-Meant to Be A Novel

MeanttoBeisaworkoffiction.Names,characters,places,andincidentsaretheproductsoftheauthor’simaginationorareusedfictitiously.Anyresemblancetoactualevents,locales,orpersons,livingordead,isentirelycoincidental.
Copyright?2022byEmilyGiffin
Allrightsreserved.
PublishedintheUnitedStatesbyBallantineBooks,animprintofRandomHouse,adivisionofPenguinRandomHouseLLC,NewYork.
BallantineisaregisteredtrademarkandthecolophonisatrademarkofPenguinRandomHouseLLC.
HardbackISBN?9780425286647
EbookISBN?9780425286654
InternationaleditionISBN?9780385689762
randomhousebooks.com
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Coverillustration:SerenaMarangon
ep_prh_6.0_140110426_c0_r0Contents
Cover
TitlePage
Copyright
Chapter1:Joe
Chapter2:Cate
Chapter3:Joe
Chapter4:Cate
Chapter5:Joe
Chapter6:Cate
Chapter7:Joe
Chapter8:Cate
Chapter9:Joe
Chapter10:Cate
Chapter11:Joe
Chapter12:Cate
Chapter13:Joe
Chapter14:Cate
Chapter15:Joe
Chapter16:Cate
Chapter17:Joe
Chapter18:Cate
Chapter19:Joe
Chapter20:Cate
Chapter21:Joe
Chapter22:Cate
Chapter23:Joe
Chapter24:Cate
Chapter25:Joe
Chapter26:Cate
Chapter27:Joe
Chapter28:Cate
Chapter29:Joe
Chapter30:Cate
Chapter31:Joe
Chapter32:Cate
Chapter33:Joe
Epilogue
Author’sNote
Dedication
Acknowledgments
ByEmilyGiffin
AbouttheAuthorCHAPTER1
Joe
Idon’tremembermyfather.Atleastthat’swhatItellpeoplewhentheyaskifIdo.Iwasbarelythreeyearsoldwhenhedied.Ioncereadthatit’simpossibletohavememoriesmuchbeforetheagelanguagefullydevelops.Apparently,weneedwordstotranslateourexperiences,andifmemoriesaren’tencodedlinguistically,theybecomeirretrievable.Lostinourminds.SoI’veacceptedthatmyvaguerecollectionsofthedayhewasputtorestatArlingtonNationalCemeteryarefabricated—anamalgamofphotographs,newsfootage,andaccountsfrommymotherthatweresomehowplantedinmybrain.
Butthereisonememorythatcan’tbeexplainedawaysoeasily.Init,Iamwearingredfootiepajamas,paddingdownthewide-plankwoodfloorsofourhomeinSouthampton.Itisnighttime,andIamfollowingthewhiteglowofChristmaslights,alongwiththehumofmyparents’voices.Ireachtheendofthehallwayandpeeraroundthecorner,hidingsoIdon’tgetintrouble.Mymotherspotsmeandordersmebacktobed,butmyfatheroverrulesher,laughing.IamovercomewithjoyasIruntohim,climbingontohislapandinhalingthecherry-vanillascentofhispipe.Hewrapshisarmsaroundme,andIputmyheadonhischest,listeningtothesoundofhisheartbeatinginmyear.Myeyelidsareheavy,butIfightsleep,focusingononegoldballonourtree,wantingtostaywithhimaslongasIcan.
Iguessit’spossiblethatthismemory,too,isillusory,asceneIimaginedordreamed.Butitalmostdoesn’tmatter.Itfeelssoreal.SoI’vedecidedthatitis,clingingtoitastheonethingofmyfather’sthatbelongsonlytome.
Iknowwhatpeoplewouldsaytothis.They’dsay,No,Joe,youhavesomuchmorethanthat.Youhavehiswristwatchandhisrockingchair.Youhavehiseyesandhissmile.Youhavehisname
Italwayscomesbacktothatname—JosephS.Kingsley—whichwealsosharewithhisfather,mygrandfather.TheSisforSchuyler,thenameofthefamilywholandedinNewAmsterdamviatheDutchRepublicintheseventeenthcentury.Somehow,wespunofffromthosefolks—asdidtheOysterBayRoosevelts—privilegeandwealthbegettingmoreprivilegeandwealthasahandfuloffamiliesintermarried,curriedfavor,andbecameincreasinglyprominentinbusiness,themilitary,politics,andsociety.Mygreat-grandfatherSamuelS.Kingsley,afinancierandphilanthropist,hadbeenclosefriendswithTeddyRoosevelt,thetwoboysgrowingupafewblocksapartinManhattan,thenattendingHarvardtogether.WhenSamueldiedinafreakhuntingaccident,Teddybecameamentortomygrandfather,recruitinghimforhisGreatWhiteFleetandeventuallyintroducinghimtomygrandmother,Sylvia,afieryyoungsuffragistfromyetanotherprominentNewYorkfamily.
JosephandSylviamarriedin1917,rightbeforemygrandfathershippedoutfortheFirstWorldWar.WhileJosephcommandedaSampson-classdestroyerandearnedtheNavyCross,mygrandmothercontinuedtobattleforwomen’srighttovote,helpingtoorganizethe“WinningPlan,”ablitzcampaignthatlobbiedsouthernstatestoratifytheNineteenthAmendment.Herfightwouldlastlongerthanthewar,butonAugust18,1920,thesuffragistsfinallygotthethirty-sixthstatetheyneededwhenayoungmanintheTennesseestatehousechangedhisvoteattheeleventhhour,creditinganimpassionednotehe’dreceivedfromhismother.
Mygrandmotherwouldtellthisstoryoften,citingitasanauspicioussignforherownson—myfather—bornthatverysamesummerday.Twomoreboysandthreegirlswouldfollow,makingsixkidsintotal,andalthougheachhaduniquegiftsandabilities,mygrandmotherturnedouttoberight.Myfatherwasspecial,hereldestsonemergingasthestandoutoftheKingsleyclan.
Myfatherexcelledineverythingasaboy,thengraduatedatthetopofhisclassatHarvardbeforematriculatingatYaleLaw.WhenWorldWarIIbrokeoutduringhissecondyearatYale,heenteredtheNROTC,thenjoinedmygrandfatherinthePacific.Wholebookshavebeenwrittenabouttheirtimeincombat,butthemostsignificantmomentcameinlate1944,whenthetwoJosephKingsleysfoundthemselvessidebysideintheBattleforLeyteGulf,therearadmiralandlieutenantjuniorgradenarrowlysurvivingaseriesofkamikazeattacks,alongwithatyphoon,beforesecuringthebeachheadfortheSixthU.S.Army.Upontheirreturnhome,aphotowassnappedofmygrandmotherembracingherhusbandandsononthetarmac.TheimagewouldappearonthecoverofLifemagazine,alongwithaone-wordheadlineHeroes
Afterthewar,mygrandfatherservedinTruman’sStateDepartment,whilemyfatherpursuedhisloveofnavalaviation.Hecompletedadvancedflighttraining,thenwentontotestpilotschool,kickingassandtakingnames.Nobodyworkedharder,earnedhighermarks,orhadmorerawambitionthanmyfather,buthealsoknewhowtohaveagoodtimeandcoulddrinkanyoneunderthetable.Hewasamanofcontradictionsor,asonebiographerdescribed:“Ruggedyetdebonair,brashyetintroverted,Joe,Jr.,wasadisciplineddreamerandarisk-takingperfectionist.”
It’sadescriptionI’veoftenreturnedtoinmymind,thoughIfindmyselfwonderingwhetheritwastrue,orifpeoplejustseewhattheywanttosee.
OnethingIknowforsure,though,isthatmyfatherhadnoenemies.It’saclaimheardineulogiesorbiographies,especiallyaboutmenwhodieyoung,butinmyfather’scase,itwasthetruth.Everyonelovedhim.Ofcourse,thatincludedwomen,andtohismother’sfrustration,helovedanawfullotofthemasayoungman—andhadtroublechoosingjustone.
ThatallchangedinApril1952,whenmyfatherattendedastatedinnerattheWhiteHouseandmetmymother,Dorothy“Dottie”Sedgwick.Thedaughterofadiplomat,Dottiewasagorgeous,youngsocialite,freshoutofSarahLawrence,whohadjustbeennamedtoLookmagazine’sbest-dressedlist.Whatintriguedmyfatherthemost,though,wasn’therbeautyorstylebutherpoiseandworldliness.Sheseemedsomucholderthanhernineteenyears,andafteroverhearingsnippetsofaconversationshewashavingwithQueenJulianaoftheNetherlands,hewassmitten.
Laterthatevening,heaskedhertodance,andthetwohititoff,talkingandlaughingashetwirledherallovertheWhiteHouseballroom.Thefollowingmorning,TheWashingtonPostrantheirphotointhelifestylesection,alongwithadescriptionofmyfather’sfinelytailoredivorydinnerjacketandmymother’spowder-bluechiffongown.Thesocietypagesfollowedeverymoveoftheirensuingcourtship,andbythetimetheywereengagedayearlater,JoeandDottiewerehouseholdnames.America’ssweethearts.
AlavishweddingwasplannedintheHamptons,buttheKoreanWarputthingsonhold,asmyfatherreturnedtocombat.FromthecockpitofhisF-86Sabre,CaptainKingsleywoulddownsixenemyaircraft,becomingoneofonlytwonavyaviatorstoachieveacestatus,beforereturninghometomarryDottieinthesummerof1954.Theirweddingwasthesocialeventoftheyear,solidifyingmymotherasafashionicon.Womeneverywhere,includingAudreyHepburn,emulatedhertea-lengthweddingdress,pairedwithelbow-lengthgloves.
Shortlythereafter,myfatherannouncedhisbidforNewYork’sjuniorSenateseat.HeranasaDemocratbutgarneredvastbipartisansupportandwontheelectionhandily,becomingarisingpoliticalstar.Mygrandmotherwasthrilledandmymotherrelieved,believingthatpoliticswouldkeepherhusbandoutofharm’sway.Forseveralgoldenyears,theywerehappy,splittingtheirtimebetweenGeorgetown,NewYorkCity,andSouthampton.
Butinthefallof1957,justasmyparentswereplanningtostartafamily,Sputnik1usheredintheSpaceRace,andmyfathergrewrestless,dreamingofflight.Mymotherbeggedhimtostaythesafercourse,butmyfatherhadanironwill,andeventuallyhelefttheSenateforNASA,theagencyhehadhelpedcreate.Anyonealiveatthattimeknowsthatastronautswerelarger-than-lifefigures,reveredasAmerica’sgreatestheroesinaglobalconflictbetweendemocracyandcommunism.Theultimategoal,asPresidentKennedyproclaimedbeforeajointsessionofCongress,was“landingamanonthemoonandreturninghimsafelytotheEarth.”Itseemedanimpossibledreamtomost,butnottomyfatherandhiscohortsintheearlydaysatCapeCanaveral.
Mymotherputonabravepublicface,asallastronauts’wiveswererequiredtodo,butshelivedinconstantfearofwhatmighthappenattheendofthenextthirty-secondcountdown.Tomakemattersworse,shesufferedaseriesofthreemiscarriages.Herdoctorcouldn’tfindamedicalexplanation,butmymotherbelieveditwasstressovermyfather’soccupation.Herheartbreakwascompoundedbyresentment.
Then,miraculously,inDecemberof1963,shehadahealthybabyboy—me—andthingsweregoodagain,especiallyaftermyfatherpromisedherthathewouldleavethespaceprogrambymythirdbirthday.Itwasanarbitrarydeadline,andheendedupaskingforaslightextensionsothathecouldacceptonelastmission—alowEarthorbitaltestoftheApollocommandandservicemodulescheduledforFebruary1967.
Ofcourse,thatmissionneverflew.Instead,onJanuary27,1967,aflashfirebrokeoutinthecabinofthemoduleduringasimulatedrehearsal,asphyxiatingthefourmeninside:GusGrissom,EdWhite,RogerChaffee,andmyfather,JosephKingsley,Jr.
Therestishistory,astheysay.Theshockofthenation.Theendlessifonlysandwhatshouldhavebeens.Muchwasmadeoftheideathatmyfatherlikelywouldhavereturnedtopublicserviceafterhisfinalmission,withaspirationsbeyondtheSenate.MostpunditsbelievehewouldhavesecuredtheDemocraticnominationoverHumphreyin1968andbeatenNixoninthegeneralelectiontobecomethethirty-seventhpresidentoftheUnitedStates.
Instead,anationmourneditsfallenheroandpinneditshopesanddreamsonalittleboy.
Formuchofmychildhood,Ididn’tseeitthisway.AllIknewwasthatpeoplereveredmyfather,whichmademeproudandhappy.Ilikeditwhenstrangersstoppedmeonthestreettotalkabouthim.Mostlytheyofferedcondolencesorsharedananecdoteaboutwhathe’dmeanttothem.Sometimestheytalkedaboutthedayhedied,everyoneseemingtorememberexactlywheretheywerewhentheyheardthenews.Regardlessofwhattheyshared,mymindwouldinevitablyreturntothatmomentonhislapinfrontofourChristmastree.
AsIgotolder,therewasashift.Istillviewedmyfatherasahero,butIbegantofeeltheheavyweightofsomanyexpectations.PeopleoftenusedoutlandishdescriptionslikeheirapparentandAmerica’sprince,proddingmetohonormyfather’s“legacy.”Meanwhile,mymotherconstantlybroughthimup,comparingandmeasuringme,especiallywhenIgotinanykindoftroubleinschool.Didn’tIwanttobeagreatmanlikemyfather?IlearnedtostarebackatherandnodassolemnlyasIcould.Icertainlywasn’tgoingtotellherthetruth.ThatIreallyjustwantedtobeagoodman.Myownman.
Mymotherwouldhavefaintedifsheheardmesaythat.OneofherfavoritepassagesintheBiblewas“Foruntowhomsoevermuchisgiven,ofhimmuchshallberequired.”Iknewwhereshewascomingfrom.BeingaKingsleymeantaccesstothebestprivateschools,privateclubs,privatebankers,privateplanes.Iwasgratefulfortheblessingsinmylife.Butdamn.MyfatherwaskilledinafieryexplosionwhenIwasthree—which,frommyvantagepoint,feltahellofalotmorelike“Fromwhommuchistaken,muchisexpected.”
Bottomline,IwouldhavetradedalltheprideandprivilegeofbeingaKingsleyforaregularnamelikeSmithorJonesandadadwhowasn’tdead.Hell,Iwouldhavetradeditforfarless.Maybejustafewmoreyearswithhimandmorethanonememorythatmightnotevenbereal.CHAPTER2
Cate
MyfatherdiedinacaraccidentinNevadawhenIwasthree.Iwastooyoungtounderstand,graspingonlywhatmymothertoldme:thatmydadwasn’tcominghomeandthatweweregoingtolivewithmygrandmotherinaplacecalledHackensack.IrememberpackingupourapartmentinLasVegasandloadingourbelongingsintothebackofmymom’sbluePinto.IcriedsayinggoodbyetoPepper,myblackkitten,whoweleftwithaneighborbecausemygrandmotherwasallergic.ItlaterstruckmeasoddthatIfeltsadderaboutPepperthanaboutmyfather.
WhenIgottokindergarten,Inoticedthatmyclassmatesputdadsintheirdrawings,alongwithbrothersandsistersanddogs.Ihadagrandmother,butshewasmeantomymom,soIleftheroutofmypictures.OnceIdrewmyfatherstandingontheothersideofme,andmygrandmothergotmad,callinghimaloser,makingmymomcry.
Ashorttimeafterthat,mymomandImovedintoourownapartment.Wedidn’tseemuchofmygrandmotheranymore,whichwasfinebyme.Evenbetter,mymomletmegetanewcat,whichInamedPepper,Jr.Aroundthattime,shealsogavemeaphotographofmydad—theonlyoneI’deverseen.Itwasblackandwhite,butIcouldsomehowtellthathehadblondhairandblueeyeslikeme.Init,heisleaningonadoorframe,wearingaplaidshirtandcowboyboots.Hehaslongsideburns,andhisexpressionisplain—nothappyorsad.It’snotalottogoon,butfromthereIfilledinthegaps,imaginingthathehadbeenthestrong,silenttype,ruggedandintrepidandabitmysterious.LiketheMarlboroMan.Mymomdidn’tcorroboratemyvision,butshedidn’tcontradictit,either.Infact,shedidn’ttalkabouthimmuchatall,andIlearnednottoaskquestions.Itmadehertoosad.
Eventually,mymombeganlookingforanewhusband.Shewasbeautiful—tallerandthinnerthanothermothers,withlongblondhairthatshesetinrollersatnight.Wherevershewent,menstoppedtotalktoher.ShealsometalotofthemattheMannaDiner,wheresheworkedasawaitress.They’daskforherphonenumber,andshewouldprettymuchalwaysgiveittothem,eventothebald,uglyguys,becauseshesaidyounevercouldtellifafellowhadmoney.Mymomtalkedincessantlyofmoneyandmen,makingbothseemlikeprerequisitestohappiness.
Inmymind,itdidn’taddup.Iwaspoor.Iwasfatherless.ButIwasstillhappy.Ilovedourcozy,clutteredthird-floorapartmentatQueen’sCourtwithitsshaggreencarpetandconcretebalconywithabird’s-eyeviewoftheparkinglot.Iwouldsitoutthereforhours,playingwithmyBarbieswhileIwaitedformymomtogethomefromwork.Therewasalwayssomethingexcitinghappeningdownbelow—fromakickballgametoascreamingmatchtoamake-outsession—anditwasalmostalwaysmoreentertainingthanwhateverGloria,theoldladywhobabysatme,waswatchingonourcolortelevision,itssmallscreendistortedwithzigzaglinesandsometimesawhite-outblizzardoffuzz.AsfarasIwasconcerned,ourtelevisionwastheonlythingthatneededanupgrade.Otherwise,Ithoughtourlifewasjustfine.
Untilmymomgotanewboyfriend,thatis.Whenevershedid,thingsgotmessedup.EitherIwouldgetkickedoutofthebedmymomandIsharedandbeforcedtosleeponthehard,scratchysofa,orshewoulddisappearfordaysatatime,leavingmewithGloria.Theworstpart,though,waswhathappenedwhenthosemeninevitablyvanished,andmymomwouldsleep,drink,andcryallhoursoftheday.Eventually,shewouldgetoverit,butonlywhenanothermancamealong.Shedidn’tknowhowtobehappywithoutoneandconstantlydreamedofourbeingrescuedandtakentoanicehouseinMontclair.I’dneverbeen,butshesaiditwasasuburbinNewJerseywhererichpeoplelived.
Intheory,Iunderstoodthefairytaleshewasafter,andIwashopefulshewouldfindit,forhersakeandmine.Idreamedofakindstepfather,imaginingMikeBrady:ahandsomearchitectwhokissedmymominthekitchenandhelpedmewithmyhomework.Evenbetterifhecamewiththreesons,adog,andanAstroturfbackyardcompletewithaswingsetandteeter-totter.Inreality,Iknewthatwasn’tgoingtohappen.Ialsointuitivelyunderstoodthatnomanwasbetterthanthewrongman.Ifonlymymomhadagreed.
WhenIwastenyearsold,shemetChip,acopwhocameintothedinerandcharmedheroverhisslidersandcoconutcreampiebeforeleavingatipbiggerthanthecheck.Hisphonenumberwaswrittenontheback.
“He’sperfect,”mymomsaidasshegotreadyforbedthatnight,slatheringOilofOlayonherfaceandneck.
“Andhewasn’twearingaweddingring?”Iasked—becausethathadhappenedafewtimes.
“I’mpositive,”shesaid.“Icheckedhishandthesecondhesatdown.”
“Andhehadgoodmanners?”Iasked.
Thiswasherfavoritescreeningdevice,thoughshewentoutwiththerudeones,too.
“Yes,”shesaid.“Notacrumbleftonthetable,andheevenstackedhisdishesandfoldedhisnapkinonhisplate.”
Thisseemedalittleextremetome,likearedflagofadifferentkind.MymomandIweremessyandlikeditthatway,callingourbeda“nest”—whichwenevermade.
WhenIpointedthisout,sheinterruptedme.“I’mtellingyou,Cate.He’sdreamy.AndI’mgoingtomarryhim.”
ShesoundedsocertainthatIalmostbelievedherthistime,andIwasexcitedwhenChipcameoverafewdayslatertotakemymomoutonadate.Withoutherevenaskingme,Iputonadress,alongwitharibboninmyhair,determinedtomakeagoodimpression.Ifthingsdidn’tworkoutbetweenthem,Iwasn’tgoingtobethereason,asIhadbeeninthepast,whenothermendecidedtheydidn’twantthe“baggage”ofakid.
WhenChipwalkedintothelivingroom,Istoodupfromthesofa,whereI’dbeenquietlyreadingabook,andmadeeyecontactwithhim.Iwasshy,sothatwasn’ttheeasiestthingtodo.Itdidn’thelpthathewastallerandbiggerthanherusualboyfriends.
“Hi,Cate!”hesaidinaboomingvoicethatmatchedhisstature.
“Hello,OfficerToledano,”Isaid,asmymomhadinstructed.
“CallmeChip!”
Iglancedatmymom,whonoddedherpermission.
“Hi,Chip,”Isaid.
Beamingdownatme,hehandedmeaplasticbagandsaid,“Ibroughtyoualittlesomething.”
Ismiledandthankedhim,expectingcandyoradrugstoretrinket,thetwomostcommongiftsgiventomebymymom’sboyfriends.Instead,IreachedintothebagandpulledoutaboxedBarbiewithaKendoll.ThetannedMalibucouplesportedmatchingtealandpurplemonogrammedswimsuits.Iwassold.
