Chapter 10
Two days later I’m finally on the train uptown headed back to my apartment. The only baggage in the room was Paul’s Hermes luggage. Things have really changed. He’s getting a divorce, so there’s no reason this can’t work out, and if there is a reason, I don’t want to think about it. I just want my life to make sense and feel settled. Having Paul back could do that.
I didn’t tell him that every publisher, including Hurlington, passed on my submission. It still hurts too much. But I did tell him about the full-time opening at Brands to the Rescue and he thought it was a great idea. I die at the thought of working nine to five every day, but he said it would work better with his schedule, which is true. When I had deadlines with Justine, I had to work through the weekends or at night sometimes to juggle my part-time work and writing for her. It was hard to be spontaneous when he wanted to drive out to the Hamptons for the weekend or spend the afternoon at his favorite suite at The Carlyle.
The train stops and passengers shove their way in but I’m so much in my fantasy I barely notice that someone is standing on my foot. All I can think about is living as a couple with Paul in Tribeca. It feels so adult, so stable, so… expensive. I don’t know how much he pays in rent, but I’m sure even half is more than I pay for my tiny apartment, and I will not let him pay more than his share. How much sense does it make to live my big adult dream with my boyfriend paying my rent? The full-time position at Brands couldn’t have come at a better time. A Senior Brand Manager salary will make me more solvent; otherwise, I don’t think I could do it. I’ve got to get that job.
‘Please stand clear of the closing doors,’ the robot conductor announces as the train pulls out of the next station and I stay in my fantasy about Paul. As he was getting in his car for the airport he pulled me toward him and said, ‘One hundred and nine.’ I didn’t know what he was talking about and then he explained. ‘That’s how many days until my divorce is final and I’ll be back in New York with you.’ Then he pulled me toward him for one last long lingering kiss. Before I had even gotten to the end of the block he texted me telling me how much he already missed me. It was so romantic and thoughtful.
At least it should have been romantic and thoughtful. Now I can’t help thinking about the fact that the sex was a bit of a disappointment. Everything worked and went where it was supposed to go with the intended consequences, but still, it wasn’t mind-blowing like it used to be. Is the fact that he’s actually getting divorced lessening the thrill? Did I spend so much time trying to get over him that I actually did without knowing it? Paul is still exactly the type of guy I want to be with so I’m sure it was just something about being apart all summer and maybe even the pressure from only having two days together. It used to be amazing and I know it can’t be that way every time but this weekend it was just sort of ho-hum.
The train rumbles along, trying to push me back to reality, but I resist it. Paul’s getting a divorce and we are going to make things work. The sex will get better. I stand up as we approach my stop, but instead of the train slowing down, it speeds up. We zoom forward. The loudspeaker crackles and an MTA person says something like the train is being re-routed to an express track and that annoyingly chipper pre-recorded voice comes on and apologizes for ‘the unavoidable delay’. I sit back down and accept my fate. Station after station rushes by in a blur of grit and color. Sometimes the MTA takes you to a station you aren’t planning on and you have to get home on your own. That’s part of living in New York.
Forty minutes later I’m on my block walking toward my building when reality barges in. ‘Excuse me, young man, I’m late for work,’ a woman says, racing past me. She turns and says, ‘Oh, you aren’t a young man. You’re my son.’ She throws her arms around me squeezing out all the oxygen from my lungs.
‘Mom, Plant Daddy doesn’t open for another hour. How can you be late?’
‘I need to study. I want to be ready for anything.’
‘It’s only your second week. You have worked a total of three shifts. I’m sure you’ll figure out all the coffee drinks and what plants need what.’ I walk with her and try to stifle a yawn. I don’t want her asking any questions about why I’m so tired or where I’m coming from.
‘I already know all that. I’m trying to learn these,’ she says pulling out a stack of cards from her purse and handing them to me.
I thumb through the cards with blocks of color on one side. ‘I have no idea what these are.’
‘They’re flash cards. On one side, I have the colors of the flag, and on the other side, the group that flag represents. Oh, see that one on the top is tricky. Gray, white, purple, and black can mean asexual, but when it has the little triangle, that means demisexual. I don’t want to mess them up.’ She repeats the names of the colors to herself and then the group like she’s studying for the bar exam.
‘Mom, no one is going to quiz you on this. People just want to chill and drink coffee and buy plants that they’ll bring home and kill.’ I discreetly rub my eyes so she doesn’t see how tired I am.
‘That’s not how it works at all. I want to make sure everyone feels comfortable and welcome and…’ She stops walking and turns toward me. ‘Wait? Why are you on your way home. Where were you?’
This woman does not miss a trick. I scramble for a cover story. ‘I was helping Omar with a fitting at Vanata. He had a big deadline for a show and we hung out there all weekend.’
‘Uh huh,’ she says and starts walking again. I’m not entirely sure she believes my story but at least she isn’t hounding me about it. She looks at her watch and then runs ahead of me. ‘Come down once you’ve had a shower and conditioned your hair. It’s looking a little dry. You can help quiz me on the flags during my shift.’
