Chapter Thirty-One
Life at NOY was more hectic than ever. The countdown to the gala had begun, and with the late change to the program, it was all hands on deck. Board members were in and out of the office?—which was a mixed blessing. Organizing RSVPs and making an initial pass at table arrangements were helpful; proposing menu changes?—or just gossiping over coffee?—was not.
Eliza was in the midst of following up with the vendors and sponsors who were contributing to the swag bags when yet another email notification popped up on her screen. She wished she could be one of those people who turned off notifications to avoid distraction, but she lived in fear of missing something important. She clicked over to her email.
It was from Ross.
Dear Eliza:
I’ve been thinking a lot since our conversation. Truthfully, I’ve been thinking of nothing else, which has made me useless as fuck to my students. When can we meet? I’m free this evening if that works for you.
—?Ross
“When can we meet?” Not Can we meet? Or I’d like to meet. But when . She started to compose a response but then abruptly pushed her chair away from her desk. Why should she jump just because he asked her to?
She took herself to the staff kitchen to make a cup of tea. She couldn’t decide if she was surprised to hear from him or not. She’d tried not to have any expectations, given his reaction?—and even did her best to convince herself that if they never spoke of the situation again, it might be for the best.
Why did it matter that he’d been biologically necessary to her existence? In the grand scheme of things, did that have any real relevance? She’d said as much to Aunt Claude when she’d called her.
“Only you can answer that, love,” Claude had replied.
“I mean, Dad’s gone now?—and you know how rocky things were with us, anyway. I know it’s ridiculous to have some kind of fantasy that Ross will be a new ‘dad’ to me. He’s a complete stranger.”
Her aunt’s voice was gentle. “Your head can know something that your heart doesn’t, though.”
“I suppose. And I guess... there’s just so much mystery about all of this. It’s hard not to want to know more about, well, about how I came to be. Who I am.”
“Who you are is Eliza Levinger. The person you’ve always been.” Aunt Claude paused. “The word ‘mystery’ is interesting, though. Is this about Ross? Or is it about your mom and who she really was?”
Maybe Aunt Claude was right. The letter had enabled Laura to speak to Eliza again, ten years after her death. Despite the havoc it had wreaked, on some level, it was a gift. And now Ross was potentially another one?—someone who had known Laura, intimately. Who could tell Eliza new stories. Give her new insights.
She strolled back to her office, her mug of tea in hand. Might as well get this over with.
Dear Ross:
Tonight works. Midtown is best for me.
—?Eliza
His response was almost immediate, proposing a bar near Grand Central Station. Apparently, this was a conversation requiring alcoholic lubrication.
Ross’s venue of choice was surprisingly kitschy. It was library-themed, with book-lined walls and pen-and-ink drawings. When Eliza arrived, he was already seated at a high-top table for two. In front of him were an iPad in a sleek leather case, a glass of water, and a scotch on the rocks. He looked up as Eliza approached.
She put her handbag on the table. “Hey,” she said, unwinding the scarf from around her neck.
“Hey.”
After draping her coat and scarf on the back of the empty chair, she sat, extremely conscious of her posture and not sure what to do with her hands. A server, clad all in black, appeared before either of them could say anything else.
“Can I get you something?” she asked, cheerfully oblivious to the cloud of awkwardness.
Eliza glanced at Ross’s drink. For some reason, she wanted to match his liquor level, but given the circumstances, she decided it was a bad idea. “Just a glass of chardonnay.”
“I’ll have another scotch rocks,” said Ross.
“Gotcha.”
The server made quick work of the drinks and soon returned with them. Ross lifted his in a toast, and Eliza clinked glasses, despite not knowing what they were toasting. Fatherhood? Family reunions?
He took a sip of his scotch and placed it back on the table, running the tip of his finger through the condensation on the surface. “First things first. I owe you an apology,” he said, lifting his eyes to her. “I shouldn’t have bitten your head off. But I was truly shocked. The idea that I’m your father... I still can’t wrap my head around it.”
Eliza realized her jaw was clenched, and she tried to release it. “Me, neither.”
His mouth curved into a small smile. “Well, there’s something we have in common.”
“My mom said we have the same eyes.” Ugh. She hadn’t meant to share something that personal so soon. But maybe on some level she was hoping he’d do the same?
He peered at her. “Maybe we do. I’ve never been good at seeing resemblances. Laura used to say I might as well have face blindness?—that thing where you can’t remember what people look like?—but that was just because I didn’t pay much attention to putting names to faces.”
Of course, Laura had had plenty of conversations Eliza wasn’t privy to, and a whole life before her birth, but she couldn’t get over how strange it was to hear this man talking about her. Especially with the degree of intimacy his tone suggested. It wasn’t the words, she realized, but the softness in his eyes as he spoke of her.
He swirled the ice in his glass, watching it as if mesmerized. “So Laura really never mentioned me?” he asked, without looking at her.
Eliza paused before answering, truly trying to reach into the recesses of her memory. Maybe there was a drawer, jammed shut, that she could pry open? But she could recall nothing Laura had ever said about her romantic life before Jack. Maybe, had she lived to see her daughter start dating, she would have shared some nuggets?—but given the secret of Eliza’s parentage, she probably would have trod very carefully. Eliza shook her head. “Not that I can remember.”
He looked up from the vortex in his glass. “Did they have a good marriage? Laura and Jack?”
