Better Than None Page 6

  “Seriously?” I was getting tired of this game. I didn’t know what he wanted but with everything that was going on, I didn’t have the energy to play.

  “I came to apologize.”

  I stared up at him and tried to read his expression. He was back to his soft side, and damn it if I didn’t soften too.

  “You don’t need to.” I said softly and started to walk past him, but he shifted so I couldn’t pass.

  “Yes, I do. You told me you were trying to get away from something and I shoved it right back in your face. I’m sorry. I’m just… I’m just not very good at bullshit.”

  “Yeah, I got that.” I looked down at my shoes as I tried to reconcile what I was feeling. Maybe I was a glutton for punishment. I knew the man standing before me could be a colossal asshole, but there was something so sad about him, so broken. Maybe I saw me in him. The way he lashed out pushed people away before they could get close. I know that’s what I did.

  When I looked back up his expression was neither sad nor arrogant. It was one that I recognized from many men in many different bars. He reached out and gently tucked my hair behind my ear. My heart started pounding, as his hand traced down my cheek and stopped when it got under my chin, gently tilting my head up towards his as he leaned down and kissed me. It wasn’t a kiss like most of my drunken kisses with strangers. For one, I wasn’t drunk. Second, I knew this man. Not well, but he wasn’t a stranger. Strange perhaps, but when his lips met mine, I felt something I never had with all those other men. A connection. Desire. I wasn’t just returning his kiss to prove something, I actually liked it, liked the way his lips and tongue felt. For once, my body was responding without my mind playing a part. He walked me backwards as we kissed and when my back hit the wall he pressed against me with a passion that terrified me. His kiss became so intense, so needy, I pulled away, gasping for breath. As good as it felt, my brain finally kicked in.

  “I, I’m sorry. I can’t do this.” I panted as I pushed him back. He gave me my space and nodded. He didn’t ask why, he didn’t protest or push. He just slid his hands in his pockets as he took another step backwards to watch me leave.

  ****

  As I drove home, I wondered how stupid or fucked up I must have been to have felt what I was feeling. I didn’t feel bad about having kissed him, I’d done far worse in the past and was at the point in my life to know that if I continued to feel bad about all that I’d done, well, I’d never feel good again. So it wasn’t that we’d kissed. It was that I couldn’t stop thinking about him. He was a dick, and probably pretty messed up, and I liked him. I don’t know if it was because I wasn’t piss drunk or actually him, but whatever I was feeling wasn’t anything I was used to.

  CHAPTER 6

  I had a fitful night’s sleep and by 4am, when it was clear that I wouldn’t be dozing back off, I took my dogs for an extra long run and was in the office by 6:45. I tried to get my mind to focus on work, but instead it kept bouncing between kissing Dr. Rosenberg, worrying about my mom, and waiting and hoping Marty would be in early. I didn’t want to start taking our early morning chats for granted, but I was becoming so comfortable with him, he made me feel taken care of and didn’t seem to want anything in return.

  So when he stood in my doorway, I smiled and felt my shoulders relax even though I didn’t like admitting to myself that I had actually been waiting for him.

  “It’s nice to see you smile, Steph. How did yesterday go?” he asked as he set down a coffee and a scone.

  “Marty, if you keep this up, I’m going to have to tack on an extra couple miles to my runs.”

  He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “If anything, I should be bringing you two scones instead of just one. You’ve lost weight since you started here. I’m worried about you. You’re not taking care of yourself.”

  Marty wasn’t wrong. With everything that had been going on over the last couple months, I’d lost my appetite most days. Still, it wasn’t exactly appropriate for my boss to notice that type of thing, no matter how nice it felt that he did. As much as part of me liked how caring he was, this was too much. If he was this in tune with me, if he noticed this, then he’d eventually see through my flimsy façade, if he hadn’t already. I’d worked too hard to become someone new. I didn’t want to push Marty away, but I had to protect myself.

  “I’m fine Marty. Plus, I’ve got my mom to take care of.”

  “And who’s taking care of you?