—
Ishouldhaveknownbetter,ofcourse.Itallturnedouttobearuse—areallygoodactthatlastednearlythreemonths,justlongenoughforChiptoproposeandmymomtosayyes.Shortlyafterthat,Chipshowedhistruecolors,andIrealizedthathewasnotonlyaneatfreakbutalsoajerk,puttingmymomandmedownateveryturn.Iquicklycametohateandfearhim,anddidmybesttotalkmymomoutofgettingmarried.Butshedidn’tlisten,makingendlessexcusesforhim.Herfavoritewasallthestresshewasunderasan“officerofthelaw”—she’dsaythattherewasnomoredifficultjobintheworld.
“Thingswillbebetteroncewe’remarried,”shepromisedme.“Justhanginthereandgivehimachance.”
Itriedtobelieveher.Iwantedtobelieveher.ButChip’smoodsonlyworsened,alongwithhisverbalassaultsandthreats.Itoldmyselftherewasnowayhe’dphysicallyhurtmymom,nomatterhowmadhegot,becausemendidn’thitwomen,especiallypolicemen,whowerethegoodguys.
OneSaturdaynightinDecember,Chipinvitedmymomtothechiefofpolice’sChristmasparty.ShewasexcitedandspentallafternoonprimpinginourbathroomasIplayedtheroleofherlady-in-waiting,handinghervariousmakeupbrushesandbottlesoflotionandperfumeandadvisingheronjewelryandshoes.Whenwewerefinished,shelookedmoregorgeousthanusual,herblondhairfeatheredaroundherface,herfingersandtoeslacqueredredtomatchhersparklysequineddress.Whenhearrived,Iwenttothedoorwithher,excitedtoseeChip’sreaction,expectinghimtogushoverher.Instead,helookedmymomupanddown,madeaface,andsaid,“You’regoingforthehookerlooktonight,Isee?”
Myheartsank,andmymom’sfacefell.
“Whoareyoutryingtoimpressanyway?”Chipsaid,hiswordsslurringlikehe’dbeendrinking.“Nick?”
NickwasChip’spartner—whoI’dnoticedwasadeadringerfortheSixMillionDollarMan.Unfortunately,mymomhadmadethemistakeofsharingmyobservationwithChipafewweeksearlier;he’dpromptlylosthismind,accusingherofwantingtofuckNick.I’dheardthef-wordbefore,butneverasaverbandnotinanyrelationtomymom.
“Igotdressedupforyou,”mymomexplained,desperationinhereyes.“NotNick.”
“Well,Ithinkit’samightybigcoincidence,”Chipsaid.“Youlooklikeshitwhenit’sjustthetwoofusandthenyouputonthatdresswhenyouknowNick’sgoingtobethere.”
Mymomstammeredthatshewouldchangeintosomethingelseashecontinuedtoberateher,followingherdownthehalltoourbedroom.Istoodfrozeninthehallway,wonderingifIshouldgowiththemorescapetoGloria’sapartment.Sensingthatmymommightneedreinforcements,Idecidedtostaybyherside,andevenforcedmyselftotakeadeepbreathanddefendher.
“Chip.Justsoyouknow,shedidn’tbuythatdressforNick.Sheboughtitforyou.Itcostalotofmoney,andshethoughtyouwouldloveit.”
IknewitwasthewrongthingtosaybecauseChipbeganshoutingatthetopofhislungsthatIwasarude,spoiledbrat.Hethenturnedhiswrathbacktomymom,questioningthewayshehadraisedmeandwhetherheevenwantedtobemarriedtosomeonewithsuchadisrespectfulbratofakid.Bythen,mymom’smakeupwasruined,mascarastreamingdownherfaceasshesobbedthatshewassorry.Thatwewerebothsorry.
“Whatareyousorryfor,Jan?”heyelled.
Icouldtellitwasatrickquestion,andmymomknewit,too.
“Foreverything,”shewhispered,whichseemedlikeasaferesponse.
“Forbeingaslut?”hesaid.
Mymomopenedhermouthtoanswer,buthecutheroff,yellinglouder.“ForwantingtofuckNick?”
“Idon’t—”shewhimpered.“Ionlywantyou—”
“Foralltheguysyou’vefuckedintown?Lookatyouinthatsluttydress.ThetownwhoreofHackensack.Jesus,wehavetomove.”
Ashecontinuedtorant,mymomfranticallywentthroughhercloset,thenpulledoutabrownpolyesterpantsuit.“Whataboutthis?Doyoulikethis?”
“Areyouserious?Wow,”Chipsaid.Heshookhishead,thenlookedatme.“Yourmotherherehastwoextremes.Shecanlooklikeaslut…orshecanlooklikeadyke.Whaddyathink,Cate?WouldIratherbeseenwithaslutoradyke?”
Ididn’tknowwhatadykewas,butIcouldtellhedidn’tconsideritacompliment.
“Ican’ttakeyouanywhere,canI,Jan?”heyelled.“You’reanembarrassment.Agoddamnembarrassment.”
Atthatpoint,Ifeltasurgeofhopethathemightfinallyjustdumpher,liketheothershad.Mymomwouldbesadforawhile,butshewouldgetoverit,andwecouldgoonwithourlives.Instead,heshovedmymomintotheclosetdoor.Asshecrashedagainstit,thenfelltothefloor,heyelledathertogetupandgetready,thattheyweregoingtobelate.Whenshedidn’tmove,hekickedherinthestomach.IwatchedinhorrorandwonderedifIshouldcallthepolice.
Inthenextinstant,Iremembered,withafreshwaveofterror,thathewasthepolice,andtherewasn’tanythinganybodycoulddotostophim.CHAPTER3
Joe
Growingup,Ididn’thaveafatherorsiblingsbutwasveryclosetomyauntsandunclesandcousins,especiallyontheKingsleyside.Sadly,myfather’sdeathwouldn’tbethelasttragedyinourfamily,notbyalongshot.Theyearafterhepassedaway,myfather’ssecond-oldestsister,Betty,diedinahousefire(onChristmasEve,noless);thefollowingyear,mythree-year-oldcousinEloisewanderedoutoftheiryardinSagHarboranddrownedintheirneighbors’pool;andwhenIwaseight,myoldestcousin,Frederick,diedinanavalanchewhileskiingintheFrenchAlps.
Peoplecalleditthe“Kingsleycurse.”Thephraseinfuriatedmymother,perhapsbecauseitalsoterrifiedher,especiallywhenmycousinsandIwerehavingagoodtime.Welovedtotakerisksonlandandwater,andIwastypicallytheringleader—surfing,skiing,hanggliding,rockclimbing,younameit.Someonewasalwaysbeinghauledofftotheemergencyroomforonemishaporanother,whichwecousinsworeasbadgesofhonor,keepingarunningtallyofstitchesandbrokenbones.Mymotherdidn’tfindanyofitevenremotelyfunnyandlivedinaconstantstateofdreadthatI’dbecriticallyinjured.IguessIcan’tblameherforthat,givenwhatsheandourfamilyhadbeenthrough,butitstillseemedunfair.Shewantedmetofollowinmyfather’sfootsteps,andtome,asenseofadventurecamewiththatterritory.Iwasn’tassmartasmyfather,butIcouldbeasbraveashehadbeen,ifonlymymotherwouldletme.
Fortunately,myfather’smother(whomIcalledGary,becauseIcouldn’tpronounceGrannywhenIwaslittle)understoodmeandgavemethefreedomtobeexactlywhoIwas.TheonlythingthatsheaskedofmewasthatIfulfillmyownuniquepotential.Shemademefeelspecial,andwhenImessedup,shewasalwaysthefirsttoforgiveme.Iadoredher,andneverturneddowntheopportunitytospendone-on-onetimewithher,whetheratherhomeinSouthamptonorherapartmentontheUpperEastSide.IespeciallylovedwhenshewouldpickmeupfromschoolandwalkmeovertoTavernontheGreenforicecream.Wehadsomeofourbestconversationsoverhot-fudgesundaesandrootbeerfloats.
“Tellmewhat’sgoingoninyourworld,Joey,”she’dalwayssay.
Iknewthatunlikeothergrown-ups,whowerejustgoingthroughthemotions,mygrandmotherwasseekinganinterestinganswer.
OneafternoonwhenIwasaboutten,sheaskedthequestion,andItoldheraboutCharlieVancegettingbulliedatrecess.
“Whywashebullied?”sheasked,takingadaintybiteofwhippedcreamwhileItookaspoonanddugdowndeepintomine.
“Becausehe’sasissy,”Isaid.
“Andwhatmakeshimasissy?”
“Youknow.Theusualsissystuff,”Isaid,explainingthatCharliecouldn’tthrowaballtosavehislifeandwasafraidofspidersandtalkedwithagoofylisp.Andthemostegregiousexample:hewasrumoredtoplaywithhissister’sdolls.
Mygrandmothernoddedandsaid,“Hmm.Andwhenpeopleteasehim,doyoustickupforhim?”
“Yeah,”Isaid,whichwastrue,butshemayhaveguessedbythelookonmyfacethatmyeffortstostandupforCharliewerehalfheartedatbest.Mostly,Ijustwantedhimtofallinlineandstopbeinghisownworstenemy.
Garysuddenlyputherspoondownandstaredintomyeyes.“Joey.AreyouawarethatCharliemightbehomosexual?”
Igazedbackather,processingthis.IthadneveroccurredtomethatCharliewasgay—norhaditcrossedmymindthatanyoneouragecouldbe—butIwantedmygrandmother,thewisestpersonIknew,tothinkI,too,waswiseinthewaysoftheworld.Isomberlynodded.
“Andifthat’sthecase,Charlieisgoingtohaveaverydifficultlife,Joey,”shesaid.“Hecan’thelpwhoheis,andyouneedtodoeverythingyoucantoeasehisway.”
“Iwill,Gary,”Isaid,feelingashamedthatIhadn’tdonemoreforCharlietodate,andthatwhatIhadseenastomfoolerybymymorerambunctiousclassmatesactuallyhadshadingsofcruelty.
“You’reanaturalleader.Peoplelistentoyou,”shecontinued.“I’vewatchedyouinaction.”
“Where?”Isaid,picturingmygrandmotherholdingupbinocularstotheschoolyardfence.
“Whenyou’rewithyourcousins,”shesaid.“Allthetime.”
Ilookedacrossthetableatmygrandmother,feelingsoproud.
“DidIgetthatfrommyfather?”Iasked.“Washethatway?”
Sheshookherhead,whichshockedme.“Don’tgetmewrong.Hewasagood-heartedboylikeyouare,”shesaid.“Buthewasn’tasoutgoingorbrave.”
Istaredather,findingithardtobelievethatIcould,atanyage,bebraverthansomeonewhobecameanacefighterpilotandastronaut.Isaidasmuch,andmygrandmotherexplained.“Hegrewintoaleader,buthewasn’tbornone.Itdidn’tcomenaturallytohim.Notlikeitdoesforyou.That’sasuperpower,Joey.Andyouneedtoalwaysusethatpowerforgood.”
Shewentontotalkaboutadvocacyandactivism,andherworkforwomen’ssuffragewhenshewasyoung,andhowmuchstillneededtobedoneforwomenandminorities.
“Icanseeyouinthatfightforequality,”shesaid.“Andmaybeitallstartshere.DefendingCharlie.Willyoudothatforme?Forhim?”
IsatupstraighterandpromisedherIwould.
Intheweeksthatfollowed,IputthekiboshonallbullyingofCharlie,andIdiditingrandstyle.Ratherthansimplydefendinghimonanadhocbasis,Ibefriendedhim,andhewasdamnnearpopularbytheendofthatschoolyear.Iknowthatprobablysoundsarrogant,butit’sthetruth.Iwasprettypleasedwithmyself.
—
Acoupleofyearslater,onthefirstdayoftheseventhgrade,Mr.Wilkes,ourheadmaster,summonedmetohisofficeandinformedmethatIwasresponsiblefor“shepherdinganewstudent.”
Inoddedandsaid,“Yes,sir.What’shisname?”
Mr.WilkestoldmethathernamewasBerryWainwright,andthatshehadjustmovedtoNewYorkfromLondon.ShehadattendedThomas’sBattersea,hesaidinatonethatmadeitclearthiswasanimpressiveschool.
“BerryasinBarryWhite?”Iinterjected.“Orlikeastrawberry?”
“Likeastrawberry,Joseph,”Mr.Wilkessaid.
“Berrygood!”Isaid,givinghimathumbs-up.
Hestaredatmeabeat,lookingweary,thensaid,“Joseph.Ineedyoutotakethisresponsibilityseriously.”
“Yes,sir,”Isaid,suddenlyfeelingalittlesuspiciousofhisreasonforchoosingmeforthisjob—thatithadmoretodowithBerry’sparents’socialstatusornetworth.Iwasonlythirteen,butIhadseenMr.Wilkesusemeasapawnlikethatbefore,andinthatmoment,Iwasannoyednottobebackoutsideinthecourtyardwithmyfriends.IalsopredictedthatIwasn’tgoingtobeafanofthisnewgirlnamedafterapieceoffruit.
Butmyattitudedidaone-eightythesecondhisofficedooropenedandourguidancecounselorbroughtherin.ShewasadeadringerforTatumO’Neal,andletmejustsay,therewasareasonI’dseenTheBadNewsBearsthreetimes.Igottomyfeet,asIhadbeentaughttodowhenagirlenterstheroom,whileMr.Wilkesrosefromhisdeskandclearedhisthroat.
“Joseph,thisisBerryWainwright,”hesaid,gesturingtowardher.“AndBerry,thisisJosephKingsleythethird.”
“Howdoyoudo?”Isaid,lookingdirectlyintohereyes,anotherpointofetiquette,thoughalsowhatIwantedtodo.
“I’mwell,thankyou.Andyou?”Berrysaid.
“I’mgood,”Isaid,forsomereasonrelishingmybadgrammar,perhapsbecauseIwantedtooffsetanynotionofbeingthekindofguywhohadaRomannumeralafterhisname.
Mr.Wilkesaskedustotakeaseat,andforthenextfewminutes,hedronedonabouthowwonderfulourschoolwasandhowhappyweweretohaveBerry.Hetheninformedmethatherclassschedulemirroredminewiththeexceptionofourrespectiveseventh-periodmathclasses.
“Lemmeguess,”Isaidwithalaugh.“She’sinahighermathclassthanIam?”
“Sheis,indeed,”Mr.Wilkessaid,staringmedown.“Perhapsifyouworkharder,youcanjoinherinacceleratedmathnextyear.”
“Ormaybe,”Isaid,keenlyawarethatself-deprecationwasacrowdfavorite.“Webothworkequallyhard,andshe’sjustsmarterthanme.”
Mr.Wilkesignoredthisashestoodandsaid,“I’llletyoutwogetacquaintedbeforefirstperiod….Berry,pleaseknowthatyou’reinexcellenthandswithJoseph.”
Hegavemeafinallookthatsaid,Don’tmessthisup,thenusheredusoutthedoorofhisoffice.
Nowaloneinthehall,BerryandIgazedateachotherforafewawkwardsecondsbeforeIclearedmythroatandaskedthestandardback-to-schoolquestion.“Howwasyoursummer?”
“Itwasfine,”Berrysaid.“Howwasyours?”
“Itwasfun…reallyfun….Ididalotofsurfing.”
Shenodded,lookinguninterestedbutnotimpolite.
Ichangedtactics,asking,“Hey,hasanyoneevertoldyouthatyoulooklikeTatumO’Neal?”
“No,”shesaid.
“Well,youdo,”Isaid.“HaveyouseenTheBadNewsBears?Themovie?”
“No,”shesaidagain.“Idon’treallylikesports.”
Istartedtotellherthatlikingsportswasn’taprerequisitetoenjoyingthemoviebutsuddenlyrealizedsomething.“Hey.Where’syourBritishaccent?Didyouloseitalready?”
“No.Ineverhadone.I’mnotBritish,”shesaid,holdingmygazeinawaythatmanygirlswereincapableofdoing—notjustwithme,butwithanyboy.“Mydadworkedattheembassy.”
Inodded,mentallyreturningtomytheoryaboutherwealthy,connectedparents.“What’shedonow?”Iasked,thoughIactuallydidn’tcare.
Shebitherlip.“Hedoesn’tdoanything,”shesaid,hesitating.“Hedied.InMarch.”
Herdeliverywassomatter-of-factthat,atfirst,IthoughtImusthavemisunderstoodher.Butthenshestartedblinking,likeshemightcry.
“Oh.Wow.I’msorry,”Istammered,feelingtherushofempathythatIalwayshadforanotherkidwhohadlostaparent.Itwasaclubyoudidn’twanttobein—butaclubnonetheless.
“Thankyou,”shesaid,areplythatIvastlypreferredtosomevariationofit’sokay.Afterall,itwasn’tokay—thosewerejustwordswesaidtomakeotherpeoplelessuncomfortable.
Inthatmoment,Iwasspeechless—rareforme.
Icertainlywasn’tgoingtoaskanyquestionsaboutthemannerofdeath.(Wasitsudden?wastheeuphemismpeopleusedforWasitanaccident?)Yetitdidn’tfeelrighttojustmoveontoanewtopic,either.AfewmoresecondspassedbeforeIsettledontellingherthatmyfatherhaddied,too.“ButIwastooyoungtoreallyrememberhim,”Iquicklyadded.“Soyoursituationiswayharder.”
“No.They’rejusthardindifferentways,”shesaid,acknowledgingsomethingI’dwonderedabout.WouldithavebeenbetterifIhadknownmyfather?Orwoulditonlyhavemadememoresad?ThefactthatBerryrecognizedthesenuancesimpressedme.
“Ibetthat’swhyMr.Wilkesputustogether,”Isaid,mostlythinkingaloud.
“Maybeso,”Berrysaid.“Butpleasedon’tfeellikeyouhavetobabysitme.”
“Oh,Ididn’tmeanitlikethat,”Isaid.“I’mhappytoshowyouaroundandstuff.”
Berryshruggedandsaid,“Okay.ButIreallydon’tneedanything.I’vechangedschoolsbefore.It’snobigdeal.”
Inodded,givinghermymostearnestlook.“Ihearyou,”Isaid.“ButI’mgonnahavetoassistyouregardless.Youwouldn’twanttogetmeintrouble,wouldyou?”
“No,”shesaid,givingmethesmallestofsmiles.“OfcourseIwouldn’t.”
—
Bytheendoftheday,thewholeschoolwasabuzzwithBerry’sstory.Rumorsswirledthatshehadlostnotonlyherfatherbutalsohermother,bothamongthe585peoplekilledintheinfamousrunwaycollisionoftwofullyloadedBoeing747sontheislandofTenerife.Iprayedthatitwasn’ttrue—thatitwassimplysomejerkkidembellishingherloss.Imean,surelyBerrywouldhavementioneditifhermotherwasdead,too.
Thatevening,mymother,whohadapparentlytalkedtoMr.Wilkesaboutmyassignment,confirmedit.ShetoldmethatBerrywasanonlychildlikeme—andwaslivingwithherauntanduncle,bothofwhomwerebusywithbigjobs.Icouldn’tbelieveit.Berrywasanorphan
Needlesstosay,Idischargedmydutieswiththeutmostseriousness,whichsomeofmyfriendsmistookasmyhavingacrushonthenewgirl.Ideniedit,foralthoughshewaspretty,myfeelingsforBerryborenoneofthehallmarksofmyusualinfatuations.Ididn’twanttokissher;Ijustwantedtobefriendswithher.
Atsomepoint,thetwoofusstartedspendingtimetogetheroutsideofschool,hangingoutinthepark,doinghomeworkatmydiningroomtable,andhittinguprecordstoresalloverthecity.(Berryhadgreattasteinmusic—whichmadeupforherbeingcluelessaboutsports.)Shewasthebestlistener,andaskedquestionsabouthowIfeltthatwouldhaveseemednosyorjudgmentalfromanyoneelse.Sheconfidedinme,too,tellingmeheavystuffabouthergriefandnightterrors.Once,shetoldmehowgratefulshewasthatherparentshadbeentogetherwhentheydied,eventhoughitmeantlosingthemboth.Thatreallybowledmeover.I’dneverknownanyonesoselflessorstrong.
Overthenextfewyears,BerryandIbecamecloserandcloser,andbyourjunioryearofhighschool,whenwebothheadedofftoAndover,shehadbecomeanhonoraryKingsley,minglingwithallthecousins.MymotheradoredherasmuchasIdid,callingherthedaughtersheneverhad.Sometimes,Iwouldcomehometofindthetwoofthemalreadychattingawayinthekitchen.Ifoundtheirrelationshipcomforting,likeitmadeallthreeofusseemmorenormal.Ididn’tevenmindwhentheyteasinglygangeduponme,thoughIpretendedtobeannoyed.
TheirspecialtywascritiquingthegirlsIliked,ormoreaccurately,Berrywouldcritiquethem,andmymotherwouldtakeherwordasgospel.Whileshe’doccasionallydeemsomeoneworthyofmyattention,moreoftenshe’dwrinklehernoseindisapproval,dismissingthemasbeingtooneedyorasocialclimber,orlackingsubstance.Overtime,allthegirlsinoursocialorbitcametoseeBerryastheJoeKingsleygatekeeper.Somegirlseventriedtobefriendhertogetclosertome.ItwasatacticthatBerrysawstraightthrough.Youcouldn’tgetanythingbyher.
TheonlytimeweeverarguedwaswhenIputmyselfinharm’swaywithmycousins.Likemymother,Berryhadgoodreasontobeafraid—butIneverunderstoodwhythatfeartranslatedtosuchanger.Whileotherscalledmereckless,Berrycalledmeselfishandarrogantandstupid.
Thesummerbeforeoursenioryear,afteroneparticularlyharrowingmishapthatinvolvedacapsizedkayakandamildcaseofhypothermia,Berrywouldn’tspeaktomeforaweek.
