Chapter 37
Early December
“I’m fine.”
Josie heaved herself out of the car onto the crutches Rob was holding out for her.
“Get the door, please.”
He held the building’s door open, and she looked up at the “Cavendish House” sign before she entered.
“In the Other Life, this building is called Union House. Because you never met me,” she told him as they walked into the elevator, Josie hobbling awkwardly on the crutches.
“Did you go there? To this building?”
“I never went inside. But I saw you there once, when I was checking it out.”
“You never spoke to me? I’d have thought you’d have sought me out. The other version of me, I guess. Other Rob.”
“I didn’t speak to you then. But I did meet you later. Other You.”
The elevator dinged their arrival on the eighteenth floor. Josie felt a pit of nervousness about being home. Maybe it wasn’t her home anymore.
Inside the apartment, nothing seemed to have changed.
Her favorite flowers were on the foyer table, perfectly complementing the ocean painting she had chosen for the wall.
Saying nothing, she let Rob remove her coat and slipped out of the single shoe she was wearing.
In the open living area, she looked around as if seeing it for the first time.
Josie had craved home so much, but now that she was here, she could hardly bear it.
She was terrified of coming across something Other Josie had introduced over the past year, evidence of her imposition.
Maneuvering down the steps, she flopped on the couch, letting her crutches fall and putting her cast foot on the glass coffee table. Rob filled the kettle in the kitchen.
“When did you meet Other Me? What was I like?”
“I invited you to the radio show for an interview about the Tribeca project. We went for coffee after. I wanted you to get to know me. Because for you, I was a stranger. I didn’t think I could ever come home, so I figured we should meet.
I ran into you later, too. We got along well. I guess we would, of course.”
He put teabags into mugs. “But nothing happened?”
“No. Other You has a girlfriend. Some hot woman called Surin.”
“Surin Chan, the realtor? I’m — I mean, Other Me is dating her?”
“Yeah. You know her, too? Well, I guess you would.”
“I’ve known her through work for a while. She’s kind of an ice queen. I thought she was attractive when we met, but we’ve had some dealings since then, and she’s pretty controlling.”
“Well, I guess you weren’t dating me, so you must’ve acted on that initial attraction, because in the Other Life you’re together. I didn’t get it either, she seemed pretty frosty to me.”
Josie watched his furrowed expression as he brought the tea to her. She took the cup. “Why do you care? It’s not your life.”
He sat by the gas fire, turning it on.
“I’m bummed to think there’s another version of me, in another reality, who didn’t meet you and is in a relationship with someone like that. I can’t imagine he’s happy. Or that he’s experienced the kind of love we have. I feel sad for him.” Rob shrugged. “And he’s me.”
Josie blew on her tea. “Well, I feel sad for us.”
They sat in awkward silence. Josie stood it for as long as she could before she excused herself. She’d soon be sleepy anyway, as she’d taken her next round of meds.
“I’m going to drink the rest of this in bed. In the art room. I can’t move into our bedroom with you, I’m sorry.”
Rob looked at her, eyebrows raised.
“You’re not surprised?”
Rob shook his head. “No, it’s not that.”
“What?”
“Well, that’s where Other Josie was sleeping. The last month, anyways. After it started to fall apart. The sheets are clean, but there might be some stuff of hers. Plus her journal is on the dressing table.”
Josie felt nauseated.
“Right. Well, I’d better see.”
She lifted herself onto the crutches, as Rob picked up her mug. He opened the door to the art room, setting Josie’s tea on the nightstand. The canopy over the bed was down, but at least the art wall was the same as she had left it.
Josie examined the items on the dressing table.
Rob stood at the door, waiting to assess the extent of the damage.
The journal was left out for her to find.
A couple of lipsticks and a half-used bottle of perfume she didn’t recognize.
But the main unexpected anomaly was a ceramic mask, the decorated kind worn to a masquerade ball.
It seemed somehow familiar. Josie picked it up, examining its pretty paintwork in blue and gold.
How fitting.
She noticed a crack across the underside of the chin and laid it down. Rob’s eyes were boring into her.
Josie picked up the journal. “Guess this is my bedtime reading. Could you pull back the canopy, please?”
“Sure.” He tugged back the gauzy white curtains.
That’s when she saw it.
Above the headboard was a huge, almost life-sized, framed photograph of a couple in elaborate period dress.
At first, Josie wasn’t quite sure what she was seeing.
It was a stunning image. Against the paneled wall of some formal state room stood a slim woman in a white ringleted wig, dressed in a gorgeous Renaissance-style gown, wearing the mask on the dressing table.
Alongside her, with his arm around her waist, was a tall, broad man in a half-face, hooked-nose mask and a courtier’s outfit, complete with a three-cornered hat.
The man was clearly Rob — enough of his beard and mouth were visible to see that. Her nausea returned as she realized who the woman was.
She sat on the side of the bed, staring at it. Rob stood at the door, awaiting her response.
“So,” she said finally. “I guess that’s you and her, then? At some masquerade ball?”
Josie saw his nod out of the corner of her eye. He cleared his throat and said, “In Venice.”
She snapped her head toward him. “You and she went to Venice?”
His face was ashen. He leaned on the dressing table and slumped into the chair, staring away from Josie, at the mask.
“Yep. Yes. I’m sorry.”
“That was supposed to be—”
“Our place to go. I remember. I was looking for a fresh start. I thought she was . . . permanent.”
“She wasn’t.”
“I know.” He buried his head in his hands. “There’s something else I have to tell you.”
Josie said nothing, waiting for another blow to hit.
“The trip to Venice. It was our honeymoon. That is, mine and hers.”
