WISHBONE (3 page)

Matt and Julien could hear the young girls cackling and teasing the blonde as they left in a hurry.

Matt shook his head. His voice shot up an octave. “How the hell do you do that?”

“What? I can’t hear you.” Julien lied, pointing up at the sound system hanging over their heads.

“It’s the accent.” Matt narrowed his eyes in contemplation. He envied Julien for more than just his way with women.

Julien flashed him a grin, then laughed, “That girl was about to neuter you.”

Matt ignored Julien’s words, bouncing a finger as if to indicate he had it all figured out. “It can’t be the French thing alone,” he shook his head, and added, “… you look like money…and you’ve got that rugged
I’ve taken a punch or two
face...” He continued to scan Julien up and down, searching for his secret.

Matt’s choice of phrasing flooded Julien with memories of his father’s assault, “You scare me sometimes, you know?”

Julien got the attention of their favorite server. He held up two fingers and she knew what their order would be. He turned his attention back to Matt, all the while attempting to shake the memory of his father’s crushing fist.

 “Maybe if you ironed your shirt now and then
the birds
would give you the time of day.” Julien placed his cell phone on the table. “Why…you have Lily, and she’s beautiful. What do you want these little girls for anyway?”

Matt ignored the question and continued his analysis of Julien, “…and that moody thing…that, that… aloof thing you do...
anyway
, so Phil…” He hopped from topic to topic rambled incessantly about his conversation with their boss while Julien checked his phone. 

There was one text from Rachael.

Don’t 4get! [email protected] fountn. C U soon.

Luv U. XO

Julien text her back…

How could I forget? Happy anniversary, Mrs. Grenier. xoxo

Their drinks arrived. The server knew them well. In her mid-forties, a former exotic dancer now dressed in a catholic schoolgirl uniform—the bar’s required garb. Matt placed a hand on her shoulder to keep her close for the moment. He knocked his drink back, draining it in one swallow, and requested another.

He pointed to Julien. “You…?”

“No, I’m good with this. I have to leave soon. Meeting Rachael at the Met, remember?”

The server winked. “How you doin’, Julien?”

“Good, Brandy, et toi?”  He winked back at her.

“Rockin’ n’ rollin’, gorgeous…rockin’ n’ rollin’,” she said before leaving the table with an overstated swish of her hips.

Matt extravagantly mimed air-drums to Poison’s
Talk Dirty To Me;
Julien did everything in his power to ignore him.

Matt, still banging his head, drained some ice into his mouth and crunched it quickly, “The Met, that’s right. Couldn’t get out of that one, huh?”

“There are certain things we shouldn’t try to get
out of
, Matthew,” Julien said with a heavy sigh. He checked his phone again—
No reply
.

“So what do you think about that?” Matt asked.

“What? The Met?” Julien struggled to keep up with Matt’s erratic conversation.

“Phil! Dude, the account thing? Jeez…Julien, are you even listening to me?” Matt burst into another air-drum  fit.

Julien smiled. “I’m sorry, Matt. I have a lot on my mind today. By any chance, did you have ADHD as a child?”

“No, I didn’t…and like what stuff’s on your mind? Everything’s okay, right?” Matt paused his drumming.  “Rachael’s okay?” He rested his elbows on the table, leaning closer.

“Oui, yes, nothing like that. We’re just…discussing things.” Julien glanced at his phone again, now checking for the time of Rachael’s last text.

5:03p.m.

He was surprised she had not yet replied, but assumed she was in the shower or blow-drying her hair.

Matt knew Julien was not longing to talk about his private life, but tried to coerce him anyway. “Like what?” he asked. “What kind of discussion?”

“Nothing,” Julien insisted. He was not about to get into this with Matt.

 A goofy smile spread across Matt’s face, “Stuff about the baby?” he shifted one eyebrow higher than the other.

Julien stared at him.

How could Matt know their discussion had anything to do with having a baby?

He said THE baby.

 “THE baby? What baby?” Julien snapped.

Matt took his second drink from Brandy. “Lily told me, man. It’s all good.”

Julien changed his mind and motioned for a second drink of his own. 