“Whatifsomethinghappenedtoyou?”shesaidwhenwefinallyhaditout.“Yourmotherwouldbealone.Alone,Joe!”
“Shewouldn’tbealone.She’dhaveyou.”
“It’snotthesame,Joe,andyouknowit.Wearen’tfamily.”
“Youmightaswellbe,”Isaid.“Andbesides,nothingisgoingtohappentome.”
“Andwhy’sthat?”sheasked,hervoicerising.“Becauseyou’reinvincible?”
Isighed,silentlyacknowledgingtomyselfthatIdidfeelalittlebulletproof.ButIwasn’tabouttoadmitthistoBerry,soinsteadIsaid,“No.BecauseI’mresourceful.”
“Youtookakayakacrossthebayinathunderstorm,Joe.That’snotresourceful.It’sidiotic.”
“Itwasn’tstormingwhenIleft.”
“Andyoudidn’tchecktheweather?Orthinktotellanyonewhereyouweregoing?That’stheoppositeofresourceful.”
“Well,howaboutthefactthatI’mastrongswimmer?”
“Beingastrongswimmerdoesn’thelpwhenyou’rehypothermic—”
“Hey—Igottotheshore,didn’tI?”
“Yes,andyoualsohadtobreakintoastranger’shousetotakeahotbath!”
“Exactly!Resourcefulashell,”Isaid,feelingsmug.
Berrygavemealookofcontempt,thenshookherhead.“You’resuchanidiot.”
“ButI’mright.I’mhere.Aliveandkicking,”Isaid,thoughIstillfeltachillrememberinghowshockinglycoldthewaterhadbeen,howviolentlyI’dbeenshiveringasIknockedondoorsforhelp.
“Thistime,”shesaid.“Whoknowsaboutthenexttimeifyoukeepthisup?”
Ihesitated,andthensaid,“Theuniversehaspunishedmyfamilyenough.”
“Oh.Iseenow,”shesaid.“Sillyme.Iforgotthattheuniverseisfair.”
“I’mnotsayingit’sfair,”Isaid,thinkingofherparents,asIalwaysdid.“ButI’msaying—whatarethechances?”
“Whatarethechancesthatanastronautisriskinghislife?Oranidiotwhotakesakayakoutbyhimselfinastorm?”
IbitmylipandloweredmyeyesasBerrykeptongoing.
“Yourdadhadawifeandchild,”shesaid.“Hehadnobusinessbeinginthespaceprogram.Especiallywhenyourmotherbeggedhimtoquit.”
Ilookedather,alittlestunnedbythedirectionshewasnowtaking.“Thatwashisdream,”Isaid.
“Sowhat?”Berryshotback.“Howaboutyourmother’sdream?”
“Frenchliterature?Journalism?”Iquipped.
Theformerwashermajor,thelatterherfirstandonlyjoboutofcollege.Heractualjobtitlehadbeen“inquiringcameragirl,”forwhichshewanderedthestreetsofWashington,DC,takingphotosofstrangerswhomshepolledaboutcurrenteventsandotherrandomtopics.Herphotos,alongwiththeirresponses,wereinadailycolumnintheWashingtonTimes-Herald.Itwasacoolgig,butI’dnevergottenthefeelingthatitwasherdream
“No,dummy,”Berrysaid.“Herrealdream.Toraiseafamilywithherhusband.Andwatchherchildgrowupwithhisfather.Thatdream.”
“Oh,”Isaid.
“Ifhehadlistenedtoyourmother,he’dstillbealive.Buthewastoostubborn…tooselfish.”
“Whatdidmymothertellyou?”Isaid,mystomachtwistinginknots.
Berryshruggedandkeptonstaringmedown.“She’stoldmealotofthings,Joe,”shesaid.
“Likewhat?”
Shetookadeepbreath,thenletoutalongsigh.“Well.Didyouknowtheyhadadeal?Thathemadeherapromise?”
“Whatpromise?”Iasked,myfacehot.
“Hesworetoherthathewouldquitflyingwhenyouturnedthree,”Berrysaid.“Didyouknowthat?”
Ishookmyhead,feelingawaveofintensesadness.
“Well,hedid.Buthebrokethatpromise.’Causehejusthadtodoonemoremission.Hisegowastoobig—”
I’doverheardthesewhisperingsbeforefromsomeofmyauntsanduncles,alongwithreadingaboutrumorsinthepressaboutmyfather’sinfidelity,butnothinghadeverbeenconfirmedbymymother.“Berry.Stopit.Rightnow!”IsaidassternlyasI’deverspokentoher—oranygirl.
Butofcourse,shedidn’tstop.“It’strue,”shesaid.“Yourfatherwasselfish,Joe—”
“Hewasahero,”Isaid,myvoiceshaking.
“Yes,Joe,”shesaid.“Hewasawarhero.Buthedidn’tdieahero.”
“Yes,hedid!”
“No.Hediedputtinghisownlustforadventureandfameandambitionoveryouandyourmother.That’swhathappened.Facefacts.”
Icouldn’tbelieveherdisrespectandfeltmyselfsnap.“Shutyourdamnmouth,Berry!”Ishouted.
“No,Joe,”shesaid.“Iwon’t.Someoneneedstostanduptoyou—”
“Oh,cutthecrap.Lotsofpeoplestanduptome,”Isaid,thinkingofalltheadultsinmylifewhoscoldedmewhenImessedup.
“Yes,butyouwon’tlisten…toanyone,”shesaid,hereyessuddenlyfillingwithtears.
NowIfeltpissedandguilty,theworstcombination.“Shit,Ber.Don’tcry,”Isaid.
“Ican’thelpit,”shesaid,tearsnowrollingdownhercheeks.“Theskydiving.Rockclimbingwithoutaharness.Ridingamotorcyclewithoutahelmet.Thisidiotictalkaboutgettingapilot’slicense.It’sallsostupidandpointless.Itscaresme.Itscaresyourmother.”
“I’msorry,Berry.You’reright.I’llbemorecareful.Ipromise,”Isaid.
Inthatmoment,Imeantit.NotbecauseIbelievedforonesecondthatanythingcouldhappentome,butbecauseIlovedBerryandmymotheranddidn’twanttoupsetthem.Sofortherestofthatsummer,andthroughoutmysenioryear,Ididmybesttokeepmypromise.Don’tgetmewrong—IfoundotherwaystoupsetmymotherandBerry;it’sjustthatnoneofmybaddecisionswerethingsthatcouldhavegottenmekilled.Sothatwassomething,atleast.CHAPTER4
Cate
Despiteallmyprotestingandbegging,mymomwentaheadwiththewedding.ShemarriedChiponValentine’sDay,apermanentstainonthealreadylameholiday.Shekeptinsistingthathecouldchange.Andevenifhedidn’t,nobodywasperfect,andthegoodoutweighedthebad,andChipreallydidloveus,andhistemperwasasmallpricetopayfora“betterlife”inMontclair,whereChiphadsogenerouslyboughtusahouse.
Ifyoudidn’tknowwhatwasreallygoingon,mymomandIprobablydidseemlucky,astherewasnoarguingthatathree-bedroomhomeinMontclairwasanupgradeoverourone-bedroomapartmentinHackensack.I’llalsoadmitthatIlovedhavingareal,fenced-in,privatebackyardandmyownbedroom,whichmymomletmepaintashadecalled“pinklemonade.”Anothergreatpartwasthatmymomnolongerhadtowaitress.Infact,shenolongerhadtoworkatall,asChipwanteda“stay-at-homewife”athisbeckandcall.
Butmymomwasstillwrong.Itwasn’tabetterlife—notevenclose—asnoneofthoseimprovementsweregoodtrade-offsforthesickeningsightofChipcomingthroughthefrontdoorwiththatguninhisholsterandameanglintinhiseye.Orthesmellofboozeonhisbreathashecalledmestupidandlazy—aloserlikeyourmother.Ortheterrifyingnoisesthatcamethroughthewallsofmyroom(andthepillowovermyhead)—soundsofmymomcryingandscreamingandbegging.Forsomereason,thebeggingbrokemyheartthemost.Itneverworked,andI’mprettysureitjustmadethingsworse.
Thatfall,IstartedsixthgradeatMountHebronMiddleSchool,acheerfulred-brickbuildingonBellevueAvenue.Likeourhouse,MountHebronwasanupgradefrommyoldschoolwithitsstenchoffishsticksandbleach.IespeciallylovedMissWilson,myartteacher,whotalkedinthemostsoothingvoiceandalwayspraisedmywork.Inmycase,schoolanywherewasbetterthanhome,mysafehavenfromChip.Butdon’tgetmewrong—myself-esteemwaslowthere,too,andIlivedinfearofmyclassmatesdiscoveringthetruthaboutmyfamily.
Ifrequentlyremindedmyselfthatnobodyknewthenamesmystepfathercalledme,andwhathewasdoingtomymom,butIstillwalkedaroundfeelingashamed.Itdidn’thelpthatIwasthetallestgirlinthegrade—loomingovermostoftheboysaswell.Ontopofthat,Iworeallthewrongclothesamongsomanyrichkids.LeejeansandBraggin’DragonknockoffIzodshirtsfromSearsweremystaples,asChipinsistedthatmymomwasn’tgoingtospoilmewiththedesignerjeansandLacosteshirtsthattheotherkidswerewearing.Itwasironic,Ioftenthought.Forthefirsttimeinourlives,mymomandIweremiddle-class—yetI’dneverfeltsopoor.
Ontheweekends,IwouldstayinmyroomwithPepper,listeningtomusic(turneddownlowsoIwouldn’tdisturbChip),readingJudyBlumenovelsaboutothermiserablekids,andflippingthroughmyBopandTigerBeatmagazines.Ididn’tlikeboysinreallife,butIhadarobustlineupofcelebritycrushesthatincludedShaunCassidy,LeifGarrett,andDonnyOsmond.Myhands-downfavorite,though,wasJoeKingsley.
Growingup,I’dalwaysknownwhoJoewas.AfewyearsolderthanIwas,hehadafamousfatherwhowaskilledinafailedspacemission,andhelivedonFifthAvenuewithhisglamorousmother.TheyalsohadahouseintheHamptons,wheretheycongregatedwithhisaunts,uncles,andcousins,playingtouchfootball,croquet,andotherrich-peoplesportsontheirsprawlinggreenlawn.Iknewthesethingsbecausemymomcouldneverresistthetabloidswiththeirphotosonthecoversinthegrocerystorecheckoutlines.Asalittlegirl,Ididn’tfullyunderstandherinterest,orwhythosepeopleweresoworthyofheradmiration.ThoughImustadmit,Iwasintriguedbythosepictures,too.IespeciallylikedtheonesofJoemillingaboutthecity,walkinghissheepdoginCentralParkoremergingfromthesubwayinhiscrumpledschooluniformanduntiedshoelaces.
Overthecourseofthatfirsttraumaticyearofmymom’smarriagetoChip,Joemorphedintoateenagehunk(thetermthemagazinesalwaysused),andIbecameobsessed.Unlikeothercelebrities,JoeKingsleyneverposedforpictures.Instead,hewascapturedgoingabouthislife,oftenwithanendearing,bewilderedlookonhisface.Myfavoriteimage,featuredastheTigerBeatcenterfoldonemonth,wasofJoeemergingfromthegraysurfoffLongIsland,histannedchestglistening,hisdarkhairwetandwavy,ashark’stoothonaleathercordhangingaroundhisneck.Ipulledthestaplesoutofhistorso,unfoldedtheposter,andtapedituponmybedroomwall.
Onsomenights,feelingespeciallysadandlonely,IwouldpretendthatJoewasmyboyfriend.Iwouldmakeupallsortsofelaboratevignettes,butmyfavoritewasasceneofJoeandmeonthebeachatdusk.Icouldpracticallyhearthewavescrashingontheshoreandsmellthesaltwaterandseehisdarkeyessmolderingashefastenedhisshark’stoothnecklacearoundmyneckbeforeleaningdowntokissmegentlyonthelips.
Occasionally,Iwouldfeelalittleembarrassedformyself,anditwouldcrossmypreteenmindthatIwasdoingthesamethingmymomhadalwaysdone:relyingonaboyformyhappiness.ButthenIremindedmyselfthatmyfantasyofJoewastheopposite.Itwasmywayofavoidingrealboyswhomightonedayhurtme;italsoprovidedanescapefromthemanwhoalreadydid
—
Thesummerbeforeninthgrade,Iunderwentmyownmetamorphosis.Someofitwasjustthenaturalprogressionofpubertyandfillingoutmytallframewiththeslightesthipsandbreasts.Butalotofitcamefromadoggeddetermination.Ireadadvicecolumnsinteenmagazinesabouthowto“fakeittillyoumakeit.”Ipracticedgoodposture,onceevenbalancingbooksonmyheadthewaytheysuggested.Ilearnedhowtodomymakeupandstylemyhair.Mostimportant,Iboughtmyselfsomedecentclothes,thankstoababysittinggigforarichfamilywhopaidmesixdollarsanhourtowatchtheirkidsattheGlenRidgeCountryClub.Asabonus,Iwasgettingtannerandblonder,too.
SowhenIreturnedtoschoolthatSeptemberasafreshmanatMontclairHigh,everyonetooknotice,boththegirlsandtheboysdolingoutthecomplimentsabouthowprettyI’d“become.”Bytheendofthatfirstweekback,BillAdams,ajuniorfootballplayer,hadinvitedmetoaparty(Isaidno),andWendyFine,themostpopulargirlinourgrade,askedifIwantedtositwithheratlunch(Isaidyes).
Atfirst,theattentionsurprisedme.Afterall,howmuchcouldapersonchangeoverthecourseofthreemonths,andwhywassomuchturningonmyappearanceanyway?Itwasallfurtherevidenceofthe“emperor’snewclothes”packmentality.Someoneatthetop,likelyWendy,haddecidedthatIhadsomeworth,andeveryoneelsewasjustfollowingsuit,givingmeachance.
ButIstillhadtopassthetest,andasIsatdownatWendy’slunchtable,Iremindedmyselftosmileandpretendtobeconfident.Meanwhile,Wendyandhercohortspummeledmewithquestions.Itwasclearlyanauditionofsorts,andIcouldtellbythelooksonsomeofthegirls’facesthattheywerehopingI’dfalter.KimberlyCarrigan,inparticular,lookedsour,perhapsworriedthatImightaffectherstandingasWendy’sbestfriend.
“So,Cate,doyoulikeanyone?”Wendyaskedatonepoint,hereyesdartingovertothefootballtable,whereBillAdamswassitting.
Ishookmyheadno.
“WhataboutBill?”shesaid.“Iheardheaskedyouout.”
“Hedidn’taskmeout,”Isaid.“Hejustinvitedmetoaparty.”
Wendyletoutasnortofalaughandsaid,“Um…that’scalledaskingyouout.”
Forasecond,Ifeltdumb.ButIspunittomyadvantage,playingcoolwiththemostnonchalantshrugIcouldmuster.“Whatever.Isaidno.”
SeveralofthegirlslookedimpressedasWendycontinuedtogrillme.“Whydidyousayno?’Causeyourdad’sacop?Andyou’dgetintrouble?”
Mystomachdroppedattheout-of-the-bluementionofChip.HowdidWendyknowhewasacop?Istartedtotellherthathewasn’tmydad—thathewasonlymystepdad.ButthenIflashedbacktomyEnglishteachertalkingpityinglyaboutthekidsfrom“brokenhomes”inTheOutsidersandbitmytongue.
Ishookmyhead,flippingmyhairbehindmyshoulderlikethepopulargirlsalwaysdid.“Nah.He’snot,like,runningaroundbustingpartiesoranythinglikethat….He’sadetective….Heworksinthecity.”
Wendylookedimpressed,noddingherapprovalasshetoldmethatherfatherworkedinthecity,too.ShethenreturnedtothesubjectofBill,askingwhyI’dsaidno.“Youdon’tthinkhe’scute?”
Ihesitated,mymindracing.HowcouldIexplainthatitreallyhadnothingtodowithBill’slevelofcuteness?Ijustdidn’ttrustboys.Nothinggoodevercamefromaromanticrelationship.Icouldn’treallysayallofthatwithoutsoundingweird,sothinkingofmyJoeposter,Iblurtedoutawhopperofalie.“I’mkindofseeingsomeone.”
“Who?”afewgirlssaidinunison,everyoneleaningin,eager.
“Hisname’sJoe.”
“JoeMiller?”Kimberlysaid,guessinganotherfootballplayer.
“No,”Isaid,sippingfrommycartonofchocolatemilkwithastraw,buyingmyselfsometime.“Youdon’tknowhim.Hedoesn’tgotoourschool.”
“Wheredoeshego?”Wendyasked.
“Um.HegoestoschoolinManhattan.”
“Oh,wow.Whatyearishe?”
“He’sasenior,”Isaid.
“Howdidyoumeethim?”
“Iwenttoworkwithmydadoneday,”Isaid.“Imean,heworkedwhileIwentshoppingwithmymom.AndwemetJoeinthepark…randomly.Hewaswalkinghisdog.”
“Oh,wow.Whatdoeshelooklike?”
“He’sverycute—withwavybrownhairandbrowneyes….”
“Ishetall?”
“Yes,”Isaid,nodding.“Ionlydatetallguys.”
“Thatmakessense.Sinceyou’resotall,”Wendysaid.“Youcouldbeamodel.”
“Thankyou,”Isaid,genuinelytakenaback.
Wendynodded,thensaid,“Isheromantic?”
“Oh,yeah.Hejustgavemehisshark’stoothnecklaceonthebeach…intheHamptons.Itwasreallysweet….”Myvoicetrailedoff,asIknewIwasgoingwaytoofar,andsuddenlyfearedthatsomeonewouldaskwhyIwasn’twearingthenecklace.
That’swhenIshruggedandsaid,“He’sgreat,butweactuallymightbreakupsoon.”
“Ishe,like,toonice?”Wendyasked.
Thequestionconfoundedme—howcouldsomeonebetoonice?
“No.He’sgreat,”Isaid.“But,youknow,sometimesboysaren’tworththetrouble.”
—
Fromthatdayon,Iwasofficiallypopular,scoringinvitestothemoviesandthemallandtheskatingrinkwiththerestofthein-crowd.Chip’sinstinctwasalwaystosaynotoanythingIwanted.Butwhenitcametomysociallife,theanswerbecameasurprisingyes,solongasitdidn’tinconveniencehim.Hewasmorethanhappytohavemeoutof“hishouse”andhavemymomalltohimself;itwasclearhewasjealousofanyoneoranythingthattookhertimeawayfromhim,meatthetopofthatlist.
IbeganspendingasmuchtimeasIcouldatWendy’shouse,whichwaslikebeingatanicehotel.Shehadapoolinherbackyard,aconsoletelevisioninherfamilyroom,andextensivestereoequipmentinherbedroom,alongwiththousandsofeight-tracksandcassettesthatherfatherhadgottenforfreeasalawyerinthemusicbusiness.Shealsohadaking-sizewaterbed,andherveryownbathroom,attachedtoherbedroom,completewithaJacuzzitub.Wendywasspoiled,butIwasmoreenviousofheractualparentsthanoftheirmoney.Otherthanontelevision,I’dneverwitnessedsuchaharmoniousmarriage.Mr.FineactedasifWendy’smomcoulddonowrong.Hewantedheropinionandcaredwhatshehadtosay.Ifanything,Mrs.Finewastheonecallingtheshots,anditwasshe,nothe,whocouldbedifficultandmoody(atraitshepassedontoWendy).Iwasalwaysnervouswhenoneofthemactedbratty,butMr.FineneverexplodedlikeChip.Infact,theirpoutingandcomplainingonlymadehimbendoverbackwardmore.
Meanwhile,IkeptWendyasfarawayfrommyhouseasIcould.Itwasn’tthatshewasasnob;sheneverseemedtolookdownonmeortheothergirlsinourgroupwithlessmoneyandsmallerhouses.ButIdesperatelydidn’twanthertoknowthetruthaboutChip.Iknewitwasn’tmyfaultthatmymomhadmarriedsuchamonster,andIhadahunchthatWendywouldhavebeenreallycoolandsupportiveaboutit.Butagreaterpartofmeworriedthatifsheandtheothergirlsfoundoutwhatwashappeningatmyhouse,they’dlookatmedifferently.Theymightevenputmeinthe“whitetrash”category—adelineationtheyoftenusedaboutotherstuffthatwascompletelyoutofakid’scontrol.Attheveryleast,IworriedthatWendymightchangehermindaboutwantingmeasherbestfriend,andIcouldn’ttakethatchance.OtherthanPepper,ourfriendshipwastheonlythingthatmademefeelhappy.
Asaninsurancepolicyagainstanyformofrejection,Ididmybesttostayaloof.Ipretendedthatnothingbotheredme.Ialsomadeitarulenottolikeboys.Thatgamewaswaytoorisky.Alongthoselines,IgaveupmyteenbopmagazinesandtookdownmyJoeKingsleyshrine,replacingitwithacollageofartsyphotoscutfromthepagesofVogue,Elle,andHarper’sBazaar.Therewassomethingaboutthosemodels,withtheirpassiveexpressionsandirreverentglamour,thatIfoundsointriguing.Inspiring,even.Iwantedtobelikethem—howIimaginedtheywereinreallife,anyway—andIcametoseeclothesandmakeupasmyownsortofarmor.Icouldn’tchangemylifeinanyrealway,butwithfashion,Icouldconstructadifferentidentity—oratleasthidemytrueone.Iobviouslycouldn’taffordtoshopatTheLimitedandBenettonandmyfriends’othermainstaysatthemall.Instead,Ihadtogetbothcreativeandresourceful,scouringthriftandconsignmentshopsandstretchingmybabysittingwages,carefullyassemblingawardrobeofsecondhanddesignergoodsandvariouspiecesthatlookednicerthantheywere.
