Authors: Andrea Simonne
***
After Lynn and Karma leave I help
my mom clean up the kitchen, loading the dishwasher and putting the cookies
into a Tupperware container.
“What did you think of them?” she
asks, wrapping up the rest of the banana bread.
“I like them. They were really
down to earth and easy to talk to.”
She nods. “They’re good people.”
“I should tell you—I don’t think
I’m ready to jump into something this drastic. I know I said I’d think about having
a baby on my own, but it seems too daunting.”
She leans against the counter and
appears to consider my words. “What’s daunting is letting your life slip by and
then waking up one morning wishing you
had
done something drastic. You don’t
have forever Kate. If being a mother is something you want to experience, then
you should do it.”
“But I’ve always imagined myself parenting
with a husband, not on my own as a single mother. That has to be hard.”
She shrugs. “People get divorced,
husbands die. There are no certainties in life. Obviously your dad and I will
help in every way possible.”
“I know, but still.”
“I’m not trying to push you into
anything, though you probably think I am. I just don’t like the idea of you waiting
around for a man who may never show up.”
“Well, you might be surprised. Maybe
he’s here right now.”
“Benjamin?” She shakes her head.
“Ben is not the man for you.”
“How can you say that? You don’t
know anything about him anymore.”
“I once thought you two were a
good fit, but I was wrong. Though even back then I had some doubts—and I’m not just
saying that because of what happened.”
“Yes, you are.” Annoyed I reach
under the sink for the dish detergent.
Her eyes follow me as I fill the
dishwasher with the last of the plates and then pour in the detergent. “You’re
not right for each other.”
“You haven’t seen him in years, so
I don’t know where you get off drawing all these conclusions.”
“It doesn’t matter that I haven’t
seen him in years. I understand what kind of person he is and I don’t want to
see you make the same mistake twice.”
I don’t start the dishwasher, but
instead lean against the counter opposite her and cross my arms. “Oh really?
And what kind of person is Ben?”
She sighs. “I don’t want to get
into all this. It’s not my place. You know I don’t like to interfere in
anyone’s love life. It’s important that people learn from their mistakes.”
“People? What people are you
referring to? I’m your daughter, not ‘people.’” I make quotation marks in the
air with my fingers. “So tell me, what’s so terrible about Ben?”
“Nothing. He’s not terrible at all.
And I think he usually means well. As far as you two as a couple though, I think
history has shown that he’s too hard on you, that he isn’t accepting enough.” She
looks at me. “He can be quite rigid and as I recall he preferred the idea of a committed
relationship to the reality of one.”
I stare at her. “You’re basing
your opinion on what happened in the past. He’s older now. How do you know he
hasn’t changed?”
“It’s possible. Truthfully, I’d
prefer you were with someone who has a generous nature, and that certainly
doesn’t describe Ben.”
“Well I think you’re being too
hard on
him
.”
She smiles. “Maybe so, but like
you said—you’re my daughter.”
***
Driving back in my car, Ben is
noticeably quiet. I keep wondering if I should bring up the whole sperm donor
thing. I’m not even sure what to say. At least my mom didn’t lay into him when he
and my dad came back to the house for refreshments. She barely said a word to
him. They were very polite to each other—aggressively polite, you might say. I
guess she felt like she had spoken her mind to me, so that was good enough.
“So did you and my dad finish
building those cold frames?” I ask, breaking the silence.
“Pretty much, he still needs to
get them fitted with glass. I’ve always liked your dad. He’s a nice guy.”
“Yes, he is.”
“I keep thinking about the heart
attack you said he had. He never mentioned it to me. How is he doing now?”
“Very well. It happened a while ago,
and he’s taken great care of himself. He hasn’t had any problems since—thank
goodness. We were lucky it was a mild one and that he was able to get medical
attention quickly.” I grip the steering wheel as tears come to my eyes. I still
get upset even thinking about how close we came to losing my dad.
