Add Spice to Taste (13 page)

With my hands on the ledge, I looked out over the city.
Even though a dampness hung in the air, the lights of the Empire State building to the left were surprisingly clear, and straight ahead, the Hudson River was dotted with passing yachts and party boats. The big neon Colgate sign on the New Jersey side was barely discernible, and way off in the distance, I could just make out the Statue of Liberty, just a tiny dot of light, but one that anyone would recognize. I was amazed at what you could see all the way up here.

“Isn’t it great?” I recognized Brit’s
come-hither voice floating through the archway. I turned toward her. “The view, I mean,” she said.

“Um, yeah, it’s great.”

She was fully dressed again, except that she had decided to put something else on. As long as she was naked, why not make a wardrobe change, right? The loose black palazzo pants and black halter top she’d selected were no less enticing than the dress. Her hair was tied up in a big, fluffy ponytail. She looked natural in anything she put on.

“Brit, I’m sorry about that. I hope you understand.”

Leaning on one foot, her head tilted and a red drink in her hand, she contemplated me for a moment, then came closer. “Sure, I understand.” She put her drink down on a wrought iron bistro table.

Oh, man, was she going to throw me over the side of the balcony? I prepared myself for some Hollywood-style rooftop battle where one person always ended up going over. Nervously, I moved away from the wall and crossed over to the other side, against the apartment wall.
It didn’t stop her—she merely changed trajectory and followed my steps.

“I totally understand why you did it
,” she said, “but that doesn’t make me feel any better.”

“Look, I’m sorry, but I’m involved.”

“Yes, I know. But it’s not like you’re married or anything. I mean, how long have you been seeing her?”

“Long enough.”

She looked at me with amusement. “You’re really sweet. That’s one of the reasons I like you.” She moved closer.

It occurred to me then that although I hadn’t betrayed Julianna physically, I had mentally. Was that wrong? To think of someone else in a sexual way?

Once again, I found myself
squeezed against the wall by Brit’s body. She pressed her lips against mine and kissed me unapologetically. I felt her hands move up my torso and over my breasts, and I had to grab her arms to stop her. Again, I pushed her away, but her mouth remained locked on mine. It was as if there was some kind of suction between our lips. She pulled her hand away and in one swift move, stuck it down my pants. Her hand was now inside the waistband of my underwear and she was trying to go down lower. Fear, anger, arousal, and resentment all came together in me like a twister.

But past the boozy haze and beyond the cravings of my sex-starved body, lay what was left of my self-respect—and respect for Julianna. What kind of person does this? I grabbed Brit’s hand just as she was wiggling it down toward my crotch and yanked it out.

“Brit, stop.”

“Why? I know you like me. I can tell by the way you looked at me before.”

Despite myself, I had to admit that I’d had a visceral reaction to her—a beautiful woman who was interested in me—but that’s where it ended.

“I’m not interested.” I said as firmly as I could.

“Liar.” Her fingers wrapped around my belt, and she was trying to unclasp it. I was so glad that I’d worn the belt with double prongs—it took a bit longer to unbuckle. It bought me enough time to grab her wrists, probably harder than I should have.

Something pulled my attention toward the arch.
My heart almost stopped when I saw Julianna standing there. She locked eyes with me for a moment, then turned and walked off.

She’d been watching. But for how long? Well, any amount of
time should have revealed that I tried to fight Brit off. Yes, I tried. I did. I couldn’t say that I hadn’t been tempted, but in the end, I made the right decision. Julianna must have seen that.

Without
another word or glance at Brit, I went after Julianna, adjusting my shirt and pants along the way. The crowd inside had thinned out, but only a little. To the jet set, it was still early. I made my way through the crowd looking to see where Julianna had gone. I stood in the middle of the vast, crowded living room and scanned it. I finally spotted her at the elevator. She was pressing the button with unreasonable frequency.

“Julianna, wait.” I grabbed her arm, which she pulled out of my grasp.

“That’s okay,” she said, not looking at me. “I can’t blame you. She’s a crazy sexy woman. And you’re not tied to me. We had a few dates. You don’t owe me anything.”

I didn’t know it until that moment, but I was in love with her. Completely, utterly in love. And knowing that she thought I didn’t care for her, or about her, wrenched my guts.

The doors opened and she stepped onto the elevator. I jumped on with her but she refused to look at me and instead kept her gaze on the back-lit number pad.

I stepped up as close to her as I thought she’d allow.
“I’m so sorry. I’m not trying to throw some bullshit at you, but she jumped on me. Really.”

Julianna
took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You don’t owe me any explanations.”

“But I do. I didn’t do anything and wasn’t
going
to do anything. I don’t want to do anything with anyone but you.”

For a moment, it looked as if I’d gotten through to her, like she believed me. She was silent as we
descended the final floors of the building. The doors opened and she stepped out without a word.

I hurried after her. “Julianna. Please, talk to me.”

She stopped, gazing down at the deep-maroon carpet that looked as if it had been installed just the day before. “When I get involved with someone, I have to know that they really want to be with me. If there’s any doubt in my mind, I can’t be with that person.”

“
But I do want to be with you,” I pleaded. “I haven’t felt this way for anyone in a long time.”

Julianna
resumed walking. The security guys at the desk surreptitiously glanced at us as I followed her out the door. I had to stop her. If I let her walk away from me, if I didn’t make this right, I knew I’d regret it for the rest of my life. “Julianna,” I called after her. “I realized something tonight. I love you.” My stomach turned over. I knew that whatever she was about to say would not be good.

