The Girl in the Comfortable Quiet (21 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

I
park in front of the stunning concrete and glass structure hugging the beach.
It looks exactly the same as I remember, every detail.

What will it feel like to go inside the house?

I haven’t been here since that day Alan and I
fought on the patio and I walked away. The day I jumped a track in my life. The
day that put me on a collision course with Neil and where I am today.

I push away the memory of how Alan looked at me
as I left him standing there. I should have stayed and fought for him. If I’d
fought for him, would we be together today?

The details I missed in the frenzy of that moment
I see so clearly now. His posture. His expression. Those great dark eyes as I
walked away. Why did I walk away? All Alan wanted from me was the truth. Such a
simple thing. I couldn’t do it. I walked away.

Another flashing image breaks free. The fight we
had the first time I traveled to be with him here. Elegantly mean Alan,
grabbing my chin and forcing me to meet his smoldering stare.
Why are you
here?
I was so frightened, the moment so dangerously serious, and I almost
couldn’t find my words in fear that if I answered him wrong we’d be over
forever.

The first words in my head were the words I
spoke.
I’m here because I love you.

“Where are we?” Rene asks.

I startle. For a moment I forgot Rene was with
me.

“This is Alan’s beach house. I just wanted to
come here today.” I say, struggling to keep my emotions from my face.

She’s staring through the windshield with greater
interest now. “There are no cars in the driveway. It looks shut up. Vacant.”

I shrug, pulling my keys from the ignition. “He’s
not here. He’s been in New York. He offered me the house to stay in while I was
in LA.”

I climb from the car and hurry up the walk,
feeling the coolness of the keys in my hand. I still have the key. Why did I
keep it? Why didn’t Alan ask for it back? It probably doesn’t even work
anymore. He must have had the locks changed. It’s been five years since I’ve
needed the key.

In my memory whisper the words the day Alan gave
it to me.
This can be anything you want it to be.
Anything I want to it
be, and the only thing I did was love Alan badly.

I pause at the front door, afraid to try the key.
Afraid to find the answer. I rub my finger along the jagged edge, reminding
myself that even if it doesn’t fit it doesn’t mean anything. It’s been five
years.

My heart jumps when it slides in and turns the
latch. I hear a beep and hurry to the security alarm wall panel. What if he’s
changed that? It would be humiliating to have the police show up to find me
with no ready or reasonable explanation in my head as to
why
I am here.
Fuck, how would I explain that one?

A low, raspy voice sounds in my head.
Why are
you here?

I’m here, Alan, because I love you. Punch. Punch.
Punch. My birthday. My eyes widen. Green lights. Beeping silenced.

I hear Rene following behind me as I wander
deeper into the house. The sound of the front door closing. I stand in the
center of the living room, facing the giant wall of glass looking out at the
ocean.

The house is exactly the same. Exactly as I
remember. Stylishly turned out in white and black shabby-chic furnishings. The
natural wood tables. The boldly colored European Impressionist art encased in
glass, floor to ceiling. Everything perfect. Everything the same, and it still
holds the feel of having never been lived in.

Only Alan still lives here when he’s in the
States. And here we loved each other. It’s almost frozen in time. Unchanged.

I start wandering the room. There are instruments
everywhere, personal possessions lightly sprinkled here and there. My eyes hungrily
drink in each remembered detail and in surprise I find the few minor Chrissie
alterations to Alan’s flawless existence. I spot a picture of us on a tall,
round table. The books I’d forgotten that last day resting beside that Native
American bowl on the coffee table. The blanket I love and used to wrap around
me before going to sit on the patio on foggy mornings, neatly folded and draped
over the back of an overstuffed chair. 

Oh God, even that Domenico Montagnana cello he
bought as an apology gift and never gave to me, later to be brought here so I
would have it if I wanted to play while we shared our moments at the beach.

I crouch down, running an index finger along the
smooth surface of the wood. My life with Alan is still here. He never let go of
me completely, not really. Whereas I…y
ou, Chrissie, put him in a lockbox and
walked away.

“Holy crap! This is sure not what I expected Alan
Manzone’s house to look like.” Rene’s voice pulls me from my stupor. I turn.
She’s across the room studying the paintings on the wall. “This is a
Guillaumin. This is a Cassatt.” She stares at me, arching a brow. “You do
realize we’ve just broken in to a house full of millions of dollars of art.”

The way she says that makes me almost laugh. “I
told you. He invited me to stay here. We didn’t break in. I have a key.”

She drops down heavily on a couch and starts
grabbing things off a table, studying them then setting them back.

“Do you want a drink?” I ask.

She shrugs. “Sure, why not? It might make it less
creepy to be here.”

The bar is fully stocked. I pour us each a scotch
straight up. I set the glasses on the coffee table and sink down to sit on my
knees across from Rene.

She lifts her glass. “Scotch, huh? You only drink
scotch when you’re trying to work through something, Chrissie.” She takes a sip
of her drink. “Seriously, what’s going on with you? Why are we here?”

I shake my head, debating whether to discuss this
with her. I run my fingers through my hair, frustrated with myself and these
odd impulses inside me that flash out of nowhere and can’t be contained.

“This will probably sound lame but it kind of
feels like I’m trying to retrace my steps. How I ended up married to Neil. What
happened with Alan and me. Hopefully try to make sense of my life.”

“Perfectly normal.”

Normal? None of this is normal. The house. How it
makes me feel. And what I am considering so quickly even before I’ve officially
ended my marriage to Neil. Hell, I haven’t even talked to my husband since that
night, and my thoughts are held captive by Alan.

I change the subject. “Do you want to go walk on
the beach?”

She checks her watch. “Sure, we’ve got time. Not
a lot. But we can do a quick walk. That should be fine.”