Ben nods and then slips back into
silence again. I reach for the radio dial, but move my hand away when he starts
to speak. “So, uh, how did everything go with your meeting?”
“It was fine. It’s not what you
think though. My mom set that up without even telling me.”
“Oh? You’re not interested in,” he
pauses, “getting pregnant with a sperm donor?”
I laugh a little and then sigh. “No,
not really.” I explain to Ben how it came up last year and how my mom’s become
fixated on the idea. “Obviously I’m getting older though and I’d like to have a
child someday, so I haven’t dismissed it entirely.”
“You’d have a baby on your own? As
a single mother?”
I shrug. “It wouldn’t be my first
choice, but if it were my only choice—maybe.”
He’s silent again, taking this in.
“Things have been happening pretty fast between us, haven’t they?”
I glance over at him, but he’s gazing
out at the road. “Yes, they have,” I say evenly. A prickle of fear starts at
the nape of my neck and I wonder where he’s going with this.
“Maybe we should slow down a
little.”
“Sure.” I try to sound casual,
though I’m tempted to point out to him that he’s the one that’s been pursuing
me so hot and heavy, not the other way around. Luckily I’ve dealt with enough
men to learn that the best thing you can do in a discussion like this is to
play it cool.
“Don’t get me wrong. I still want
to be with you. But it’s been like a whirlwind. I don’t even know what sort of
birth control you’re using. You’re on the pill right?”
This time I look over at Ben and there’s
no way I’m going to be able to keep my mouth shut. I feel the blood rushing to
my face and I’m trying hard to control my temper.
“Jesus, Ben! Could you be any more
transparent? After all the sex we’ve been having—
now
you ask me about
birth control? Do you honestly think I’d trick you into getting me pregnant?”
“No! Of course not. I’m not saying
that. All this talk made me realize that I’m not ready for a kid yet, not by a
long shot. I wouldn’t want any accidents.”
“Don’t flatter yourself. I’m
definitely on the pill. And I definitely don’t want any accidents either.”
I feel him relax beside me. “Don’t
take it the wrong way Kate, all right? I’m not implying that you’d get pregnant
without telling me. I know you’re not that kind of person.”
“Yeah, you sound really sure about
that.”
“Well, I have to admit I was
shocked to learn that you were meeting with a couple to discuss sperm donors. I
had no idea you were even contemplating such a crazy thing. It occurred to me that
maybe we should slow down a little. Give ourselves a chance to get to know each
other again. Obviously we’ve both changed a lot over the years.”
I pull the car up to the front of
my house. “Yeah, well you haven’t changed that much. You’re exactly the same
asshole you always were.”
Ben stares at me and then heaves a
big sigh. “I’m going to go. I don’t need this right now.” He gets out of the
car, closing the door behind him. If it were me I would have slammed it shut,
but he doesn’t, just closes it calmly, and for some reason this infuriates me
further. It’s irrational—I know—but it’s like he’s too precious or something. But
then as I’m fuming about this he’s gone. He gets into his jeep and drives away
before I can even get out of my car and try to stop him.
***
A week goes go by and I don’t hear
a word from Ben. I can’t decide if I should call and apologize or give him his
space. I don’t want to scare him off.
Finally late Sunday afternoon I get
in my car and drive. I head towards Ben’s apartment figuring I’ll find out
where we stand. When I get there I park, but don’t get out. I can even see his
jeep on a side street so I know he’s home. The truth is that I’m not sure how
to handle this. Finally I sigh and turn the engine back on.
I find myself headed downtown and
when I pass Pike Place Market, near Declan’s place, I decide to see if he’s
home. He owns a condo just up from Post Alley. After finagling a parking spot
on the street, I realize that Declan and I are not such intimate friends that
we can drop in on each other without a phone call. For all I know he’s not even
home or has a date. Most likely he’s working. If I were starting a new business
I’d be working twenty-four hours a day.
