Sometime Soon

seventeen



I cancel the job interview and ask Maryanne to hold off on the job seeking plans for now. I make progress on the white papers, again. I speak to Katie several times, listening to her wax joyfully about Mike and the baby. I really am happy for her.

When Wednesday arrives, I’m actually pleased with the chill in the air because it means I can wear my new red wraparound sweater for my date with Ryan. I pair it with a black skirt that shows off my legs, black tights, and wedge heeled ankle boots. I’ve blown out my curls tonight and my hair flows past my shoulders in flattering waves. It’s as though the stars have aligned to create weather conditions that suit me perfectly this evening.

Ryan makes a good impression, arriving right on time dressed in grey slacks and a blue dress shirt. His thick, dark wavy hair is pushed to the side but the unruly ends curl over his ears and around the top of his shirt collar. He seems apprehensive at first as he leans down and says hello with a quick kiss to my cheek. Then I can feel his eyes traveling over me as he gives me an appreciative grin. Immediately, the butterflies in my belly do a little dance. I’ve forgotten how striking he is and how I feel when I’m near him.

The restaurant he chooses is a dimly lit romantic spot not too far from my townhouse, but for some reason, I’ve never been there. Probably the expensive menu has something to do with that. As soon as we’re seated, the conversation flows easily. He tells me how well his company is progressing, and I talk about my recent promotion. I ask him how his business trip went last week, and he tells me that Chicago was wet and cold. We talk and talk as we make our way through salads and then move on to our entrees. The food is good, but I hardly notice what I’m eating. I do attempt to not get food stuck in my teeth or to let it drop from my fork onto my new sweater. I notice how Ryan neatly cuts his eggplant parmesan into bite-size pieces while not allowing it to touch the nearby pasta. I smile at his partitioned plate, and his answering bashful grin is completely endearing to me.

We share a dessert of tiramisu, and when the bill arrives I can’t help myself. Knowing Ryan’s finances aren’t exactly abundant at the moment, I do the wallet reach. But he shakes his head at me as he withdraws his wallet. I notice that it’s an overstuffed black leather one with bits of paper sticking out of every fold. “I’ve got it,” he says, smiling.

As Ryan is settling the bill, I hear my cell phone ringing in my purse. I don’t intend to interrupt our date by answering it, although I do grab it to glance at the caller ID. I don’t recognize the number, and I let it go to voicemail. Peering at my cell phone, I recall the message Ryan left me on Labor Day, and then I realize something. In his message, he said he had been in New York on business. Hadn’t he? I was nearly sure of it. Could he have been in both New York and Chicago last week? Had I saved the message? I thought so. Should I ask him now, or would I appear suspicious? After already accusing him of forgetting about our date last week, if I now accuse him of lying about his business trip, too, I’ll look completely paranoid. Of course, it’s possible I have reason to be. Stop, I tell myself. There’s probably a simple explanation. I listen to myself, for a change, and put those thoughts away for now. Ryan is what he appears to be, I decide. We’re having a terrific time. Why am I looking to ruin it?

Once we’re back in his car, my nerves kick in again. My heavy dinner sits like lead in my stomach, and now my chest feels tight, too. I haven’t felt this way about anyone in a very long time, and I’m way out of practice. Ryan turns on the radio and a slow jazz tune, marked by a soulful saxophone, plays softly from the speakers. I like the song even if I don’t know anything about jazz. The glow from the dashboard reveals the lines of Ryan’s strong handsome face. Before I know it, we’re back in my driveway. “Would you like to come in?” I ask. Although I think it’s a given in both our minds that he will.

Tiger has planned a sneak attack greeting, but when he hears an alien voice in the entryway, he carefully reveals himself before dashing away, up the stairs. “That was a cat, right?” Ryan asks.

I nod.

“I guess I have to earn his trust, too,” he grins, raising his eyebrows at me.

Immediately, I think of his questionable business trip again. “I’m afraid so.” I chide back, forcibly burying my doubts. I usher Ryan inside as I walk around and turn on lights.

“Your place is really nice,” he comments, looking around.

“Thanks. Can I get you something to drink?” I offer turning toward the kitchen only to realize that I don’t have wine or coffee or anything but water to give him.

“What have you got?” he asks so close to my ear that I nearly jump.

“Not much,” I reply, turning to face him.

