Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Ivy
What are the acceptable reasons to leave your husband?
Maybe it's okay if he leaves you. If you're the one who stuck it out. Who tried the hardest.
I tried a lot. I tried forever. For too long.
That can't be the right thing to say. I can't say hey, we always had this little problem in the bedroom, but it got a lot worse, and he was always saying it would get better. He'd see a therapist, soon. He'd stop watching porn, soon. He'd work it all out, soon.
Maybe he meant it, at the time.
But soon never came. And eventually I had to wonder why this person who loved me was so comfortable lying to me.
But look at me here, helping your son, who obviously loves you, lie to you. It's not like I can talk about honesty, now can I?
I gave my ex a timeline. I said this is better by July, or I leave.
It wasn't, so I did.
Does that mean I left?
Or that he abandoned me?
It's not a cut and dry answer. No one did anything too horrible to forgive. Not by any sort of normal standards, anyway. But we both did things that hurt too much for the other to forgive.
And, well—
It's just so strange looking back on my ex-husband and trying to figure out how the man I met and fell in love with became the man I divorced. It's not that he's a bad guy now.
We're still friends. It's a lot easier to be friendly without the why don't you want to have sex / why are you so obsessed with sex elephant in the room.
Romeo didn't warn me about this.
He didn't warn me to keep my divorce a secret or tell me how to spin it.
She wants someone who tries to save their marriage. She wants someone who will try with her son.
I do try. I have grit. I have a PhD!
"You know it is with men," I say. "No matter how hard you try, if they don't want to change, they won't." It's the truth, more or less, but it's vague enough to fit my situation. Or invite her to imagine bad behavior on his part.
She taps her chin, turning over my answer, deciding how I fit into her image of her son's ideal future wife.
Footsteps move up the stairs.
Romeo.
But the staircase is long. I can't wait for him to arrive.
I try to come up with a response that will put me back in a good light, but something tells me she won't be impressed by the details of my PhD program. Sometimes tells me the late nights studying won’t prove I’m the kind of woman she wants as a daughter-in-law.
"I learned a lot from the experience. I know what can go wrong now.
I know not to overlook things before I get married. "
She nods, accepting my answer, but not necessarily approving. She wears a pretty strong poker face. I'm not sure if she's upset at me, but I can tell she's not embracing me.
Thankfully, my fake boyfriend saves me from his mother’s suspicion. He arrives at the door and drops off my suitcase.
"Mama, why are you interrogating Ivy?" he asks. "It's her first night here."
"Just some, what do you call it, girl talk," she says.
"I'm going to help her set up." He moves further into the room. Until he's at the bed. "But I'll sleep in mine."
She puts her hands over her ears. "I can't hear you. I don't care. I just don't want to hear from your brother." She looks me over one more time, then moves back to the hallway and down the stairs.
She leaves the door wide open, of course.
Romeo shakes his head. "I'm sorry she's being ridiculous. She always is. Let me give her thirty minutes to fall asleep. Then I'll show you a few tricks."
"With her in the next room?" My cheeks flare.
He smiles. "It’s a big house.”
By California standards, it’s a mansion, but it’s not big enough I can trust the sound to not carry.
“Tricks the house. But if you want, sure…"
"Is she a sound sleeper?" I ask.
"No, but I have a trick for that too," he says.
"I play wave sounds on my phone if I want to keep her from overhearing…
activities. They're a billion times louder than they actually are from outside.
I think, here, only Daredevil could hear the waves.
But she always says she had the best dreams about the ocean. "
"You used that one a lot, huh?" I ask.
He shrugs maybe I did, maybe I didn't.
A playboy who turned into a prostitute.
A pretty reasonable way to turn your hobbies into profit.
I'm a sex positive person. I should see it in a more favorable light.
No. I do see it in a favorable light. As a friend and colleague, I think it's cool. Amazing, actually. A way to expand the field.
As a lover—
Well, that's the thing. We're not lovers. So, there's no reason for me to get jealous. Or to wonder how I could handle dating a man who has sex for money long term. He’s not my boyfriend.
We're not anything.
We're faking that.
And this isn’t for my personal fulfillment. It’s because I need a story that makes listeners tell their friends omg, you have to hear this, so we can add another few hundred thousand subscribers.
No pressure.
Pressure is terrible for sex drive. I try to put that out of mind. To focus on the here and now.
"Then what are we going to do for thirty minutes?" I ask.
He smiles. "It's a surprise."
Of course, with the guest bedroom to ourselves, I expect certain activities. Instead, Romeo asks me to close my eyes and arranges something on the big, clean desk.
A small stack of paperbacks.
"These are all the books I actually read in high school." He motions to the bookshelf in the corner. "Those first two rows are all the books I didn't read."
“Was this your room?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Mom wanted people to think she raised readers, so she moved all our books here. Well, she asked me and Daniel to move the books here.”
There's a lot of the usual suspects. Steinbeck and Mark Twain went unread. To Kill a Mockingbird and Catcher in the Rye made it. As well as a fat stack of plays, including Romeo and Juliet.
"Was it torture, reading this?" I pick up the slim book. "Or did you enjoy the attention?"
"I loved it." He looks at me. "That was the only part of English class I enjoyed. Reading lines in plays. So, when I had the opportunity to take the staring role, well, why not?"
"Do you like the character?" I ask.
"Romeo?" His hand brushes mine as he borrows the book. "Do you?"
"I asked first."
He smiles. "He's a bit of a fuckboy."
A laugh escapes my lips. "That's not a no."
