Don’t You Want Me

Chapter 3

T he next day, Lisa decided that whatever had happened the night before was just a figment of her overactive imagination, some sort of a half-conscious dream. She’d been working long hours and hadn’t been taking care of herself. She was determined to change her routines and practice self-care. There’d be no more secret rendezvous meetups. She was going to focus on herself and break up with Adam. In her heart, she knew this relationship was wrong, that she deserved better, and that Adam’s wife deserved better too. Not to mention Marcus. Without Adam taking up space in her thoughts and heart, she’d be able to think clearly, get a divorce from Marcus, and start a new life away from men who were not available. That was the honorable thing to do for everyone involved.

At her office and in another boring meeting, Lisa’s phone buzzed next to her notepad. She took her attention away from the speaker and looked down. Adam was calling. She had been keeping an eye on the phone all morning, wondering when, or if, he was going to explain what happened the night before.

She hit the Decline Call button with the “Can’t talk. Busy” message. After her decision to stop the affair, she wasn’t going to engage with him anymore until she was ready to speak clearly to him. She was grateful, though, that he wasn’t lying in a ditch somewhere. Maybe his not contacting her last night was a sign that she was now going to do the right thing.

She tried to refocus on the meeting. The motivational speaker that her company had hired to inspire them to make stronger pitches to clients was not motivating her away from Adam thoughts.

What was it about him that kept her tethered to him? This relationship wasn’t good for her. Emily knew and had been vocal about it. “You spend too much time thinking about him, Lisa,” was Emily’s usual admonition. “Adam is an obsession. And you’re forgetting the impact you’re having on others by continuing this ridiculous affair.”

Long ago, she had aspired to greatness. She was going to work hard, become a wealthy partner, eventually open her own marketing firm, conquer the world, travel. She was going to do this while raising a family. Things hadn’t gone as she’d expected, of course. Seth’s death had interrupted her dreams of raising a family in a loving marriage. She and Marcus had become distant, lost from one another as if the baby’s death had created a wall between them that couldn’t be breached. And although she’d achieved the goal of partner, she wasn’t bringing in as much business anymore. She would set goals, but then she was too distracted to meet them. In the back of her head, she still had those big plans, but, somehow, they seemed to belong to someone else now. If she were to listen to this motivational speaker at all, she had not done enough for herself or her goals. She had abandoned her dreams. Nothing seemed to spark her interest anymore unless there was some connection to Adam. And life with him was full of lies. How was she supposed to grow as a person or in her business when her head was occupied with Adam—where he was, what he was doing, when she would see him again. And more often than she cared to admit—when would he leave his wife?

Her phone buzzed again. This time it was Marcus. Her husband rarely texted. She declined his call too. There was nothing to say to him. Whatever he wanted likely involved him being away from home again.

Unavailable men surrounded her. Why did she attract that? she wondered.

She refocused on the meeting. Someone was blathering about setting goals and intentions and writing out a five-year plan. The phone buzzed once more. This time Adam was texting. “I’m really sorry about last night. I got caught up at work and then couldn’t call. Please forgive me. I really miss you. Meet me tonight for dinner so I can make it up to you.”

Her heart raced a little at seeing his message. She was tempted to leave the room to respond, but she was determined to start a new life.

When the meeting was finally over, in the quiet of her office, Lisa texted Emily. “Hey, want to have dinner tonight?”

Emily replied quickly. “What’s the matter? Adam is busy?”

Ouch, that stung. After a few seconds, there was another text from Emily. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be snarky. Yes, I’m free, let’s have dinner. The usual place?”

***

Lisa and Emily had been dining at Scaramella’s for years. It was their favorite Italian spot, hidden in plain sight on a corner of a busy street in Dobbs Ferry, New York. Red and white tablecloths, red napkins, tables big enough to hold the vast plates of food. It was a family restaurant, despite the large bar in the front. Old men sat there watching baseball or football depending on the season. The single guys, the widowers, the husbands who wanted a meal while watching TV without children interrupting ate at the bar. The regulars sat at the bar ordering their usuals. Long ago, Lisa told Emily that maybe they should be eating at the bar. They were clearly regulars by now.

The menu was large and full of daily specials. The staff had been the same for decades it seemed. Vito, the owner, knew them by name. Hostesses came and went as if through a revolving door. They were always pleasant and pretty in black dresses and red lipstick.

