Just Rules (5 page)

Despite what I said, and the slap in the face, I know Tim would have tried to make our marriage work, and he probably would have been successful for a while. But would that have been enough for any of us?

Would I have realized one day that we weren’t truly in love?

I get in the elevator and cry all the way up to my house. I open the door frantically and throw my jacket on the floor.

My stupid dress doesn’t help at all. I just got dumped dressing the sexiest dress of my wardrobe. And the most expensive one. I smile between tears and take it off furiously to get in the shower.

The water mixes with my tears, and I keep telling myself that it’s better this way. Tim and I are so proper that we would have spent our whole lives together unhappily married.

And I don’t want that.

I want a man who I can trust, but at the same time a man who is passionately in love with me.

I want a man who is capable of canceling a wedding two months beforehand to be with the woman he loves, but I want to be that woman for a change.

How absurd. I’m not capable of stirring up that kind of passion.

At this point, I should have already been able to come to terms with it.

Besides, I know perfectly well that these kinds of love stories always end in tragedy. No, what I need is to keep going forward with my life.

I’m happy.

I have a wonderful job.

Great friends.

A fantastic apartment.

Yep, I’m going to keep moving forward with my life and one day I’ll meet a normal guy who will be perfect for me in the real world, not in some imaginary world, and we’ll be happy together. End of story.

I won’t let myself get deceived by football players, despite the fact that the day I met Tim was the best day of my life.

CBT (Central Boston Television) Headquarters a little over a year ago.

I’m going to arrive late to the television station. The makeup team is going to kill me. I dodge the guy who brings the mail, which buys me some time.

I can do it.

I crash into a stranger and miraculously don’t fall because he grabs me by my waist. I brush the hair off of my face to apologize, and I’m met with a very kind smile and warm eyes.

They belong to one of most famous and most attractive players of the Patriots.

“I’m sorry,” I mutter.

“I’m not,” he answers, quite rehearsed. Perhaps too rehearsed. “I’m Tim.”

“I know.”

Tim lets go of me without moving aside.

“I’m Susan,” I extend my hand to shake his.

“I know,” he shakes my hand and smiles again. “You’re a T.V. news presenter.”

“Yes”,
he knows who I am.
“The economic news.”

“I’m afraid that only Mac is interested in that kind of news. Isn’t that right, Mac?”

Tim turns slightly and behind him I see the captain of the Patriots, Kev MacMurray. And he’s furious. Why is he furious?

I don’t care. Tim smiles at me again and keeps talking to me.

“We’ve come for an interview for the sports channel. They said it would take about an hour. Would you like to have dinner with me afterwards? ”

“What?” I look like an idiot.

Tim laughs a little and delicately grabs my hand, and I realize that the captain of the Patriots is giving me a piercing look.

“Have dinner. With me,” Tim explains.

“Really?”

“Really”

“OK.” I’d have to be crazy to say no, although for a second I felt like doing it just to see if MacMurray, or Mac, as they call him, would stop looking at me like that.

That is how I met Tim and Mac, I guess, although I didn’t see Mac again until months later, and he acted like he didn’t remember me. Actually, Tim had to introduce us again.

That afternoon, in the middle of the hall of the T.V. station I felt sick to my stomach and my hands were sweating. My heart was beating so fast and so strong that I felt dizzy. My knees almost crumbled under me.

It had to have been love at first sight.

It was the only possible explanation.

I walked into the T.V. newsroom on cloud nine and I remember my colleagues laughing at me on two occasions, and I couldn’t have cared less. I had just starred as the protagonist of a movie scene. It was one of those moments that you tell your friends about one day and they all get green with envy.

I had met the man of my dreams.

Silly, I know, but that’s how I felt that day. But when I went down to the lobby and I saw Tim waiting there for me that wonderful feeling disappeared.

It vanished like a puff of smoke and in its place appeared a pleasant tingling sensation, a peaceful, lovely feeling.

I thought that I had imagined it, that what I had felt during the afternoon was because I was in a rush, nervous about making it to work on time, and because of the excitement of having bumped into a very attractive man.