“What the hell,” I mumble and get
out of the car. It’s early evening and still light outside. The streets are
humming with tourists, most of them walking up from the market, so I’m moving
against the crowd. When I get to Declan’s building I stop at the front door,
search for his name on the list and push the buzzer.
After about half a minute I’m
ready to push it again, but then hear his voice over the intercom, “Yeah?”
“It’s Kate, would you mind if I
came up?”
The door buzzes and I walk inside
towards the elevator. During the ride up I wonder what I’m going to say to him.
When the elevator doors open Declan is already standing there.
“Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. I’m sorry—is this okay?
I was in the neighborhood.”
He nods. “Yeah, it’s fine. It’s a
bit unusual. I was worried when I heard you were downstairs.”
Declan and I walk down the hall
and I already feel better. There’s something about Declan that relaxes me. The
second I saw him it was like I could finally breathe again.
“I was just making some dinner,”
he says. “Are you hungry?”
“I didn’t know you cooked.” I
follow him inside, my eyes going towards the large front windows. Like Ben, Declan’s
apartment also has a view of the water, and although it’s not quite as
spectacular as the one Ben has, it’s still cool since you can look down and see
part of the Market.
Declan gives me a wolfish smile.
“I’ve been known to boil a little pasta on occasion.”
“It smells good. Lucky me, I
showed up just in time to mooch dinner.”
“That you have.”
His condo is a large two bedroom,
open and spacious. I have no idea what he paid for it, but I’m certain it must have
been astronomical. I once asked him why he bothered with the second bedroom and
he said it was for all the relatives that were constantly visiting from Ireland.
I’ve met some of them when he’s brought them into work. One of his cousins,
along with his aunt and uncle, and then last year I met his sister Rachel and
her two young daughters when they came out from Boston. I didn’t get a chance
to talk with her a lot, but from what I could tell she was super nice, warm and
witty—a lot like Declan.
As I look around I notice that his
place is clean, but not particularly tidy. It feels comfortably lived in with
stacks of books and papers pulled into haphazard piles here and there. It’s
messy, but not dirty, as my dad used to say about his office. His furniture is
all clean lines and dark colors, very masculine. He makes good use of the space
and his apartment has a nice sense of flow to it. There’s some kind of old
fashioned jazz playing on the stereo, not that I would recognize it. I never
listen to jazz, but Declan has the most eclectic musical tastes of anyone I’ve
ever met. He listens to everything from Coltrane to Mozart to the White Stripes.
I follow him over to the kitchen
where he’s already sautéing onions and veggies. It smells divine and I can feel
my mouth water. He lifts the pan, shakes it around a little and then reaches up
for a bottle of brown liquid that he pours over the veggies. “So why don’t you
tell why you’re really here?” He looks over at me. Declan is a lot like my mom
in that nothing gets past him.
I pull up a chair to the small dining
room table and prop my head up with my elbows. “I’m having a rough week.”
He nods slowly. “Would you like a
glass of wine?”
“No...I don’t think so. Do you
have anything else?”
“How about some whiskey? There’s a
bottle of Jameson I opened not long ago.” He walks to a wood cabinet next to
the table where I’m sitting. I watch as he gets out a couple of heavy tumblers.
“Do you take it with ice or without?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” He grins,
bemused. “I’ll give you a little ice. It’s the way I prefer it myself.”
He pours some whiskey over a few ice
cubes and hands me the glass. “Tell me what’s going on? I know it’s nothing
real terrible or you’d be crying.”
I take a sip of the whiskey and
shiver. It’s like drinking lamp oil.
“What do you think?” he asks.
“Smooth.”
Declan chuckles. “Smooth, huh? I
guess that explains the grimace on your face.”
“I’m just not used to drinking
whiskey,” I say defensively.
“Have another taste, it definitely
gets smoother the more you drink it.” He heads back over to the stove and pushes
around his sauce with a wooden spoon, stopping to add some pepper with a mill.