Itwasfun,actually—boththeshoppingandthestyling—andIfeltflatteredwhenanyonecomplimentedmyoutfitoraskedifI’deverthoughtaboutbeingafashionmodel.OfcourseIhadn’t—andknewtheyweretryingtobenice.Eitherthat,ortheywerejustconfusingstylewithbeauty.Itwasstillnicetohear,though.
Then,onenightattheFines’,WendyandIdidourhairandmakeupandgotalldressedupinourmostglamorousoutfits.Wetookturnstakingphotosofeachotherwithherdad’sfancyNikon.Whenwegotthefilmdeveloped,Iwasshockedtodiscoverthatthecameraseemedtoprefermyhighcheekbones,wide-seteyes,andfairskintohergoldentan,cutesysmile,andperkyskislopeofanose.Equallysurprising,myshotsweremoreinteresting.WhileWendystaredrightintothecamerawiththemostobviousgrin,Itriedtochanneltheelusiveexpressionsofmyfavoritesupermodels.
“Wow,Cate!Youlookamazing,”Wendysaid,staringdownatthepictures.SheseemedassurprisedasIwas,andmaybealittlebitannoyed,too.I’dbeguntonoticethatthingswentmoresmoothlywhenWendywasontop.
“Youlookevenbetter,”Isaid,thenmadeajokeabouthowbigmynoselookedinoneofthepictures.
“Iloveyournose,”Wendysaid.“ItremindsmeofChristyTurlington’s.”
“Thanks,”Isaid,thinkingthatwasprettyhighpraise.
“Butifyoudon’tlikeit…youcouldalwaysgetanosejob,”Wendyadded.“DidItellyoumydadsaidIcouldgetaboobjobformyeighteenthbirthday?”
Ishookmyheadandsaidno,storingthisbitofinformationawayinthe“Wendylivesonadifferentplanet”file.Man,shereallydid.
—
Later,Ishowedmyphotostomymom,feelingsoproudwhenherfacelitup.
“CatherineCooper!Thesearegorgeous!Weneedtogetyouanagent!”
Ilaughed.
“Imeanit!Oryoucouldenteroneofthosemodelsearchthings….IsawonebeingadvertisedattheCherryHillMall.”
Justthen,ChipcamearoundthecornerwithacanofCoorsLightandsaid,“She’snotdoinganydamnmodelsearches.”
“Whynot?”Iasked,atmyownperil.
“They’reallrunbypimpsandchildmolesters,”hesaid,theauthorityoneverything.“Andthey’reascam.Wearen’tthrowingmoneydownthedrainforsomepipedream.”
Iexchangedafleetingglancewithmymom,whoinstantlycaved.“You’reright,honey,”shesaidtoChip.
“Besides,”Chipadded,lookingatme.“Yournoseistoobigforyoutobeamodel.”CHAPTER5
Joe
Afewnightsbeforemyeighteenthbirthday,andjustafterBerryandIhadreturnedfromAndoverforwinterbreak,mymotheraskedifthethreeofuscouldhaveachatinthelivingroom.ThewordchatwasusuallyasignalthatIwasabouttobelectured,butourgradeshadn’tyetbeenannouncedandIcouldn’tthinkofanythingelseI’ddonewrong.
AsBerryandIsatsidebysideonthesofaandmymothertookherusualplaceinthewingbackchairnexttothefireplace,Iwatchedherpullacigaretteoutoftheengravedsilverboxshekeptthemin.Shehelditbetweenherfingerswithoutlightingit,aritualthatwaspartofherlatestattempttoquit.
“So,”mymotherbegan.“Canyoubelieveit?Onlyonesemesteruntilyou’rebothhigh-schoolgraduatesandofftocollege.”
InoddedasBerrysaidsomethingabouthowtheyearwasflyingby.
MymotherchattedabitmoreaboutAndovergenerally,askingifwewerestillhappywithourdecisiontotransferfromouroldschoolinthecity.Webothsaidwewere,andIresistedtheurgetomakeajokeaboutallthefreedomIhadnowthatIwaslivingawayfromhome.
“Andyou’reabouttoturneighteen,”mymothersaid,givingmeapurposefullookthatwasaclueaboutthechattocome.
Myturningeighteenhadalwaysbeenathingformymother,somethingshehadtalkedaboutforyears.Obviously,Iknewitwasabenchmarkunderthelaw—thatonthatday,Iwouldbecomeapersonwhocouldvoteandfightformycountry.Butitseemedtoholdsignificancebeyondthatforher,somethingshesawasrepresentingmyofficialKingsleymanhood.
“Yes,”Isaid,nodding.“Isuream.”
Shetookadeepbreath,thensaid,“Areyouexcitedforyourparty?”
“Yeah,”Isaid,thencorrectedmyselfbeforeshecould.“Imeanyes.Veryexcited.Thankyou.”
Istillcouldn’tquitebelievethatmymotherwasthrowingabigbashforme,atatrendydowntownnightclub,noless.Itwasn’tlikeher;shewasusuallyveryunderstatedaboutmybirthday,perhapsconsciousofnotwantingtospoilmeorcreateasenseofentitlementbeyondthatwhichautomaticallycamewithmyname.Iliketothinkshesucceededinthataim,butIwasalsohappyshewasmakinganexceptionthisyear.
“Andhowareyourfriendsfeeling?”sheasked.
Thequestionwasvague—howweretheyfeelingaboutwhat,exactly?SoIplayeditsafeandsaid,“Great.”
Berrynoddedandsaid,“Everyoneisveryexcited….It’llbesonicetogettheoldgangbacktogether.”
“Yes.Itshouldbewonderful,”mymothersaidasIcaughtthetwoexchangingaloadedlook.
“Okay.What’sgoingonhere?”Isaid,suddenlysuspiciousthatthetwowereincahoots—andmymotherhadwaitedforBerrytoarrivebeforehavingthislittleconversation.
“Nothingis‘goingon,’Joe,”mymothersaid.“Ijustwanttotalktoyouaboutsomethings—”
“Likewhat?”
“Likecertainexpectations…”
Herewego,Ithought,asmymotherbegandroningonaboutalltheadultswhowouldbeinattendance,includingsomenotablefiguresinpoliticsandbusiness,publishingandthelaw.
Ihadn’tgivenmuchthoughttotheguestlistbeyondthenamesthatBerryandIhadcomeupwithafewweeksbefore,andwasalittletakenabackbythenotionthatitwasn’tjustafunpartyformyfriendsandfamily.TherewasnothingIhatedmorethanmakingsmalltalkwithadultsIbarelyknewandbeinggrilledaboutmy“futureplans”—which,atthatpoint,werenonexistent.IwasstillwaitingtohearbackfromHarvard,alongshot,alongwithmybackups:Brown,Middlebury,andtheUniversityofVirginia.
Ididmybesttohidemyannoyance,asIdidn’twanttoappearungrateful,andsimplysaid,“Cool.It’llbeablast,I’msure.”
“Ihopeso.Iwantyoutohavefun.Butpleaserememberthatyou’reanadultnow.Andit’stimeforyoutostartthinkingaboutcultivatingcontactsintheworkingworld.”
“Doesn’tthatcomeaftercollege?”Isaidwithasmile.
“No.Itstartsnow,”shesaid.“Youreighteenthbirthdayisariteofpassage.Thingswillbedifferentnow,movingforward.Inthepast,you’vebeenabsolvedofyourmistakes—”
“Mistakes?”Isaid,grinning.“Whatmistakes?”
“Um.Jumpingthesubwayturnstile.Cheatingonthatmathtest.ThefakeID,”Berrysaid,thenmumbledunderherbreath,“asifthatwasgoingtowork.”
“Thanks,Ber,”Isaid,givinghertwothumbsup.“Veryhelpfulexamples.”
“She’sright,”mymothersaid.“Foolishbehaviorismoreeasilyforgivenwhenyou’reaboy.Butnowthestakesareraised.You’llbeunderamicroscopelikeneverbefore.Iwon’tbeabletoprotectyou,andthepresswillnolongershowyouanygrace.”
“Wait.Isthatwhatthey’vebeenshowingmetodate?”Isaid,laughing.“Hotdamn,I’mintrouble.”
Berryelbowedmeandsaid,“Beserious,Joe.”
“Yes,Joseph.Please,”mymothersaid.“Thisisimportant.Whatyoudofromhereonoutcouldimpacttherestofyourlife.Doyouunderstandthat?”
Thestatementseemedbothmelodramaticandobvious,butIplayedalong,justwantingtheconversationtobeover.“Yes,”Isaid.“Iunderstand.”
“Doyoualsounderstandthatyou’llbefoundguiltybyassociationifyourfriends—oryourgirlfriend—misbehave?”sheasked,shootingBerryanotherfleeting,butunmistakablyconspiratoriallook.
Isighedsoloudlythatitsoundedmorelikeagroan.“Ohh.SothisisaboutNicole,”Isaid.
“It’snotaboutanyonefriendofyours,”mymothersaid.“Althoughnowthatyoumentionher,Idothinkit’sbestifyouhaveNicolecometothepartyseparately—”
“Why?”Isaid,havingalreadyplannedtopickherupinataxi.“Thatseemsprettyrude.Haven’tyoualwaystaughtmetobeagentleman?”
“Normally,yes.Itwouldberude.Butifyouarrivewithher,thepresswillknowyou’redating…andthey’llstartdiggingintoherpast.”
“Herpast,huh?”Isaid,foldingmyarms,thengivingBerryanaccusatoryglance.
Mymotherpressedherlipstogetherabeat,thensaid,“DidNicoleshoplift,Joe?”
“Oh,forthelove—”Isaid,throwingupmyhands.“Itwasastupiddare…yearsago.Shewasonly,like,twelve—”
“Shewasactuallyfourteen,”Berrysaid.
“Right,”Isaid.“Akid.”
“Butthat’syourmother’spoint,”Berrysaid.“Shewasakid—andpeoplestillholditagainsther.Sonow…imagineifshewaseighteen?She’dbeinjail.”
“Foratwo-dollarpairofearrings?Idon’tthinkso.”
“You’remissingthepoint,”Berrysaid.
“Yes,Joseph,”mymothersaid.“Youreallyare.”
“What’sthepoint,then?”
“Thedressrehearsalisovernow.Thepubliceyewillbeonyouasneverbefore.You’reaman—”
“Iknow,”Isaid,cuttingheroff.“AKingsleyman.”
“Yes.AKingsleyman,”mymothersaid.“Andyouneedtobeverycareful—andmakegooddecisions.Peopleexpectalotfromyou….Andremember,Joseph,towhommuchisgiven—”
“Muchisexpected,”Ifinishedforher.“Igotit.”
—
ThatSaturdaynight,mymother,Berry,andIarrivedattheclubearly,pullingupinablacklimousine.Throughthetintedwindows,Icouldseethatthepresswerealreadyinplace,waitingtogettheirshotsofus.Iscannedthesidewalk,recognizingsomeoftheusualsuspects,includingEduardo,theonlyoneIknewbyname.Eduardoinvadedmyprivacyasmuchasthenextguy,buthewassodamnfunnyandfriendlythatIcouldn’thelplikinghim.
AsthedriverhelpedmymotherandBerryoutofthecar,thenescortedthemovertotheentrance,IsteppedontothecurbandgrinnedatEduardo.
“Happybirthday,Joeyboy!”hecalledouttome.
“It’sJoe!”Ishoutedback.“I’mamannow.”
Thepaparazzichuckledastheysnappedaway,stayingbehindthevelvetropesthatwerebeingcloselyguardedbytwothick-neckedbouncersmumblingintowalkie-talkies.
“Hey!Where’syourgirlfriend?”Eduardocalledouttome.
“WhosaidIhaveagirlfriend?”Iquippedback.
Eduardolaughedandsaid,“Youalwayshaveagirlfriend,Joey.”
—
Thepartystartedoutfollowingmymother’sexactscript.MyfriendsandIwereallonourbestbehavior,makingpoliteconversationwithmymotherandotheradults.Myfriends,especiallymyfemalefriends,hadalwaysbeenintriguedandimpressedbymymother,probablybecauseshewassuchalegendamongtheirmothers,andthatnight,Iwatchedthesubtlejockeyingforpositionandachancetotalktoher.Mymotherwaspleasanttoeveryone,butshewasn’tparticularlywarmtoanybodybutBerry,adynamicthatseemedtoannoyNicole.Frankly,everythingaboutBerryseemedtoannoyNicolethatnight,andatonepointsheaccusedmeofflirtingwithBerry.
“Ugh,that’sdisgusting,”Isaid.“She’slikeasistertome.”
“Butshe’snotyoursister.”
“Shemightaswellbe.”
“Istillthinkyoulikeher.”
“OfcourseIlikeher,”Isaid,pretendingnottoknowwhatshewasimplying.
“No.ImeanIthinkyouhaveathingforher,”Nicolesaid.“Andshe’sclearlyinlovewithyou.”
“Stopit.She’smybestfriend.That’sallthereistoit,”Isaid,shuttingthesubjectdown.Berrywasoff-limits,andourfriendshipwasnottobequestioned.
Ofcourse,mytersereplyonlyampedupNicole’sjealousyandinsecurity,andaroundten,asmymotherandtheothergrown-upsweresayingtheirgoodbyes,Icouldfeelawaveofgirldramabrewing.Ichosetoignoreit,hopingitwouldgoaway,mystrategyforanystrife.Meanwhile,myfriendsandIbegantodrink,thebartendersignoringthefactthatmostofuswereunderage.
Aroundoneinthemorning,longafterthepartywassupposedtobeoverandwhenthingswerereallyturningwild,BerrycutinbetweenNicoleandmewhilewemadeoutonthedancefloor.“Joe,canItalktoyouforasecond?”
“Whatthehellisyourproblem?”Nicoleerupted,staringBerrydown.
“MyproblemisthatJoeisdrunk.Andit’stimeforhimtogohome.”
“Stopbossinghim,”Nicolesaid.“You’renothismother.”
“Well,atleasthismotherlikesme,”Berrysaidunderherbreath.
Itwasn’tlikehertobesopetty,andIcouldn’thelpbutsmile,whichfurtherenragedNicole.“What’sthatsupposedtomean?”sheshouted.
“Itmeans:Hismotherlikesme.Andtrustsme.Andyouhaveterriblejudgment.SoI’mtakingJoehome.Now.”Shethenturnedtomeandsaid,“I’mgoingtogetyouacab.Beoutsideinfiveminutes.”
MuchtoNicole’sfury,IdidasIwastold,gatheringmythingsandsayingmygoodbyes.Then,justasIwasheadedoutthedoor,oneofmyfriendsyelledthatthepaparazziwerestillcampedoutside.Ourcollectivejudgmentimpaired,weconcoctedaconvolutedgetawayplanthatinvolvedadecoyandaprotectivebarrieraroundme.Theideawastopreventanyclearphotographsonmypathtothetaxi,althoughatthatpoint,itwaslessaboutprivacyandmorejustagame.Asweallspilledontothestreet,oneofmyfriendsyelledatEduardoto“getthefuckoutoftheway,youfatfuck.”Eduardotookitinstride,laughingitoffandpattinghisbelly,butanotherphotographergoadeduswithinsultsofhisown.
BeforeIknewwhatwashappening,puncheswerebeingthrown,andthecityblockwasilluminatedbyflashbulbs.Thingswereablurafterthat,butIrememberflippingthebirdatoneofthephotographersbeforeNicoleandIgotintothebackseatofBerry’swaitingcab.
“Goddammit,Joe!”Berryshouted,aswepulledawayfromthecurb.“Whywouldyoudothat?Hehasacamera!”
“Iknowhehasacamera!WhydoyouthinkIwasmadathiminthefirstplace?”
“Hewantedtomakeyoumad!Hewantedyoutoreact.That’swhyyoudon’tflipoffthepaparazzi!Youplayedrightintotheirhands!”
“Theydeservedit!”Nicoleyelled.
“That’snotthepoint,youmoron!”Berryyelledbackather.
“OhmyGod,Joe!”Nicolewhined.“Areyougoingtolethercallmeamoron?”
“Berry,pleasedon’tcallmoronaNicole,”Iaccidentallysaid,thenlaughed.“Oops.YouknowwhatImean—”
NicoleglaredatmewhileBerrylookedoutherwindowandsaidinaloudvoice,“MyGod,yourmotherisright.”
“Aboutwhat?”Icouldn’tresistasking.
Sheturned,gavemethemostdisdainfullook,thensaid,“You’reyourownworstenemy.Youronlyenemy.”
“What’sthatsupposedtomean?”Nicoleshoutedather.
“Itmeans—hemakesshittychoices.”
“Likewhat?”Nicolesaid.
“Likegettingdrunk.Likefightingwithphotographers.Likedatingyou,”Berrysaid.Shethenturnedbacktomeandsaid,“Thisisgoingtobebad,Joe.Thisisgoingtobereallybad.”
Inthatmoment,Isoberedupjustenoughtoknowshewasright.
—
Thedrunkenruckushappenedsolate—or,asitwere,early—thatthestorydidn’tmakeitintothemorningpaper.Insteadofviewingthedelayasareprieve,Ifeltworsewitheverypassinghour,dreadingthemomentwhenmymotherheardaboutit.
ThemomentfinallycamewiththeeveningeditionoftheNewYorkPost.Shewalkedintomybedroom,whereIwasstillnursingahangover,anddepositedacopyofthepaperonmybed.Ibracedmyselffortheworst,thenlookeddown.Onthefrontpagewasahugepictureofme.Init,Iwasbleary-eyedanddisheveled,withmyshirttailoutandmytiedanglingloose.Mymiddlefingerwasup,agiantfuckyoutoallofNewYorkCity,mymotherincluded.
“Howcouldyoudothis?”sheaskedinalow,steelyvoice.
“I’msorry,Mom,”Isaid,feelingawaveofintenseshame.
“I’msorry,too,”shesaid.
“Whyareyousorry?”Iaskedwithadashofirrationalhopethatmaybeshehadseenmeasthevictim,foronce.
Instead,shelookedmedeadintheeyesandsaid,“I’msorryforhavingsomuchfaithinyou.Clearly,Iwaswrong.Youaren’tuptothechallenge.”
Iwantedtoaskwhatshemeantby“thechallenge.”Thechallengeofnotgettingintotrouble?Orthechallengeofbeingmyfather’sson?Somehow,Iknewshemeantboththings—andprobablyawholelotmore—soIjustsaidagainhowsorryIwas.
Shestaredatmealongtime,lookingsosadanddisappointedthatitbrokemyheart.“Iknowyouare,”shefinallysaid.“Butbeingsorryisn’tgoingtofixthis.”
Inodded,feelingmythroattightenandahugepitopeninmystomach.“IpromiseI’lldobetter,”Isaid.“Thiswillneverhappenagain.”
Shetookadeepbreath,likeshewasgoingtosaysomethingelse.Butshedidn’t.Shejustshookherheadandwalkedoutofmyroom,leavingthenewspaperonmybed.
—
Mymotherneverexplicitlyforgavemeforwhathappenedonthenightofmyeighteenthbirthday,butsheeventuallymovedonfromit,probablybecausethepressdidfirst.Theyenthusiasticallycoveredmygraduationfromhighschoolafewmonthslater,followedbymybackpackingtripthroughEuropeandmypost-NicoleflingwithahotDanishaupair.
BythetimeIenrolledatHarvardthatfall(withBerrystillbymyside,thankgoodness),thenightclubincidentseemedallbutforgotten.Ihadacleanslateandwasdeterminedtomakemymotherproud.Followinginmyfather’sfootsteps,Ijoinedalltherightclubsandsocieties—fromtheSpeeClubtotheHastyPuddingtotheCrimson.Deepdown,though,Ifeltlikeafraudandanimpostor,knowingthatIhadonlygainedadmissiontothoseorganizations,alongwithHarvarditself,becauseofmyname.ItwassomethingIbroughtuptoBerryoften.
“Youneedtogetoverthisimpostorsyndromenonsense,”shesaidafterIbombedabiologyexamattheendofourfreshmanyearandconfidedthatitfeltlikeconfirmationofmytheory.ItwasararesunnydayinCambridge,andwewerestrollinginHarvardYard,wherekidswereloungingandreadingandplayingFrisbee.“Imean,lookaround.Halfthekidshereareblowhardswhogotinthroughconnections.”
“Thatisn’texactlycomforting,”Isaid.
“It’snotsupposedtobe,”shesaid.
“Jeez.Iwastellingyouaboutmyinsecurities—andyoucomebackwiththat?”
“Yes.Becauseyou’redoingyourbesttomakethoseinsecuritiesaself-fulfillingprophecy.”
“Whatareyoutalkingabout?”
“I’mtalkingaboutyour‘awshucks’self-deprecatingschtick.”
“It’snotaschtick.”
“Well,thenthat’sevenworse.Look,Joe.Youknowfullwellyoudidn’tstudyforthisexam.”
“Yes,Idid!”
“HavingsexwithEviedoesn’tcountasstudyingforbiology,Joe,”shesaid,rollinghereyes.
Itriednottosmile,thinkingofthestudysessionI’dhadwithmyhotTA—andhowwe’dgottenalittlesidetracked.IwasalsowonderinghowBerryalwaysmanagedtokeepsuchclosetabsonme.Isharedalotwithher,buteventhestuffIdidn’ttellher,she’dalwayssomehowdiscover.
“Well,itwasananatomyexam.”Igrinned.
Berrymadeafaceandtoldmenottobeapig.Iwouldhavebeenoffended,butIknewshedidn’tmeanit.Iwasfarfromperfect,butItreatedwomenwithrespect.Inevercheated,Ididn’tleadthemon(notpurposefully,anyway),andIkeptmypromises.IfIsaidIwouldcall,Iwouldcall.
“Justtrytodobetter,Joe,”shefinallysaidwithasigh.“Youdon’thavetobeyourdad.Justbeyourbestself.”