I didn’t think about it again.

That’s not true.

All right, I did think about it again. It’s true that I asked myself why my heart didn’t start beating quickly when I saw Tim, but we got along so well that I forgot.

Yes, Tim and I got along well.

But that’s not love.

Damn it.

I start crying hysterically. Was it out of relief? Rage? Pity?

I don’t know, but I don’t have the strength right now to figure it out.

Fourth rule of American football:

False start:
is when an offensive player makes a movement after taking a set position. A false start carries a five yard penalty.

Mac heard the constant buzzing sound and cursed himself for having set his alarm. What kind of idiot sets their alarm after having practically been given a beating on the football field, having drunk two whiskeys and three glasses of wine, and after not having eaten any dinner?

He did, apparently. He lifted his arm and tried to find the damn alarm to smash it into pieces. He found it, and hit it, but the piece of shit kept buzzing. He probably didn’t hit the right button. Giving up, he turned on the light, and when he was able to open his eyes, he saw that the alarm clock was practically destroyed. But that damn buzzing kept going.

It was his phone.

Mac, who had sat up to find the lamp, collapsed on his bed again with his arms stretched out wide. Whoever the idiot was that dared to call him at those hours on a day like he’d had, could go to hell. It finally stopped ringing. The voicemail would record the voice of the person who really felt like losing a friendship, and Mac would make sure to tell them to get lost when he felt better in two or three days.

The phone rang again.

Shit!

Mac sat up and got out of bed enraged, ready to tell the journalist on duty exactly what was on his mind, because it could only be one of those vermin who would dare to call him the day after having lost the Super Bowl.

“I’m not going to retire,” he shouted, answering the phone.

“I’m glad.”

“Tim?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Sorry to call you so late, but I needed to talk to you before catching my flight to Paris.”

Tim was going to Paris? Right then?

Mac blinked again and moved the phone away from his ear for a second to see what time it was.

“Don’t tell me that you’re going on vacation with Steel Pants,” he said sarcastically. Mac was sure that Susan had told Tim what had happened outside of the bathroom at L’Escalier and therefore his best friend was taking her to Paris to try to calm her down. Although it did seem a bit strange to him because Steel Pants never took vacations. Tim even told him that they were going to postpone the honeymoon for a few months. And part of Mac knew that Susan hadn’t told his friend what had happened between them at the restaurant. In fact, he was completely sure of it.

Why?

His friend’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

“Don’t call her that. Susan is a wonderful person and she doesn’t deserve what I did to her.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Tim?” Mac rubbed his face with the hand he wasn’t using to hold the phone. “It’s five o’clock in the morning and I’m hung over. If you’ve called to tell me that you cheated on Steel…, sorry, Susan, and that you’re going to Paris with the girl you cheated on her with, let me just say that it wasn’t necessary. Call me when you get back and I’ll scold you for not having acted like a gentleman. Now go relax and enjoy.”

“I didn’t cheat on Susan!” exclaimed Tim, exasperated. “Not exactly.”

“What does
not exactly
mean?” Mac held the phone tightly. Had something happened to Susan? Why the hell did he care?

“Amanda”

Hearing that name was enough to make Mac look for the closest chair and sit down.

“Amanda? Your Amanda?”

Tim slowly let out a breath and in the background you could hear the airport announcements reminding passengers about security measures.

“Yes.”

“I thought you guys hadn’t seen each other in years,” said Mac, completely sober all of a sudden.

“Eleven”

“So? What does Amanda have to do with all of this, and with Paris?”

“A few weeks ago, I started to do the paperwork for the wedding with Susan —Tim began— and the judge denied the marriage license because according to their records Mr. Timothy Delany was still married.”

“Shit, Tim, it’s probably just a mistake.”

“It’s not.”

“Shit.”

“Amanda and I got married, and then —he swallowed— when we got in a fight and she left, I sent her the divorce papers.”

“You never checked to see if she signed them?”