His eyes find mine. They fill with that easy charm, but I can't tell if it's a put-on or not this time. "Do I seem that way?"
"Honestly?" I'm not quite sure where we stand with this half ruse, half sex-as-payment situation. This isn't either. So, we should be on even ground. And with friends, I try to deliver the truth, gently.
"Is it that bad?" There's a lightness to his voice. He knows I'm teasing.
So, I lean into it. "Worse."
His smile widens. "Hit me with your best shot, doc."
"I bet you played the part well."
"I did. I didn't like him though. He was too flighty. Who's willing to die for a girl he met three days ago?"
"Someone in love."
"Do you really believe that?" he asks.
No, I don't. At my age, I believe in a steadier kind of love. Something more patient. Less all-consuming. "An infatuated teenager.”
He nods. "Maybe I've always lacked that. I love many people. My brother, my friends, my family. But I've never fallen in love." He looks to me, studying my expression. "And you? Only your ex or others?"
"My high school boyfriend too."
He flips to a highlighted page. "I'd like if we stayed honest with each other. As much as possible."
"How much is possible?" I ask.
"You don't have to share your darkest secrets," he says. "But it would be nice to know, we're alone, and we're not hiding things from each other."
Should I tell him about the show? Maybe. It's not a dark secret. And I'm not hiding it, exactly, but I'm not sharing the truth either. It might be better if he doesn't know. Then he'll have to hide it from his family, too. Secrets are a burden. "Like I said, I'm not a good liar."
"But you are diplomatic," he says.
I suppose that's true. I have practice. I've been masking my feelings for a long time. And not just as a therapist. "You're one to talk."
His lips curl into a smile. "See, now we're getting somewhere." He motions to my expression. "There's something you think about me. Something you don't want to share."
"Not exactly," I say.
"What exactly?"
Maybe it is that. After all, I don't want to accuse him of dishonesty. But then I also don't think it's dishonesty. Not exactly. "You're a charming man."
"Why does that sound like an accusation?"
"You tell people what they want to hear," I say. "You play into their image of you. You let your mom see you as a playboy. You let me see you as a—"
"Hooker with a heart of gold?"
"A guy who wants more," I say. "Who wants something deeper. More honest."
"But I'm not that guy?" he asks.
"I don't know." I try to keep my statement as true as possible. "We don't know each other well. I imagine, you are that guy. A part of you is. A part of you wants more. That's true for all of us."
"But that's not specific to me," he says.
Right. I'm not speaking in generalities.
I'm getting to know him. So I can better play his girlfriend.
Not to play his therapist. "It seemed easy for you, to access that part of yourself—the one that wants more, wants to connect, wants to look for love—then to put it away.
Like you had practice. Maybe I'm assuming that, because I know your job.
Maybe it's me. I have my own baggage coloring my view of men. "
"Should we talk about that?" he asks.
Eventually, probably. I'm sure it will come up if we really are playing intimacy games as part of a pre-wedding celebration of love. But I can't. Not right now. "Another time."
He nods, with understanding. "I am practiced. You're right."
"And that does make you seem…"
"Like a fuckboy?" he offers.
"Something more sophisticated, but, yes, like a guy who tells a woman what she wants to hear to get into her pants." It's not untrue, exactly. It's just the elements are in a different order.
"That's how Daniel sees me," he says. "Mom, too."
"I'm not sure," I say. "She seems protective of you. She doesn't like that I'm divorced."
He makes a hmm noise. "Did she ask about it?"
"A little," I say. "I didn't know what to tell her. What she'd see as an acceptable reason my marriage ended."
"Why did it end?"
There’s no way I’m sharing that with him. I don’t even talk about it with Meredith. I swallow hard and motion to the book. "Should we read a scene?"
His eyes stay on mine for a moment. He holds that gaze, giving me the opportunity to admit to something true, to at least admit I don't want to talk about it.
When I don't, he looks to the page and shifts into character.
He reads, "but, soft, what light through yonder window breaks. It is the east, and Juliet is the sun."
Sure. That's a famous quote from the play. Everyone knows that one.
"This is why people think this shit is romantic," he says. "Because Romeo really does fall for Juliet. He's not saying all this to get in her pants. He's head over heels."
"Isn't he a teenager?" I ask.
He nods. "A teenager in love. Feelings change fast at that age."
"Have you come close to falling in love?"
"No," he says. "I loved women, but I was never in love."
"Just sleeping around?" I ask.
"More making out, at that age," he says. "Most people weren't ready to have sex."
"When were you?" I ask.
"Oh, I think I'll save that information." He sits on the bed and pats the spot next to me. "Let's read a scene. Then I'll show you around the house."
"Which one?"
"The one where they meet, of course."
"Can I be Romeo?" I ask.
He smiles. "No one has ever asked me that."
"It might be fun. To reverse the roles," I say.
He nods it might.
We read the scene. I fall into my role as the romantic teenage boy. The one who falls in love at first sight.
Looking at Romeo, it's easy to imagine falling hard for him. He's handsome and charming. And, despite his stated desire for honesty, he's still hiding himself from me.
But that's okay.
Because this isn't real.
Like the words on the page, this is all pretend.
It's just hard to remember that when I stare into his gorgeous brown eyes.
And, well, it's really hard to remember that when he leads me to the backyard and kisses me under the palm trees.
I'm about ready to tear off his clothes when a voice interrupts.
"Rome, is that you?" A woman asks.
Cynthia. His brother's fiancée.
She's out here, on her own, listening to something on her phone, vaping.
"Are you two really that handsy?" she laughs. "Or is that for your brother's benefit?"