He is wearing a sly smile. “I’d have to disagree with that.” Then his hand moves to my lower back and he gently pulls me to him. Suddenly, he’s kissing me. His arms wind around me, and I bring my own hands up along his chest and then higher as I run my fingers through his thick hair and press myself against him. Heat radiates off his body, and his arms tighten as he lifts me to my toes. The pure tactile pleasure produced by the intimate touch of another human being flows through me. It has been too long since I’ve felt this way. His scent surrounds me, and I can feel that this is different. He’s unlike anyone who came before him. From far away, the ringing of my cell phone permeates the haze into which I’m happily sinking. I ignore the ringing.

When I hit the refrigerator with a thud, Ryan finally breaks the kiss. He looks around, taking in his surroundings and appearing embarrassed as he realizes he has just backed me into the refrigerator door. I take his hands as I look toward the living room. “Let’s move in there,” I suggest. I’m really thinking let’s take this to the bedroom, but there’s plenty of time for that.

As we pass my purse sitting on the floor in the entryway where I dropped it on the way in, my cell phone rings yet again. I begin to worry that it might be important. I reluctantly remove my hands from Ryan’s. “It keeps ringing. I’d better see who it is,” I say apologetically.

He nods and continues into the living room, giving me privacy for my call. I smile as I notice that his hair is in complete disarray due to me.

I fish inside my purse and withdraw my still ringing cell phone. The number on the caller ID belongs to Katie.

“He’s gone,” she blurts out after my hello.

“What?” I ask, trying to clear my head.

“Mike. He left. He said he needs time to think about things.” Her voice is tremulous. She’s crying.

“You’re saying Mike left you?”

“No, not exactly. He packed a bag and said he needed to get away. To think.”

“Think about what?”

“I don’t know. He just said things. But of course he meant me. And the baby.”

“Oh no, Katie.”

“Do you think you could come over?” she asks softly.

I take a breath and close my eyes. “Of course.”

She sniffles into the phone. “You don’t mind? It’s pretty late.”

“No, I don’t mind.”

“Thanks, Andy.”

I lean against the wall, staring at my cell phone, not surprised by Mike’s leaving, and thinking about the man waiting for me in my living room. But now I can’t silence the voice in my head any longer, the one that tells me to listen to Ryan’s message again. I dial into my voicemail and press the button to replay old messages. Soon I hear Ryan’s familiar voice telling me he was in New York last week.

I put the phone away and walk into the living room. I find Ryan examining the framed pictures of my family that stand on the coffee table. “Your sister looks just like you,” he comments.

I smile sadly, still tingling from the feeling of his arms around me. “That was a friend on the phone,” I begin. “She’s having a crisis. I kind of need to go over there.”

I can see that it takes a minute for my words to register. “You mean right now?” he asks, his disbelief obvious.

I nod my head.

“You couldn’t make an excuse?”

“No. She’s a good friend.”

He hangs his head and rests his hands on his narrow hips. “Well, I guess that speaks well of you and your commitment to your friends.”

“I really am sorry.”

He moves close to me and slowly brings his hands to either side my face, caressing my cheeks with his thumbs as he tells me, “We’ll have to reschedule then.”

I nod my response, and he halts my nodding by putting his lips to mine. His tongue sweeps into my mouth and I hear him groan with what sounds like frustration before he steps back and releases me completely.

I think I sway for a second before I finally get a hold of myself and turn to pick up my purse. Ryan follows me out outside and waits while I lock the door behind me. Then he lingers beside me, smoothing my hair, rubbing my back, and kissing me softly one last time before we move away from the doorway and head toward our cars.

“Where did you say you went again on your business trip last week?” I hear myself say as I lead him down the walkway. The minute the words leave my mouth I know I’m ruining things, but I can’t seem to stop myself.

“What?” he asks

“Where did you go on your business trip last week?” I repeat, turning to face him, keeping my expression neutral.

He tilts his head to the side, eyeing me curiously. “Chicago. I told you.”

“In your message you said you were in New York.”

“What message?”

“The message you left me on Labor Day. In it, you said you were in New York last week.”

“Well,” he shrugs. “I was in Chicago. I was in New York a few weeks ago. I must have said New York by mistake.”

I nod at his answer, not sure if I can believe it.

He eyes me carefully. “What are you thinking, Andrea?”

“Nothing,” I say. I really want to believe him, but a nagging voice inside me tells me not be naive. This is his second strike.

“Have you been wondering about this since dinner? When you first asked me about my trip?”

“No, I didn’t remember your message until later.”