She stared at the photograph. A honeymoon?
The room started to spin, and she sat on the bed, ignoring the pain in her ribs.
Rob turned to her. “Josie? Did you hear—?”
“A honeymoon? But we were already married.”
“Well, yeah. But Other Josie and I weren’t. We were, technically — but of course, she had no memory of the wedding. She wasn’t there. She never felt like she was really married to me. That’s why we got remarried. In May.”
Josie shook her head, trying not to hear his words. It made no sense. How could they have gotten married?
Rob added, with more energy, as if it somehow excused everything, “Being with her, it was like living with you, but with amnesia. That’s what everyone thought it was, anyways, so it made sense she had to relearn everything — our friends, her job, me — and for us to have a second wedding.”
Josie felt woozy. The meds were kicking in, making the whole situation even worse. She sat back against the pillows.
“You married her?” she managed. “You had a wedding?”
Rob came and sat on the edge of the bed, clearly distressed by what this news was doing to his wife. “I’m sorry, Josie. I’m so sorry.”
“But you knew she didn’t have amnesia. You knew she wasn’t me. But you married her anyway.”
“I was only sure about that later. I mean, she told me she wasn’t you, from the start. It wasn’t her fault. But the first time I truly believed it, or admitted it to myself, was in Venice, on our honeymoon. And by then—”
“By then you were already in love with her.”
“Already, or still, in love — with my wife. She was still you, Josie. I had to give it everything.”
Josie shook her head, fighting through her fogginess.
“You should have realized sooner. You should have listened to her. You should have said no, and waited for me to come back. I was your wife, and I was . . . I was missing. Jesus, Rob, did you even try to get me back? You should have . . . fucking torn through the universe yourself to get your real wife back.”
He stared at her. “I know, okay? I gave up on you. But I didn’t think you were ever coming back.
Why would I, when I had a version of you right there?
And how could I even have found you? Where were you?
What were you doing all that time? Living the single life in Other Brooklyn?
If you were so desperate to return to me, why didn’t you come back earlier? ”
David.
Peter.
A flash of guilt must have passed across Josie’s face, as Rob examined her closer. “Josie?”
She took a sip of the tepid tea, and inhaled, her head swimming.
“I didn’t want to come back straight away, because of David.
He was there, alive, like nothing ever happened.
It was a miracle, you know? I spent a few weeks with him in the UK, and when I got back to New York, I needed more time.
Then, I guess, Other Josie’s life became the new normal.
Her place in Brooklyn, the radio job — it all fit.
In some ways, more even than life here with you.
Because it’s what would have happened if I’d only had myself to please, only me making life choices.
So, yeah, to start with I was freaked out, but after a while, I kinda liked it.
Plus, at that point, I didn’t think there was any way I could even get back. ”
She paused. She was going to tell him about Peter, but he needed context.
“And then, after spending time with David, I figured if I could be with you, Other You anyway, I’d have everything.
That’s when I invited you on my radio show, and we went for coffee.
I knew you were dating someone, but I thought if you spent time with me, you’d realize I was the one for you, and we’d be together.
Then life would be perfect. I’d have both you and David . . .
“But it didn’t happen. You didn’t fall in love with me, you went off to meet Surin, and you seemed happy without me.
So, after that, I was in despair. I didn’t want to leave a world with David in it, but I was lonely.
Then, when a guy in my choir asked me out .
. . I guess it was seeing you with another woman that made me rationalize it.
Anyway, I started seeing this guy, Peter.
Having him around took the edge off. But it never felt right.
“Obviously, I still felt married to you. I still loved only you. After a while, I ended it. David had met Anna, and had a baby, and emigrated to Australia, so I knew I’d hardly ever see him. That’s when I knew I had to find a way back. Back to you.”
She stopped. She had been staring at the mug in her hands for her entire confession, but she put it down and looked at Rob. His eyes were fire and steel.
“Peter? That video game guy? You’ve been with him this whole time?” A jealousy she’d never heard before was in his voice.
“Well, not the whole time, but . . . It doesn’t matter who. Clearly you know who I’m talking about, but it’s not relevant.”
Rob twisted his mouth. “Yeah, I met him. At your concert. You . . . well, Other Josie and him, they had this duet together. The chemistry was noticeable. We had a row about it that night.”
“Right. That happened in my version too. The duet, I mean. But yes, Peter and I were dating at that time.”
He glared at her. “Dating him? For fuck’s sake, Josie, you were married to me.”
“I know, I know. But not in that world. In that world, you were with someone else, and I was really goddamn lonely. You reacted to the situation you’d been put into, with Other Josie, and so did I. Like you said, there’s no rulebook for this.”
Rob stayed silent.
“I’m sorry, Rob. I really am. I couldn’t get back to you, and it took a long time for me to figure it out. But it didn’t take long to realize I had to find a way. That all I wanted was to get back to my husband, the man I really love.”
Josie slumped down into the pillows again. She was exhausted. “I can’t do this anymore, Rob. This is all we’ve talked about since I got back. I’m wiped out, and in so much pain, and on these meds . . . I have to sleep.”
He rose, picking up the journal as he did so. “Sure. You sleep. I’m wiped too.”
Josie thought he was leaving, but he paused at the doorway.
“I know that, right now, you think what I’ve done is terrible, Josie.
That I married another woman while you and I were still married.
But she was still basically you — the same woman, the only woman I’ve ever loved.
I was trying to make it work. But you . .
. you were dating someone completely different from me while still married to me.
Think about that, before you decide not to forgive me. ”
He tossed her the journal and it landed, pages splayed, on the comforter. “And give this journal a thorough read before you start judging.”