Chapter 2 #2
I was equal parts thrilled and tormented to talk to my old friend.
We’d met as roommates, freshman year of college, for which I would always be grateful.
Martin had taken me under his wing, sensing my reservedness immediately and befriending me when I wouldn’t have had a clue how to do the same.
We remained roommates and friends throughout our time in college and even for a little while after.
I was best man at his wedding, and he’d asked me to be godfather to his unborn child.
Instead, I found a job and moved to London before the child was born, politely declining the role.
I tuned back into the present-day conversation, realizing Martin had been describing his family’s move further from New York City years before.
“... walking distance to the beach, which we love. I opened a restaurant on the boardwalk, and then Austin goes and gets into Hampstead! I thought for sure he’d be a beach bum for life, like his old man. But no, he’s up in the mountains, studying to become a doctor if you can believe that!
“Anyway, what’d you say, lunch in the city? Or drinks, dinner, whatever. I’m an empty nester who runs a beachfront restaurant in the dead of winter. I’m looking for something to do, Randall. Help a guy out.”
I was still catching up and processing Martin’s words but had picked up on one thing. “Your son’s at uni already?” Much as I knew I’d been out of the country for over twenty years, it was still a shock to hear that Martin and his wife had a son in college.
My comment provoked another laugh from my friend. He scoffed as he said, “At uni. You know, here in America, we say in college.”
I chuckled along with Martin. “I suppose I may have picked up a few phrases over twenty years.” We were both quiet, the weight of not having spoken for so long hanging between us.
“But I'm not in New York,” I eventually blurted. “I mean, not near the city. I work from home mainly, and I bought a little cabin Upstate, not far from Hampstead as a matter of fact. I can’t believe your son is in college already.”
“You’ve been away a long time, my friend. I am sorry I didn’t stay in touch,” he offered as if I weren’t the one to have put distance between us. When I left, I didn’t reach out. I never shared my international number, and much to my ex-husband’s chagrin, I avoided social media altogether.
“But tell me about your move back. Are you here by yourself? Have you been to the Midwest yet to see your cousins? Oh, and your Aunt Nancy? That woman was scary. Remember when she came to graduation with your mom, and she made you put a suit on under your gown? I thought you were going to pass out, dude! You were drenched in sweat by the time we were done!”
I remembered distinctly how severe my aunt could be.
I laughed along with him before answering his underlying question. “And you had on nothing but a pair of shorts and a T-shirt under yours! I think I almost did pass out.
“But, no, I don’t really … I haven’t really been in touch with my family yet.” I didn’t add that I wasn’t likely to be in touch at all. “I’ve been so busy with the merger and getting settled. And yes, I’m here alone.”
“Oh.” Martin sounded a little surprised and immediately became the concerned friend I remembered. “Well. Are you going to surprise them for the holidays? Unless any of them traveled to London, you must have cousins you haven’t seen in years.”
“I’m not, no. Not planning to go to Kansas for the holidays. Or possibly ever.” I muttered that last part, falling right back into the habit of telling Martin almost everything.
I hadn’t stayed in touch with my family after my mother died any more than I had with Martin and Stephanie Lessand.
My mother had died during the months when Stephanie was pregnant.
I was an only child, and my father had passed away before I’d started college.
My extended family and my mother’s many friends surrounded me that weekend, but I was so thankful to have my best friend with me.
It was early enough in the pregnancy that Martin was able to travel with me to Kansas.
He was by my side the entire week. That week had been gut-wrenching on many levels, and it was the week of that funeral that I decided I had to get away from my best friend.
I had never come out to anyone, including Stephanie and Martin.
But when my mother told me she was sick, I had told her.
It hadn’t gone well, and she’d warned me to never tell anyone in my family about my “sinful secret.” “Especially your Aunt Nancy,” she practically wailed.
“She’ll be as disappointed that you have fallen as I am. ”
With how empty and alone I felt after telling my mother, it had been an easy choice not to tell the rest of my family.
I’d kept it from Martin and Stephanie as well but not because I thought they would shun me or think I was damned or whatever bullshit my family believed.
My reasons for not telling my best friends were very different and had taken me halfway across the world.
And here I was, back in the States and chatting with Marty as if no time had passed.
We talked for a few more minutes, Martin grilling me about my life over the past two decades and me steering the discussion back to my job with each question.
We ended the conversation with promises to keep in touch and with him insisting on visiting during his next trip to Hampstead.
I realized how much I missed Martin and his wife and how, after all the years—and all I’d learned about myself—I might not even mind interrupting my cloistered life for a visit from my old friends.
Maybe moving back to the US had been the right choice. Our company had merged with one of the pre-eminent tech companies in the world, and I had friends just a few hours away who lived near the beach.
Not two days later, I got another call from Martin.
Even though I had created a contact for Martin in my phone and knew full well who was calling, unlike the first time, I answered my cell in the manner I did with everyone who wasn’t my now ex-husband.
Picking up the phone was a task I hated.
The consistency of picking it up in the same manner each time gave me comfort.
“Randall Glenn.”
As if there hadn’t been a twenty-year pause in our friendship, he jumped right in.
“So here’s the thing, Randy.”
“The thing?” I chuckled. I remembered what it was like when Martin was about to ask me to do something out of my comfort zone. Many times, it started with the phrase, So, here’s the thing.
“I need a favor.”
“A favor? From me?” Unless he needed me to write computer code or tell him where the best takeaway was in Kensington, I couldn’t possibly imagine how I could do Martin Lessand a favor.
“Yeah. Austin is done with school soon, but with the restaurant and everything, it’s going to be tricky for me to get up there to pick him up.
” I could feel my brow furrow as snippets of my last conversation with Martin surfaced.
In particular, he had mentioned how not busy he was as the proprietor of a beachfront restaurant in the middle of winter.
“Tricky,” I repeated. I could always tell when my friend was bullshitting me, and it was clear he was doing so as he rambled on.
“Yeah, you know, all the holiday shoppers needing a place to eat. Anyway, I was thinking, if you're not going to Kansas for the holidays, and if you're not traveling back to England … I mean, are you going back to England for Christmas?”
I knew he was asking more than that. He was asking if I’d left anyone behind. Did I have a life, a family like his, with a successful wife and a son in college?
“No, Martin. I’m here now, permanently. Just a quiet holiday …”
He didn’t let me finish. “Great! Perfect! Then you can pick Austin up and come here for Christmas! It will be perfect! Aus needs a ride, and you need to spend the holidays with your old friends!”
“Do I now?” We had gone right into our old pattern. My tone was resigned as I said it, and I knew Martin knew I would do as he’d asked even though, really, using his son as an excuse to get me to visit seemed a bit out of line.