Lisa arrived first. She stayed in her car waiting for Emily. She didn’t want to deal with Vito by herself tonight. Her phone buzzed with another text message. Adam had been texting all day, and she had been avoiding him. She needed space to figure out what was going on before she saw him again. That dream of him young and in college was too vivid. She couldn’t shake it. Emily might be able to help her sort out reality from wild imagination.

Lost in her thoughts, Lisa didn’t notice Emily knocking on her car window. Startled, she jumped in her seat, took a breath, and got out of the car.

“Hey, sorry I’m late. Why are you sitting in the car?” Emily asked.

Lisa didn’t have an answer. “I don’t know. I wanted to walk in with you. Come on let’s go, I’m starved.”

As usual, when Lisa and Emily arrived, Vito personally took charge of them. While he was taking them to their favorite table in the back, Carlo walked over to the bar to grab a chilled bottle of the Chardonnay they usually drank.

Vito took their jackets. “You girls look good enough to eat. If I wasn’t a happily married man…. Madonna, what I wouldn’t give to be young and free again.” He talked with his hands, laughing at his own joke. Lisa and Emily joined him, giving each other the look that said, How many times has he said the same th ing to us?

Carlo came over with the wine, and a young new waiter brought bread and olive oil. Carlo was training him well. “So, what will it be today ladies? Did you look at the menu?”

Lisa replied, “What for? You know we always order the same thing. Chicken paisano, Carlo. Why mess with perfection?”

Carlo laughed. “You know that’s not on the menu, right?”

Lisa scanned the menu again and snapped her finger on it. “That’s weird. It’s been in here for the past twenty years.”

Emily chimed in, “You’re the one being weird, Lisa. I’ve never heard of that dish. We always order chicken parmigiana. Why would you change now?”

Carlo shrugged his shoulders. “You’re such good customers, we’ll cook anything for you.” He opened their bottle of wine, poured, winked while he said “ Saluti ,” and left.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into me,” said Lisa.

Emily raised an eyebrow quizzically. “Well, maybe you’re stressed out and forgot. Pay it no mind. A glass of wine cures all memory ills.”

Lisa wondered about the mix-up, but brushed it away to focus on her best friend. Here they could talk, laugh, drink wine, and not be bothered by the waiters until it was time to close. It was the perfect place where Lisa could share what she’d been feeling all day, this angst that she couldn’t understand, and the unsettling notion that she was losing her mind by thinking she was traveling into the past.

“Well, what’s going on? I can always rely on you for some good drama.” Emily smiled. She cocked her head to the side and squinted behind her glasses. “Did you do something different to your hair?”

“No, why?” Lisa replied.

“I don’t know. You look different. Did you always part it to the side?”

“It usually parts in the middle naturally, but today it parted to the side on its own. I don’t know why.”

“Huh.” Emily tightened her mouth. “But you seem…I’m not sure of the right word. Worried, frazzled, annoyed. Which one is it?”

“I’m all of them.” Lisa didn’t know how to start the conversation about the daydream last night.

“Did Adam ever show up?”

“No. He never called or texted last night. He called and texted me today, but I didn’t respond. I needed time to think and talk to you.”

“I don’t know what to tell you….” Emily’s voice trailed off, then gathered strength. “What do you see in this guy?”

“Lots of things. Plus, I’m in love with him.” Lisa tried to sound confident but failed.

“You’re not convincing me that you’re in love. I think you’re just infatuated and bored.” Emily continued to stare at her. “Are you sure you didn’t do something else? You look different.”

“OK, I have to talk to you about this dream I had. I think I’m losing my mind.” Lisa told her the story of the steps, of the song “Don’t You Want Me” that she’d been listening to just before she was transported to the past. She regaled Emily with the history of the band called The Human League and of its lead singer, Philip Oakey. She told her everything, including finding herself back in the train station. When she was done, Emily was still silent; in fact, she was quiet for a long time. Dinner arrived. Emily picked up her knife and fork and started eating.

Lisa was nervous that her friend would think she had finally cracked. “Aren’t you going to say something?”

“I’m not sure what to say. You tell me you went back in time, you were aware of who you were then, and now you remember it all. Sounds like a bad trip on drugs, Lisa. Did you tell Adam about this?”