  “I don’t need anyone to take care of me. That’s my job. As is this.” I pointed to my computer. I didn’t like being under this type of scrutiny. He clenched his jaw and crossed his arms over his chest.

  “You’re right. It’s none of my business.”

  “I’m sorry, Marty. I’m not looking a gift horse in the mouth.”

  He smiled and relaxed. “So now I’m a horse?”

  I smiled and relaxed too. “There are worse animals to be compared to.”

  “Like?”

  “A monkey. Pig. Hedgehog. You want me to keep going?”

  He shook his head, erasing the small smile that had been there, replacing it with something else. Exasperation? “Look, I’m sorry if I’m overstepping. I’m just concerned, that’s all. I know you’ve got a lot on your plate and I don’t think you’d ask anyone for help if you needed it.”

  “I’ve already asked you for more than I’m comfortable asking. Speaking of which, I have to take my mom in for another procedure tomorrow. I’ll be out all day. But everything on the Illusion campaign is still on track and I’ll have my laptop with me so I can work while I’m at the hospital, I just can’t come in. I’m sorry, Marty. You have no idea how much I hate asking.”

  “I think I do.” He paused and then looked uncomfortable. “Speaking of the Illusion account, everything I’ve seen looks great…” his words hung in the air. There was obviously something bothering him.

  “But?”

  “No but. It’s just…”

  “Marty, you’re starting to worry me, have I done something wrong?”

  “No, no, not at all. I just talked with Dave Abraham, the photographer and…” Marty trailed off as I felt my stomach sink.

  “And? What did Dave say? Was he not pleased with how the shoot turned out?” I tried to keep my voice steady and the conversation focused on work.

  “No, I mean yeah, everyone’s thrilled with the work. It looks great. He just said that you, well, that you were kind of rude to him.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  I surprised Marty with my outburst, which perhaps confirmed what he just said, but I didn’t care. Maybe this was what I needed to put a little distance between us.

  “Look, Marty. You believe what you want to believe. I know you don’t really know me, and he said you guys have worked together for years, so…” I trailed off. I wasn’t going to explain or dignify whatever it was that Dave had said. I needed this conversation to end. “Thanks for the coffee and scone. I’ve got a lot of work to do to keep on schedule.”

  “I’m sorry if I upset you, Steph.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’m a big girl.” I turned back to my computer but I could see out of the corner of my eyes that Marty stood there staring at me for a few more seconds before he grabbed his bag and walked out.

  I couldn’t believe that Dave’s ego was so fragile that he actually told my boss I was rude. Rude because I wouldn’t fuck him again? God, what an asshole. I also had a hard time coming to grips with the fact that my worlds were colliding like this. I had tried so hard to keep things separate, to start fresh, but like my mom’s cancer, it was becoming clear that there were just some things that were far beyond my control.

  CHAPTER 7

  The procedure with Barb felt like it was becoming commonplace. We were back at the hospital, answering the same questions, going though the same routine. Over the course of the last couple months, our time together had changed from shopping and errands to doctor’s appointments and medical procedure
s. Through it all, I stood powerless as I witnessed my mother getting weaker and more uncomfortable.

  What was supposed to be outpatient surgery turned into Barb being admitted when they found they couldn’t stent her endoscopically, and had to resort to inserting a temporary external tube the old fashioned way—by cutting into her abdomen. When I was able to visit her in recovery, she had a tube draining what looked like black tar out of her stomach into a bag. She was still out of as she lay there, mouth open in a twilight-induced haze. At each step, I felt more and more helpless, though watching her, I thought, that was the true definition of helplessness. She was at the mercy of this disease, unaware of anything going on around her, and unable to change any of it.

  The day seemed interminable as we waited while they found a room. When my mom finally came to, she was still groggy but awake enough to understand when I explained where she was and why she was being admitted. She looked down in horror at the drain and bag.

  “Oh, Stephanie!” She exclaimed, her speech still a little slurred, her voice raspier than usual.

  “I know mom, it’s just temporary. But they needed to drain the bile immediately and they couldn’t get to it internally.”

  “But, but look at it!”

  “They said it’ll just be for a week or so…”

  “I’m going to be in here a week?”