His jaw clenches and a muscle jumps in his cheek. His eyes narrow at me, and I can see he’s angry. “Do you really have a friend who is suddenly having a crisis?” he asks.

I gape at him, anger flaring through me. “Of course I do.”

He stares at me, his eyes challenging and dark. Then he glances away and shakes his head slowly. He opens his mouth to say something and stops, clamping it shut again as he runs a hand through his disheveled hair. With his eyes back on mine again, he closes the small distance between us.

I stare up at him not knowing what to expect.

“Goodnight, Andrea” he says quietly. But his calm voice is betrayed by the hurt expression on his face. Then he walks to his car, slips inside, and drives away without glancing at me again.

My tense shoulders slump under the weight of growing regret as I watch his car disappear down the road.



Once I pull into a dimly lit guest parking space in front of Katie’s brick apartment building, I grab a tissue from my purse and wipe at the wet tracks trailing down my cheeks. I’m not sure what bothers me more, the fact that I suspect Ryan is lying and I probably would have slept with him anyway if Katie hadn’t called, or the fact that I accused him of lying when in fact he may not have been. If he travels a lot, I suppose he could have mistakenly said New York when he meant Chicago. In my mind, I keep seeing his expression darken as he realizes what I’m implying. But it wasn’t unreasonable for me to be suspicious, was it? First, he claims to have forgotten our date. Then he says he was in New York last week only to later say he was in Chicago. It also seems that he was very quick to anger. Couldn’t he have laughed at his mistake and his own absent-mindedness when I pointed it out? Of course, when he implied that I was lying about my friend’s crisis, I had immediately been offended.

The fact is, I don’t know him well enough to make any judgments about him. I can only go on what I see and hear from him. Although what reason would he have to lie about where he was last week? It doesn’t make any sense.

I suddenly feel the need to call Laura, explain every detail to her, and get her opinion. That in itself reveals how upset I am. Discussing my problems is not a pastime in which I am generally interested in participating. But I can’t do it now, anyway. Not tonight, at least. Compared to Katie’s situation, my problems are minor. Although, they certainly don’t seem that way at the moment. What on earth does Ryan think of me now? Humiliation twists inside me. I’m sure I’ve seen the last of him, and I don’t know if I’m better off or not. The horrible pit in my stomach is telling me that the answer is not.

I need to stop dating. It’s only making me miserable. I take a deep breath and try to shake off the tension.

Katie’s place, in nearby Newton, has a spacious loft-like feel to it. It’s after eleven when Katie opens the door to me, still dressed in her work clothes, a navy print blouse and a matching navy skirt, but her hose and shoes are gone. Her eyes are red-rimmed and her skin is blotchy. “Hi.” She gives me a watery greeting. Then she studies me more closely. “Have you been crying?” Taking in my outfit, she asks. “Did you have plans tonight?”

“Nothing major,” I lie. “Are you going to let me in?”

She nods, moving away from the door and allowing me to pass. I automatically move toward the couch in the living room. The apartment appears similar to the last time I saw it. It provides no hint of the earth shift that occurred here earlier.

“I’m sorry if I interrupted your plans.” Kate apologizes as she follows me. “You should have told me you were busy.”

I sit on the couch and Katie plops herself down beside me, gripping a crumpled tissue in her hand.

“I had a date,” I explain, searching for a way to put a humorous spin on the ending because I’m not about to cry on her shoulder. “But I pretty much accused him of being a liar, and for some reason he took offense and left.”

Her eyes widen at me. “Is this Ryan you’re talking about?”

I nod.

“What did he lie about?”

“Nothing worth mentioning. I’m not even sure he did lie. I think now that he probably didn’t. But it doesn’t matter. It’s a terrible mess.”

“Oh Andy, I’m so sorry.” Despite her own significant issues this evening, I can see that her distress on my behalf is sincere.

I rest a hand on her nearby forearm. “Now tell me what happened here tonight.”

She takes a breath as pain flashes in her eyes. “It was awful, but somehow it wasn’t a surprise. I’ve been fooling myself.”

“What do you mean?”

“I told myself that I’d imagined all Mike’s doubts. I even let myself believe that Mike was happy about the baby.”

“He wasn’t?”

“He went through the motions. He said all the right things. He listened patiently while I went on and on about baby names and buying things for a nursery. But he was never as excited as I was. I knew it, too. Deep down, I knew that he wasn’t as happy about the baby as he should be.”