I take another swallow, and then
another. “You’re right,” I say after my fourth sip. “My mouth and tongue are so
numb that it does finally taste smooth.”
“See, what did I tell you?” He smiles
at me over his shoulder.
I put my glass down as a nice buzz
floats through me. I feel like I’ve been dipped in warm butterscotch and the
music he’s playing goes along with it perfectly. Leaning back, I rest my feet on
the chair in front of me and watch as Declan continues to cook, adding the dry pasta
to a large pot of boiling water and then fiddling with the stove a bit, adjusting
the temperature on one of the other dishes. His kitchen is super nice and all
the appliances look high end. I continue watching as he opens the refrigerator
and takes out some lettuce. He’s dressed in a pair of baggy jeans and a t-shirt
that I can’t help but notice fits him nicely in all the right places. I look
away feeling guilty. I’m with Ben now, or at least I hope so. Truth is I’m not
even sure anymore. I’m curious to hear Declan’s opinion on the whole thing.
I run my index finger over the rim
of my glass. “I had a fight with Ben last weekend.” And then I give him the
details, omitting the sex and waking up naked on Ben’s deck. At first he’s
listening with his back to me, still cooking, but when I get to the part about
sperm donors, Declan turns around, his face as incredulous as Ben’s had been.
“Are you serious? You’re
considering getting pregnant with a sperm donor?”
“Don’t look at me like that. It’s
mostly my mom’s bright idea.”
“I’m guessing Ben didn’t take this
too well.”
“That’s an understatement.” I
finish telling him what happened—about the fight we had in the car and how Ben
was suddenly all worried about birth control.
Declan grins, shaking his head.
“Poor bastard, I almost feel sorry for him. I’ll bet he never saw that one
coming. Hell Kate, even I’m speechless and I thought I knew you pretty well.”
“He actually thought I’d trick him
into getting me pregnant! Can you believe that? What kind of person does he
think I am?”
Declan takes a swallow from his
glass of whiskey, considering this. “Do you really think that’s what he meant?
It’s not like he accused you of it.”
“It was implied.”
“Maybe. I’ll tell you what though,
if I was dating a woman who laid this on me I’d be asking her some pointed
questions about birth control myself.”
I sigh heavily. “He’s probably
going to break up with me. We haven’t spoken in a week. Plus I called him an
asshole.”
“He’ll get over it.”
“Do you think so?”
“You’ve called
me
an
asshole and I’ve gotten over it.” Declan goes back to stirring the simmering
noodles with a large pasta spoon.
“I’ve never called you an
asshole.”
He snorts. “You’re always calling
me an asshole.”
“That’s different! I’m only joking
with you.” It occurs to me that maybe my jokes aren’t that funny or that they’ve
been misinterpreted. “You know I don’t think you’re an asshole, right? I love
being with you.” I stop myself. Did I just tell Declan I loved him?
Declan comes over and sits down in
the chair where my feet are resting. He doesn’t try to push them off and I
don’t offer to remove them, so they’re resting against his leg. He looks at my
empty glass and then at me. “You’re drunk aren’t you?”
“I think I might be.”
He shakes his head, smiling, and I
find myself staring at his mouth remembering that kiss we shared. His lips are
sensual and I’ll bet he knows exactly how to use them. I imagine his mouth on
me, on my body, and a powerful wave of lust rolls over me. I look away,
embarrassed that he’ll see what I’m thinking. God, I’m probably shooting laser
beams out of my eyes.
We’re both quiet. There’s a sultry
melody drifting over the sound of food simmering and the air is heavy with the smell
of basil and onions. When I finally glance at Declan, he’s watching me like
that night when I sketched him, considering me in a way that’s making my
stomach do little flip flops.
“What is this music?” I ask.
“Billie Holiday.”
I nod slowly, listening. “It’s old
fashioned, but it’s still....” I pause, trying to think of the right word.
“Captivating?”
“Sexy.”
Declan smiles in agreement as our
eyes linger on each other. “Let’s eat dinner. Everything’s ready.”
