I waited two days to reach out to Lynne to see if we could have a rational conversation. We decide to meet on neutral territory, taking the dogs to Bark Park for a romp while we clear the air.
“You just have to know that I had no idea at all that the two of you were the two of you,” I say as calmly as I can. “How could I? All I knew of him from you were his faults, and that he moved away from L.A. to somewhere else in California, and a snarky nickname. You never mentioned his career or background or anything—you never even said he was originally from Chicago. And all I knew of you from him was that your name was Linda, and that you guys had a really bad breakup.”
“I know,” Lynne admits. “I realized that it wasn’t that you were keeping it secret because you knew who he was to me, but not till after I had already gone all Jerry Springer on you. I’m sorry for that part. It wasn’t a good look on me, and wasn’t fair to you.”
“Thank you for that. I think we can chalk the whole thing up to some brain spasm and let it go. Water under the bridge.” I don’t really mean this, to be honest; her words were deeply hurtful and it will take some time to forget the vicious way she went for our softest, tenderest parts. I also happen to believe that sometimes things said in spontaneous anger have a lot more truth in them than not, so the fact that she thinks I’m some sad sack who doesn’t know how to handle herself in a relationship makes me feel awful. In no small part because I’m afraid she’s right. But she does seem sincere, so I press on, desperate to have the whole thing on firmer ground. “Look, we just have to figure this out. You have to know that of course if I had been aware of the context when I met him, if I had known he was your ex, I would never have begun dating him, not without asking you how you felt about it before accepting. But I didn’t know, and the fact is that now he and I have been together since Halloween and have developed very strong feelings for each other. I don’t want to hurt you, it’s the last thing I want, but I also don’t feel like he and I should have to give up our relationship because of your history together. This is not a betrayal of you; I didn’t steal him from you or sneak around. I just coincidentally met someone I really like who turned out to be your ex.”
Lynne presses her lips together tightly. “I just don’t know that I will ever be completely good with the two of you together, I have to be honest about that. I can try, but I can’t promise.”
“Okay, I get that, truly I do, trust me. So how do we move forward? Because the one thing that you know about me is that I don’t take any of this lightly. When I tell you that I really have deep feelings for him, you know what that means. And I hope that, deep down, you want that happiness for me. If I’m not going to stop seeing him, and I’m not going to stop being friends with you, how do we handle this? What do you need from me to at least be somewhat comfortable with the situation?”
“I think, for now, the less I know the better. You and I can just hang out with Teresa the way we do, and if you can keep happy, gushy boyfriend talk to a minimum when I’m around, that will help. I still think you should be careful, I still think that he is not a good person, so I can’t really be a supportive girlfriend on this. But I can try to not say nasty things about him. I have to believe in my heart that you will see his true colors, and that the relationship won’t last because you will discover that you deserve better, and then all will be fine. Please understand that I say this because I truly want to protect you. He is perfect in the beginning. Really amazing. I remember that part. That is why I agreed to marry him after six months of dating. But it isn’t real, at least it wasn’t with me, it didn’t last, and I would help you avoid that if he hasn’t changed. If he has changed, if he isn’t the guy I remember, if he doesn’t pull the rug out, good for you. If that doesn’t happen, we can cross that bridge then.”
I try to keep my face impassive, but deep down I’m fuming. The idea that she is essentially saying that I should just not talk about it and she’ll wait till our inevitable breakup is so insulting. “Okay, well, for the time being, let’s just agree that I will minimize boyfriend conversations when we are together.”
“’Kay.” She’s quiet, and I feel like she wants to say more but doesn’t know how to do it.
“Lynne, I know you are trying to keep me from hurt, and I am so honestly grateful for that. I know it is possible that he might be everything bad that you say, and in a few months you can yell that you told me so. But I have to believe that it is possible he is different, that what we have is real, and I hope that you will support me however it ends up. I just got you back and I don’t want to lose that again. So please just be honest with me—if I do or say something where he is concerned that makes you mad, don’t let it fester, let’s just keep talking it out, keep being honest with each other?”
“Fair enough. We will do the very grown-up thing. And for what it’s worth, if it does go sideways, I promise not to say that I told you so. I’ll just maybe think it a little bit.” She gives me a little smile and I smile back.
“Deal. Okay, then. So, how are things going with you?”
She looks somewhat relieved to have the hard conversation over, and so am I, even though I don’t really feel like anything has truly been resolved. “Good, actually. Work is great, Angelique is great, the beastie has mostly stopped destroying the house, although if I don’t keep him out of my closet he is still an occasional shoe redesigner.” Ellison and Simca are rolling around and playing happily together. He’s already taller than she is, but she still outweighs him, so it’s a pretty fair pairing.
“He’ll grow out of that eventually, just keep plenty of chew toys around and make sure your closet door is closed at all times.”
“Yeah. Oh, and since we aren’t talking about your relationship, I suppose I should tell you that I have a date scheduled from that matchmaker.”
“None of them are with a married French chef named Bernard, are they?”
Lynne laughs. “Not as far as I know, but I’ll text you photos when I meet them just to be sure.”
I laugh. We might not be back, but maybe we’ll be okay eventually. “Sounds like a plan.”
“Look, El, I’m not a total asshole, you know. I want to be happy for you, I really do. It’s just a lot for me, you know?”
She seems sincere, and my heart softens a bit. “I know. For what it’s worth, I’m really sorry for that part.”
“Well, then, okay.”
“Okay.”
We can both say the words, but I don’t know if we can walk the talk. Only time will tell.
I call Teresa on my way home.