I smile over Rene’s hyper-organized tendencies
and spring to my feet. At the glass doors to the patio, I look back to see Rene
grabbing the bottle of scotch from the bar.

She gives me the
look
. “What? Don’t stare
at me that way. It’s after lunch. I can have a drink or two.”

My brows shoot up. “I didn’t say a word.”

“You, Chrissie, don’t have to.”

I kick off my shoes, leaving them next to an
outdoor chair, and make my way to the sand. The sun is a sinking red ball
dipping into the Pacific. There are a few people littering the sand, but not
many, and it’s surprisingly quiet here.

We walk in silence for a while. I shove my hands
into my pockets. There is just enough coastal mist in the air to make the wind
chilly.

“In all the times Alan and I were here, do you
know we never once walked on the beach together?”

Rene takes a long pull from the scotch bottle.
“Probably wouldn’t have been a smart thing to do. Christ, I still can’t believe
you had an affair with a married man all through college and never told me
about it until after it ended. That hurt me, Chrissie. It really hurt.”

Inwardly I flinch from the
married man
part
.
I sink down to sit in the sand and Rene settles beside me. I stare
at the water, searching for the right words to say.

I lie back in the sand. “You and Neil were so
tight by the time we graduated Berkeley. I was afraid you’d tell him if I told
you about Alan.”

Rene shoots up into a half-sitting position
leaning on an arm, staring down at me, partly furious and partly annoyed. “It
might have worked out better for you if I had told Neil about you and Alan.
Which I wouldn’t have. Shit, Chrissie, I’m a better friend than that and you
should know it.”

I shake my head, closing my eyes since not all
the memories of Berkeley are good.

“It just got crazy at the end, Rene. Breaking up
with Neil. Alan dumping me. Neil coming back. Everything moving too quickly all
at once. Finding out I was…”

My words clog in my throat. I open my eyes to
find Rene staring at me speculatively, but I ignore the question in her eyes
and lift the bottle from her fingers.
No, Chrissie, no. Don’t tell her about
the abortion. Don’t open that lockbox today.

I take a long drink. That part of my history I
don’t ever want to share with anyone else ever again. I think of Alan and push
it away. Nope, not talking about this one.

We lie in the sand, passing the bottle back and
forth and not talking. Above us the sky is starting to fade into darkness and
the sand feels good beneath me. Behind me are the hushed tones of a couple
talking, in the distance faint music and in front of me is only the sound of
the waves. The sounds are familiar and calming.

Startled, I realize the sky is dark and it’s
night. I let the minutes drift away without even noticing it. I turn my head.
How long has Rene been doing nothing but lying in the sand, silent, staring at
me?

“I don’t know what to do, Rene.”

Rene seems to give it thought. “You know what I’d
do? Instead of lying here in the sand thinking about Alan, I’d grab hold of him
tonight and fuck him until he’s raw. You need to get laid. You need to feel
like a woman so you can manage your life like a woman. That’s why we’re here.
It’s why you’re obsessing about Alan tonight. It doesn’t mean anything. Not
really, and you don’t owe Neil anything so you shouldn’t beat yourself up over
thinking about it. Just get it out of your system, Chrissie. Get both Neil and
Alan out of your head. Then, take a breath and figure out what you want to do.”

And just like that, out of nowhere, Rene can read
almost every thought in my head.
Almost
—she missed the part about me
being in love with Alan and not wanting him out of my head. But nearly perfect.

Rene springs to her feet and begins to brush the
sand from her legs. “We need to head out, Chrissie.”

I let out a ragged breath and climb from the
sand. On the way to the house, Rene loops her arm around my neck.

“Everything is going to be OK.”

I nod. “I know.”

“It’s always crummiest before it gets better.”

I start to laugh. “When did you come up with that
one? That one was not motivational at all, Rene.”

“Just now. I think I’ve had too much scotch to be
creative, profound or eloquent. And darkest before the dawn is so trite.
Crummiest before better sounded way better in my head.”

I study her face. “Shit, are you drunk already?”

“Almost, not quite. We’re going out tonight like
in the old days. I get to watch my best friend live on stage. I’m sure there’s
a concert after-party somewhere. And we don’t have to go home. We don’t have to
say no to anything. We both don’t have anyone waiting for us tonight. We can
just be Santa Barbara girls gone wild.”

The
don’t have anyone waiting for us tonight
remark
makes my emotions sharply adjust and then my mood plummet.

We wash off our feet on the patio and collect our
shoes.

“I’m not going to any after-party,” I announce,
slipping my feet into my sandals.

“Well, you can’t fuck Alan out of your system
unless you go where he is.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re ridiculous. I’m not going
to fuck Alan tonight. I’m not ready to start anything with anyone yet. I
haven’t even spoken to Neil since that night.”

I open the patio door. I step into the room and
freeze.

Oh fuck.

A woman turns to face me.
Elaina.
Alan’s
latest supermodel bed partner. Her sultry eyes lock with mine and my stomach shimmies.
I feel small and inferior and not at all pretty just being in the same room
with her.

She frowns, setting her purse on a table in a
single graceful move. “Chrissie, what are you doing here?”

Her voice holds a sharp edge, potently
suggestive. I flush.
How awful is this?

I force a smile. “I was just leaving, Elaina.”

“Alan said he wouldn’t be here until tonight.
After the concert.” She gives me a sharp once-over, leaving very little doubt
what she’s thinking about finding me here. The heat on my cheeks turns into a
full burn. “Where is he?”

I grab my keys from my pocket. “I don’t know
where he is. He’s not here. And he hasn’t been, Elaina. My mistake. I thought
no one would be here until tomorrow.”