“I love you,” I repeated with the same conviction
, but with much less expectation that the response would be what I wanted.

“
That’s your misfortune.” She walked away and I was left standing there, absurdly aware that she had quoted Rhett Butler in
Gone with the Wind
.

In the still night air,
heavy with humidity and stagnation, I saw the emptiness of my life and I could feel my heart being ripped out of me.

Add Spice

In the s
everal
weeks that passed, I tried calling Julianna a few times, but she either didn’t respond or, on a few occasions, she’d tell me that she needed time to think. That couldn’t be good. It’s never good when people say that. I wanted to keep calling her but I didn’t want to push. Most of all, I wanted to show her that I cared about her enough to give her the space she needed.

But what if a lot of time went by and she thought I’d lost interest? Hell, I didn’t know what the fuck I needed to do.

The season was beginning to change. It was still warm but the air had that whisper of autumn in it. The evenings were cooler now and I opened up the windows instead of cranking up the A/C. I was in the midst of preparing materials for my autumn programs: ten ways to use root vegetables; autumn salads; showstopper desserts for the holidays; and farmhouse soups. Completely focused on my requisition form for the ingredients I would need for each class, I almost didn’t notice my phone, which I’d left on vibrate, shimmy across the table.

It was a text message from Julianna.

If you’re still interested, I’m ready to talk.

My hands shook as I texted her back and I kept hitting the wrong
keys.

“Fucking spellcheck!” I cursed when the phone changed my attempt at “Yes, I would very much like to talk” to “Yen, I would never mash like teak.”

When I finally had the right words spelled out, I hit “send,” and I realized that I’d been holding my breath.

Meet me at the coffee shop
in an hour.

I knew which coffee shop she meant. It was the one where Julianna and I had met a couple of times
, once for a breakfast and once before heading over to the Upright Citizens Brigade Theater for a comedy show.

I tried to do a little more work
before going, but my nerves just wouldn’t let me. A rock sat in the pit of my stomach and I couldn’t stop my leg from bouncing maniacally. There was no point in trying anymore, so I left.

An hour later, I was sitting in a booth, playing with a straw wrapper, folding
it into a tiny accordion and smoothing it out again, when Julianna walked in. I threw the wrapper aside, where it landed between the ketchup bottle and sugar dispenser.

“Hi,
” I said. Should get up? I remained sitting.

“Hi,” she said, sliding into the booth. “Thanks for meeting me.”

She was thanking me? I was so grateful that she even still had my phone number.

“No,
thank
you
.” I said.

She gave me a small smile, cautious and conservative. She had a wall up and I didn’t blame her.

I remained silent, waiting for her to speak first. Not only did I want to give her that courtesy, but whatever she said would determine what came out of my mouth.

The server came to the table and asked Julianna if she wanted
something to drink. She had already placed two menus on the table when I told her I was waiting for someone. I had ordered a seltzer, just to have something to do.

“I’d like some tea, please,” Julianna told the server. “And a BLT.”

The server turned to me. “How about you?”

Oh, she was ordering food. Okay. I didn’t want her to eat alone. That’s awkward for both parties.

I looked at the specials board. “I’ll have the mushroom-barley soup.”

The server nodded and picked up the menus.
“I’ll be right back with your tea.”

Julianna gave her a
nod, then turned to me.

“So, how have you been?”

What should I tell her, that I was fine? I wasn’t. I’d been miserable without her, and I felt like I’d been living in a bland, unseasoned world. Losing her—at least for those few weeks—had forced me to think about things I didn’t want to think about, like shadows and darkness. But having thought about them, the conclusion I’d come to was that I needed her in my life.

“So-so,” I said. “Missed you.”

A group of tourists sat down in the booth behind
her, with cameras and maps. From their accents, I guessed they were Scandinavian.

The server brought Julianna’s tea and set it down silently.

“I’ve missed you, too,” Julianna said.

Was that a brick falling out of her wall?
The darkness began to dissipate just a little and the shadow shrank a tiny bit.

“I’ve be
en thinking about it,” she said as she slowly stirred honey into her tea. “I realize that I was a bit hard on you. And I’m sorry.”

I was afraid to speak, to say or do anything to screw things up. The
shop’s fast service momentarily saved me when the waitress delivered our food. I thought it best—and Julianna evidently did as well—to fortify myself with food first. Being hungry and being reasonable were two things that did not go together well for me.

Julianna crunched into her BLT, getting a blob of mayo on her chin. I picked up my napkin and gently wiped it off.
She kept her eyes on me as I did and I thought I saw a few more bricks come tumbling down.

M
y mushroom-barley soup was good and comforting, but I tossed aside the little package of saltines they had placed on the saucer.

“I love saltines,” she said, giving me a look
as if she found my rejection of the crackers offensive.

“I do, too. I just don’t want them with barley. It seems redundant. Besides, the soup is not the right texture for crackers. It’s pointless.”

She chuckled as she wiped her mouth. “I guess I’m going to have to get used to being with a chef.”

Get used to being with a chef?
So, she wanted to be with me? My innards felt loose, like I’d just been given a ride in a blender and was being poured out into a glass. I swore that dating this woman would end up killing me because, once again, I had to stop chewing and close my throat to keep from choking. When I was sure that the food in my mouth would go down the right pipe, I swallowed.

Coherent thoughts wouldn’t come to me, but I couldn’t just sit there stupidly. I opened my mouth and began speaking, cautiously, slowly, one word at a time, hoping that at some point, the right string of words would reveal themselves
to me.