Jake smiled, torn between the conflicting urges to take her in his arms or jump up and down for joy. It was over, he was free, and aside from a few tense moments, it had been relatively painless, even easy. Of course, this was just the beginning. They hadn’t started talking about money, about dividing their assets. Who knew what would happen once the lawyers got involved?
Lawyers, he thought, leaving the room and crossing the large central foyer to the front door. Definitely a breed apart.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he said, as Mattie, only steps behind him, jumped ahead of him to open the door, as if he were a guest in her home, and an unwelcome guest at that. Even before he reached his car, Jake heard the front door close behind him.
W
hat do you mean, you just let him walk out of here? Are you crazy?”
“I’m fine, Lisa. There was no reason for him to stay.”
“No reason for him to stay?” Lisa pushed a stray wave of hair away from her forehead. Mattie understood that the gesture was born of frustration more with Mattie than with her hair, which always looked perfect. “How about the fact that you were in a serious car accident, that you suffered a concussion, that you just got home from the hospital today?”
“I can manage.”
“You can manage,” Lisa repeated numbly, getting up from her seat at the kitchen table to pour herself another cup of coffee. She’d driven to Evanston to check on Mattie as soon as her office hours were
through, and she was still wearing her white doctor’s robe over her navy sweater and pants. Mattie had made a fresh pot of coffee, unfrozen some banana-cranberry muffins, and calmly announced to her horrified friend that she and Jake had decided to separate. “What if you fall?” Lisa was asking, a not unreasonable question considering that Mattie had already experienced one near-tumble since Jake’s departure, although she’d said nothing about it to Lisa.
“I’ll get up,” Mattie said.
“Don’t be glib.”
“Don’t be worried.”
“Don’t be stupid.”
Mattie felt the unexpected rebuke as sharply as a slap on the wrist. It stung, brought angry tears to her eyes. Lisa Katzman might look like a tiny little sparrow, Mattie thought, but she had the talons of an eagle. “Great bedside manner, doctor. Is that how you talk to all your patients?”
Lisa folded bony arms across her flat chest, pushed one thin lip inside the other, took a long, deep breath. “I’m talking to you as a friend.”
“Are you sure?”
Lisa Katzman returned to the table without her coffee. She sat down, took Mattie’s hands in her own. “Okay, I admit my concern is more than personal.”
“That’s what I don’t understand,” Mattie said, not sure whether she really wanted to get into all this, especially now. “The neurologist said the MRI was clear. There’s nothing wrong with me.”
“The MRI was clear,” Lisa agreed.
“There’s nothing wrong with me,” Mattie repeated, waiting for the accompanying echo from her friend.
“There’s another test I’d like you to take.”
“What? Why?”
“Just to tie up some loose ends.”
“What loose ends? What kind of test?”
“It’s called an electromyogram.”
“What’s that?”
“An electromyogram tests the electrical activity of muscles,” Lisa began, “and, unfortunately, to do that, they have to insert needle electrodes directly into the muscles, which can be a bit unpleasant.”
“A bit unpleasant?”
“There’s a crackling sound when the needles are inserted into the muscles, sort of like popcorn popping,” Lisa explained. “It can be somewhat disconcerting.”
“Oh, really? You think?” Mattie asked, not even trying to disguise her sarcasm.
“I think you can handle it,” Lisa told her.
“I think I’ll pass.”
“I think you should think about it.”
Mattie rubbed the bridge at the top of her nose, trying to keep the headache that was building behind her eyes at bay. She was liking this conversation even less than the earlier one with Jake. Increasingly, she was wishing she was back on the outside steps of the Art Institute with Roy Crawford and his big lecherous head. “What’s going on here, Lisa? What horrible disease do you think I have?”
“I don’t know that you have anything,” Lisa said,
her voice even, giving nothing away. “I’m just being extra cautious because you’re my friend.”
“You’re just being cautious,” Mattie repeated.
“I want to eliminate some possible muscular disorders. Let me try to get something set up for next week, okay?”
Mattie felt a giant wave of fatigue wash across her body. She didn’t want to argue. Not with her husband. Not with her best friend. She just wanted to crawl into bed and get this horrible day over with. “How long does this test take?”
