“Let’s put the enchiladas in the oven to stay warm and have a glass of wine,” he said.
“Wonderful.” She got the glasses while he got the wine. They were equally comfortable in each other’s apartments and spent the night together several times a week. Until Michael’s father passed away. Since then it had been less frequent.
They sat at the small, round dining table in front of the window. In Michael’s apartment there was actually a view of the courtyard and pool area rather than another building or a parking lot. Jenn had no view whatsoever; she occupied a small one-bedroom with windows that looked straight at a brick wall that belonged to her neighbors. She had suggested a couple of times that they could pool their resources and look for something a little nicer. He had just said, “Maybe.”
“Listen, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something. Things between us have been pretty strained since my dad died. It’s not your fault, but we can’t ignore the fact that we’re not as good as we were.”
She reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze. “I haven’t been worried about it, Michael. But it’s not your fault, either. You and your dad were so close. I’m sure this has a lot to do with the grieving process.”
“I’m screwed up, Jenn. I’m just not sure of anything right now. It’s probably because of my dad’s death, but it’s affecting how I feel about everything.”
“Everything? What everything?”
“Mainly my personal life,” he said. “We were on this track of moving toward commitment, but it’s just not working for me right now. I have to put the brakes on.”
“Okay,” she said uncertainly. “It’s okay if we don’t make any more plans until you’re feeling more in control.”
“That’s the thing,” he said. “I might not ever feel better.”
“I know you don’t think so right now,” she said. “Don’t be too hard on yourself, Michael. There’s no hurry. We have lots of time. Maybe you should talk to someone? A counselor?”
He ignored the suggestion because the last thing he wanted to do was see a counselor. His dad had always been his counselor. “We need to break up,” he said. “Every time I see you or talk to you, I feel bad. Guilty about not giving you the attention you deserve, about not giving our plans any priority because right now I just can’t make plans. I know it’s screwed up. But I don’t want to have plans.”
She looked genuinely confused. “All right,” she said. “So, no plans...”
“I have to break this off, Jenn. It’s not working for me. I think it’s probably my issues but I’m not ready. We need some space. Distance.”
“What kind of distance, Michael?”
“We need to break up, Jenn,” he said again. And then he hung his head.
“Are we talking about a break?” she asked. “Because you said you loved me.”
He shook his head forlornly. “I don’t feel love for anyone right now, including myself. It’s not how I want to feel. I’m just empty of feelings.”
“Except self-pity apparently,” she flung back.
“It’s not self-pity,” he said defensively. “It’s something else. Depression or grief or something. I can’t help it.”
“Have you talked to anyone?” she asked. “A professional? A therapist? What would your dad tell you to do?”
“That’s the thing. When your dad is a counselor, it becomes a personal thing. He’d take me out to the golf range or maybe a field and we’d play with a ball and talk about things, and in a little while everything would be clear. But he’s gone and there isn’t anyone else I want to talk to.”
“How about your mother?” she asked. “I know you’re very close and you respect her opinion.”
“I don’t want to put a burden on her now. She’s going through her own hard time.”
“I bet she wouldn’t consider it a burden,” she said. “You should talk to her about this.”
“I’m sorry, Jenn. I know this isn’t fair to you. I just feel lost. And suffocated. It’s not your fault.”
“We talked about getting married,” she said. “You said you wanted a family.”
“I’m just so confused right now...”
“So if we were married,” she said. “And if you had a son or two and you lost one of your parents, would you just bail? Say, ‘Sorry, Jenn, but you and the kids are on your own because I’m hurting’?”
“That’s why I have to back away right now,” he said. “I’m not sure what I feel. I’m messed up.”
“I’ll say,” she said. “You could talk to me, of course. You said you loved me. You said you thought I was the woman you wanted to be with forever. We’ve talked till late into the night so often, so why can’t we talk now? Is this what happens to you when you hit a rough patch? You quit?”
“It’s not just a patch! I lost my best friend, my dad! I’m not quitting,” he argued. “I’m having trouble feeling! I took a pretty big hit.”
She slowly stood. “I thought I had that job. Best friend.”
“Something went wrong,” he said.
“I’ll say.”
“I don’t know how to fix it,” he said.
“Why don’t you think about that for a while,” she said. “Because what you’re doing isn’t going to fix anything.” She picked up her purse. She left the bag of groceries on the counter and the enchiladas in the oven. Her glass of wine was hardly touched. “If you come up with any better solutions, I believe you have my number. You’ve used it almost every day for two years.”
“Wait,” he said. “Don’t you want to eat?”
“I don’t have much of an appetite anymore,” she said.
“But your dish...”
“Don’t worry about that,” she said. “It’s the least of what I lost today.”
And with that, she turned and let herself out of his apartment.
Michael didn’t move. He felt even worse than before. He felt like the biggest failure. He couldn’t remember a time in his life before now when he had struggled so hard for judgment and good sense. He’d never felt so lost.
Lunch with Bess was always a melancholy affair for Anna. True to form, Bess had a routine, a very rigid schedule. She had sushi every Saturday at four in Oakland near Berkeley where she lived. It was very rare for her to invite a friend or friends as she was very solitary, but now and then there would be a girlfriend or study partner.
When Anna walked in, the man behind the sushi counter waved a big hello to her and of course Bess was seated at her usual table in the rear of the small sushi bar. One of the reasons she had sushi at four on Saturday was because the bar was not crowded and she could have her favorite table. It wasn’t as though Bess became upset if she couldn’t have her table, but she did become disgruntled. She was a creature of habit. It gave her comfort.
“Mom!” she said, closing her book and looking up in surprise. “I didn’t know you were coming!”
“I hope it’s all right that I’m here,” Anna said. “I left you a message yesterday. And today.”
“I didn’t listen, I’m sorry. The only voice mail I ever get is from the insurance company or the health care supervisors trying to convince me I need more attention, but I don’t. Once when I answered and talked to one of them, they didn’t even know my age or whether I had preexisting issues. Oh, and I get quite a few calls from the car warranty people. Why don’t these people get serious jobs?”
“Maybe they tried,” Anna said. “What are you having?”
“The Zee roll, half a morning star roll and half a Lee’s special roll.”
Like always. Bess ordered the same thing every Saturday at four.
“You could get the same thing if you like,” Bess said, which was her way of saying she had ordered exactly what she wanted to eat, wouldn’t want to share, couldn’t change her selections. She was as rigid as a steel rod.
“I’ll order something else, thanks,” Anna said. “It’s nice to see you. You look wonderful.”
Bess laughed a little bit. “I never look wonderful, especially not lately. I used to at least try a little makeup but since law school I don’t even bother. No one cares how I look, including me.”
Anna quickly ordered. Out of habit she ordered more than she could eat, prepared to share with Bess, knowing Bess wouldn’t touch Anna’s food. It just wasn’t part of her plan. In fact, her dishes were arranged in a clockwise fashion, and it was always the same, just as her closet was color coordinated, her drawers stacked with perfectly folded sweaters, pajamas and undergarments.
It was how Bess managed her life. It was how Bess was in control. She didn’t have to make too many choices and nothing was left up for grabs.
“Tell me about your case law,” Anna said, just looking for anything they could actually talk about.
“We’re working through some tax law right now and it’s complex. I like it. No one else does.”