“Andwhatifthisismybestself?”Isaid.
“It’snot,”shesaid.“Andwebothknowit.”
—
ItookBerry’swordstoheart.FormyremainingthreeyearsatHarvard,Imanagedtostayoutoftroubleandgetmostlydecentgrades.WhenIdidscrewuphereandthere,ItookmylumpsandapologizedwithasmuchsincerityasIcouldmuster.Generally,thatwasenough,asIdiscoveredthatjustbeingadecent,humbleguywentaverylongway.Unfortunately,humilitydidn’tearnmeasmanypointswithmymother,whosebarformewasconsiderablyhigher.Infact,IthinkshesometimeswishedIwerealittlelessdown-to-earth,seemingtobelievethatacertainaloofnesscarriedmoregravitas.Itwasn’tsomuchthatshewasasnob,orevenanelitist,andIneverheardhertalkdownaboutpeople,atleastnotdirectly.Shejustwantedmeonacertainpath—myfather’spath.ThatwasthedifferencebetweenherandGary,Ithink.Garywantedmetobethebestversionofme,andmymotherwantedmetobelikehim.Ican’tentirelyblameherforthat—forwantingmetocarryhistorchandlegacy.Perhapsshealsofeltaresponsibilityanddutytoherdeadhusband.WhenIdidn’tupholdhishonorinacertainway,whetheritcametomyrésuméormyrelationships,Ithinkshefeltthatwehadbothfailedhim.
Thegoodnewswas,aftergoingoutwithastringofgirlsmymotherdidn’tapproveof,Ifinallyfoundoneshereallyliked.I’dmetMargaretBraswellthefirstweekofcollege;shewasoneofBerry’sthreesuitematesandbyfarherfavorite.Margaretwasintelligentbutquietandunassuming—nothell-bentonprovinghowsmartshewas,likealotofgirlsatHarvard.Shewasalsoverypretty,withbigbrowneyesanddarkhaircutinashortglossybob.Aformerballerina,shewasslight—almostwispy—notatallmyusualtype.ThemoretimeIspentwithher,though,themoreIlikedher,andIcouldtellshelikedme,too.Ittookawhile,butwefinallygottogetherduringthefallofourjunioryear.Mymotherwasthrilled.Margaretcheckedalltheboxes,includingthefactthatshecamefroma“goodfamily”—whateverthatmeant.Insomeways,itseemedasifmyrelationshipwithMargaretmadeupformylacklustertranscript.
“So,Joseph,doyouthinkMargaretis‘theone’?”mymotheraskedonecoolJuneeveningafterfindingmeonthebackporchofourhomeintheHamptons.
I’djustgoneforalongrunonthebeachandwasenjoyingarushofpostexerciseendorphins,alongwithacoldSchaefer,straightoutofthecan.
Thequestioncaughtmeoffguard.MargaretandIhadonlybeendatingayear,andIsaidasmuch.
“Well,forwhatit’sworth,Ithinkshe’sperfectforyou,”mymothersaid.
Inodded—becauseinmanyways,Idid,too.Margarethadsuchakindsoul,andIlovedhownonjudgmentalandlaidbackshewas.
“Andshe’dbeawonderfulFirstLady,”mymothersaid,staringatmeoverherglassofchardonnay.
“Jeez,Mom,”Isaid,laughing.“Jumpingaheadalittle,arewe?”
“Perhaps.ButIknowqualitywhenIseeit.She’ssosmartandelegantandgracious.”
“Okay.Yes.Sheisallofthosethings,”Isaid.“ButyoudorealizethatforhertobeaFirstLadywouldrequirethatInotonlymarryherbut,youknow,alsowinthepresidency?”
Mymotherwavedthisoff,asifitwasjustsomerun-of-the-milljobthatanyonecouldapplyforandget.“Irealizethat,Joseph.That’smypoint.”
Itookasipofmybeerandlaughed.
“What’ssoamusing?”sheasked.
“Idon’tknow,Mom.That’ssortoflikesayingyouwantmetobethestartingpitcherfortheNewYorkYankees.”
Sheshookherhead.“No,it’snot.Youweren’tverygoodatbaseball.”
“Thehell!”Isaid.“ImadetheAll-Starteaminthefifthgrade.”
“Butthatdoesn’ttranslatetopitchingfortheYankees,”shesaid.
“Well,Iwasn’teveninstudentgovernment.”
“Believeme,I’maware.”
Filledwithmyusualmixedfeelings,Itookasipofmybeer.Ontheonehand,Iwantedtomakeherhappy.Ontheotherhand,Iwantedtomakemyselfhappy.Itwasfrustratingthatboththingsdidn’tseempossibleatonce,andIwentoutonalimbandtoldherasmuch.
“OfcourseIwantyoutobehappy,Joseph,”shesaid,asifitwereacompletegiven.
Istaredather,thinkingofwhathadhappenedmysophomoreyearwhenIcaughttheactingbugandlandedthestarringroleinTheTempest.Mymotherhadcometoseemeonopeningnight,praisingmyperformanceandgoingonandonabouthowI’dbecomearealRenaissancemanlikemyfather,roundingoutmysportierside.ButwhenIraisedtheideaofpursuingtheaterasamajor,maybeevenacareer,shequicklyshutitdown.Innouncertainterms,sheinformedmethatactingwasnotasuitableprofessionforaKingsleyman.
“Well,actingmademehappy,”Isaidontheporchthatday,unabletoresistthecomment.
“Joseph,please,”shesaid,takingasipofherwine.“Youaren’tconsideringthatagain,areyou?”
Ishookmyhead—becauseIwasn’t.Ialsohadtoadmittomyself,withhindsight,thatmytheaterdaysprobablyhadlesstodowithapassionforactingandmoretodowithOliviaHealey,whohadplayedMirandaalongsideme.
Mymotherblinked,thensaid,“Sowhatareyouthinking?”
“Well,weknowmedicalschoolisout,”Isaid.
“Becauseofyourgrades?”
“Yes,”Isaid.“AndalsobecauseIdon’twanttobeadoctor.”
“Right,”shesaid.“Andyoudon’tcareformath….”
“Correct.Sonocareerinfinanceorengineeringforme.”
Mymothernodded.“Sowhatdoesthatleave?”
Ilookedather,thinkingthatitleftawholelotofshit,butIknewwhatshewasgettingat,andwhatshewantedmetosay.Ialsoknewthatitlinedupwithwhatmygrandmotherwantedforme,albeitfordifferentreasons,soIplayedalong,humoringher.
“Icouldalwaysgotolawschool,”Isaid,runningmythumbalongthecondensationonthesideofmybeercan.
Mymothersatupstraighter,herwholefacecomingtolife,asifthethoughthadneveroccurredtoher—anditwasn’ttheautomaticdefaultofprivilegedkidsacrossAmerica.“That’sagreatidea!”shesaid.“ShallIgetyouanLSATtutor?”
“Sure,Mom,”Isaid.“That’dbesuper.”
—
AndsoIwentalongonmypathofleastresistance,studyingfortheLSAT,thentakingtheexam,gettingamediocrescoretogoalongwithmymediocregrades.IthinkmymotherrealizedthatevenwiththeKingsleyname,Ididn’thavethecredentialsforHarvard,Yale,orColumbia,butwhenIsqueakedmywayintoNYU,shewashappyenough.Meanwhile,Iwasprettyhappy,too,ifonlybecauseIwasreturningtoManhattan.FouryearsinCambridgehadbeenapleasantdiversion,butImissedtheactionandnightlifeofthebestcityintheworld.
Aftergraduation,MargaretandIbrokeup,bothreluctantlyandongoodterms.Thedecisionhadmoretodowithdistanceandlogistics,asshehadjoinedthePeaceCorpsandwasgoingtoteachEnglishinMalawi.Inotherwords,mymothercouldn’tblamemeforonce.
Forthenextfewyears,Iplayedthefield,muchtothedelightofthetabloidpress.Therewereafewlawschoolgirlfriendsalongtheway,butnoneofthemmeasureduptoMargaretinmymother’seyes—ormineforthatmatter—soImigratedtotheotherextreme,hangingoutwithabevyofactressandmodeltypes,mostnotablyPhoebeMills.OtherthangoingonacoupleofdateswithBrookeShieldsduringcollege(abuddyofmineatHarvardknewherroommateatPrinceton),I’dneverbeenwithawomanfamousinherownright.MymotherpreferredtheterminfamouswhenitcametoPhoebeandhighlydisapprovedofhermostrecentfilmwithMichaelDouglas,inwhichshe’dappearedtopless.
Phoebe’smostcontroversialmoment,however,washerdrunkenappearanceonDavidLetterman,inwhichshetalkedaboutourrelationshipinunfilteredterms,suggestingthatIwasgoodinbed.Itdidn’thelpthatshealsohadawardrobemalfunctionduringthesegment,whichDavemilkedforallitwasworth.Mymotherwasappalledwiththeentirespectacle.Berrypiledon,callinghertrashyandphonyandaccusingherofusingmetoamplifyhercelebrity.Idefendedheronthemargins,pointingoutthatBerry’spretentiousbankerboyfriendwasabiggerphonythanPhoebe.Besides,Isaid,Phoebehadplentyofherownpressanddidn’tneedmeforaddedexposure.
Overtime,though,IhadtoadmitthatitwasprettysuspectthewaythepaparazzialwaysseemedtoknowexactlywherePhoebeandIwouldbe,attimesshowingupbeforeweevengotthere.Itwasalsotruethatdramafollowedhereverywhere.Itbecameexhausting.Tomymother’srelief,Ifinallyendedthings.
Shortlyafterthatbreakup,Igraduatedfromlawschool(witha2.9!)andMargaretreturnedfromAfrica,takingateachingjobinBrooklyn.Thatsummer,andmuchtomymother’sdelight,webegantospendtimetogetheragain,agreeingtotakethingsslowlyasIfocusedonstudyingforthebar.Thatwastheplananyway,butmoreoften,Ididotherstuff.LikegoingtoYankeesgames.Andplayingpoker.Andsurfingandsailing.Androllerbladinginthepark.AndgoingtonightclubswhereImetmoremodelsandactressesandenjoyedanoccasionalone-nightstand,allwithintherulesofourcurrentrelationshipstatus.
Thepredictableresult,ofcourse,wasthatIfailedthebar.Twice.Thetabloidheadlineswerebrutal—theworstthey’deverbeen.TheHunkFlunksandTwo-TimeLoser.Mymotherwasmortified,andIwasprettyembarrassed,too,thoughIplayeditoff,crackingjokesaboutthreetimesbeingthecharm.
Thankgoodnessitwas,andinaHailMary,Ifinallypassed.Fromthere,IwasswornintotheNewYorkbarandtookajobasanassistantdistrictattorneyinManhattan.Iwasonlygoingtobemakingfortythousanddollarsayear,butmymotherandgrandmotherwerepleased,likelybecauseeveryoneknowsthattheDA’sofficeisagreatpathtorunningforpublicoffice.Iwasn’tsurehowIfeltabouttheideabutfiguredIcouldcrossthatbridgelater.Inthemeantime,Ibaskedintheirapproval,howeverfleetingitmightbe.CHAPTER6
Cate
WhenIwaslittle,mymomusedtotakemedowntheshorefortheday.Werarelyspentthenight—shecouldn’taffordthetimeoffworkorthepriceofanAtlanticCityhotelroom—buteveryonceinabluemoon,wewouldsplurgeandstayover.Tome,therewasnothingmorethrillingthanthewaytheboardwalktransformedatnightfall.Ilovedeverythingaboutit.Thecolorfulblinkinglightsoftheridesandarcades,theshinylureofthosesouvenirshops,thesmellofdeliciousfoodcookinginthesaltyoceanair.
Ofcourse,onceChipcameonthescene,mymomandIstoppedgoing,andtherewasaseveral-yeargapwhenIneversawtheocean.Fortunately,thatchangedagainwhenIbecamefriendswithWendy.HerparentshadabeachfrontcondoinMargate,abouttwentyminutessouthofAC,andtheywouldofteninvitemetostaywiththem.WendyandIhadablastthere.ItwaswhereIlearnedtodrinkandsmokeandhookupwithrandomguyswhoIwouldn’thavetolaterfaceinschool.Butbeingontheboardwalkatnightalwaysmademealittlebitnostalgic,too,thinkingaboutthatfleeting,magicalpartofmychildhoodwhenitwasjustmymomandme.
Ononeofthosetrips,Wendymetaboyshereallyliked.Whilethetwoofthemwereoffmakingoutsomewhere,IstrolledalongSteelPieralone,eatingcottoncandyandavoidingeyecontact.FeelingmelancholyandresentfultowardChip,Iwasn’tinthemoodtoflirtortalktoanyoneatall,soIwasextraannoyedwhensomeladyapproachedmewithabrightsmile.
“Excuseme,”shesaidinapolishedvoice.“MayIaskyourname?”
Ihesitated,asitwassoinstilledinmenottoanswerthesesortsofquestionsfromstrangers.Butwewereinapublicplace,andthiswomandidn’tlooklikeakidnapper,soItoldher.
Shenoddedandsaid,“Andhowoldareyou,Cate?”
“Sixteen,”Isaid,warily.
TheladyreachedintoherquiltedblackChanelbag,liketheoneWendy’smothercarried.Shepulledherhandbackoutandgavemeabusinesscard.
“MynameisBarbaraBell,”shesaid.“I’matalentscoutforamodelingagency.”
Inastateofdisbelief,IlookeddownatthecardandsawthewordsEliteModelManagement
“IsthisthesameElitethatrepsNaomiCampbellandLindaEvangelista?”Iasked.
“Yes!Oneandthesame!”shesaid,lookingsurprised.“You’refamiliarwithus?”
“Yes,”Isaid,thinkingthatmyfascinationwithfashionmodelswaspayingoff
“Andhaveyoudoneanymodeling,Cate?”
“No,”Isaidwithanervouslaugh.“Ihaven’t.”
“Well,Cate,you’reastunningyoungwoman….I’dlovetosetupameetingwithyouandyourparents.Doyouthinkthatwouldbepossible?”
“Um,maybe…”Isaid.“I’dhavetoaskthem.”
Mymindwasracing.Thiswomancouldnotbeserious.MaybeshewasoneofthechildmolestersChiphadwarnedmeabout?ThenIrememberedthephotosthatWendyandIhadtakeninherbedroom—howprettyI’dlookedinthem—andwonderedifmaybeshereallywasalegitimatemodelscoutandsawsomepotentialinme.
“Well,Idohopeyougivemeacall,”Barbarasaid.“BecauseIreallythinkyouhavesomethingspecial.”
—
Forsomereason,Ididn’ttellWendyaboutBarbarafortherestofthatweek.MaybeIthoughtshe’dbejealous;maybeIworriedthatshe’dbeskepticalanddashthehopesIcouldfeelbuildinginsideme.Inanyevent,IkeptthesecretuntilIgothomeandtoldmymom.SheseemedtofeelthatBarbaraBellwasforrealandwasasgiddyasakidonChristmasmorning,talkingaboutphotoshootsintheCaribbeanandcatwalksinEurope.Forasecond,Igotcaughtupinherexcitement,butthenIremindedmyselfthatmymomdidn’talwayshavethebestjudgment.AsmuchasIhatedtoagreewithanythingChiphadtosay,hewasalittlebitrightaboutthat.Afterall,she’dmarriedhim
Besides,evenifBarbarawaslegit,shewasprobablywrongaboutme.Icalculatedthatforeveryso-calledstoryofdiscovery,therehadtobeadozenmisfires.Girlswhoseemedprettyorinterestinginacertaingoldenmoment—onlytogetunderthebrightlightsofastudioandfalter.Itoldmyselfthatthewholethingwaswaytoorisky.Ineededtosavemyselfalotoftroubleanddisappointmentandjustsayno.
ButeverytimeIthoughtaboutthrowingawayBarbara’sbusinesscard,alittlevoiceinmyheadremindedmethatthiscouldbemyticketout.MyshottogetawayfromChip.Andmaybenotjustanoutforme,butformymom,too.
SoIwentoutonalimbandaskedforhispermission.Miraculously,hegaveittome,likelybecausehehaddollarsignsinhiseyes.IcalledBarbara,andthefollowingweek,mymomandIboardedtheNewJerseyTransittraintoManhattan.AfterarrivinginPennStation,wewalkedovertoElite’sFifthAvenueoffices,thenrodetheelevatoruptothetwenty-fourthfloor.Iwassoexcited,butitallfeltveryabstractuntilwepushedopentheglassdoorsandsawgiganticphotosofLinda,Naomi,andCindyadorningthewallsofthereceptionarea.
“Wow,”Iwhispered,gettingchills.
“Iknow,”mymomwhisperedback,shakingherhead,staringupatCindy.“Thiscouldbeyouoneday.”
Itookadeepbreathasastylishreceptionistlookedupandaskedifshecouldhelpus.IgavehermynameandsaidIhadanappointmentwithBarbara,andshesmiled,nodded,andpickedupherphone.
Asecondlater,anotherwell-dressedwomanarrived.SheintroducedherselfasTonya,Barbara’sassistant,andusheredusdownthehalltoaconferenceroomwithmodernfurnitureandagorgeousviewofthepark.
“MayIgetyousomethingtodrink?”Tonyasaid.“Coffee,tea,soda?”
“Um,doyouhaveDietPepsi?”mymomaskedinavoicethatwasalittleshaky.
“Yes.Wedo.Andforyou,Cate?”
“I’lltakeone,too,please,”Isaid.
Oncealone,mymomandIdebatedwhichseatstotake,talkinginwhispers.Wedecidedtositfacingthewindows.Amomentlater,TonyareturnedwithoursodaspouredintotallglasseswithcubesoficeandskinnystrawsandtoldusBarbarawouldberightwithus.
Aswewaited,Igotmoreandmorenervous,questioningmyoutfit,mymakeup,andespeciallymyhighponytail,whichIworriedmademelooktooyoung.Thenagain,maybethatwasagoodthing.Iknewplentyofmodelsgottheirstartearlierthansixteen.Forthenextfivelongminutes,asIsippedmysodaandtriedtoblockoutmymom’snervouschatter,Ikeptthinkingthattherewasnowaythiscouldbehappening.Nowayitwouldworkout.Atsomepoint,though,Igrittedmyteeth—literally—andtoldmyselfthatwasnowaytoapproachlife.Ihadtostoppanicking.IfIdidn’tcalmdownandbelieveinmyself,atleastalittlebit,howcouldanyoneelse?
BeforeIcouldanswermyownquestion,Barbarawalkedintotheroomflankedbytwomenandmadeintroductions.Everyoneshookmyhand,thenmymom’s,beforesittingdownatthetableandmakingabunchofsmalltalkabouttheweather,andourtrainrideintothecity,andmyschoolyearsofar.Atsomepoint,asIstartedtocalmdownalittle,Barbaraseguedtothereasonwewerehere,talkingaboutmyappearance,praisingmyfeaturesandfigure.
“Butyou’remorethanaprettyface,Cate,”shesaid.“Iwatchedyouontheboardwalk.Youhavepoiseandconfidence.Anaura.ThetrademarkofElitemodels.”
Ithankedher,stunnedbyhercompliments.ItwasthebestI’deverfeltaboutmyself.
“WewouldloveforyoutojointheElitefamily,”Barbarasaid,beamingatme.
“Oh,wow…thankyou,”Isaid,myheartpounding.Iwasgoingtobenotonlyamodelbutpartofafamily?Mymindwasblown.
“Isthatayes?”
Inodded,speechlessandoverwhelmed.
“Wonderful!”Barbarasaid,quicklyturningthingsovertothemen,whobegantodescribewhattheycalled“nextsteps.”Theytalkedaboutsettingupatestshoottogetmeheadshotsandcompcards—basicallyaportfolioofmarketingmaterials.Iwouldthenbeassignedabookerattheagency,whowouldsubmitmyportfoliotovariousclientsandsetupcastingsforme—whichwerelikeauditions.Fromthere,Ijusthadtoshowuptothecastingcallsandmakeagoodimpression.Ifaclientlikedwhattheysaw,theywouldcallmybooker,sendoutacontract,andscheduletheshoot.
Inodded,butImusthavelookeduneasy,becauseBarbarasaid,“Itmightsoundoverwhelming,butthat’swhatwe’reherefor.Tohelpyounavigatetheprocess.”
Oneofthemennoddedandthenchimedin.“Yes.Barbaraisright.Elitewillbewithyoueverystepoftheway.Thereisnoagencyouttherewhowillbetterprotectyourinterestswhilealsopromotingyouinthiscompetitivemarketplace.”
Ismiledandsaidthankyou.
“Doyouhaveanyquestions?”Barbaraasked,lookingatmefirst,thenmymom.
“No,”Isaid,shakingmyhead.
“No,”mymomechoed.
“Great!Here’syourcontract.It’sstandardlanguagethatallofourmodelssign,”Barbarasaid,slidingmeasheetofpaper.“Takeyourtimereviewingit.Nopressure.Ifyouneedtogohomefirstandtalkitoverwithyourfather—orperhapsalawyer—that’sfine,too.”
“No,”Isaid,cuttingheroff.TherewasnowayIwasgoingtogiveChipthechancetochangehismind.“I’mreadytosign.Rightnow.”
—
Laterthatweek,mymomandIreturnedtothecityformytestshoot.Whenwearrivedatthestudio,weweremetbyasmallcrowd,includingaphotographer,anartdirector,ahairstylist,amakeupartist,afashiondesigner,andvariousscurryingassistants.Iwastoldthatclotheswouldbeprovidedforme,andthatIshouldcomewithnoproductinmyhairandaclean,makeup-freeface.Ifollowedinstructions,butwasn’thappyaboutthewayIlooked,andhalfexpectedthemtocanceltheshootwhentheysawmyflathairandthehugezitonmychin.Butnobodyseemedfazed,andthehairstylistandmakeupartistquicklygottowork.