He grew impatient. “Lily told you what?”

“When were
you
going to tell me?” Matt slapped Julien on the shoulder proudly.

Julien felt his blood pressure rise.

What the fuck is he talking about?

“What did Lily tell you, Matt?” It was Julien’s turn to drain his drink in one go.

“If our wives weren’t friends I wouldn’t know a damn thing about you, Julien,” Matt said. “I know you probably don’t want it getting around the office just yet, but I think it’s great, man. My brats are my life. You’ll see. You’re getting a late start, but…” Matt paused and set his drink down. The look on Julien’s face was suddenly obvious; Matt knew  he had made a huge mistake.

Julien stared down at his drink. The room was spinning. 

How could this be? 

Rachael has an IUD.

She wouldn’t…

Impossible.

Matt walked around the table to Julien’s side. “C’mon, let’s go have a smoke outside.” He wanted to get Julien out of the bar where they could talk away from the blaring music and house full of onlookers, and where he would have a better chance to perform damage control. 

Julien snapped and grabbed Matt by the lapel of his denim jacket drawing their faces close.

“You’re not joking, are you?” He would vow to forgive him immediately if Matt would only admit it was all a bad joke.

Matt glanced around the room nervously, but no one seemed to be looking in their direction.

“Hey man, c’mon. Let go, okay.” He could see beads of moisture forming on Julien’s temples. “Come outside, have a smoke with me.” He took hold of Julien’s wrists and pried his friend’s hands off his jacket.

“Tell me you’re fucking with me. You’re fucking around with me, right?” Julien was begging now.

“Julien… Man, I’m sorry. I thought you knew.”  Matt winced, furious with himself. “I’m so sorry, man. How could you not know by now? I’m such a freaking idiot!” 

Matt continued to reason, “Rachael’s known for over a month...Lily’s known for almost as long...I just found out a few days ago, I swear.” He held up his hand as if to pledge.

Nothing Matt said was helping. He had witnessed Julien in a wide array of emotions, but never had he seen such a pained and frantic look in this man’s eyes.

Matt’s shoulders slumped. “C’mon, Julien, fuckin’ come out and smoke with me, man. Let’s go outside, okay? Get some air. You’re sheet-white.” Matt walked away leaving Julien behind.

A moment later, the door swung open and Julien appeared. He groaned angrily, slapping his hands against the brick wall, then turned on a dime and pointed a finger inches from Matt’s face and latching onto his lapel once again.

“You don’t understand. Nobody can  understand.” He let go and turned away from Matt.

Julien paced in the falling snow. He lit a cigarette. “Mon Dieu.” He threw his hands up into the night air; he begged of some higher power, “What is she thinking?” he slapped a cupped hand to his forehead in despair.

Other smokers watched Julien’s display then, perhaps out of respect, went back into the bar.

Matt waited for the door to close behind them, “Julien try to calm down…you have to calm down.” He fumbled for the right words. “This is a good thing. You guys are set financially… Hell, Lily and I don’t make half your income and we’re raising three kids. I don’t understand what the big deal is…” He flinched as Julien spun in his direction. 

Matt held his hands up before him as if attempting to calm a wild animal. “Not that having a kid isn’t a big deal. I mean…you’re reaction is… it’s a little more than I would have expected, is all, but…” He was only making it worse; he feared uttering another word.

“It’s got nothing to do with money.” Julien said. It was times like this when he wished others knew what he had survived as a child. “It’s about experience, choice...” Julien shook his head and was about to storm off but turned back abruptly.

“I had a plan, Matt. I’m forty-five...I knew my future.” He threw his hands up at his sides and shook his head. “You wouldn’t understand. You can’t.”  He backed away. “I don’t want kids. It’s that simple, no?” 

Julien took a long drag and flicked his cigarette to the curb. “I’ve got to go,” he said, disappearing around the corner. He still had an hour before he would meet Rachael at the Met.

* * * *

Matt felt awful. Lily would kill him for this. How could he possibly explain such a fuck-up to his wife? Nevertheless make this up to Julien…or Rachael. It dawned on him that he had just destroyed their anniversary, adding salt to his own wounds. 