“Of course not! He’ll think I’m nuts.”

Emily laughed. “Honey, maybe you are.”

Lisa was annoyed now. She’d poured out her heart, and her best friend was laughing. She laid her head in her hands in despair. “I don’t know what to think anymore. Maybe I need a vacation.”

Emily put down her fork and gripped Lisa’s hand. “Maybe you need a break from this guy. This could be your subconscious telling you to let him go. He’s no good for you. He’s never going to leave his wife.” Emily stopped talking and took a deep breath. “Plus, there’s Marcus to consider. He doesn’t deserve this from you, Lisa. No matter what happened with Seth, you shouldn’t keep punishing Marcus. It’s not fair.”

Lisa’s eyes welled up, and she slammed her hand on the table. “Stop talking about the baby or Marcus. You know that subject’s not up for discussion.” In a stern tone, she continued. “Plus, you don’t know what Adam will do. You just don’t know him. He loves me.”

Emily raised her voice in response. “Well, if he loves you then why am I the one having dinner with you and not him? Why is he still married? And now you’re having these delusional hallucinations, or dreams, where you’re going back in time. This is your mind playing tricks on you. Why don’t you take a break from him and go away for a little while? Maybe a vacation by yourself so you can figure out what you really need.” Emily meant well, but she was starting to annoy Lisa. All this good advice was far from good.

Dinner finally over, Lisa turned down Carlo’s offer of coffee or tiramisu. “Since when do you pass on dessert?” Emily said.

“I’m just not feeling right. I need to go home and walk the dog. Poor Jojo’s been alone for a long time tonight. Marcus left me a voice message that he’s going away on a quick business trip to Boston.” And maybe, she thought, this will give her a chance to clear her head.

Emily and Lisa walked to the parking lot and said goodbye as usual—a big hug and “Text me when you get home so I know you’re OK.”

***

Lisa sat in her car after dinner with Emily, checking for text messages and listening to voicemails before she headed out onto the highway. She didn’t want to deal with Marcus’s recent renewed attempts at closeness, his eyes piercing hers sometimes as if he knew she was up to no good. At the very least, she owed him the courtesy of returning his call, especially since she had ignored his text message.

Frowning, she listened to the voicemail, her guilt adding to the sadness in his voice. “Hi. I called to tell you I have to go to Boston for a couple of days. That deal I’ve been working on is blowing up. I’m going home now to pack then I’m headed straight to the airport. The company’s sending their plane to pick me up. Sorry for the short notice. I’ve called the dog walker and made arrangements in case you’re home late tonight. I’ll call you later.” She was right when she told Emily she’d be alone for a few days without intrusions or guilty associations near her. While in the beginning of their marriage, Marcus’s work had been a curse with the long hours and responsibilities, now it was a gift of freedom.

He was a lawyer at a large firm representing corporations and foundations. His strength was in creatively resolving problems. At six foot three, boasting a muscular build, dark wavy hair with a shock of white by the forehead, and green eyes, Marcus commanded attention when he walked into a room. Men and women were mesmerized when he smiled and started talking.

Her head shook at the incongruity of her husband’s talent. How was it possible that he was such a good communicator with strangers and clients, yet in a relationship he was incapable of understanding her perspective? He worked crazy hours, and she had all kinds of late meetings, so a week could easily pass without them running into one another. Lately she wondered whether he had a woman somewhere. Between his travels and her absences, he certainly had plenty of opportunity.

She listened to his message a second time to make sure she had gotten the details of his being gone. There was a sad note in his voice. She’d detected it in the past but often ignored it. Today, a pang of regret wouldn’t let her skip over it. She found herself remembering how good it had been in the beginning. They had been nearly inseparable after Emily introduced them. She had been dogging Lisa for weeks to meet this handsome guy who worked with her. Lisa wasn’t disappointed when she relented and went on a blind date with him. They connected, they dated, and she was smitten. And so was he. They wrote each other letters, the old-fashioned type on pretty stationery, mailed with a stamp. She got him into reading fiction. He got her to watch sports. On Sundays they would go to a local bar with friends to have beers and watch football. They had fun together. They had each other.

After about five years, she called him unexpectedly one morning while he was at work. “Hey babe. Want to meet for a drink at Martini’s? This afternoon?”