Her eyebrows drew together. That was not a question she was expecting. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Really? I would think it would be obvious.”
“Because she cheated?” She tried to keep the annoyance out of her voice. “Look, I don’t know anything about that. At all. And the last two years they had together, she was dying. Before that, I was in middle school. What could I know about their marriage?”
He snorted. “I think kids know a lot more than we give them credit for.”
“Is that what you wanted to talk about? My parents’ relationship?”
Ross sighed. “I don’t know. I’m at a bit of a loss.”
“You’re the one who reached out to me,” she reminded him. This time the sharpness in her tone was evident.
He took another sip of scotch, as if to fortify himself. “You’re right. Okay. Look, this isn’t easy for me. Your mom...” He paused, looking at the ceiling for a moment. “She was the one who got away.”
“But you broke up with her !”
His eyes narrowed. “You said she didn’t talk about me!”
When would she learn to think before speaking? “She had a diary. My aunt Claude just found it recently.” She hurried on as he opened his mouth. “She didn’t write in it much. But she did say that. You dumped her.”
“And she’s right. I did. Because I was young and stupid. We were long-distance. I felt like I was missing out on things. I believe they call it ‘sowing one’s oats.’ And Laura was so sure about what she wanted. Husband, family, white picket fence. That wasn’t me. At least, it wasn’t me then. Probably isn’t me now, to be fair. I wanted to travel the world. Lead protests. Set things on fire. Figuratively speaking, I mean.” He smiled at her, but Eliza didn’t smile back.
He continued. “Anyway, when I saw her at the reunion, it was like no time had passed. I knew she was married and had a kid?—but she was the same girl. Woman. Just more beautiful. More sure of herself. Less likely to put up with my shit.
“She didn’t say much about Jack, but it sounded like things weren’t great. And, well, we ended up in my hotel room. Funny, because I wasn’t even going to book one. I thought I’d just drive back to the city after the party, but at the last minute I figured I might as well spend the night. I wonder if we hadn’t already had a room?—if we’d have had to stop and check in somewhere...”
Eliza wondered, too. She tried to picture the scene. Laura at twenty-eight, with a toddler at home, deciding to go to her ex-boyfriend’s hotel room. It didn’t feel real. And yet it was. Here she sat, living proof.
Ross took another sip, the ice clinking in his glass. “I thought it might be the start of something. But Laura was clear, she wasn’t leaving Jack.” He looked at Eliza. “She didn’t tell me she was pregnant. I heard through the grapevine that she’d had another kid. You.” As if that clarification was necessary. “I’ll be honest. I was crushed. But it was my own fault. I knew that. I got married myself not long after. In retrospect, probably for all the wrong reasons?—knowing that Laura was lost to me for good. It didn’t last. Partly because I didn’t want kids.”
Eliza raised her eyebrows. So nothing’s changed.
“I’d always been pretty anti kid. For all the ‘save the world’ reasons?—overpopulation, blah, blah, blah. But I think I also knew Hannah?—my ex?—and I weren’t cut out for the long haul.”
The server appeared at the table, startling them both. “Can I get y’all anything else?” She picked up Ross’s two empty glasses and put them on her tray. Eliza still had a swallow of wine left in hers.
“I think we’re fine,” Ross said, glancing at Eliza, who nodded.
“All righty, then. Wave at me if you change your minds.”
Ross cleared his throat after she’d walked away. “So,” he said.
“So,” Eliza echoed.
“I wanted to meet today to tell you where I’m coming from. Why I reacted the way I did.”
She searched his face, looking for some clue as to what was coming next. Somehow, she had the sense that it wouldn’t be good. But what would good be anyway?
“The thing is?—I don’t know what you want from me. If anything. But I do feel pretty confident that I can’t give it. To be fair, I haven’t ever been very good at giving women what they want. And to be honest, I’m not in a good place with all of this. I know it’s not your fault, but the idea that Laura didn’t tell me that I’m a father...? It’s not sitting well with me. I’m gonna need some time to...”
Eliza cut him off. When had this become the Ross Sawyer show? As far as she could tell, she was the only one here who had done nothing wrong. Unless being born was a crime. “Look. I’m not asking you for anything. I thought you deserved to know. And, of course, I was curious about you. But that’s it.” She wished that what she was saying were true. After all, she had no parents left. On some level, hadn’t she hoped Ross would embrace her? Be happy to learn of her existence? That they’d build a relationship? Of course it wouldn’t happen overnight, but given that they had both loved Laura, couldn’t that be a bond?
She stood abruptly. She wasn’t going to let him control this any longer.
“Eliza, wait. I’m not saying...”
She interrupted again. “I’m sorry. But I just lost my dad. Life for me is pretty shitty right now. I’m not going to listen to your problems on top of that. You decided to bang a married woman. That had nothing to do with me.” Of course, that married woman was equally responsible, a voice whispered in her head. The same woman who decided to keep this huge secret?—and reveal it at perhaps the worst possible time. Eliza had tried so hard to keep the door closed and locked on her anger at Laura, but it was in danger of being broken down. If she spent any more time with Ross, it was likely all her efforts would come to naught. “I know we’re going to have to deal with each other because of the gala and the award, but don’t feel you owe me anything else. You don’t.”
She swung her handbag off the back of the chair so fast that it collided with the wineglass on the table, knocking it to the floor, where it splintered into dozens of pieces. Ignoring it, she headed for the door so she’d be outside before she started to cry.