  “No, Mom. They’re just keeping you tonight to make sure you’re ok. You’ll be going home tomorrow.”

  “With this?” She asked, horrified.

  I couldn’t blame her, though I tried to soothe her worries. “We can hide it under your clothes.”

  “I can’t go out like this! You’ve got to do something! Call the doctor. I want you to tell him this is unacceptable! I can’t go around with this, this…”

  “Mom, there isn’t anything I can do. They put this in to save your life. Your body was poisoning itself. Your bilirubin count has already gone down just in the couple hours since the procedure.”

  “I don’t care about the damn bilirubin! How am I supposed to walk around with a bag of bile?”

  I didn’t have an answer, and even if I did, I don’t think it would have much mattered. She was scared and upset. She wasn’t just losing her health, she was slowly losing her dignity too.

  ****

  That night, I went to her house to feed her cats and dog, clean the litter boxes, walk the dog, close up her house and then came home to my own dogs, walked them and collapsed into bed. The next morning was the exact same routine but reversed. And even though it was Saturday, I went into the office to catch up on work and ensure that at least that part of my life was on track though after my previous conversation with Marty, I was feeling unsettled even at work, my one safe haven.

  Since it wasn’t a weekday, I was in a tank top, shorts and flip flops. There was no A/C on the weekends and the office could get stifling. I was grateful to be able to get lost in the work. As crappy as things might have been in the rest of my life, the actual work was great. I felt I was doing some of the best creative I’d ever done even in spite of Dave and that fiasco. Much as I needed some time to relax and being at the office on a Saturday wasn’t exactly ideal, I was grateful for the peace and quiet. So lost in my thoughts and the hum of the desk fan that I jumped when Marty said my name.

  “Steph?” Marty’s voice made me jump.

  “Jesus!” I’d been so lost in my thoughts and the hum of the fan, my heart beat hard against my chest.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  I was still gun-shy after our last encounter, so I tried to remain cool without being disrespectful.

  “No worries, I just didn’t expect anyone else here on a Saturday.”

  He chuckled. “Neither did I.” I shrugged and we just looked at each other a beat too long. He looked younger in his worn t-shirt, baseball cap and shorts. And when he smiled, that damn dimple of his softened my mood a bit.

  “So how’s your mom doing? How did everything go yesterday? How are you holding up?”

  Not even the dimple could work on me like that, though. I couldn’t go back to this. I had to put some distance. I had already let him get too close, and then after the Dave comment…

  “We’re fine, Marty.”

  He stiffened. “Did I say something wrong?”

  “Please don’t take offense at this, you’ve been nothing but kind to me, but I need boundaries. I need to keep my personal life separate from my work life.”

  Marty’s dimple was long gone as his face turned cold. “Does this have something to do with the conversation about Dave?”

  I took a deep breath. “Marty, you’re a great boss, you’re beyond caring, but I just, I just can’t blur the lines.”

  “You think I blur the lines?”

  I was treading on thin ice.

  “I think you’re wonderful, and comfortable being all of our boss as well as our friend. But I need this to just be my job.”

  “And when I ask you how you’re doing or how your mom is, that makes you uncomfortable? Because that’s the last thing I want, Steph. I want to be here for you, not push you away.”

  “Why?”

  He paused and took a deep breath before he answered. I’d never witnessed Marty be anything but truthful, so whatever he was about to say, he was obviously worried as to how I’d take it.

  “Because you seem so fragile. Like you’re holding everything together with a tiny piece of tape and one strong wind will blow everything that you’ve been trying so hard to keep together, that one gust will blow it all apart.”

  Once again, the tears welled up. I wish they hadn’t, but I was so emotionally raw from everything over the last month that he wasn’t wrong. It was like this was the wind he was talking about. I couldn’t blink back the tears, they just started rolling down my cheeks as I stared at him and silently started crying. In front of my boss. Great. Fucking great.

  He just stood there as my shoulders shook and I cried. For the second time in as many weeks, I had a man pitying me. First, Dr. Rosenberg and now Marty. Two men who couldn’t have been more different. But obviously there was something about me that was a pity magnate. Wonderful.