“I have to work late. Don’t you?” he replied.

“Come on, live a little. You already know you’re going to become a partner. Plus, one drink at Martini’s will make you work harder tomorrow.” She laughed. “Please?” She remembered intentionally using her silky voice, the one he couldn’t resist.

Later that afternoon, she watched him through the storefront window at Martini’s. He was nursing a beer and looking at his watch, probably irritated that she was late. She remembered the details of the day as if it had been yesterday. It was one of those picture-perfect Manhattan days when the weather was just a blend of warm and cool, sunny and breezy, the kind of day every movie director wishes she could film. Lisa remembered sauntering in as if she had not a care in the world. “What are you drinking, sailor?” she asked as she put her arms around his waist while he sat on the bar stool. She smiled and batted her lashes.

He smiled back, returning the hug. “The usual beer ma’am. Would you like one?”

“Hmmm…I’d love one, but I can’t. I’m drinking for two, you see.”

Thinking back to that day, Lisa noticed she had almost forgotten how brightly he smiled when he realized the significance of her announcement.

After announcing to the bartender that he was buying a round of drinks for everyone in the bar to celebrate that he was going to be a father, he leaned over the bar, took a maraschino cherry from one of the containers, popped off the fruit and twisted the stem into a ring. “Babe, will you make me the happiest man on earth and marry me?” He was choked up, tears threatening at the corners of his green eyes. God, Marcus had the greenest eyes. Lisa felt they could see through her.

She had laughed at the impromptu proposal. “Marcus, if you’re going to propose with a fruit ring from a bartender’s collection, you’ll have to get on one knee.”

The whole restaurant cheered for them. Life was going to be heavenly.

As if wanting proof that her memory was real, Lisa pulled out her weathered blue wallet and opened the little zippered pocket. In there, bent and dried, was the cherry stem that had once stood as proof of their love. She took it out gently, conscious of its fragile state, marveling even now how it had lasted in one piece for so long. For a brief moment, she actually missed Marcus. She even missed the person she had once been. How did their life get so empty?

Everything with their wedding had worked out as planned, down to the honeymoon in Niagara Falls because Lisa was being careful and didn’t want to fly anywhere while she was pregnant. They drove all those hours, singing at the top of their lungs in their best shower voices. They had it all.

Or so it seemed.

Lisa’s mother was joyous at the wedding and later was thrilled to become a grandmother. She had started knitting baby clothes as soon as Lisa gave her the news.

Lisa put the phone down a bit too hard, frustrated, and out of sorts. She pulled her hair back into a ponytail. When life was out of control, she could at least control her hair.

Memories flowed in a torrent of despair. She and Marcus had returned from their honeymoon to find out her mother had had a stroke while she was home alone, cooking dinner for her and a neighbor, Bill, a widower who had just moved in next door. Bill found her on the kitchen floor, unresponsive. She was dead by the time the EMT guys arrived. When Lisa arrived the next day to visit her mother, she was already in the morgue. Bill was sweet and explained what happened and helped Lisa with the funeral arrangements.

Her mother had died alone.

Beyond distraught, Lisa had lost her compass and her best friend. Long walks with Emily helped, but only Marcus and the baby growing in her saved her from the stupor of grief.

She was joyous each time the baby kicked. Albeit still grieving, she chose nursery furniture and baby clothes, read all the expectant mother books, prepared herself to be a mother in the absence of her own.

But then more tragedies struck. She lost the baby, and then the next. With each miscarriage, she wondered if she was being punished for not being with her mother when she died. Tensions with Marcus were high. She was committed to being a mother, and he just wanted a happy wife again. Finally, after years of trying everything and failing, she lay in bed for months with her last pregnancy. She was determined that this one would live.

The baby came three months early, in the middle of the night, when all bad things happen. Seth was tiny, little more than a pound of butter, and not much bigger than that. His foot was smaller than the first knuckle of Marcus’ thumb. They essentially lived in the hospital’s neonatal unit for five agonizing months. Lisa spent all her waking hours by the baby’s incubator. She quit her job. Eventually Marcus returned to work, but he was a fixture at Lisa’s side during all his nonwork hours.

Seth came home in the summer, tiny and on medication, but improving. Life became a series of adjustments with a sickly child.

