Chapter 12 #2
“It was like he had this whole idea about how things were supposed to be if we moved down here. He picked our neighborhood. He decided we were going to buy a house. And as soon as I wanted to veer from that, he didn’t…
I think financially, the only way he could make his whole thing work was if I stuck with his plan, and he…
” There was a long moment of silence. “He always does this. He always ends up taking a gig, and he lied to me about it. This time was supposed to be different. So the bottom line is, if he wants to see his daughter, he has to come up to New York and make the effort. I can’t give up my entire life to try to make this work. ”
My heart was racing, and I wasn’t sure why. “What are you going to do? Try to get your old job back?”
“Maybe. I don’t know yet. I gave up my apartment, so I’ll have to try to find somewhere else before school starts up there.
I just want Hannah to start the year with her classmates.
I think she’s miserable here. Georgia already started the school year, so it’s going to be a rough transition for her. ”
“You guys can stay at my place if you come back to the city. You know that.”
“Really?” Laura asked.
“Really. It’s okay,” I said. I caught a little sob in my voice. I hadn’t even known I was upset.
“Are you okay, Abby? We don’t have to stay.”
“No, I want you to. I’m just tired. When will you be getting home?”
“We’re flying out this weekend. Can we really stay in your apartment?”
“Of course. Don’t even think about it. I’ll tell the doorman to give you his spare key. I want to see you both. I miss you. A lot.”
I felt the tears coming, then, and stopped them with an effort. This was good. I missed Hannah. I was going to get to see her again. This was good, wasn’t it? Whatever was going on with Paul, I didn’t have to fixate on it, now. The rest of my life could cushion the blow.
A couple of minutes after I hung up, I saw my phone ring again. When I saw Paul’s name, I thought about not picking up, but then I did. Whatever came, I wanted to be a grown-up about it.
“Hey, Abby,” he began tentatively.
“Hey, Paul.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t talk last night.”
“You don’t owe me an explanation.”
“Yes, I do. I want to. You always do that. Act like you’re second best.”
When I said nothing, Paul continued. “Trish came by. She wanted to have a whole conversation about all of this stuff from our marriage. I didn’t—it kind of blindsided me, to be honest. There was a lot of stuff going on that she never told me about.
She always said she didn’t want kids, but she was actually going back and forth about it, and then she found out she was infertile, and she didn’t tell me. Anyway. It doesn’t matter.”
I said nothing, waiting for him to go on. My heart felt like it was growing smaller in my chest, my heartbeat fading away.
“The important thing for you to know is, it’s over. And I didn’t want you to think that because it took me so long to get back to you…I mean, she didn’t leave until after midnight and that felt too late to call.”
“We both have a lot of obligations,” I said, thinking of Laura, thinking of my job, thinking of his mother.
“Can I come over tonight and see you?”
“No,” I found myself saying. “Let’s talk after—we have that show Thursday. With the Newfingers. Can we talk after that?”
“Of course.”
“Unless you don’t want me to do it anymore.”
“Of course I want you to do it.”
“I should go.” My voice was breaking. “I have to get some work done today.”
“Alright. If you want to talk, call me. And I’m here. Okay? For whenever you need me.”
Tears were rising, but I could head them off if I was quick enough. “I know. I have to go.”
I hung up the phone. I felt like I was floating in space. I couldn’t tell him yet. We would do our silly improv show, because I wanted to make Lisette happy, and then I would tell him that this was all falling apart, and I had to go back to New York.
And then what? He would say that we could make it work? That he would fly down to New York all the time, and I would fly up to Newfoundland? That we’d meet for romantic weekends in Toronto or Montreal? That he was madly in love with me?
Thursday night, we met at the Puffin Hut a few minutes before the show to discuss the evening. Paul’s eyes lit up when he saw me, and I walked over and gave him a hug, treasuring it like it was the last one, and then gave one to Lisette. Mark was at the bar, buying himself a beer.
“If I just don’t jump in, you guys will be okay with that, right?” I said. My heart felt like a solid lump of lead in my chest. I was grieving already, but I wanted to get through this. My last challenge to myself. My last gesture to Lisette. My proof that I was a different person.
“Sure,” Lisette replied. “But you will. I know you, and you’ll be amazing.”
Mark was giving Paul a dark, curious look as he walked over. He said casually, “Trish called me.” Paul’s attention shot to him.
“She called you? I didn’t know you guys were in touch,” Paul said quietly.
“She’s talking about doing some work for me. You don’t mind, do you?”