Overthenexttwohours,Iwastransformedmultipletimes.Inthefirstshot,IworebluejeansandawhiteT-shirtwithnaturalmakeupandwavyhair;inthesecond,Ihadonablacklacecocktaildresswithdramatic,smokyeyesandastraighterbutstillveryfullhairdo;andinthethird,Iworeawhitestringbikiniwithhairsocurlyitlookedpermedandlotsofshimmerygoldmakeup.
Sittingthereintheswivelchairandgettingmyhairandmakeupdonewastheeasypart.Thehardpartwasposingunderthosebrightlightswitheveryonestaringatmeasthephotographergavemehundredsofinstructionstosit,stand,lookup,lookdown,looktotheleft,looktotheright,lowermychin,raisemychin,smile,smilemore,smileless,smilewithmyeyes,don’tsmile.Itwasexhausting,andI’dneverfeltsoawkwardandself-conscious,likeIwasplayingagameofTwisterinhighheelsandbeingjudgedonstylepoints.Butastheshootprogressed,thingsgotalittleeasier,andIlearnedthatthekeywastotrytorelax,ignoreallthepeopleintheroom,andpretendtobesomewhereelse,preferablysomewherefaraway.Iwasgoodatthat;livingwithChiphadgivenmeplentyofpractice.
Attheendofthesession,afterIwasbackinmyownclothes,theartdirectorgavemealittlehugandsaid,“Greatjob,Cate.You’reapro.”
“Thankyou,”Isaid,feelingmorerelievedthananythingelse.LikeI’dpassedanothertestandtrickedthemallintobelievingIwassomethingIwasn’t.
—
Afewdayslater,mymomandIreturnedtoNewYorkforthethirdtimeinlessthantwoweekstomeetwithmyassignedbookingagent,awomannamedDaisy,whoremindedmeofYokoOno.Wechattedforawhile,gettingtoknoweachother,beforeDaisymentionedthetestshootandthegreatfeedbackshe’dgotten.
“Theysaidyouwereaveryhardworker—andsopolite.Whichgoesalongwayinthisbusiness.”
Inodded,wonderingiftherewasabutcoming.Perhapsshewasabouttotellmethatthephotoshadn’tturnedoutandtheyneededtoredothem.Ormaybethenewswasevenworse.Maybesomehigher-uphaddecidedthatnoneofthiswasgoingtoworkoutafterall.
IheldmybreathasDaisysplayedaboutadozenphotosofmeontheglasscoffeetablebetweenus.IlookeddownasIheardmymomgasp.
“Wow,”Isaid,myeyesdartingfrompicturetopicture.Ihardlyrecognizedmyself.Ilookedlikeamoviestar.
“Doyoulikethem?”Daisyasked.
Itfeltlikearhetoricalquestion,butIanswereditanyway.
“Imean…yes,sure,”Isaid,noticingtherewasnotraceofthezitthathadbeenonmychinthedayoftheshoot.Myskinlookedflawless,infact,andmyarmsandlegslookedmoretonedandtannedthantheywereinreallife.“Ican’tbelievethisisme.Didsomeonedoctorthesephotosorsomething?”
Daisylaughed,thensaidthattheimageshadbeenretouched.ItwasthefirsttimeI’deverheardthatword.
“Howdotheydothat?”Iaskedher.
Daisyexplainedthatitwasaprocessinthedarkroomwheretheypiecedtogetherseparateimagestocreatetheperfectphoto.
“Dotheydothiswitheveryone?”Iasked.Maybethat’swhatmadesupermodelssupermodels:theywereactuallyperfectwithoutalltheretouching.
Daisysmiledandsaidyes,everyone.Thenshepausedandherfacegotveryseriousasshesaid,“Listen,Cate.Iwantyoutoremembersomethingasyoumoveforwardinyourcareer.”
Inodded,listeningasintentlyasIcould.
“You’regoingtoberejectedandcriticizedandpickedapart.Endlessly.You’llbetoldyouaren’tthinenoughorprettyenoughorgoodenough.Andultimately,attheendofitall,you’regoingtobetoldyou’retooold.Nomatterhowsuccessfulyoubecome,youwilleventuallybereplacedbysomeoneyounger.”
ThespeechwastheoppositeofwhatI’dexpected,butforsomereasonitmademelikeDaisyevenmorethanIalreadydid.
“DoyouunderstandwhatI’msaying?”sheasked,staringintomyeyes.
“Yes.Ido,”Isaid,wonderingwhataboutherstatementcouldpossiblyconfuseanyone.
Daisypushedherglassesuponhernoseandsaid,“And?Doesthatscareyou?”
Thisquestionwasmoredifficulttoanswer,andIpondereditafewsecondsbeforeshakingmyheadno.WhatscaredmewasthethoughtofChipputtingmymominthehospital,maybeevenkillingher.NottheideaofsomeonetellingmeIwasfat.
“Good,”Daisysaid.“Becausethesooneryourealizethatthereisnosuchthingasperfection—andthisentirebusinessisanillusion—thebetteroffyou’llbe.”
—
Overthenextmonth,Ireturnedtothecityahalfdozentimesforcastingcalls,rackinguprejectionsalongwithabsencesfromschool.Chipseemedtorevelinmyfailure,remindingmethatIwasn’tmodelmaterialandgloatingthathe’dbeenright—thatthewholethingwasascam.HealsocomplainedthatIshouldbeinschool(asifhecaredatallaboutmyeducation)andthatmymomshouldbehome,cleaningandcookingandstrokinghisegoanddoingGodknowswhatelseshedidforhim.Itmademeshuddertothinkaboutit.
Then,justasChipwasonthevergeofmakingmequitbeforeI’devenstarted,Igotbookedformyfirstjob.Thenmysecondandthirdandfourth.Noneofthejobswerewithmajorfashionhousesorbigbrands,andDaisyseemedtothinktheyweresmallpotatoes,butitfeltlikealotofmoneytome.Moreimportant,Iwasgainingvaluableexperienceandbuildingarésumé.DaisypromisedthatifIkeptworkinghard,itwasonlyamatteroftimebeforeIgotmybigbreak.
“Oneminuteyou’remodelingatwenty-dollarskirtforMacy’s,andthenextyou’rewearingVersaceonacatwalkinMilan,”shesaid.
SoIkeptworkinghardandsavingwhatlittlemoneyChipdidn’ttakefromme.You’dthinkthefundshesiphonedoffwouldhavebeenenoughtokeephimoffmyback,butthemoreImade,themoreheseemedtohateme.Atfirst,Ithoughtmaybehewasjealous,butthatreallydidn’tmakesense.Howcouldamiddle-agedcopbejealousofateenagedmodel?ThenIthoughtithadtodowithmymom—thathehatedhowhappyandproudshegotwhenshewaslookingatpicturesofmeincatalogsandmagazines,becauseitmeantlessattentionforhim.Inpart,itwasprobablybothofthosethings.
ButIcametorealizethatitwasmostlyaboutpowerandcontrol.EverythingwithChipboileddowntothat.Itwasn’tsomuchthathehatedme,orevenmysuccess,butthatheresentedtheconfidenceandindependencethatcamealongwiththatsuccess.Theyclearlythreatenedhim.IthinkheintuitivelyunderstoodthatifIgotstrongandmadeenoughmoney,hewouldn’thaveasmuchcontrolovermymom.ThebottomlinewasthatChipneededmeto“knowmyplace,”andifhesensedforonesecondthatIdidn’torthat,inhiswords,Iwasgetting“toobigformybritches,”hewentberserk.SoIkeptalowprofilearoundthehouseandoftenremindedmymom,whowasn’tassavvyaboutthesedynamics,nevertomentionmycareerorcastingcallswithinhisearshot.
Allthewhile,Icounteddownthedaysuntilmyeighteenthbirthday,knowingthatIcouldmoveoutofmyhousetheseconditwaslegallypermissible—andthatChipcouldn’ttrackmedownanddragmebackhomeassomesortofapowerplay.Ifeltmyselfregularlydriftingintodreammode,imaginingasmallapartmentinthecity—onewithtwobedroomssomymomcouldcomewithme.Wecouldre-createaversionofouroldlifeinHackensack,onlyslightlymoreglamorous,andminustheloserguys.
—
InSeptemberofmysenioryear,arepfromCalvinKleincontactedDaisy,invitingmetoasmall,exclusivecastingcall.Theagentsaidtheywerelookingfora“relativeunknown—afreshfacewithstarpower”andthattheythoughtIfitthebill.Icouldn’tbelieveit.Inmymind,nobodywasbiggerormoreiconicthanCalvinKlein,exceptmaybeRalphLauren,thoughIpreferredCalvin’ssimple,seductiveaesthetictoRalph’ssnobbish,preppyone.AsexcitedandhopefulasIwas,Iwasalsoalittleworried.Notaboutgettingrejected,butaboutgettingpicked.IknewthatmylandingCalvinKleinwouldupsettheprecariouspowerdynamicinourhousehold.IfChipcouldnolongercallme“bushleague”and“second-rate,”itwouldpushhimovertheedge.
Thenightbeforemyaudition,asIwasinbedtryingtofallasleep,hewentonarampage.Likeclockwork.Throughthedoorofmybedroom,Iheardhimrantingaboutme—andofallthings,Pepper’slitterbox.ChipdespisedPepper(probablybecausePepperdidn’tgiveashitaboutChip)andwasalwaysthreateningtogivehimawayor,whenhewasreallypissed,puthimdown.
Iputmypillowovermyhead,butChip’svoicestillgotlouder.Heshoutedaboutwhataspoiled,irresponsibledivaIwas,andhowInever“liftedadamnfingeraroundhere.”Whenhewasrightoutsidemydoor,Icouldhearmymombegginghimtoleavemealone,sayingthatIneededmysleepformy“bigday”tomorrow.
Ishookmyhead,knowingshe’djustmadethingsinfinitelyworse.Itwasgoingtobealongnight—andwewerebothscrewed.Itwasinevitable.Sobeforewecouldgothroughthewholetiredroutineofhimpoundingonthedoorandthreateningtokickitdown,Iopenedit,staringrightintohiseyes.Foronesecond,helookedsurprised—maybealittledisappointed—thatIwasn’tcoweringinthecorner.
“I’mreallysorry,Chip,”Isaid,facingthemusic,gettingitoverwith.
“Whatareyousorryfor?”heshouted,hisfacebrightred.Hewasstillinhisfulluniform,guninhisholsterandall,withPepper’slitterboxathisfeet.“Tellmeexactlywhatyou’resorryfor.”
Itwastheusualsonganddance,andoneIcouldnevergetright.Iwaseithertoospecificornotspecificenough.Iwaseitherbeingflippantorgrovelinginawayhefounddisingenuous.
“I’msorryfornotchangingthelitterbox,”Isaid,glancingdownatit,keepingmyvoicelowandsteady,tryingtohittherightnote.
“Whendidyouchangethisfuckingthinglast?”heyelledatthetopofhislungs.“Anddon’tlietome.”
Itwasano-win,becauseI’dchangedthelitterboxtwodaysago—andthedirectionsontheboxsaidIhadthreetofourdays.SoIoptedtolie,saying,“I’mnotsure.It’sbeenafewdays.I’msorry.”
“Thehellyouare.You’reaspoiledfuckingbrat.Youthinkyou’retoogoodforthishouse,don’tyou?”
“No,Idon’t,Chip,”Isaid,makingfleetingeyecontactwithmymom,anothertacticalerror.Hehatedwhenhefeltlikeshewasonmyside,especiallyifthatmeantwewerealignedagainsthim.
“YES,YOUFUCKINGDO!ANDDON’TLOOKATYOURMOTHER!”
Ibitmylip,nodded,andmumbledagainthatIwassorry.Buthewasalreadyontohisnextmove,reachingdownforthelitterbox,thenraisingitoverhisheadwithbothhands.Istaredathim,confused,thenrealizedwithhorrorwhathewasabouttodo.Sureenough,hehurledtheentireplasticbinatmeashardashecould.Iduckedmyheadascatlitterandpelletsofcatpoopflewacrossmyroom,landingallovermyshagcarpet,mydesk,mybed.
“Cleanthisfuckingmessup.NOW!”hesaid,lookingsosatisfied.Downrightproudofhimself.
Inodded,quicklydroppingtomykneesandscrapingupcatlitterwithmybarehands.Itwasacompletelyfutileexercise,especiallybecausethetrashcanwasontheothersideoftheroom.
“I’llgetthevacuumcleaner,”Iheardmymomsay.
“No!Don’tyoudarehelpher!Youdoeverythingforher!”Chipshouted.Asheturnedandstormedbackdownthehall,Iprayedthathewasn’tlookingforPepper.Fortunately,thefrontdoorslammed,andhisengineturnedoverinthecarportoutsidemywindow.OnlyatthatpointdidIlookbackupatmymom.
“I’msosorry,honey,”shesaid,tearsinhereyes.
Istartedtotellheritwasokay,likeIalwaysdid.Instead,somethingsnappedinsideme.“Whyintheworldwouldyoutellhimaboutthecastingcall?”Idemandedtoknow.“Healwaystriestoruineverything!”
“I—I—wasexcited.”
“Yeah,”Isaid.“Well,there’snothingtobeexcitedabout.I’mnotgonnagetit.”
AsIwenttogetthevacuumcleaner,Irealized,onceagain,thatIwasscrewedandalone.ItcrossedmymindtocallWendy—andgoovertoherhouseforthenight—maybefinallyconfideinherandherparentswhatwashappeninginmyhouse.Butinthelongrunthatwouldbackfire.NotevenMr.Fine,withallhispower,coulddoanythingtostopapoliceofficer.Morelikely,he’dtellWendythatitwastoodangeroustobemyfriend.Mr.Finewasagoodman,buthewouldputhischild’ssafetyfirst,theexactoppositeofwhatwashappeningatmyhouse.Besides,WendyandIweren’tevenascloseaswehadbeen.IwassobusyworkingthatKimberlyhadmovedbackupinthepeckingorder.SometimesIfeltlikeWendyrubbedthatinmyface,goingoutofherwaytoletmeknowhowmuchfunIwasalwaysmissing,andhowbadshefeltforme.Tobefair,Ithinksheactuallydidfeelsorryforme,asIthinkWendy’sworstnightmarewouldhavebeentomissbothhomecomingandprom,asIhad.Butherconstantsympathyonlymademefeelmoreleftout,likeIwasstraddlingtwoworlds,trulybelonginginneither.
WhenIreturnedwiththevacuumcleaner,mymomwasstrippingthesheetsandpillowcasesfrommybed,stilltalkingaboutCalvinKlein,andhowshejustknewIwouldgetpicked.ItwasherStepfordWiferobotmode;hereyeswereglassyandhervoicestiltedasshefellintoacatatonicdenial.
“No,Mom.I’lltellyouwhat’sgonnahappen,”Isaid,staringather.“I’mgonnacleanthisroomforthenexttwohours.Andbythen,ChipwillcomehomeandtellmeIdidn’tdoitrightandstartscreamingagainandfindsomekindofanexcusetobeatonyou.Maybebreakyournose…AndtomorrowI’mgonnashowupatthatauditionlookinglikeazombiewithbloodshoteyesandthey’regonnalaughmeoutoftheroom.WhichisexactlywhatChipwants.”
Mymom’schintrembled.“Oh,honey.I’msosorry,”shesaid.Becausesheknewitwastrue.
And,ofcourse,itwastrue.EverythingIsaidturnedouttobecorrect,withonlyoneexception:Chipdidn’tbreakmymom’snose;hebrokehercollarbone.
—
AsChiptookmymomtotheER,undoubtedlywithanotherlieaboutherfallingdownthestairs,Ilayawakeallnight,worryingthatChip’sabuseseemedtobeescalating.Finally,myalarmwentoff,andIgotupandwenttomycasting.Afterward,Daisycalledandaskedmehowitwent.
“Itwasadisaster,”Isaid.
“Oh,no.Whathappened?”
Itookadeepbreath,fightingbacktears.“Idon’tknow…Ijust…Ididn’tgetmuchsleeplastnight.AndI—Ijustcouldn’tgetittogether.Theystartedaskingmequestions,andIcouldn’tthink…Isucked…I’msorry,Daisy.”
“Don’tapologizetome,honey,”Daisysaid.“Thisjusthappenssometimes.”
Yes,Ithought.AndsometimesyourmotherendsupintheERwithabrokencollarbone.Thathappenssometimes,too
—
Afewhourslater,Daisycalledmeback.
“Cate?”shesaid.“Areyousittingdown?”
“Yes,”Isaid,thinkingthatshedidn’thavetocoddleme.ShehadnoideawhatathickskinIhad.“Whatdidtheysay?Ibombedit,right?”
“No,”shesaidwithagiddylaugh.“Yougotit!”
“What?”Isaid,confused.
“Yougotthejob.Theypickedyou!”Daisysaid.
“There’snoway,”Isaid,thinkingthatithadtobesomekindofjoke.“I—Ipracticallybrokedownintears—”
“Iknowyoudid,”Daisysaid.“Theysaidtheycouldtellyouwereupsetaboutsomething,butthattheylovedyourvulnerability….Theysaidyouwererawandrealandperfectforthiscampaign.”
“Theydid?”Isaid,inacompletestateofdisbelief.
“Yes.Theydid….Congratulations,CatherineCooper.You’rethefaceofthenextCalvinKleincampaign.”CHAPTER7
Joe
Forthemostpart,Ilikedbeinganassistantdistrictattorney.Itwashardwork,butthehoursweren’tnearlyasbadaswhatmylawschoolbuddieswerebillingattheirbigcorporatefirms—andmycaseswerealotmoreinteresting.Insteadofarguingoveraclauseinacontractorreviewingdocumentsforlitigationthatwouldneverseethelightofacourtroom,Iwasoutinthefield,talkingtocopsandwitnessesandvictims,buildingacaseandpreparingfortrial.Ilovedanykindofcourtappearance.ItremindedmeoftheaterinthatIhadtostandupandputonareallygoodperformance.SometimesIhadascriptthatImemorized,butIwasgoodatthinkingonmyfeet,too.Basically,IdidwhateverIneededtodotocharmthejuryandgetaconviction.
Inthatsense,IhadadistinctadvantageovermyfellowADAs.Jurorsfeltasiftheyalreadyknewme,andforthemostpart,theylikedandtrustedme.Icouldwinovermostjudges,too,manyofwhomwereolderandhadreveredmyfather.Inotherwords,Idefinitelybenefitedfrommyname.Foronce,though,Ididn’tfeelguiltyaboutmyadvantage,sinceIfeltIwasusingittohelpothers.Iwasfightingforjustice,justasmygrandmotherhadwantedmeto.Everynowandthen,shewouldcomedowntowntoseemeinaction.Afterward,she’dtakemetolunch,andwe’dtalkaboutthecase.Occasionally,shefeltsorryforadefendantandexpressedmixedemotionsaboutmegettingaconviction.
“Ihavetosay,Joey…Iwasreallyhopingthatyoungmanwouldseeanacquittaltoday,”shesaidoneafternoonaswesatinalittlebakery.
Ichuckledandshookmyhead.“C’mon,Gary.Hewasguiltyashell,”Isaid.“Theyfoundthecrackinhiscar.”
“Allegedly.Itcouldhavebeenplanted.Attheendoftheday,youonlyhadthewordofonewhitepoliceofficer.That’snotexactlyironclad.”
“Okay.Butwealsogotaconfession,”Icountered.
Shedismissedthat,too,andbeganawholediatribeaboutshadypolicetacticsandforcedconfessionsandunethicalinterrogations.
“Andinanyevent,”shesaid,“doesitseemrighttoputawaythatkidforlife?”
“Well,he’seighteen.Sotechnicallyanadult,”Isaid,feelinginstantlysheepishasIthoughtofmybirthdaypartyandhoweighteenhadn’tseemedsooldtomethen.“Besides.Itwashisthirdoffense.”
“Right.Becausehe’sateenageaddict.Addictstypicallydothingsmorethanonce.”
Isighed,thensaid,“Well,Idon’tmaketherules.Andneitherdocopsorjudgesorjuries.That’suptothelegislature.”
Mygrandmotherconcededthispointbutinsistedthattheso-calledwarondrugswrongfullytargetedminoritiesandtheurbanpoor.“Joey,haveyoueverwonderedwhythesentencingguidelinesareharsherforcrackcocainethanregularcocaine?”sheasked.
Ishookmyhead,becauseIhadn’t;I’djustalwaysthoughtcrackseemedworse,somehowmoredangerous,moreassociatedwithcrime.
“Thinkaboutit.Butfornow,let’sputthataside,”shesaid.“Let’sjusttalkaboutpot.”
Ismiled,surprisedtohearmygrandmotherusetheslangterm.
“Okay,”Isaid,nodding.
“Whichfileismorelikelytocomeacrossyourdesk—anAfricanAmericanteenagersmokingpotinHarlemorawhitekidgettinghighatColumbia?”
“Dang,”Isaid,nodding.“Yougotapointthere.”
“Yousmokedpotincollege,didn’tyou,Joey?”
“Gary!C’mon,”Isaid,smiling.
“Well?Wereyoueverworriedaboutbeingimprisoned?”
Ishookmyheadandsaid,“No.Notreally.”
“Andifthepolicehadraidedoneofyourlittleparties,andbroughtyouin,whatwouldhavehappened?”
Ibitmylip,imagininghowitwouldhaveallunfolded,andhowfar-fetcheditwasthatanyscenariowouldhaveincludedajailcell.“Yeah.Ihearyou.”
“Thewholecriminaljusticesystemisproblematic,Joey.”
“Right.Sure.ButalotofthepeopleIprosecuteareseriouslybadguys,andIfeelgoodaboutgettingthemoffthestreet.”