Nine months after being home, Seth still had weak lungs. The pediatrician said that Seth would feel better if he had an operation to help his breathing. They did not have to do it now, but the benefits of the procedure increased while Seth was still small.

Lisa hesitated, afraid of putting the baby at risk. Marcus, the optimist, said, “The doctor assured us he’ll be fine. Don’t you want to ease his breathing problems?”

Marcus was persuasive.

Lisa reluctantly agreed.

The surgery was a complete success. Seth was scheduled for monitoring in the hospital for just a few days. The nurses convinced Lisa she didn’t need to sleep at his bedside. Marcus joined in their request. His words were still seared in her memory. “Babe, let’s go home and get some rest. He’s sleeping well; he’s in good hands. We haven’t slept in our own bed in days. We’ll be back first thing in the morning to take him home.”

She relented, bone tired and believing all of them, especially Marcus.

That night, Lisa woke up, cold sweat drenching her nightgown. The phone rang at the same time. Seth was in distress.

She yelled at Marcus to wake up as she threw whatever clothes she could find over her nightgown. They drove in silence, running through every red light, barely slowing down to see what was headed their way.

By the time they reached the hospital, Seth was gone. He had contracted a virus, one of those bugs that live in hospitals, the ones they warn you about. Stay out of hospitals, they say. That’s where you get sick, they say.

Her son, like her mother, died alone, without her there.

Even after all these years, she still felt an ache in her chest, like the missing of a phantom limb.

At the hospital a nurse sedated her when she became distraught at the news of her son’s death. A coolness descended upon her, like a shroud embedded into her bones. She turned herself into stone, numb to the unspeakable pain.

For weeks, she did not utter a word, not even to Marcus. She communicated by writing on a notepad. Unable to work, to see friends, to do anything other than sit and watch television, she stayed home for months. She refused medication; she refused help; she refused to speak.

Eventually, she let Emily sit with her on the sofa in silence. As the spring days got warmer, Emily would come over after work, and sometimes they’d walk in the park.

It must have been an odd sight to see—two women walking hand in hand while one talked, and the other didn’t respond. Behind her back, Emily and Marcus searched for ways to bring Lisa back to the land of the living. The priest who married them tried to help. But Lisa wanted no more platitudes or relentless bullshit that her son was an angel. She had trusted Marcus that they could leave Seth that night. She had believed him when he said the baby would be fine without them.

He lied.

She would never forgive him.

Her son had died alone.

Marcus was responsible.

And so was she for believing him. She would never forgive herself either.

Marcus gave her a puppy he named Jojo, thinking a living creature at home might ease their distance. Even that didn’t work. The dog became a source of comfort for each of them but did nothing to bring them together.

After almost a year of silence, she called Marcus at work one late afternoon. In a flat voice, the first words she uttered to him in all that time were, “I’m going on a job interview tomorrow.” Without waiting for his response, she hung up the phone.

Once she started working, she started speaking to him again, but their relationship was never the same. She could have divorced him, but she could punish him more acutely simply by staying at his side. Her face would be a daily reminder that he was responsible for her pain. In truth, she was punishing herself also—for her failure as a daughter, as a mother, and as a wife. Without letting Marcus in on her secret, she had committed herself to punishing them both.

Emily eventually cajoled her into trying marriage counseling. It made no difference to her. She was the walking dead, so she could agree to anything. She and Marcus followed the counselor’s suggestions to create intimacy so as to find one another again. The counselor urged them to try to have another baby. Marcus thought creating another life would bring them together. Lisa saw him devouring books on how to reconnect. He brought her flowers for no reason, lit candles in the bedroom, and played soft music to create romance. Slowly thawing from her stupor, she remembered physical needs and stumbled into bed with him in a semblance of passion, going through the motions. It felt mechanical, and while they left each other physically satisfied, clearly neither was fulfilled. At times, Lisa pitied Marcus for how hard he tried to breach the wall Lisa had built around her heart.

Emily helped Lisa store in the attic all pictures, all memories, all traces of the baby, as if Seth had never been born. Lisa and Marcus pretended they’d never been parents, that they’d simply gotten married because it was the right time to do so. They lived shadow lives, pretending to be together, not knowing why they didn’t separate. Seth’s little ghost haunted their lives without anyone acknowledging his existence.

They never spoke about the baby again.