“No,” he cleared his throat. “You know perfectly well how I was in the beginning, and then I guess I just forgot. It doesn’t matter now.”

“Of course it matters, Tim, if not, you wouldn’t have called me at this time from whichever airport you’re at.” He sighed, exhausted, and asked his friend another question. “Why are you going to Paris? Make it quick, please.”

“When I received word that the judge had denied the marriage license, I decided to go find Amanda to ask her to sign the papers, but her family obviously refused to tell me where I could find her.”

“Obviously.”

“And I hired a private detective.”

“And?”

“Amanda is in Paris.”

“Great, they’ve got everything in Europe, and I don’t know if you’ve realized, but they’re more civilized than we are. I’m sure you can send her an email or hire a lawyer from here to ask her to sign the papers.”

“It’s not that.”

“Keep it short, Tim.”

“Amanda has a child that is almost eleven years old. His name is Jeremy, and he’s my son.”

“Shit, Tim, how do you know? Maybe he isn’t yours.”

“He is. The dates match up.”

“Tim…”

“I’m on his birth certificate as the father, and you know that Amanda hates to lie.”

“If she hates to lie so much, then why didn’t she tell you?”

“Leaving something out is not the same as lying.”

“That’s debatable.”

“I don’t know why she hasn’t told me and I need to know. That’s why I’m going to Paris. Amanda is the chef at one of the most distinguished restaurants in the city. I have to go see her.”

“And I suppose that Susan broke up with you when you told her, because surely she never made any mistakes when she was young.”

“No, Susan isn’t like that,” said Tim, in her defense. “If I had asked, she would have gone with me.” Hearing Tim sigh made Mac feel like his friend was ashamed of himself. “I didn’t ask her, Mac. I couldn’t do it. I didn’t even tell her the whole truth. The only thing I told her was that I couldn’t marry her because I was already married to someone else and that I was going to Paris. I didn’t give her any explanation, and I didn’t even think about asking her to go with me…or to wait for me.”

“Wow,” was all that Mac could say, or at least the only thing that made sense, because his mind was full of questions about Susan. How did she take it? Was she at home crying by herself? “So, what do you need me to do? I’m sure Susan has it all under control and can postpone the wedding until you get back,” he forced himself to say.

“I’m not going to marry Susan, Mac. I broke up with her,” explained Tim, sure of himself, and although Mac couldn’t see him, he rubbed his cheek where his ex-fiance had slapped him.

“Shit, I can’t believe you’re saying this. Don’t you think you’re getting a little ahead of yourself?”

“No. Do you know what the first thing I thought of was when I received that message from the private detective saying that I had a son with Amanda?”

“No”

“That I finally had an excuse to track her down and ask her to forgive me. I know you’re going to think I’m a pathetic coward, but in that exact moment it was as if all of the memories I had of Amanda that I had been repressing for years jumped out at me. We were in the restaurant and I saw Susan walking towards me, I think she was coming back from the bathroom, and I realized that I have never felt for her anything close to what I still feel for Amanda. And I haven’t even seen Amanda for eleven years.” He took a breath and let Mac digest everything that he had confessed. “The wedding is off, and Susan probably never wants to see me again.”

Now I can’t see her ever again either.

Where was all of this coming from?

At least she wasn’t going to marry Tim.
Since when had it bothered him that Susan and Tim were going to get married?
Since the beginning.
No, that’s not true. The only thing that bothered him was that Tim turned into another person when he was with her. Now that he thought about it, when Tim and Susan were together it was as if they calmed one another. They made such a good couple that they were actually quite boring; they were even boring to each other. Mac remembered perfectly well how Tim was with Amanda, how he was so happy and ecstatic in the beginning, and how it was all destroyed in the end.

He never saw him have that kind of emotion for Susan. Mac had always figured that it was because of age, because they were supposedly more mature now, but perhaps it was something bigger and more complex than that.

Or perhaps it was much simpler. Maybe Tim never fell in love with Susan like he had with Amanda, like he still was with Amanda, judging by the circumstances.