What have I done?
He thought. Disgusted with himself, he turned back into the bar to pay their tab and head home to face the music with Lily; he was sure Rachael would be calling his wife soon.

CHAPTER THREE

Rachael tossed a twenty-dollar bill through the Plexiglas window that separated her from the taxi driver.

“Keep it,” she said, leaving the cab in a hurry. 

The doorman rushed ahead of her to hold the lobby door. “Good evening, Mrs. Grenier. In a rush, I take it?”

“I’m so late, Arthur.” She flew past him skidding on the marble floor, the soles of her high heels wet with snow. She ran for the elevator hopping from one foot to the next and fumbling to remove her shoes on the go. Barefoot, she heard the bell sound and called out for someone to hold the door. Rounding the corner, she ran smack into the back wall of the elevator from the momentum. She attempted to catch her breath.

A lone passenger beside her; he gave a brief nod of acknowledgment. She recognized him as someone she occasionally noticed in the lobby, but they had never shared a conversation. He stepped forward and held out a hovering finger at the button pad, awaiting her instruction.

“Fourteen,” she said, flustered and holding a hand to her heaving chest as she regained her composure. “Thank you.” She nodded and licked her dry lips.

He was a well dressed, heavy-set man with stark white hair and long manicured beard, in his mid-sixties; he nodded again but stared straight ahead, all but ignoring her.

“It’s my anniversary. I’m running late.” She felt compelled to explain. 

The doors opened and the man stepped out without further acknowledgment.

The doors closed again. Rachael, now alone, watched the ornate number plaque above, its dial rising far too slow for her needs—she could not be late tonight.

“C’mon, c’mon.”
She stomped her bare feet petulantly, shaking the antique car.

 
Everything needed to be perfect tonight. Her heart continued to race and she wondered if it was entirely from sprinting, or if it were in part in anticipation of  finally telling Julien that they were pregnant, tonight. Regardless of their previous conversations, she was convinced that once Julien knew the truth, once he understood that the baby was coming, he would be more accepting of the idea. He would eventually realize what a blessing this child was. After all, this baby was nothing short of a miracle. The doctor admitted that the chance of becoming pregnant while wearing an IUD was extremely low; therefore, Rachael reasoned, this child was truly meant to be. Besides, all of Julien’s reasons for not wanting children were psychological and not based on their lifestyle or means. Julien did not want children because he believed he was unwanted as a child. She knew her theory was purely conjecture, as she had little information to go on. She was aware that his mother had died during his birth.
That mustn’t happen often these days,
she thought. He obviously had a tragic relationship with his father, whom she wasn’t sure was even alive today. There were probably a plethora of other reasons stemming from his abusive childhood, but this was information he refused to divulge. She loved Julien with every ounce of her being, but loving him was sometimes like appreciating a beautifully wrapped present without knowing what was inside. He was a good man with a great sense of responsibility. He was attentive, protective, and hard working. The sight of him still made her heart race like that of an infatuated teenager. Julien was a dedicated and loving husband, loyal to a fault. She knew so little of his past; he had no family, not even a childhood photo in his possession. 

Rachael shook the thought and reminded herself that no matter what happened tonight, she had to tell him about the baby. She had already allowed too much time to pass. She was three months pregnant and fast beginning to show. Hiding a pregnancy from her husband of nine years made an inexcusable mockery of their relationship. It was immoral and she was having difficulty looking at herself in the mirror. Regardless of her doubts and fears, she was telling him tonight. 

The bell rang and the elevator doors opened to floor fourteen.

Rushing down the hall, Rachael hunted for her keys at the bottom of her purse. Receipts, a half pack of gum and a hairclip fell to the carpet. She knelt to collect the mess and toss it all back into her purse before sliding the key into the lock. The door pushed open with the slightest touch—
it’s unlocked?
Her first thought was of a notice they received the week prior; something about all the apartments on fourteen having their showerheads replaced with water saving fixtures as part of the association’s
go green conversion.
Standing there in the hallway, she thought about this for a moment. She felt sure the notice had stated the work would take place next week, but knowing she had so much on her mind lately, she chalked the confusion up to her pregnancy brain.