He rolls his eyes. “Whatever.”
I try to pout while still chewing my next bite. “I’m not fat, and you’re making me feel bad.”
“I know you’re not fat, baby, but you don’t have a lot of wiggle room.”
I take my cake back to my desk.
Once he’s in his office, I text him. Was your ex-girlfriend skinnier than me?
I can actually hear him sigh from his office.
I told you she was crazy.
Yeah, but she had a hot body, right?
Sure.
He waits a few minutes, and when I don’t respond, he texts, Don’t pout. You know I think you’re hot.
I text back a heart and finish my cake. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m really looking forward to going to the zoo.
CHAPTER 31
I have a few minutes to spare before heading downstairs to meet Luke, so I read through the papers I stole from the Hepsworths’ desk on Saturday. I glanced over them yesterday, of course, but I was busy playing with my cat and then doing laundry and grocery shopping, and I get distracted easily.
Old Pastor Hepsworth has a low sperm count and decreased motility. He also has trouble regularly maintaining an erection long enough to ejaculate. Viagra was prescribed to good effect. The patient was counseled that a sperm donor could decrease the chances of miscarriage and birth defect due to the father’s age. It doesn’t say whether the patient heeded the advice.
I wonder if Rhonda is disappointed with the marriage she ended up with. I mean, it seems most people wind up disappointed with marriage one way or the other, but she made a clear exchange: wealth and prestige instead of a young husband. Fine. Pastor Hepsworth made his own deal: a young and beautiful wife instead of one more likely to stay satisfied and settled. An unspoken bargain between the two of them, I’m sure, but one they both agreed to.
I read through the records once more to be sure I haven’t missed anything, then tuck the papers into the top shelf of my closet and grab my winter coat. It’s pleasant in the sun today, but the light is already fading.
I wait on the sidewalk and wonder what Luke wants from me.
It’s not like I’ve never been in a relationship. I’ve been infatuated a couple of times, but I’ve never loved any of my boyfriends. Does that make sense? I feel happy with them, but I don’t trust. I don’t want to live with a man or give up control. Why would I? Men lie. They lie right to my face, and it’s not hard to spot. Do they think we don’t know?
Women lie too. Everyone does, and we all see the falsehoods; the question is, Which of us are willing to lose ourselves enough to give another person a chance? I can’t lose myself. I don’t have enough feelings to fuel the fantasy or ignore the warnings.
My last relationship was with a married Lebanese executive in Malaysia. His lies were childish and weak, designed to bring me close enough for sex but keep me at the perfect distance. You’re so amazing, Jane, but I can’t fall in love with you. I love my wife more than anyone in the world. She’s everything to me.
Ridiculous. He loved himself more than anyone in the world. But he turned me on like crazy, so I just smiled and pulled him back for more. He wouldn’t leave his comfortable life for me, and I didn’t want him to, so it worked nicely for a full year.
We never went to a zoo, though.
I lost interest in him after Meg died. I lost interest in everything.
He told me he loved me then. Finally. A last-ditch effort to get me back into his bed. I reminded him that he loved his wife. Maybe he does. The way other people love doesn’t make much sense to me.
Why get married if you want to sleep with other people? Why stay if you suspect he’s cheating and that hurts your feelings? Why fight and bicker and scream if the other person decides they’re ready to go? If someone wants to leave, the only thing to do is move on. Find someone else. Have some pride.
Then again, I can’t seem to follow my own advice with Meg. She wanted to leave and I still need her here, and I can’t let her go. Maybe I’m more like everyone else than I think. Or maybe they’re more like me.
Luke finally pulls up in his black Prius—no giant SUV for him—and I laugh to myself, because he really is better endowed than Steven.
That would make a good bumper sticker, actually. My other car is a big penis. My creative talents are wasted in law.
“Hey, there,” he says when I get in. The car smells like apples and cinnamon and I look around in confusion until he picks up a Styrofoam cup from the console. “I got us hot cider.”
“Oh. That’s so sweet.”
I take a sip and it’s the perfect temperature. I’m on some kind of all-American date.
We start the drive in companionable silence. At least, it’s companionable for me, but he could be uncomfortable. I watch for clues, but he seems relaxed.
“That was nice the other night,” he says after a long while. “Reading with you.”
“Oh!” I respond. “I got you a present!”
I grab a bag from my purse and open it to pull out a hardcover novel. “I saw it in the window of a bookstore, and he’s an author you had on your shelf, so I thought . . .”
“Wow, Jane!”
“It’s a signed copy.”
“That’s so nice! Thank you. And I don’t have this one yet.” He shifts his attention from the road to the book in quick little peeks to check out the cover. “You didn’t have to get me anything.”
Maybe not, but I used to buy Meg a lot of gifts. I’m never sure what else I’m contributing to a relationship. Practical advice for Meg. Sex for Luke. Heck, I would’ve given Meg sex too if she’d been interested. That’s about all I know to give. So I buy presents. Everyone likes presents.
“Thank you.” He squeezes my hand briefly and lets me go. “Is this music okay?”
“It’s great.” I don’t care about music. I couldn’t even really say what genre this is. Music is about emotion. It’s not for people like me.
When I start seeing signs for the zoo, I realize we’re way out near the Hepsworths’ church. I’m unconcerned, though. I can’t imagine I’ll run into them at the zoo after dark. In the unlikely event I see the good pastor or his wife, I’ll introduce Luke as my cousin. I’m certain he’d go along with it in front of strangers.
“I think I figured out that thing with my mom,” I say before I even know why I’m saying it. It hasn’t exactly been weighing on my mind, but I was reading through Meg’s old emails this morning and it came to me.
“Which thing?” Luke asks.
“Why I keep accepting her calls when I don’t even want to.”
“Oh?”
“It’s because it’s what Meg wanted. She got upset when I said I was going to cut my mom from my life and move on. So I kept my family in my life. Because Meg wanted me to.”
“Oh, Jane,” he says quietly. “I’m so sorry you lost her. I know I said it before, but . . . even I can’t believe she’s gone, and I haven’t seen her in almost ten years.”
“Thank you.”
“So you keep in touch with your mother for Meg’s sake?”
“Yes. I think so.” But Meg is dead now.
He squeezes my hand again. “I sent flowers to her grave. Did you see them?”
I shake my head. I’ve never been to Meg’s grave.
“They were daisies. I thought . . . something cheerful, you know?”
“I think daisies sound perfect.”
I’m surprised that he actually sent flowers. He’d said he would, but people say things like that all the time. In my experience, they rarely actually do them. I turn and study his face until he glances over. “What?” he asks with a faint smile.
“Nothing.”
Nothing, because I’m not sure what to do with him.
It’s fully dark by the time we get to the zoo. From the parking lot, I can see lights winking through the bare tree branches.
I wonder if Meg ever did this. It seems like something she would’ve liked.