“About an hour. Sometimes longer.”
“How much longer?” Mattie asked.
“It can take two, occasionally even three hours.”
“Two or three hours?! You want me to sit there and let some sadist stick needle electrodes into my muscles for two or three hours?”
“It usually only takes an hour,” Lisa said again, trying to sound reassuring, failing miserably.
“This is some sort of sick joke, right?”
“It’s no joke, Mattie. I wouldn’t ask you to do this if I didn’t feel it was important.”
“I’ll think about it,” Mattie said, after a long pause in which she purposefully thought of nothing at all.
“Promise?”
“I’m not a child, Lisa. I said I’d think about it. That’s exactly what I’ll do.”
“I’ve upset you,” Lisa said softly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to do that.”
Mattie nodded, feeling as helpless as she had in the seconds prior to her accident, as if she were still trapped inside the speeding car and unable to find the
brakes. There was no way to stop; there was no slowing down. No matter what she did, no matter how hard she tried, she was going to crash and burn.
Light my fire. Light my fire. Light my fire
.
“Do you want me to talk to Jake?” Lisa was asking.
“I definitely don’t want you to talk to Jake,” Mattie said sharply, fresh anger propelling her words. “Why would you talk to Jake?”
“Just to keep him in the loop.”
“He opted out of the loop, remember?”
“The bastard,” Lisa snarled.
“No,” Mattie protested, then, “Well, yes.” She laughed, was grateful when Lisa laughed with her. If Lisa was laughing, then things weren’t as bad as her manner suggested. There was nothing seriously wrong with her. She wouldn’t have to have this horribly invasive test where they stuck needles directly into her muscles and the muscles made crackling noises, like popcorn popping, and even if she did, the test would show nothing, just like the MRI.
“I have an idea,” Lisa announced. “What do you say I sleep over here tonight?”
“What? That’s a lousy idea.”
“Come on. Fred can manage the boys for one night. It’ll be like the pajama parties we had when we were teenagers. We can order pizza, watch TV, do each other’s hair. It’ll be great.”
Mattie smiled at her friend’s generosity. “I’m fine, Lisa. Really. I don’t need you to spend the night. But thanks. I appreciate the offer.”
“I just don’t like the idea of you being alone on your first night back from the hospital, that’s all.”
“What if I want to be alone?”
“Do you?”
Mattie gave the question a moment’s serious thought. “Yes,” she said, finally, her entire body groaning with fatigue. “Yes, I really do.”
The house had never felt so large, so empty, so quiet.
After Lisa’s departure, Mattie walked from room to room as if in a trance, stroking the pale yellow walls, admiring the decor as if seeing everything for the first time. Over here, we have the dining room, big enough to seat twelve people comfortably for dinner, something every newly single woman desperately needs. And over here, the spacious living room, complete with oversize sofa in soft beige Ultrasuede, perfect for the hardworking man of the house, except, of course, that the man of the house was no longer
in
the house.
Where are you, Jake Hart? Mattie wondered, knowing the answer, knowing he was with
her
, his new love, in her apartment, or maybe even in a romantic room at the Ritz-Carlton, that they were celebrating his newfound freedom by making love and drinking champagne and having a high old time, while Mattie got to wander aimlessly around a big empty house in the suburbs, worrying about some stupid test that was going to make her muscles go pop.
Mattie circled the large center hallway once, then again, this time making the circle smaller, and then again smaller still. Narrowing my horizons, she thought, tripping over her feet, wondering whether she’d get to stay in the house or whether her horizons would shrink to the size of a small, two-bedroom apartment.
Rotating her tingling foot, she hopped toward the stairs, located just to the right of Jake’s office, and lowered herself onto the bottom step, massaging her foot until the tingling stopped. “Bad circulation, that’s all it is. Runs in the family.” Did it? She stared toward the kitchen, wondering what to do next. “I can do anything I want,” she announced to the empty house. I can buy myself a new gas oven. I can watch TV till three in the morning. I can talk on the phone all night. I can read the newspaper and leave it lying all over the white broadloom in the master bedroom, now that the master is no longer in residence. “I can even watch TV while reading the newspaper
and
talking on the phone,” she continued out loud, laughing. “And nobody can stop me. Nobody can shake his head in disapproval. Nobody can judge me and find me wanting.”
