Three months into our relationship, the good times came to a screeching halt.
James and I were in his bedroom, reading Sunday’s New York Times over the three-course brunch that Mildred had made for us, when I came to a page with a picture of Veronica Farrell, taken at a launch party for a new online magazine.
This wasn’t unusual. I was always running across pictures of the Farrell siblings at parties, seeing how it was their job and all to get their pictures taken at parties. But James chose that moment to look up from the business section. “That’s my sister.”
“Yes, I know,” I said. I had to seriously resist the urge to turn the page. Fifteen years later, I still found looking at Veronica deeply unsettling.
But then James said the thing that would start the countdown on the game-over clock for our relationship. “By the way, she wants to meet you.”
Now, if it really had been an eighties movie, I probably would have spit out my orange juice or fallen out of my chair, or done something else that would have indicated my complete and utter upset. But since this was Real Life, I just sat there, as quiet and still as High School Davie. Which was not the right answer, because James kept on going.
“So maybe you can come with me when I go to New York for the Farrell Fierce Lipstick launch, next month.”
“I can’t.” I answered so fast I knew it had to seem suspicious. “I’ve already used up all of my vacation days. And I can’t afford the plane ticket.”
He folded up the newspaper and laid it down on the table. “Look me straight in the eye and say that.”
I’m not an honest person. Obviously, I’m not an honest person. But even I couldn’t lie straight to this man’s face.
“I can’t afford the plane ticket,” I whispered.
He continued to stare at me. “Okay, I’m going to ask you some questions right now, and I need you to answer them honestly.”
I smiled and tried to inject a singsong lightness into my voice as I said, “Well, I’m not necessarily an honest person, James.”
“I know you’re not. Because I asked Nicky about letting you off next month as a surprise, and he said you were good for vacation days.”
I looked down at the table. I didn’t really have a response to that.
His next words came out slowly, like he had been thinking about the question for a while now. “Is Nicky your ex-boyfriend?” he asked me again.
This time I told him the truth. “Yes, we dated for five years. But that’s so over. Now we’re just best friends. Family, really. You don’t have anything to worry about there.”
“That’s not what I’m worried about. I had already figured out that you guys had some history. Thank you, though, for at least being honest with me about that.”
“You’re welcome,” I said, my voice as small as a mouse.
“What I really want to know is when you were with Nicky, did you let him pay for things?”
I thought about trying to lie. The rest of this doomed relationship would probably go a lot more easily if I could pull out Stage Davie and have her lie to his face. But I had loved him ever since I was fifteen, and I guess in the end, I just couldn’t.
“He paid for everything, but I was younger back then. And we’ve always had this weird father-daughter dynamic. It’s not the same.”
Something went dark in James’s eyes. “Have you let other guys take you out on dates? Buy you things since him? Have you gone places with them?”
“James . . .”
He slammed his hand on the table. “Have you?”
“Why are you so upset about this?” I asked, genuinely curious. “Most men in L.A. would be happy not to date a gold digger.”
“Because I love you!” he yelled. “I love you so fucking much, I can barely function. And it feels like you’re just playing with me.”
He looked so angry, and stood up so abruptly when he said this, that I threw my hands up to shield myself against a blow.
Which led to a very awkward silence.