“So, what happened tonight?”

Katie glances around her apartment as though she’s reliving it again. Her eyes stop when they land on a smiling picture of Katie and Mike together, both happy and attractive enough to be the model couple sold along with the frame. She sinks further into the couch, her gaze bouncing quickly off the picture.

“Did Mike come home from work wanting to talk to you about the baby?” I prompt gently.

She shakes her head. “He was here waiting for me when I got home. His suitcase was ready to go, on the floor by his feet, like in a bad movie or something.” She brings the tattered tissue up to her sniffling nose. “He said he couldn’t do this anymore. This being us. Our relationship.” She catches a fresh tear before it rolls too far.

My throat tightens as I watched her eyes fill.

“I asked him if things were moving too fast. I asked him if he still loved me. He claims that he loves me, but he looked as confused as I felt. He just told me that he needed to get away and do some thinking and that he’d call me.”

I nod at her, not sure exactly what I’m nodding about. Mainly, I want to show her that I sympathize and care.

“When it comes down to it, I think he’s still traumatized by his divorce. He may never get over it enough to make a commitment to me.”

“He’s been divorced for two years?” I ask, trying to recall what she’d told me when she first met him.

“Separated for one year and divorced now for just over three years.”

“Same as you,” I comment.

“But his was messier--with the kids and everything.”

“Yours was tough enough. Don’t minimize it to yourself or to Mike. I’ve always admired your willingness to pursue another relationship. I don’t even have the excuse of a divorce, and I’m a big scaredy-cat when it comes to this stuff.”

This earns me a sliver of a smile. “I must be a glutton for punishment,” she says. “Besides, I’ve always admired you.”

“Me? Why?” I ask surprised.

“You’re so self-sufficient.”

I eye her skeptically. “Is that code for terminally single?”

“No.” She actually laughs now. “I mean it.”

“Well, it’s true. I do like to be self-sufficient, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t also like someone to lean on occasionally.”

She leans back into couch cushions and stares at the photograph of her and Mike again. After a moment, she asks, “What am I going to do?”

I rest my back against the cushion beside her. “You’re going to get up in the morning and go to work. Then you’re going to do it again the next day. And the day after that. And with lots of help from me, your family, and the rest of your friends, you’re going to continue planning for the beautiful baby you’re going to have.”

She sighs. “What choice do I have, right?”

“Have you told your folks what’s going on?”

She shakes her head. “They’re still getting used to that fact that there’s a baby and there’s no wedding.”

“When Mike calls you, you might suggest that he talk to a professional.”

“A therapist you mean? I’ve thought of that.”

“Do you think he would go?”

“I don’t know.”

“Where do you think he’s staying?” I ask.

“Maybe he went to Bryn’s,” she offers casually, as though it hasn’t pained her to put the thought into words.

I shake my head. “I don’t think so.” I hope I’m right.

“Have you spoken to her?” Katie asks.

“No.” I pause. “Would you be mad at me if I did?”

Her glossy eyes are drying now as she turns to me. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

I nod in understanding. Even though I haven’t made the decision to end my friendship with Bryn, I have effectively done so by not speaking to her since she told me. Was I foolish to think that I could be friends with them both and that I didn’t have to choose sides?

I sit with Katie for over an hour. She invites me to sleep over, but I don’t have any clothes with me, and I don’t want to leave Tiger alone all night. I hug her, hating to leave, but she does seem better than when I first arrived.

Foolishly, even though I haven’t heard it ring, I check my phone once I’m back in the Hyundai, with some small hope that Ryan may have called to apologize for his reaction, or for getting confused about his travels, or to yell at me for practically calling him a liar. But there are no messages.

I drive home from Katie’s and the dark quiet roads mirror the darkness I feel inside tonight. I’m completely exhausted, and I just want sleep to take away my tumultuous thoughts for a few hours.

Tiger’s desperate mewling greets me as I enter the townhouse. His food dish is empty and stale water from this morning is pooled in his bowl. I go through the familiar motions of refilling his kibble and refreshing his water, and then I wearily trudge up the stairs, pretending not to notice his attempts to hold my attention. Once in the bedroom, I look at myself in the mirror with my now slightly disheveled hair and the red wraparound sweater I’d been so excited about wearing earlier. I had such high hopes at the start of the evening.

I take off the sweater and hold it to my nose, but it carries no scent of him. If he wore cologne it might have lingered, but his clean scent does not.