Wanting, Mattie repeated silently. What exactly did she want?
What did she want to do with her life, now that Jake was no longer a part of it?
She’d known of his plans the second she opened the bedroom closet and found most of his clothes gone. Still, she dismissed the evidence of her own eyes, as she’d been dismissing such evidence for years, her mind scrambling for other explanations—he’d sent everything to the cleaners; he’d decided to splurge on a whole new wardrobe; he’d moved his things into the guest bedroom to give her more space while she recuperated. The list of improbable excuses had followed her down the stairs and into Jake’s office, where he sat waiting for her. “What’s going on, Jake?” she’d asked from the doorway. “Where are all your things?”
“I think it’s best if I move out,” he’d told her. Plain. Simple. Right to the point.
And then the unnecessary embellishments—it was nobody’s fault; it wasn’t about blame; he was sorry; he hoped they could still be friends.
Mattie reached for the wooden banister and hoisted herself into a standing position, gingerly placing one foot in front of the other as she made her way up the stairs to her bedroom. Maybe she’d redecorate the house again, she thought, reaching the large upstairs hall that mirrored the one directly below. Paint the walls a deep orange, Jake’s least favorite color. Replace all the masculine leathers with more feminine floral chintz. Throw out the neat white shutters on the windows and bring in yards and yards of frilly lace, even though she hated chintz and lace. That wasn’t the point. The point was that Jake hated them, and the house was now hers to do with as she pleased. No one could tell her what to do or how to do it. Certainly not Jake. No second opinions required. She didn’t have to consult or compromise.
At least not yet. Not until Jake came back at her with his list of demands. She’d see where all this lovely talk of friendship went when they started trying to hammer out a settlement. She thought of her friend Terry, of the hell her ex-husband put her through, refusing to leave the house until she agreed to forfeit her right to a share of his pension, nickel-and-diming her to death, forever late in his child support payments. Would it be that way for her once Jake’s guilty conscience eased?
Mattie made a decent living as an art dealer, was
used to paying her own way, had even managed to put some money aside. She’d always hoped to use that money so that she and Jake could take a belated honeymoon trip to Paris, but it didn’t look like she’d be honeymooning anytime soon. How far would that money take her? she wondered now. How long would it last? Money had never been an issue in her marriage to Jake. Would all that change when he was made a partner? Would he want to keep everything for his new woman, his new life?
Mattie marched into her bedroom and flipped on the TV, listening as the sound of rapid gunfire filled the air, obliterating such unpleasant thoughts. She looked toward her king-size bed, the powder blue duvet still twisted and disheveled from her earlier nap, as if there were still someone lying beneath it. “I can sleep on whatever side of the bed I want,” she said, deliberately bouncing down on Jake’s side, cognizant of his smell clinging stubbornly to his pillow, tossing the pillow to the floor, then stepping on it as she climbed out of bed. “I can close the damn window.” Over fifteen years of freezing to death every night because Jake insisted on sleeping with the window open. She marched to the window and slammed it down with authority.
Mattie located the television’s remote control unit on the overstuffed blue corduroy chair at the side of the bed. “All mine,” she cackled, pressing her thumb to the appropriate button, watching as channel after channel flipped into view, disappearing before anything had time to register on her brain. She dropped the remote and headed for the bathroom, pulling off her jeans and baggy sweatshirt, confronting herself in
the wall of mirrors surrounding the white porcelain sink. The first thing I’m going to do, she decided, is get rid of all these mirrors.
She stripped off her bra and panties, stared with dismay at her bruised and naked body. “Oh, yes, they’ll be lined up around the block.” She began pouring water for a bath. “I’m going to use up all the hot water,” she announced loudly, the sound of her voice bouncing off the almond-colored marble tiles covering the walls, echoing loudly in her ears. I’m going to use up all the hot water and then I’m going to check myself into a loony bin, she thought, the by-now familiar tingling returning to the bottom of her right foot.