She heads into Plant Daddy and I run upstairs to Omar’s apartment.
‘Tell me everything,’ he instructs, standing up from his sewing machine.
‘First, I told my mom I was helping you at work all weekend.’
‘Got it. What did we have for lunch?’ He grabs a pen and a piece of paper to take notes.
‘I had a tuna melt and you had a bowl of vegan chili. We split a slice of pie.’
‘What kind? You know she’ll ask and compare our answers.’
‘Oh, I know. We wanted cherry but they were out so blueberry.’
‘Tuna. Chili. Cherry to Blueberry,’ he races through the list. ‘Got it. Now tell me everything.’ He moves a few bolts of fabric off his couch and makes a place for us both to sit.
I know he doesn’t approve of anything to do with Paul but he’s my best friend so I also know he won’t judge me too harshly. I go over every detail with him although I slightly exaggerate my opening resolve and don’t let him know how quickly I gave in. I make sure to emphasize the retainer for the divorce Paul showed me and how great everything felt with Paul. I don’t mention that the physical stuff was less than overwhelming.
‘Well,’ he says and takes a big breath in and out followed by, ‘I see.’ I didn’t think he would jump in with me on the enthusiasm train. Omar had a front row seat to the drama so of course he’s a bit leery.
‘It’s really happening this time,’ I say and hand the copy of the retainer to Omar, who rubs his thick beard and looks it over. It feels silly to be so procedural but it’s evidence that things are different.
‘I guess this is legit but, Sam, a piece of paper is only worth as much as the paper it’s written on if the intention isn’t there.’
‘You’re right. I know this isn’t a guarantee but this is more than he has ever done before and he made me feel good about myself. That’s not a feeling I’ve been having lately. And his marriage was the biggest obstacle. Now that he’s finally ending it, there aren’t any other mountains to move.’
‘What about the mountain downstairs currently learning to make cappuccino without using a heaping teaspoon from the jar of instant coffee she carries around?’ Omar asks standing up and putting his hands on his hips.
I had forgotten about that one hurdle. When I ran into her downstairs I was still on my high from being with Paul so I didn’t think through her reaction.
‘She’ll never accept him as your boyfriend. You know that.’
‘You’re right.’ My mother despises everything about Paul. He’s too stuffy, too old, and lives in Tribeca, a highly respectable neighborhood that, for some reason, my mother finds suspect. They met once and my mother was polite if not a bit standoffish. She said she just did not get a good ‘vibe’ from him but then when I let it slip that he was separated she tried to hold in how she felt but she couldn’t.
‘Sam don’t break up a marriage,’ she chided me. ‘You deserve better.’
‘Mom, it’s over between them. He’ll be divorced in a month… or so,’ I said, and at the time, I believed it. It didn’t happen then but this time it will.
I can hear my mother’s final words on the subject: ‘Sam, just remember, how you meet them is how you lose them. Stay away from him. Promise me you will.’ I never promised her anything but I did promise myself to never mention him to her again.
‘It’s not her life. It’s mine and she’s going to have to accept that.’ I fold my arms.
‘Have you met your mother? Gravity is less determined than she is. That will never happen.’ I can live with the disapproval but it’s the nagging that will destroy me. I want to be able to invite Paul to holidays without my mom making us miserable with her polite yet lethal shade.
‘I’m thirty-five years old. It’s time for her to understand that she doesn’t get a say in my life. She’s going to have to accept the fact that Paul and I will be a couple.’ I don’t mention the fact that he asked me to move in with him. Leaving Omar and this building will be impossible but that’s what growing up means: moving forward.
‘You’d have to make a deal in hell to have your mother accept Paul.’ Omar says and sits down at his sewing machine.
‘What did you just say?’ I ask as I ponder the idea.
‘You’d have to make a deal in hell to have that happen,’ he repeats slowly.
‘Exactly! That’s exactly what I’m going to do.’ I leap up from the couch energized by his brilliant idea. ‘She has this insane plan to be in charge of my dating life, right?’ He nods but is still not sure where this is going. ‘What if I agree to let her be in charge. I do whatever she wants. Go out with the parade of lunatics she prepares, and if I haven’t fallen in love with whatever random she has selected, she has to agree to accept whoever I date. No questions asked. Even… Paul. But I don’t tell her Paul is waiting in the wings. I leave that as a surprise.’
‘You are going to trick her?’ Omar asks.
‘I don’t want to trick her, exactly. I’ll do what she says and the truth is, I’m helping her. You know how much losing Aunt Shug has affected her.’
‘I do,’ Omar says. ‘I liked her a lot. She balanced the two of you like an isosceles triangle.’
‘Right, so this is something to keep her mind off all that. Really it’s a win-win.’ The more I think about it the more I think it could work. Maybe I can even take Paul to my cousin’s wedding in December. ‘It’s brilliant, right?’
Omar stares at me and blinks. ‘I’m never sure which of you is crazier. You or your mother.’