expectations were high.

I took the train, then the subway, and was in the general neighborhood in a little over an hour. Then I had to walk twelve blocks. Luckily, it was not raining. Or too hot. And I had comfortable shoes. The block they lived on had no quaint cafes or gleaming outdoor markets. Faintly ethnic music did not waft through open windows. It was a block totally devoid of charm or grace, but loud with the sound of traffic.

The building was prewar, but not in a good way. It did not have a doorman, but they buzzed me in and the little lobby had only one broken light. They lived on the sixth floor, and I had to wait a long time for the elevator, which was small but did not smell of pee. I got off the elevator and they were standing in the hallway, waiting for me. They looked beautiful together, so I ignored the blaring of horns, cracked ceiling, and worn linoleum. But once inside, I caved.

“Your window overlooks the alley,” I said.

Alisa pulled out one of the two bentwood chairs that were crowded around a tiny table. “Yes, but we get some light in the bedroom,” she said.

I sat. I looked around.

The kitchen was along a wall about six feet long, with a tiny sink and the smallest gas stove I’d ever seen. The living/dining room held the table we were sitting at. There was also a huge desk covered with two laptops and three printers. The other huge desk had a desktop and a fax
machine. There wasn’t room for anything else. The walls were pretty, a pale yellow that tried to, but did not quite, brighten the place up. There were curtains framing the window and the view of a solid brick wall, and over one of the desks was a gorgeous reproduction of a J.M.W. Turner painting, all stormy skies and a brilliant ray of sunlight shining through. The only ray of sunlight in the whole room.

The floor was the same worn linoleum as the common hallway. The ceiling had the same cracks. I could still hear the blare of traffic. I sniffed discreetly. No funny smells. Thank God.

“I love the wall color,” I said.

Alisa grinned. “Me too. Sam wanted white, but I thought we needed some fake sunshine. Can I get you something? We’ll be going out to eat. I hope you don’t mind, but I’m not a very good cook, and every time I turn the stove on, I smell gas.”

Sam made a noise. “She thinks she smells gas. I keep telling her it’s all in her head.”

Alisa reached over and kissed him lightly. “I have a highly developed sense of smell.” She looked so pretty in a short denim skirt and a bright polo shirt. Her dark hair was long and shiny, her blue eyes bright and hopeful. All I could imagine was her in six months’ time, all the life crushed out of her from coming home every day to this crowded, dingy space.

“Bathroom?”

I had to walk through the bedroom. Yes, it did have a window, set so high in the wall you couldn’t look out, but it was noticeably lighter in there. There was room for the bed, barely, and there was a closet with no door. I realized
the door had been removed because otherwise, there would have not been enough room to open it.

The bathroom was the size of my walk-in shower. The tile on the floor was stained, but everything was scrubbed clean. When I sat, my knees hit the pipe under the sink.

I could not believe that apartments like this still existed. The whole thing could have fit into my new living room. This was worse than anything Neil Simon could have thought of when he was writing
Barefoot in the Park
.

I went back to the living room. “Storage must be a real challenge,” I said brightly.

Sam shrugged. “Well, we’ve got stuff in boxes under the bed. And I’m thinking about renting a space for my books and old paperwork. Right now, Jeff has a bunch of stuff in the back of Gabe’s shop. Alisa still has her skis and some of her old furniture in a pod up in Boston.”

“Oh? Jeff has been up here?”

Alisa made a face. “He and Sam got into a bit of a tiff. I don’t think Jeff liked our place very much.”

Sam sighed. He still had big puppy-dog eyes that made me want to hug him and protect him from the big, bad world. “Jeff called it a frat boy’s wet dream. I know this place is kind of a dump, but it’s only forty minutes from Alisa’s lab, and four subway stops from my campus. It’s fairly cheap, and the neighborhood is not too bad. We’ve got a month-to-month lease, so we’ll keep our eyes open for something bigger. And we can try for student housing next year.”

I took a deep breath. These were grown-up people here. Their combined IQ was probably greater than the combined IQs of both the offensive and defensive lines of any major
professional football team. If this was where they wanted to live, I had better keep my mouth shut.

But…

There was no way in hell any kid of mine was going to live here.