He gets up and prepares bowls of green
salad, plates of penne pasta with herbed vegetables and smoked sausage. There’s
even rosemary bread. The food is delicious. I may not know how to cook, but I
definitely know how to appreciate a good meal.
“This is great. I had no idea you
could cook like this.”
“It’s not as impressive as it
seems. I have a few dishes I make well and this happens to be one of them.” He
tears off some bread, dipping it into the sauce on his plate.
“Do you always make such elaborate
dinners for yourself?”
“Occasionally on Sunday. When I
was growing up we always had a big family dinner—our Sunday Tea—and I guess I
miss it sometimes.”
“I do that too—continue certain
childhood traditions on my own. Whenever I get sick with a cold I still make
buttered toast and cut the pieces into small triangles, just like my mom used
to. It’s comforting.”
He swallows a bite of food. “I
hadn’t thought of it like that, but you’re right. It’s been crazy lately,
getting everything set up in the new building. I’m basically working two jobs
right now, so I just wanted something that felt familiar.”
“It must be hard having your
family so far away.”
“Sometimes. Flying back at least
once a year makes it easier. We talk on the phone, do email, plus as you know they
visit me.”
“Hotel Declan,” I grin.
He grins back, “Yeah, obviously
I’ve gotten used to it. In fact one of my cousins is flying out next month,
although I already warned him I won’t be around much.”
“Are you nervous about everything?
Starting a business?”
“Nervous? No. I’ve been a little
stressed trying to get us set up. Plus we have a couple of clients, so we’re
already working with a deadline. Mostly though I feel exhilarated.”
“Going for your dream.”
He picks up his glass and swirls
it a moment before taking a swallow. “Damn right."
“You already have paying clients?”
He nods. “Two of them. We’re
creating some specialized tools for them and obviously it’s important that we
deliver.”
“That’s great. I had no idea.”
“I’ll be glad when next week is
over. Also you’ll be pleased to know that I told Greg I thought that they should
give you my job.”
“That was nice. Although everyone
knows we’re friends. Do you think it’ll make a difference?”
“He knows I wouldn’t push for you merely
because we’re friends.”
I nod, but don’t say anything
further. It’s strange, but I don’t feel all that motivated about the promotion
anymore. I’m starting to think that I don’t even want it. I guess I’m already
sick of all the hoops I have to jump through at work. Declan and I continue
eating in silence for the rest of the meal, a companionable silence that
doesn’t feel awkward in the least bit. Afterwards I try to clear up our plates,
but he stops me.
“Leave it.”
“But I always clean up when
someone cooks for me. Otherwise I’ll feel guilty.”
“There’s no reason to feel guilty.”
“Yes, there is. And I don’t want
to feel guilty. I want to feel clean and purified and free of all sin.”
“All right,” he laughs, putting
his hands up. “Don’t let me stand in the way of your absolution.”
Declan heads towards his corner
desk and checks stuff on his computer, while I clean the kitchen. I still feel buzzed,
though the food has helped take the edge off. After loading the dishwasher and
putting the leftovers in the fridge, I wander over to him feeling uncertain. I’m
not sure whether he wants me to leave, since it appears that he’s working.
“Should I go?” I ask. “You seem
busy.”
He leans back in his chair. “No, stay.
This is nice. Do you want to watch a movie or something?”
Or something, I think, but
obviously I can’t say that. It occurs to me that Suzy and Lauren may be right,
and I might be developing a crush on Declan. It’s probably just the whiskey. “A
movie sounds good.”
He shuts down his computer and we
head into the living room. Declan hands me the television remote and tells me
to flip around the channels while he makes us some microwave popcorn. I sink
into the couch, putting my feet up on the coffee table, getting comfortable. After
some initial confusion I figure out how the remote works and start channel
surfing on his big flat paneled television. The buttery smell from the popcorn
is permeating the air and I feel ridiculously cozy. It’s like I could stay here
forever.