  When I finally stopped crying I blew my nose and wiped my eyes, sure that I looked as bad as I felt. I looked up at him with what I’m sure were bloodshot eyes and blotchy skin and spoke as simply as I could.

  “I have a lot of work to get done before I pick my mom up from the hospital, Marty. So, if it’s all the same to you…”

  He just nodded and walked out leaving me to wonder how I could screw things up any worse.

  CHAPTER 8

  When we stepped off the elevator for Barb’s second round of chemo, I was shaken again at the sheer number of people. Different day, different batch of people, same fucking disease. And the same combination of sadness, compassion, pain and misery. I wondered how anyone could work here when every day they were surrounded by impending death, and reminded of that when some patients eventually stopped coming. By the looks of things, their places were likely filled all too quickly.

  As we waited, Barb picked up a copy of People magazine, one of their “Where are they now?” issues. She absent-mindedly flipped through until something caught her eye and she chuckled. “Steph, honey, isn’t this…”

  It was over 20 years later, and I still got a twinge of nausea at seeing the photo of the guy I lost my virginity to. Gunnar Rockford, identical twin of Garth, son of folk legend Roy, grandson of 50s TV icons Walter and Ruth, and, for anyone who was a teenage girl during the late 80s, they’d probably know him as one half of the boy band, Rockford. I guess it was fitting that I’d happen upon that picture with my mom.

  It’s hard to believe that one singular event decades prior that was only minutes long could change and form one’s entire life. But when I think back to being 16 and losing my virginity, it was such a defining moment in so many ways for me and for my relationship with Barb.

  It wasn’t that the actual e
xperience was so memorable, though ironically I did remember so many little details. In fact, while I couldn’t really recall the act at all, everything else was still crystal clear. From Boston that was playing on record player, (this was in the 80s, back when people still had vinyl records, before they were retro) to what I was wearing: grey cotton Esprit pants tucked into short white boots and a white cotton t-shirt bloused over my pants, with a wide white belt. I could still hear his shock when I answered, “No, I’m not on the pill.” Again, it was a time before the omnipresence of safe-sex. I recall him telling me that my classmate Diana Davis gave really good head, though I can’t remember exactly what this was apropos of. Perhaps it was because I had never done that either. I wondered why he was reaching up into his bookshelf, until he pulled out a book to retrieve the condom that was tucked inside. And I remember how much it hurt and how quickly it was over.

  Afterwards, sitting in the backseat of my friend Jenny’s boyfriend’s car, I had no idea what the wetness was that I felt between my legs. When I got home and saw all the blood, I thought that something had gone horribly, horribly wrong. Of course, nothing physically had gone wrong, though nothing really went right, as far as I was concerned. But emotionally, it indeed was horrible, and wrong, at least for my fragile ego and still-forming sense of self.

  It was a one-night stand during spring break my junior year in high school and I barely knew him. He and Chase, Jenny’s boyfriend, were good friends. We had all spent the day together at Chase’s house just hanging out. At some point, we ended up in the Jacuzzi and started fooling around. I can’t remember why, but we all left Chase’s to go to Gunnar’s to watch a movie. Mid-way through, he and I went into his bedroom. And the rest, as they say…

  I certainly didn’t know what I was doing, but I at least thought I knew why I was doing it. I was positive that all of my friends had already had sex and that I was the last one. I just wanted to get it over with. Afterwards, I found out that none of them actually had, and I was the first. I also learned how much they looked down on me after I admitted what I had done. Funny, I didn’t think ill of them when I thought they had lost their virginity. Seeing how vicious girls could be to each other was just one more way that this one night so many years ago had the power to change and form so many things since. I so desperately wanted to talk with someone about it that when my mom opened the door, I couldn’t help but run through. After I poured my heart out, she proceeded to take the next hour and a half to tell me about the guy at work who she was fucking, and how much of a dick he and the boss (who apparently also knew of the affair) were to her after the brief fling ended. I remember her telling me about what a small penis he had, calling him ‘pencil-dick Pete’. And I remember wondering if my dad could hear our conversation over the din of the TV in the family room.