“So, I have no idea how a doctorate program works. When do you both start doing whatever it is you’re supposed to do?” I asked, sitting back down on my little chair. I felt a hot flash coming on. I resisted the impulse to grab a manila folder off one of the desks to fan myself with. I just hoped they wouldn’t notice the beads of sweat at my temples.

Sam, leaning against the wall, was off on the topic. After five minutes, Alisa must have noticed that my eyes were no longer in focus, because she leaned forward and gently asked if I’d like a glass of wine. I smiled gratefully.

“That would be perfect,” I said.

She nodded in sympathy. “There’s a pretty little place just a few blocks from here where we could sit outside and see the sky. Are you up for a walk?”

Of course I was. My God, anything for a breath of fresh air. I wasn’t quite prepared to walk down the stairs, rather than wait for the elevator, but going down five flights isn’t really that bad, and there was a nice breeze in the stairwell from a few broken windows. Once we were outside, I felt fine. The sun was shining, the traffic was humming, and only four short blocks away was a tiny bistro where the wine was cold and we sat outside. Sam continued his monologue, something about starting to teach in the fall, and research all summer. I waited for him to take a breath before turning to Alisa.

“And how about you? When do you start teaching?”

She shrugged. “My arrangement is different. I’m not obligated to work in the classroom. I’ll be assisting one of the faculty members in his lab. This summer I’ll be free to just do my own work. Starting in October, I’ll be working three days a week for Dr. Manheesh, and taking classes on the other two days.”

“So, you’ll be spending the summer in some library somewhere?” I said.

She shook her head. “No, I can do most of it from the apartment. I’ll probably only have to come to campus once every couple of weeks.”

Work from the apartment? From that miserable shoe box? “Ah, well, let’s hope the air-conditioning doesn’t break down,” I joked.

Sam had finished his wine and was looking around for the waiter. “We’re still trying to figure out how to put one in,” he said.

“Put one what in?” I asked.

“An air conditioner.”

I stared at him, then at Alisa. “The apartment doesn’t even have air-conditioning?”

Sam shrugged. “That’s why it’s only seventeen hundred a month,” he said.

Alisa was looking down into her wineglass. I could have sworn I saw her lip tremble. “I need to pee again,” I said. “Alisa, can you come with me?”

She followed me inside and down the stairs to the restroom. As soon as I was certain Sam was way out of earshot, I stopped short and grabbed her by the shoulders.

“Do you really want to spend the summer in that place?” I asked her.

Her blue eyes filled with tears. “No. It’s awful. I feel claustrophobic. Two nights in a row I woke up and couldn’t breathe. I’m afraid to go out by myself. But Sam found it, and he was so proud, and I don’t know, I think it’s really the best of what we can afford. I don’t want Sam to spend all his money; we’ll need it when we want a house and family. All I’ll be bringing in is my stipend, which will barely cover my lab fees and some groceries. I just don’t know what else we can do. We’ll qualify for student housing next year, and I know that will be so much better. For now, I’ll just tough it out.” She sniffed long and hard. “Please don’t tell Sam. He’d be so upset if he knew how I felt.”

“Listen, honey, first of all, you and Sam deserve better. Second of all, why doesn’t he already know how you feel? I was so happy you were the kind of person who didn’t hold back anything. I know, with Sam, you just want to keep him safe and happy, but this is your life. Don’t start hiding things now. It’s a hard habit to break. Tell him how unhappy you are.”

She wiped her face with her hands and shrugged. “What would be the point? It’s not like he can do anything about it.”

“Yes, he can. You guys can still live with me.”

She sniffed again. “What?”

I heard the words as they tumbled out of my mouth, and I knew I couldn’t stop them, but it felt okay. “You two can still live with me. At least for this year. My second floor has two bedrooms and a loft area, and is three times the size of what you’ve got now. It’s bright and sunny, and there’s a bathroom you can actually turn around in. It won’t take you that much longer to commute, and if you insist, you can keep this place for late nights or whatever. But you’ll have
room to spread out. You’ll be able to have real furniture, more than two desks and a bunch of computers in your living room. I’ll be working and playing lots of golf, so you won’t see a lot of me. Really. I’m extending the invitation. What do you think?”