Chapter Twenty-One #2
“I don’t know if you can put that on the bar exam.”
“Another fair point. Goddammit.”
“I mean, can you imagine that conversation on a first date? In New York? It’d be different if I stayed in DC or some other city where people also got married when they were barely old enough to buy beer.”
Charlie’s eyes widened. “Fuck, that’s true. There should be a regional dating app for twentysomething divorced people. Probably wouldn’t get much traction in a place like New York, though.”
“Does anyone ever put ‘divorced’ in their Bumble profile?”
He looked like he was really thinking about it.
“I was just joking. But I bet you’d swipe left.”
“I don’t know. I never thought about it.”
I paused. “Honestly, I never saw myself as a selfish person until I left Ben. But things got to a point where I needed to be selfish to go after what I wanted. It scared me a little bit. In five years, I wanted something completely different than I thought. The person I was when I left was completely different than the person that married him. Like, unrecognizably different.”
“Because you grew up. Like most people do in their twenties.”
“Right. But I was supposed to be growing with someone.”
“Siri, what’s another word for ‘supposed.’”
I rolled my eyes. “You know what I mean.”
He looked frustrated, like he was trying to put words to something he could only feel.
“I just think you’re not actually that different from anyone else, Sam.
I mean that in a good way. We all become ourselves in different ways.
You happened to get married in the middle of it.
None of us are the same as we were five, ten years ago.
When I was in college, I thought I wanted to manage a Boston sports team.
Now I’m a schmucky Big Law associate wishing I hadn’t grown past that dream, because it would probably be a lot more fun than what I’m doing now.
But you know what I’m saying? Realizing your ambition couldn’t thrive in your marriage doesn’t make you selfish. ”
He looked so earnest, like someone who could stumble into a forty-eight-hour date because life just happens to them.
I wondered what it would be like to date someone for a month, or six months, or years.
Or spend forty-eight hours together and never see them again.
Either way, it was enviable how normal all the options were for someone like Charlie.
He could learn about himself through natural channels of experience. I felt like that ship had sailed.
“I can’t get past the idea that becoming myself meant hurting someone else.”
“And maybe one day you’ll find yourself on the other end of that. You don’t know.”
“Maybe. I guess I’d deserve that.” I took the last sip of Sapporo. “Caroline thinks I won’t be interested in someone my own age because they don’t have as much life experience as me or whatever,” I said, flailing to regain sure footing.
“Is she defining divorce as ‘life experience’?”
“Okay, lawyer, I don’t know how she’s defining it. But it’s true. I can’t really go about dating like everyone else does. Including you.”
Charlie looked wounded at being grouped with all the others. “But who will you date then? Will you just be single until you meet someone with the same ‘life experience’? No offense, but that doesn’t sound like the right strategy.”
I bristled. “It’s not a ‘strategy.’ I’m just thinking out loud. Because you asked.”
He looked contrite. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
I poked a spicy tuna roll. “I don’t want to get sidetracked by dating someone who wants more from me than I can give right now. I just need to keep my eye on the prize. And not fall for unavailable older men, like Leo.”
Charlie looked confused. “You’re into that partner?”
I immediately regretted the tipsy slip. “He is ‘unbelievably charming,’ remember?” I said, trying to laugh it off.
“That’s a little cliché, don’t you think?”
I shot him a look. “At this point in my life, I could be a little more cliché.”
“Not one of your better ideas. But you don’t need me to tell you that.”
“Obviously it’s a terrible idea. I work for him. It’s a terrible, cliché idea.”
“Not just because you work for him. Isn’t he married?”
I felt my eyes narrow. “Maybe he’s not even happily married. I’m not necessarily saying he’s unhappy, but marriage shouldn’t be a death sentence.”
He rubbed his jaw, looking frustrated again. “I never said it should be.”
“I just think no one should be stuck in something that isn’t making them happy. Which is basically what you just said a few minutes ago.”
I was projecting so hard we could both taste it.
“Look, I have no idea how we got here. I’m just saying that being divorced doesn’t give you the right to become an asshole who can’t see right from wrong. Like getting involved with a married guy.”
“Right from wrong? I didn’t realize I was back in Sunday school.”
I was quickly unraveling and indignant at the thought of Charlie lecturing me. I made a show of digging into my bag to find my wallet.
“It’s late. I have to get home and go over notes for a nine a.m. call with Eddie,” I said coldly.
“Tomorrow’s Saturday.”
“Work doesn’t stop on the weekends for some of us.”
Charlie crossed his arms. “Look, you’re doing what you always wanted. Working for people like Eddie and Leo. Just don’t fuck it up by becoming some young associate who falls for a partner. You’re better than that.”
I pushed my chair out a little too aggressively, and my bag dropped heavily onto the floor. “I have to go,” I said. I could tell I was on the verge of tears.
“I’ll get this. Good luck with the call tomorrow.”
I walked all the way back to the West Village, alternating between feeling angry and anxious. I was embarrassed for being so reactive. Was he right? Was I jaded—or worse, morally bankrupt—because of my past?
It was almost 11 p.m. by the time I turned right on Perry Street. As I crossed West Fourth, I saw the shape of someone sitting on the step of my building. I gripped my keys as Charlie stood up.
“I didn’t want to leave things like that.”
I put my keys away. “I shouldn’t have gotten so defensive.”
“Yeah, but I overstepped. Your personal life is none of my business. I guess when you confided in me about Ben, something got crossed in my brain. I don’t know.
Maybe I thought you wanted my opinion on everything else.
But I really didn’t mean to come off self-righteously,” Charlie said, looking earnest again, and ten years younger than he was.
I sat down heavily. “I’ve felt so out of control since I slept with Ben. Now I’m just casually throwing around that I have a crush on a married partner. I don’t even know who I am anymore. Maybe I don’t have a moral compass.”
Charlie squeezed my shoulder. “You’re just figuring it all out, and anyone in your shoes would be doing the exact same thing.
Everyone gets a pass for growing pains when we go from adolescence to adulthood, but no one ever talks about what happens after we’re technically adults.
But we’re still growing. And we’re going to keep making mistakes. ”
“Hollywood should really make more ‘coming-of-adulthood’ stories.”
“They do. It’s called every Duplass brothers movie.”
I laughed. “This night really turned dramatic. You’re on my steps at midnight. We should both get some sleep.”
He stood up quickly. “Let’s just pretend tonight never happened, okay? Except the part where I finally got you to my secret sushi spot. We have to go back and cleanse that place. Or maybe never leave the office. We seem to be good there.”
I smiled. “Deal.”
We shook hands, and I watched him disappear toward the subway that would take him back to Brooklyn.