“Iknow,Joey,”shesaid.“AndI’mnottryingtodisparageyourentireprofession.Weneedprincipledprosecutors….”
“But?”Isaid.
Garyshookherheadandsaid,“There’snobut—Ijustwantyoutothinkaboutthebigpicture.”
“Meaningwhat?Doyouwantmetobeapublicdefenderinstead?”
“I’mnotsayingthat,exactly.”
“Okay.Whatareyousaying?”
Garytookadeepbreathandsaid,“Well.Didn’tyousaythatitwasallaboutthelaws?”
Inodded.
“Well,then…maybethelaws—andthesentencingguidelines—needtobereformed.”
“Yeah,”Isaid.“Maybeso.”
“So…weneedreallygoodmen—andwomen—aslawmakers,too….”
Ismiled.“Gary,youdog.Iseewhereyou’regoinghere—”
Mygrandmotherraisedhereyebrows,smiled,andsaid,“Justsomethingtothinkabout,Joey.”
—
Meanwhile,asIcareenedintomythirties,mymotherreturnedherfocustomypersonallife.ShewouldoftenaskaboutMargaret,pretendingtobecasual,makingeasy-breezyconversation.Buttheintentwasclear:shewantedtoknowwhen(notif)Iwasgoingtopropose.ProposingtoMargaretactuallyfeltlikesomethingofagiventome,too—we’devenadoptedadogtogether,ablack-and-whiteCanaanterrierInamedThursday.Butitwasmoreofa“farintothefuture”giventhanan“anydaynow”given.
Isaidasmuchtomymotheronedayatbrunch,andshelookedappalled,insistingthatgirlslikeMargaretshouldn’thavetowaituntiltheirthirtiestomarry.
“Mom,thirtyisnotold.Maybeitusedtobe,butthesedayspeoplearewaitingtogetmarried.”
“Waitingforwhat?”
“Waitinguntilthey’reready,Mom.”
“Readyforwhat?”
“Idon’tknow,Mom.Financiallyready—”
“You’resetfinancially.”
Iknewitwastrue,butIstillwincedinside.“Emotionallyready,Imeant.”
“Please,Joseph.You’rethirty.AndMargaretisevenolder.”
“Onlybyfourmonths,Mom.”
“Still…it’snotfairtoher.”
“Margaretisfine,”Isaid,thinkingthatIcouldn’trememberasingleinstanceinwhichshe’dpressuredme,questionedme,orevensomuchasdroppedahint.Infact,atthelastweddingwewenttotogether,shedidn’tevengetupfromthetabletoparticipateinthebridalbouquettossshenanigans—whichIthoughtwasprettydarncool.
“She’spretendingtobefine,Joseph,”mymothersaid.“Andjustbecauseshe’snotgivingyouanultimatumdoesn’tmeanthereisn’tadeadlineinhermind.”
“Okay,Mom,”Isaid,eagertochangethesubject.
“Ijustdon’twantyoutoloseher,Joseph.”
“I’mnotgoingtoloseher,Mom,”Isaid.“Everythingisgreat.We’regreat.Infact,we’rethinkingaboutmovingintogether.”
Ibracedmyselfforherreaction.
“Joseph,no.That’saterribleidea.”
“Why?”
“It’ssodisrespectfultoher.Shedeservesbetter.”
“Don’tdothewhy-buy-the-cowthing,Mom.Please.”
“Well,it’strue.”
“It’sold-fashioned.”
“Iamold-fashioned.AndsoisMargaret’smother.”
“Well,we’renot,Mom.Wearen’tthatway.”
“Joseph,trustme,sheis.Shejustdoesn’twanttorocktheboat.Shewantstomakeyouhappy.”
“Andthat’sabadthing?”Isaid,keepingmyvoicelight.Ididn’twanttoupsether—ormyself.
“Look,Joseph,”shesaidwithawearysigh.“Justdon’tlethergetaway.Ithinkyou’llbereallysorryifyoudo.Youneedapartnerinthislife,andIknowyouthinkI’malwaysnaggingandpressuringyou—”
“Becauseyouare,”Isaidwithalaugh.
“Idon’twantyoutohaveanyregrets.Idon’twantyoutoeverlookbackandthink,‘CouldIhavedonemore?Beenmore?Doneitdifferently,better?’I’mjusttryingtohelpyou—”
“Iknow,Mom,”Isaid,myvoicefirm.“AndIappreciateyourconcern—Ireallydo.ButIgotthisundercontrol.”
—
Justafewweekslater,Margarettoldmethatoneofherbestfriendsfromhighschoolhadjustgottenengaged,afterdatingtheguyforonlysixmonths.Sheseemedalittleupset—maybeevenjealous—andIwonderedifmaybemymotherhadbeenrightafterall.
“Whoa.Sixmonths?Thatseemsabitfast,”Isaid,treadingcarefully.
“Idisagree,”Margaretsaid,holdingmygaze.“Ithink…whenyouknow,youknow.”
Iknewwhatshewasgettingat.Moreimportant,IknewthatsheknewthatIknewwhatshewasgettingat.Ihadtosaysomething.“Yeah.That’strue…buteveryrelationshipisdifferent.Everysituation.”
“Obviously,”Margaretsaid.
IpretendednottonoticeherannoyedtoneasIaddedafootnote.“Andwhoknows,maybeshe’spregnant!”
“Oh?”Margaretsaid,hereyebrowsrising.“Becausethat’swhycouplesgetengaged?Becausetheyhaveto?”
“No.Ijustmeant…Idon’tknow…Ijustdon’twantyoutofeelbadthattheygotengagedbeforewedid,”Isaid.I’dfinallyaddressedtheelephantintheroom.
Margaretstaredatmeforafewsecondsbeforenodding.Thenshesaid,“ShouldIfeelbadaboutthat?”
“No,”Isaid.
“Well,then,”shesaidwryly.“IguessIwon’t.”
—
Afewmonthslater,asIfeltmyselfgettingcloserandclosertopullingthetriggeronaring,Margarethadtogooutoftownforaconference,soIwenttotheHamptonsforalongweekendandalittlefinalsoul-searching.
ThemorningIarrived,Iheadedstraightoutforthebeach,takingThursdayforalongwalk.Aboutamileuptheshoreline,wecameacrossaphotoshootofsomesort.Iplannedtopassonby,butaswegotcloser,Ispottedagorgeousblondewholookedvaguelyfamiliar.Ilingeredinthegeneralvicinityforamoment,tossingtheFrisbeeI’dbroughtalongforThursdaywhiletryingtogetabetterlook.
Itcrossedmymindthatthiswasn’tsomethingIshouldbedoing—usingmydogasaproptomeetawoman—butItoldmyselfthatitwasharmless.Besides,justbecauseIwasabouttogetengageddidn’tmeanIhadtostopinteractingwithhalfthepopulationoftheworld.Iwascapableofmeetingsomeonewithoutitleadingtoflirtation,letalonesex.Heck,Icouldevenviewthisasatest.IfIcouldn’thandleasimpleinteractionwithastrangeronthebeach,itwouldbeaclearsignthatIwasn’treadytogetengaged.Bettertofindthatoutnowratherthanlater.
BeforeIcouldchangemymindagain,IflungtheFrisbeeinthegeneraldirectionofthewoman,knowingthatThursdaywouldleadamerrychase.Hedid,ofcourse,andafewsecondslater,Iwasstandingnexttoher,trying,quiteunsuccessfully,nottostare.Toputitbluntly,shewasthemostbeautifulgirlI’deverseen—whichwasreallysayingsomething,asI’dobviouslyseenplentyofgorgeouswomeninmyday.Everythingaboutherglowed.Herskin,herpinklips,andherlong,shinyhairthatlookedlikesunlight.Andthatwasallbeforesheglanceduptomeetmygazewiththesehuge,intensepaleblueeyesthatmeltedme.Forafewseconds,Icouldn’tspeak.ThenIsomehowgotittogether,stumblingovermywordsasImumbledavagueapologyformydog.ShegavemearemotesmilethatsaidsheknewwhatIwasupto—like,Listen,buddy,I’mnodummy;I’veseenthisdogtrickbefore—andinthatinstant,Icouldtellshehadalittleedge.Meanwhile,ifsheknewwhoIwas,shepretendednotto.
Overthenextseveralminutes,weintroducedourselvesandmadesmalltalk.Yetevenassheansweredallmyquestions,sheretainedanairofmystery.Likeshedidn’twanttobeknown.Notbyme,anyway.
Fortunately,shehadamakeupartistwithher,andheseemedmorethaneagerforourconversationtolastaslongaspossible.HekeptchiminginonCate’sanswerswithadditionalcolorcommentary.Aswetalked,Ikeptstudyingherface,andsuddenlyrealizedthatIhadseenherbefore—onabillboardnearLaGuardia.Iblurtedthatout,resistingtheurgetoalsotellherthatshewasevenmorebeautifulinperson,somehowknowingthatastatementlikethat,althoughtotallytrue,wouldsoundlikealine.
Meanwhile,IknewIwasrunningoutoftime—andthatshehadtogetbacktowork.Anysecond,Iwasgoingtohavetosaygoodbyeandmightneverseeheragain.Itmademepanicalittleinside.Ihadtoseeheragain.
Therewasreallynoway,though,notwithoutbreakingmycardinalruleaboutcheating.EvenifIkeptitplatonic,itwouldstillbecheatinggivenwhatIwasthinking.Ihadneverbelievedinloveatfirstsight—howcouldyoulovesomeoneyoudidn’tknow?Butthiswomangavemethatfeeling.Likeachemicalreaction.Alittleexplosioninmychest
AsIstalledforafewfinalseconds,ItoldmyselftothinkofMargaret.Thatworkedforamomentbutthenbackfired,asIhadtofacethefactthatI’dnever,notforonesecondatanypointinourrelationship,experiencedanythingapproachingthisfeeling.Therealizationmademealittlesad,thengavemethejustificationIwassodesperatelyseeking.
“SoIknowyouhavetogetbacktowork,butI’dloveto,youknow,gettogethersometime….DoyouthinkIcouldgetyournumber?”
Shestaredatmeforseveralseconds,asifgenuinelycontemplatingtheprosandthecons.Then,justasIthoughtshewasgoingtorejectme,shenodded.Beforeshecouldmakeamove,themakeupartistwaseagerlyjottinganumberdownonthebackofabusinesscard.
“Hereyougo,”hesaid,handingittome.
Ithankedhim,thenlookedbackatCateforpermission.“SoIcancallyou?”Isaid.
Shegavemealittlesmile,thenshruggedandsaid,“Sure…whynot?”
Inthatinstant,IknewIwasscrewed.
—
Thenextday,afterBerryhaddrivenouttotheHamptonslastminutetojoinme,ImadethemistakeofcasuallytellingherthatI’dmetsomeone“interesting”thepreviousday.
Sheshookherhead,frowned,thensaid,“Oh,Lord,Joe.Iknowthatlook.”
“Whatlook?”Isaid,doingmybesttohidemysmirk.
“TheI-met-a-hot-girllook,”shesaid.
“Ididn’tevensayitwasagirl.”
“Well?Wasit?”
“Yeah,”Isaid,I’msurelookingassheepishasIfelt.
“Okay,”Berrysaid.“And…wasitahotgirlyouhadnobusinesstalkingto?”
“Thatfeelslikeatrickquestion,”Isaid.
“Ugh,Joe,”shegroaned.
“What?”
“C’mon,spillit.Whoisshe?”
“Hername’sCate.”
“What’sherstory?”
“Sheworksinthefashionindustry.”
Berryraisedaneyebrow.“Thefashionindustry?Soanothermodel,huh?”
Istaredbackatherandblinked,feelingastabofguilt.
Sheshookherheadandsaid,“Didyougethernumber?”
WhenIdidn’tanswer,Berrygroanedagain.“Shit,Joe.You’regoingtothrowthingsawaywithMargaretoveramodel?”
“Whoa,now,Berr,”Isaid.“Nooneisthrowinganythingaway…andthere’snoneedtodenigratethewoman’sprofession.”
Berrytookafewdeepbreathsandsaid,“Fine.You’reright.Herjobisbesidethepoint.Thepointis—ifyoucallthatgirl—anygirl—thingswithMargaretwillbedone.Forever.”
“Thatseemsabitextreme.”
“It’strue.”
Westaredateachotherinastalematethatshebroke.“DoyouloveMargaret?”sheasked.
“Yes,”Isaid,picturinghersweetbrowneyes.“Ido.”
“Thengetyourshittogether,Joe,”mybestfriendtoldme.“Onceandforall.”CHAPTER8
Cate
Onthemorningofmyeighteenthbirthday,justafterChiphadleftforwork,IwokeupmymomandtoldherIwasmovingout;mybagshadbeenpackedthenightbefore.
“Whereareyougoing?”sheasked,sittingupinbed,rubbinghereyes.
“I’mmovinginwithmymodelfriendElna,”Isaid.“ToherplaceontheUpperEastSide.”
ItwasthefirstI’dtoldherofmyplan,butshedidn’tlooksurprised.“I’msohappyforyou,sweetie,”shesaid,blinkingbacktears.Iwasn’tsureiftheywerehappytearsorsad.Likelytheywereboth,whichwashowIwasfeeling,alongwithsomanyotheremotions.
“I’mgoingtocomebackforyou,Mom,”Isaid.“Soon.Ipromise.Ijustneedtosavealittlemoremoney—andgetmyownplace.Wecanberoommatesagain.Likeoldtimes.”
“Oh,sweetie—youknowIcan’tdothat—”
“Yes,youcan,Mom.Therearetonsofwaitressjobsinthecity.Reallynicerestaurantswherethetipsarejusthuge.Oryoucouldfindsomethingelsetodo—therearesomanyjobstobehad—I’dlovetohaveafull-timemanager.Icouldreallyusethehelp.Whatdoyouthink,Mom?Youknowyouaren’thappyhere.Youhavetogetawayfromhim.”Bythatpoint,Iwasrambling—andalittlefrantic,becauseIknewitwasprettyfutile.
“Ican’tleave,”shesaid,cuttingmeoff,tearsstreamingdownhercheeks.
“Whynot?”
“Ijustcan’t.”
“Yes,youcan,Mom!”Isaid,puttingonmybestlifecoachface.“Youhaveto.Youknowyoudo.”
Shetookadeepbreathanddidherbesttosmilebackatme.“Okay,sweetie,”shesaid.“We’llsee.”
“Yes,Mom,”Isaid,feelingsodetermined.“Wewill.”
—
Afewhourslater,IwasunloadingmybagsintoElna’ssecondbedroom,whichhadrecentlybeenvacatedbyanotherfriendofourswhohadquitmodelingtogetmarried.Asidefromtheguiltoverleavingmymombehind,Iwasexcitedandhopeful.ElnawasthemostinspiringpersonIknew.ShehadgrownupinJohannesburg,SouthAfrica,inthethickoftheapartheidera.AfterherrealfatherwaskilledintheSowetoUprising,hermotherremarriedabiggermonsterthanmystepfather.HehithermotherbutalsomolestedElna,theabusestartingwhenshewaseleven.Threeyearsandaback-alleyabortionlater,Elnaworkedupthenervetotellhermotherwhatwasgoingon,atwhichpointherstepfathercalledheraliar;hermothersidedwithherhusband,andtheybothkickedheroutofthehouse.Fromthere,ElnamadeherwaytoCapeTown,livingonthestreetsuntilshewasdiscoveredbyaBritishfashionphotographeronthebeachatCampsBay.
WithindaysofmymeetingElna,shehadsharedthisentirestorywithme,sparingnogorydetails.Beyondtheheartbreakofherstory,thethingthatstruckmethemostwashercompletelackofshame.IhadstillnevertoldasoulaboutChip.Elnawouldendupbeingthefirst.
ItwasbeforeImovedinwithher,butwhileIwascrashingatherplaceafteralatenightofwork.Wewereexhaustedandpunchy,andhadanotherearlywake-up,butinsteadofgoingtobed,weopenedabottleofredwine,caughtabuzz,andcurledupinherbedtogether,talking.Atonepoint,ElnaaskedwhyIneverdatedanyoneormentionedguys.“Areyoualesbian?”
“No,”Isaid.“Ijustdon’thavetimetodate.”
“Yeah.Butyouhavetimetofuck,don’tyou?”shesaidwithalittlegrin.“Imean,everyonehastimetofuck.”
Ilaughed,thinkingthatElnacouldbesoblunt—sodifferentfromWendyandmyoldMontclairfriends.Butgiventhelifeshe’dled,Iguesstherewasn’tmuchreasontosugarcoatthings.
“Yeah,”Isaid,laughing.“IsupposeIdohavetimeforthat.”
“And?”
“And…nothing,”Isaid,staringatoneofElna’sdanglingfalselashes.Shewassobadaboutremovingthemafterweworked,sometimesnotevenbotheringtowashherfaceatnight,whichwascrazygiventhatshehadthemostflawlessskinI’deverseen.
“Wait.Areyouavirgin?”
“No,”Isaid,thentoldheraboutJared,theBurberrymodelI’dmetonashootlastsummer,myonlyrealboyfriendtodate.
“Howlongdidyougoout?”
“Onlyaboutthreemonths,”Isaid.“Andthewholethingwaslongdistance.HeworksinLA.”
“Wereyouinlove?”
Imadeafaceandsaidno,notevenclose.
“Haveyoueverbeen?”
Ishookmyhead,thinkingthattherewasnowayIwouldbringanyonehometoChipandmymom,whichmadeitsortofhardtohaveaboyfriend.Iwentoutonalimbandtoldherasmuch,alludingtomy“difficulthomelife.”
“Difficulthow?”
“Mystepfather’sadick.”
Elna’slightgreeneyesnarrowed.“Isheabusive?”
“Hehitsmymom.He’sjustarun-of-the-millassholetome.”Igaveherafewexamples,includingthelitterboxstory,thensaid,“It’snotnearlyasbadaswhatyouwentthrough—”
Elnacutmeoffandsaid,“Abuseisabuse.Andyourmotherisallowingit,justlikeminedid.”
“Yeah.Butthere’sreallynothingshecando.”
“Bullshit!”Elnasaid,sittingup,nowanimated.“Shecouldprotectyou.Andshe’snot.Youneedtoleave,Cate.”
“Iwill.AssoonasIgraduatehighschool,”Isaid,thoughIwasonthevergeofflunkingmostofmyclassesduetounexcusedabsencesandmissedassignmentsandabysmaltestscores.
“YoucangetyourGED,”shesaid.“It’swhateveryonedoes.”
“Yeah.It’snotjustthat,though.Ican’tleavemymom,”Itoldher,explaininghow,inrecentmonths,I’dbeenabletoquellsomeofChip’sattackssimplybygivinghimcash.Andwhenthatdidn’twork,I’dgetinhisway—physically.
“Oh.Soyoupaythebills—andnowyou’reherbodyguard?”
Istiffened,feelingbothresentfulanddefensiveatonce.“There’sreallynothingshecoulddo.Ithinkhe’dtrytokillherifshestooduptohim—”
“Well,”Elnasaidwithasurprisinglycallousshrug.“That’sthepriceofpoker.”
“Elna!”Isaid.“Youcan’tblamethevictim!”
“You’reavictim,too,”shesaid.“Andshe’syourmother.AndI’msorryshe’ssuffering,butifshewon’tprotectyou,youhavetoprotectyourself.Getthefuckoutofthere.Everywomanforherself.”
—
Fromthatpointon,ElnaandIwereateam,fiercelyprotectingeachother.Shebecamemybestfriend.Insomeways,shefeltliketheonlyrealfriendI’deverhad.
IstayedintouchwithWendy,evenaftershewentofftoCornell,pledgingasororityandfallinginlovewiththemanshe’deventuallymarry.SheannoyedElnatonoend,whocriticizedthewayWendyonlysurfacedforthebig,glamorousmoments—likeFashionWeekorotherhigh-endparties.“Ifeellikesheusesyou,”Elnasaidonce.
“Iwouldn’tgothatfar,”Isaid.
“Well,attheveryleast,she’safair-weatherfriend.”
Maybethatwastrue,butIexplainedthatitreallywasn’tWendy’sfault.Shewasjustsheltered,havingneverworkedadayinherlife,saveforashortstintattheGapthatshequitbecauseshe“hatedfolding.”Wendyhadabsolutelynocluehowgruelingbeingamodelreallywas.Theobscenehours.Theshootsthatwouldlastallnight.Theendlessflightsandjetlagandwakingupinhotelsandforgettingwherewewere.Thestarvationdietsthatgavenewmeaningtorunningonempty,asweweretoldthattherewasnosuchthingastoothinandsomeofourfriendswhohadtobehospitalizedforanorexiawerepraisedforlookinglikeskeletons.Hell,therewasreallynosuchthingasamodelwithoutaneatingdisorder;itwasmoreaquestionofdegreeandmethod.Elnachosetobingeandpurge,butIcouldn’tstandthefeelingofthrowingup,soIwenttheextremeexerciseroute.SometimesI’dgotothegymandridethebikeforthreehoursatatime,payingthepriceforafewchipsandguacamole.Nicotinehelped,too,apackadaybeingstandardfareformostmodels,Elnaandmeincluded.
Wedidhaveano-hard-drugspact,though—Elnahadbeendownthatroadandwasdeterminednevertorelapse.Myreasonhadmoretodowithwantingtostayincontrolofmybodyandmindandemotions.Alongthoselines,Icontinuedtoholdguysatarm’slength,noticingthattheniceonesgenerallydidn’tpursuemeanyway,perhapstoointimidatedbythetoughnessIdidmybesttoproject.Theoneswhoseemedconfidentinthebeginningturnedouttobethemostinsecure.Theytalkedabiggameatfirst,braggingtotheirfriendsthattheyweredatingamodel,butmostofthemcouldonlytakesomuchbeforeasteamyphotoshootorlongtripwouldpushthemovertheedge.SometimesIwouldbreakupwiththemfromsheerannoyance;inothercases,theywouldpreemptivelydumpme,quicklytransitioningtoasafergirlfriendwithalessthreateninglifestyle.Meanwhile,Iremindedmyselftosticktocasualdatingwithmenwhocouldn’tdisappointme.