“Of course not,” said Paul. “Why would I mind?”
“She said you really told her off.”
“I hope not,” Paul said. “I hope we had a good discussion.”
“I’m proud of you!” Lisette threw her arms around Paul. “Telling her to take a hike. I never would have seen that coming.”
Mark glanced at me, observing how I was taking all this in. He raised his thick eyebrows, his eyes lingering on mine. I looked down.
Then Paul gave me a little smile, and I smiled back. I loved him. I knew it for sure. It felt like someone had taken my insides and shaken away all the residue of other hopes, thoughts, and fears until that was the only certain thing.
It was a fairly large crowd for this kind of show, and I felt a brief sense of panic. I caught Lisette’s eyes lighting up at someone’s arrival, and then Charlotte appeared at our table with a dark-haired scruffy man trailing behind her.
“Charlie!” Lisette cried. I hadn’t expected that the woman I was renting from would want to come to a show, but I realized Lisette had probably asked her.
“Hi everyone. This is my boyfriend Brett,” Charlotte said, gesturing to her companion.
“Hmm,” he said, shaking our hands. He did look a bit like Ben Affleck.
“So Abby. Lisette told me you had joined up with her team? How did you two meet again?” Charlotte asked, looking between Lisette and me. I realized I had never mentioned that Lisette had stayed on my sofa.
“She forgot something in the apartment, and we met then,” I said. “And she became my unofficial tour guide.” Lisette shot me a grateful smile.
We sat through another set by Lachlan, which made me strangely sentimental. He had just written a new folk song about the decline of the polar bear population.
“Newfingers, you’re up!” came a voice next to us. It was the manager of the club, a woman in her forties named Ellen.
I felt a moment of sheer panic. Now I was going to humiliate myself in front of Charlotte and Brett, on top of everything else. With the exception of Mrs. Mahoney and my taxi driver Rick, everyone I knew in Newfoundland was in this room.
Paul reached over and squeezed my hand.
“No big stakes,” he whispered in my ear. “Just be terrible. It’s a rite of passage to be terrible in your first improv show.” I smiled, wishing that I didn’t like him quite so much.
As I stood up, Lisette took both my hands in hers and squeezed them.
“We’re doing it!” she whispered.
“We are the Newfingers,” Paul said into the microphone, “with visiting guest Abigail, and we do long-form improv comedy. To start, we will need some suggestions from the audience for a place and an object.”
A voice from the back said quite clearly, “The sewer.”
Lisette would later tell me that Paul’s face went pale when he heard the voice, but I didn’t notice anything was wrong. Not yet.
“Okay. Any other places? Ideas?”
“A sewer,” came the same voice. A woman’s voice.
“Okay, a sewer,” Paul said. “Now we need an object.”
“A cellular phone,” someone up front called out.
“A watch.”
“A tomato.”
“A gun.”
“A tomato. Okay, right.” Paul turned to us. There was a look of desperation on his face. I caught his eye, trying to check in with him, but he just gave me a quick nod as if daring me to do this.
I found myself jumping forward, reminding myself not to bring the tomato into the scene too quickly.
“Honey?” I said. “You said this place would be good for hook-ups, but being this far underground is not sexy.”
“That’s because you’re not sexy,” came the female voice again. My heart sunk. We had a heckler in the crowd.
Paul seemed determined to ignore the heckler. “Just relax, honey. A lot of people have sex in a sewer. I was conceived in one.”
“Still not funny,” came the same voice. And then I saw the look of absolute desperation on Paul’s face, and I knew what was happening, without him saying a word. His mother had been barred from coming to his home, so she’d come to his show. She was here to humiliate him.
Paul looked at me, determined to keep going.
So I tried. “Well, I just wonder if we should have brought something to lie down on.”
“Wait a minute!” Mark cried, jumping into the scene. I could have hugged him. “I can’t believe you’re here with him.”
“Lenny!” I said. “How did you find us?”
“Because this was our spot!” he cried.
“So,” said Paul, turning on me. “You’ve been here before, have you?” The audience laughed.
“Only a few times,” I replied.
The voice came from the audience again. “This is garbage,” it said.
“Hey, shut up!” Brett, Charlotte’s boyfriend, had managed a full sentence. He took a step toward the corner where the woman was heckling us. “Let them do their damn show!” A murmur followed from the crowd.
“Who would want to sleep with her?” came the older woman’s voice.
A flicker of anger crossed Paul’s face, and suddenly he was walking off the stage. I had never seen him so angry.