—
Inthespringof1995,IwasintheHamptonsonyetanotherObsessionshoot.Itwasmiserable.Tobehonest,beachshootswerealwaysmiserable,thesandblowinginyoureyesandchafingyourskin,tosaynothingofthefreezingwater.Thatdaywasactuallysunnyandsixty,butthewindstillmadeitfeellikewinter.Whiletheartdirectors,fashiondesigners,andphotographersworepuffydowncoatsandboots,Ifauxfrolickedintheice-coldsurfwearingnothingbutabikiniandasheerwhitelinenblouse.
Betweentakes,theteamdidtheirbesttowarmmeup,thoughthathadmoretodowithnotwantingmyskintolookblueinthephotosthanwithmyactualcomfort.Duringoneofthosebreaks,asIsatunderaheatlamp,sippinggreenteafromathermos,Ispottedhimwalkingtowarduswithhisdog.TheoneandonlyJoeKingsley.
Curtis,myfavoritemakeupartistandclosefriend,sawhimatthesametime.“Holyshit,girl!IsthatwhoIthinkitis?”hewhisper-shouted,grabbingmyarm.
“Itsureis,”Isaid,marvelingatseeingJoeKingsleyinpersonbutalsowonderingwhyIwassosurprisedwhensightingsofhimwerequitecommonplaceinthecityandintheHamptons.Infact,almosteveryoneIknewhadencounteredhimatsomepoint.
Butthiswasmyfirsttime,andapparentlythesamewastrueforCurtis,becausehesighedandsaid,“He’sevenhotterinperson.Lookatthoselegs.Ican’thandleit.”
“Iknow,”Isaid,squintingintothesun,thenshieldingmyeyestogetabetterlook.Hewaswearingblackathleticshorts,agraysweatshirt,andarainbow-stripedbeanie,completewithabigredpom-pom.Itwasequalpartsadorableandabsurd.
“AndIloveThursday,”Curtissaid.
“Who?”
“Hisdog.That’sthenameofhisdog.”
“Oh,”Isaid,nodding,thinkingthattherewasnobitofcelebritytriviathatCurtisdidn’tknow.
WekeptstaringasJoeflungaFrisbeetowardtheoceanandThursdayboundedafterit.Heleapedintotheair,narrowlymissingbeforefranticallypaddlingintothesurfasJoeclapped,eithercaughtupinthemomentorawarethathehadanaudience.Thelatterseemedmorelikely.
“Mercy,”Curtisbreathed.“That’sthesexiestmantoeverwalktheEarth.Deadoralive.”
“Deadmencan’twalk,”Isaid,blowingmynose.Iwasstartingtocatchacold.
Curtispushedmyhandawayfrommyface,thenblendedthemakeuparoundmynosewithanegg-shapedspongebeforeturningbacktogawkatJoe.
“Iwonderifhe’sstillwithMargaretBraswell—”
“MargaretBraswell?”Isaid,rememberingthepetitebrunetteJoehaddatedwhenhewasatHarvard.Ihadn’theardhernameinyears.“IthoughthewasdatingPhoebeMills?”
“God,girl.Keepup.HegotbacktogetherwithMargaretagesago.”
“Oh.Ididn’tknow,”Isaid,memoriesreturningofmyJoeKingsleystalkingdays.Howmuchthosepicturesofhimhadbroughtmecomfort,especiallythatoneofhimonthebeachwiththeshark’stoothnecklace.Ismiledtomyself,thinkinghowincredibleitwasthatwewerebothherenow,intheHamptons.Mythirteen-year-oldselfwouldn’thavebelievedit.
Suddenly,JoeturnedandtossedtheFrisbeeagain,thistimeawayfromtheshoreline,inourdirection.Itsailedthroughtheair,landingjustfeetawayfromus.
“OhmyGod,”Curtissaid.“Hedidthatonpurpose.”
“No,hedidn’t,”IsaidasThursdayrantowardus,andJoefollowedhim.
“Hesodid,”Curtishissedunderhisbreath,barelyabletocontainhisexcitement.“Hewantstomeetyou.”
“Youjustsaidhe’sdatingMargaret?”
“Sowhat?Maybetheyjustbrokeup.Or…maybethey’reabouttobreakup.Ifyougetmydrift.”
“Whatever,”Isaid,rollingmyeyes,asThursdaybypassedtheFrisbeeandtrottedovertoourchairs.
Curtiskneeledtopethim,saying,“Goodboy,Thursday!Thebestboy,aren’tyou?”
“You’reshameless,”Iaddedundermybreath,shakingmyheadasJoecaughtuptohisdog.
“Getoverhere,yourascal,”Joesaid.Hethenlookedupatusandsaid,“Gosh,I’msorry.Heneverlistens!”
“Don’tbesorry.He’sadorable!”Curtisgushed.“What’shisname?”
Shameless,Ithoughtagain,asJoetoldhimwhathealreadyknew.
“Thursday!Whatacutename!How’dyoucomeupwiththat?”
“?’CauseIadoptedhimonaThursday,”Joesaid.“Andit’sthebestdayoftheweek.Youhavethewholeweekendtolookforwardto.”
“OhmyGod.Today’sThursday!”Curtissaid.“Whatarethechances?”
“Aboutoneinseven,”Ideadpanned.
Joelaughed,hisfacelightingup,thenlookeddirectlyintomyeyes.Iheldhisgaze,feelingalittlelight-headed.I’dmetcelebritiesbefore,butnoonenearthisfamous—orhandsome.Overwhelmed,Ihadtoglanceawayforasecond.WhenIlookedbackhisway,hewasstillstaringatme.
“I’mJoe,bytheway,”hesaid,extendinghisarm.
Igavehimahalfsmile,thenshookhishand.“I’mCate.AndthisisCurtis.”
“It’sgreattomeetyouboth,”hesaid,noddingearnestly.
“Oh,mygoodness.Same,”Curtissaid.“I’mabigfan.Huge.”
“Thanks,man,”Joemumbled.Afleetingbutunmistakablyuncomfortablelookcrossedhisface.“So…whatareyouguysworkingontoday?Amovie?”
“No.It’sacampaignforCalvinKlein,”Curtissaid,thoughwetechnicallyweren’tsupposedtobedivulginganydetailsoftheshoot.“Cateisourtalent.I’msureyourecognizeher?”
Irolledmyeyesandsaid,“I’msurehedoesn’t.”
“Actually,”Joesaid,staringatmewithalookofdeepconcentration.“Youdolookfamiliar.”
“Yeah,right,”Isaid.
Hewouldn’thavebeenthefirstpersontorecognizeme.Butitwasalmostalwaysgirlsorgaymen,withanoccasionalcreeperthrownin.
“I’mserious,”Joecontinued,hisfacebecomingmoreearnestbythesecond.“Youlookreallyfamiliar.”Hesquintedalittleandthensaid,“Wait.AreyouonabillboardnearLaGuardia?”
“OhmyGod,yes!Sheis!”Curtissaid.
Joelookedsmugashegavemeawink.“Yep.Iknewit.Ineverforgetaface.Notoneasprettyasyours,anyway.”
Itwasthekindoflinethatusuallysoundedcheesy,butJoe’sdeliverywassosincerethatitdisarmedme,andIcouldfeelmyheartflutteralittleasIthankedhim.
“Sowhereareyoufrom?”Joeaskedme.
“NewJersey.”
“Whereabouts?”
“Montclair.”
“Youlivetherenow?”
Ishookmyheadandsaid,“No.Notsincehighschool.Iliveinthecity.”
Joenoddedandsaid,“Andhowlonghaveyoubeenmodeling?”
“SinceIwassixteen,”Isaid,wonderingifhewasreallytryingtodiscernwhetherIhadgonetocollege.Itwassomethingalotofpeopletriedtofigureoutbyaskingthesamesortsofquestions.
“Butshe’swaymorethanjustaprettyface,”Curtischimedin.
Ishothimalooktotoneitdown,butheignoreditandcontinuedtopromoteme.“She’sawholemood…andnobodyhasmorestyle….ShecouldbethenextAnnaWintour.Onlynotasmean.”
“Maybeasmean,”Isaidwithasmile,hopingtoshutCurtisup.
Joelaughed,thenbithislipandloweredhisvoice.“Well.I’llkeepmyeyeoutforyou,forsure.”
Heseemedtobeflirtingwithme,andIsuddenlyfeltweak—butterflies-in-my-stomachandclammy-handsweak.Itoldmyselftogetagrip.Joewasjustacharmingguy—everyoneknewthat—andanysecond,hewouldmoveonwithhisdogandhisdayandhislife.
Butastheminutespassed,hestayedsofocused,lockedinonme,askingmemorequestions.Meanwhile,ThursdaypantedatourfeetandCurtisfussedwithhismakeupkit,hummingWhitneyHouston’s“HowWillIKnow.”
“Well,IguessIshouldletyougetbacktowork,”hesaidafteranotherfewminutesofsmalltalk.
“Yeah,”Isaid,glancingoveratthecrew—whowereclearlygettingrestless.
“MaybeI’llseeyouaround…atBubby’sorTheOdeon,”hesaid,twooftheplacesI’dmentionedwhenheaskedwhereIlikedtohangout.
“Yeah.Maybe.”
“Hopefully,”hesaid,staringintomyeyesagain,hisfacesoserious.
Asheheldmygaze,Ifeltthestrangestsensation.Aconnection.ItwasalmostasifI’dknownhiminanotherlife—oratleastforalongtimeinthisone.IremindedmyselfthateveryoneprobablyfeltthiswaywhenmeetingJoe—thatitwasafunctionofhisfame,alongwithallthephotographswe’dseenofhimovertheyears.Wefeltlikeweknewhim,butthatwasobviouslyonlyone-sided,illusory.
Afewsecondslater,Joeaskedformyphonenumber,sayinghe’dlovetogettogethersometime.BeforeIcouldanswer,Curtiswashandingoveroneofhisbusinesscards,mynameandnumberwrittenontheback.
“Thanks,man,”Joesaid,grinningatCurtis.Thenhisfacegrewseriousagainashegazedbackatme,holdingthecardup.“SoIcancallyou?”hesaid.
“Sure…whynot?”Isaidwithalittleshrug,doingmybesttoplayitcool,tellingmyselfthatthechancesofhimactuallycallingwereremoteatbest.CHAPTER9
Joe
Ittookmoreself-disciplinethanI’deverusedinmylife,butItookBerry’sadvice,andIdidn’tcallCate.Itwastorture.Itoldmyselfthatthefeelingwouldpass,butIcouldn’tputheroutofmymind.Ifoundmyselflookingforherinthecity.Ideally,Iwantedtoseeherintheflesh,butIscouredbillboards,sidesofbuses,andsubwayplacards,too.Once,IevenpickedupaVoguemagazine,flippingthroughthepages,hopingtocomeacrossherphoto.
Aboutamonthlater,MargaretandIwenttoTheOdeonfordinner.Justafterwefinishedeating,Igotuptogotothemen’sroom.AfterI’dtakenafewsteps,itcrossedmymindthatthecheckmightcomewhenIwasgone,andIhatedforMargarettopayforanything.Ididn’tmakemuchmorethanshedid,andhertrustfundwaslikelythesamesizeasmine,butmymomhadingrainedinmenevertoletagirlpay.So,Iturnedbacktothetable,removedmywalletfrommybackpocket,andhandedittoher,tellinghertousemycreditcard.
“Icangetthisone,Joe,”shesaid.
ButIshookmyheadandinsisted.Bigmistake.WhenIgotbacktothetable,Isawherfaceandinstantlysuspectedwhathadhappened.
“What’swrong?”Iasked,hopingthatIwaswrong.
ButMargaretclearedherthroatandsaid,“IswearIwasn’tsnooping….Iwaslookingforyourcreditcard—”
Inodded,believingthis.Mywalletwasamess,justlikemydesk,myapartment,everythinginmylife.Ibracedmyselfassheheldupthatdamnbusinesscard.“ButIfoundthis.”
Inodded,remindingmyselfthatIhadn’tdoneanythingwrong.
“Whatisit?”shesaid.
“It’samakeupartist.”
“Whydoyouhaveamakeupartist’scard?”
Iswallowed,tellingmyselfnottolie,thatthecover-upisalwaysworsethanthecrime.“It’saguyImetonthebeach.Hewasataphotoshoot,”Isaid.
Shestaredatmeabeat,thenflippeditoverandreadaloud:“CateCooper.”
Mystomachflutteredhearinghername,butIsaidnothing,waiting.
“Whoisshe?”Margaretfinallyasked,answeringthequestionI’dwonderedinthepriorweeksaboutwhetherCatewasfamous.Iguessthiswasmyanswer,thoughnotnecessarilyconclusive.Margaretwasoftencluelessaboutpopculture.
“She’s…agirl…whowaswiththatmakeupartist….”
Margaretnodded,staringintomyeyes.Shewasneveronetobejealousorsuspicious—notevenofPhoebe,whomwe’dcrossedpathswithatarecentevent—butsheseemedtobebothnow.Ormaybeitwasjustmyguiltyconscience.
“Didyouaskforhernumber?”shesaid.
Ihesitated,thentoldthetruth,onceagain.“Yes,”Isaid.
“Why?”
“Oh,Idon’tknow….Shewasnice…cool…youknow….”Isaid,nowcompletelyflustered.
“Issheamodel?”Margaretasked,lookingsohurt.
“Yes,”Isaid.“ButInevercalledher.”
Shenoddedslowly,asiftakingthisfactintoconsideration.“Andwhendidyougetthisnumber?Alongtimeago?”
Itfeltlikeatrap.IfIgotitalongtimeagoandstillhadit,thatdidn’tlookgood.IfIgotitrecently,that,too,wasaproblem.Onceagain,Iwentwiththetruth.“Itwasthatweekendyouwereataconference,andIwasintheHamptonswithBerry.”
“WasBerrywithyou?Whenyoumether?”
Ishookmyhead.
“Doessheknowyougotthis?”
“Um…yeah,”Isaid.“Imentionedit.”
“Andwhatdidshesayaboutit?”shesaid,thequestionsnowrapid-fire.
“Shetoldmenottocallher.”
“Shedidn’tapprove?”
Inodded,myfacegettinghotter.“WhatdoesitmatterwhatBerrythought?OrwhenIgotthecard?Thepointis,Ididn’tcallher—”
“Thenwhydoyoustillhavethis?Inyourwallet?”
IshruggedandtoldherIdidn’tknow.
Shestaredatmeforwhatfeltlikealongtime,thenputthecardonthetable,withthe“Cate”sideup.Shelookedatitforafewsecondsbeforeslidingitacrossthetableatme.
“Well,it’snottoolate,”Margaretsaid.
Ishookmyhead,pickedupthecard,andtoreitinhalf,feelingastrangepang
Margaretwasstone-facedforseveralsecondsbeforeshetookadeepbreathandsaid,“Look,Joe…Idon’tthinkIcandothis.”
“Dowhat?”Isaid.
“Bewithyou.”
Ilaughednervouslyandsaid,“Becauseofagirl’sphonenumber?WhoIdidn’tevencall?”
“Becauseofalotofthings,”shesaid.“It’sjusttoomuch….Beingwithyou…it’stoohard.”
“Wait.IsthisaboutthePost?”Isaid,referencingthearticlethey’djustrunlisting“FivethingsyoumightnothaveknownaboutMargaretBraswell.”Allfivefactswerepositive—oratleastneutral—butshestillloathedtheattention.
“Yesandno…I’mjustnotverygoodatthis….”Hervoicetrailedoff.
“Yes,youare,”Isaid.“Thepresslovesyou.”
“Untiltheydon’t,”shesaid—whichwasprettydamninsightful,parforthecourseforMargaret.Shepaused,thensaid,“Joe…Iknowyou’regoingtorunforofficeoneday…andtheattentiononyouwillonlygetmoreintense….”
“Noway,”Isaid.“HowmanytimesdoIhavetotellyouthatIdon’twantthat?”
Shestaredatme,herexpressionchanging.“Okay,Joe.Tellme…whatdoyouwant?”
“I’mfinebeingalawyer,”Isaid.“Fornow.”
“Fornow,”sheechoed,asifI’djustconfirmedherpoint.
Istartedtosaysomethingdefensive,butstoppedmyself,doublingdown.“Yes.Fornow.Imean…Idon’tthinkIhavetohaveeverythingmappedoutinmyearlythirties,doI?”
Shetookadeepbreath,asifgatheringallherreserves.“Here’sthething,Joe.Idon’tthinkyouknowwhatyouwant.Orwhoyouwant.”
“That’snottrue,Margaret,”Isaid.
Shestaredbackatme.
“Iwantyou,”Isaid,atthatmomentmeaningit.
Margaretshookherhead.“Youdon’tknowwhoyouwantbecauseyoudon’tknowwhoyouare.Thewholeworldthinkstheyknowyou…butyoudon’tevenknowyourself.”
Icouldtellshewasn’ttryingtobemean—Margaretwasnevermean—butherwordsstillcutme.
“I’llfigurethatout,”Isaid.“Soon.IpromiseIwill,Mags.Youcanhelpme.”
Margaretshookherhead,lookingsosad.“Idon’tthinkIcanhelpyou,Joe.”
Iforcedasmile.“Wait.AreyousayingI’malostcause?”
Margaretdidn’ttakethebait.“No.I’msayingthatyouhavetodothisonyourown.Foryourself.Ithastocomefromwithin.”
“Okay.Yes.You’reright,”Isaid.“Itwillcomefromwithin.I’mclosetoabreakthroughhere….”
“Good,”shesaid.“Ireallyhopethat’strue.”Hereyesfilledwithtears,whichkilledme.Ican’tstandwhenanygirlissad,butseeingMargaretcrywastheabsoluteworst.
“Don’tcry,Mags.Please,”Isaid.“Justgivemealittlemoretime.Iloveyou.”
“Iloveyou,too,Joe,”shetoldme.“AndIalwayswill.ButIcan’tdothisanymore.Ineedtomoveon.I’msorry.”
—
IknowIcouldhavefoughttokeepMargaret.Icouldhavegoneoutandboughtheradiamondringtheverynextday.Shewouldhavesaidyes.Iknowshewouldhave.Attheveryleast,Icouldhavesmoothedthingsover,reassuredher,boughtmyselfalittlemoretime.Instead,Ijustletherquietlyslipaway,acquiescingtoherdecision.Indoingso,Ilikelyonlyprovedhertheoryaboutmenotbeingincontrolofmyownlife.Onceagain,Ihadchosenthepathofleastresistance.
Mymomwasdevastatedandalsoangry,accusingmeofsufferingfromPeterPansyndrome.ButIinsistedthatithadbeenMargaret’sdoing,almostconvincingmyselfofthesame.Then,aboutaweeklater,Margaretcamebytopickupthethingsthatshehadleftatmyplace.WearrangedforhertodoitwhenIwasn’thome,butsomehowthepresscaughtonandstalkedherassheloadedbagsintothetrunkofhercar.
Inthephotos,shelookeddistraught—likeshe’dbeencryingfordays—whichconfirmedeveryone’snarrativethatIhadbrokenherheart.Deepdown,Iknewtheywereright,andI’dneverfeltsoguilty—waytooguiltytotrackdowntheverygirlwhohadupsetMargaretinthefirstplace.
—
Almostayearlater,Margaretcalledmeoutoftheblue.Mystomachlurchedabithearinghervoice,andIfeltthatweirdemotionyouhavewhensomeoneyouonceknewsowellnowfeelslikeastranger.
Aftercatchingupforafewmomentsaboutourfamiliesandjobs,shetoldmethatshehadsomenews—andshewantedmetohearitfromherfirst.
“Okay,”Isaid,expectinghertotellmeshewasmovingoutofthecity,somethingIknewshehadwantedtodo.MaybeshewasevenreturningtoAfrica.“What’sup?”
“I’mengaged,”shesaid.
“Engagedinwhat?”Iasked,confused.
“Engagedtobemarried,Joe.”
Iwasstunned,andforsomereason,mypridefeltalittlehurt,too.ButIplayeditoff,pretendingtotakeitinstrideasIaskedherwhotheluckyguywas.DidIknowhim?
“Yes.Youknowhim.”
“Ido?Whoisit?”
“Toby,”shesaid.
IonlyknewoneToby,andtherewasnowayshewasmarryingthatguy.AclassmatefromHarvard,TobyDaviswasbrilliantbutsociallyawkwardashell.“Tobywho?”
Margaretsighed,thensaid,“OurToby.”
“He’snotmyToby,”Isaidwithalaugh,tryingtocoverforthefactthatIwasfeelingterritorial.
“Joe.Stopit.”
“Okay.Sorry,”Isaid.“Butwow.”
“Wowwhat?”shesaid,hervoiceuncharacteristicallychallenging.
“I’mjustsurprised….”Isaid,knowingIwasbeingalittleunkind.“Weusedtomakefunofhim.Howhefollowedyouaroundlikeapuppydog.”
“Well.Wewerewrongabouthim….He’samazing…anddoingreallyexcitingthings,”shesaid.
Itfeltlikeadig,especiallywhenshelaunchedintothiswholespielabouthisPhDinmolecularbiologyandhisdreamoffindingacureforcancer.
“Well.Iguesswewererightaboutonething,”Iquipped,doingmydamnedesttobeagoodsport.
“What’sthat?”shesaid.
“Thatdudereallyissmarterthanme,”Isaid,hopingIdidn’tsoundbitter.
Shedidn’trefutemystatement,whichmademefeelworse—andevenmorestupid.Ialsocouldn’thelpfeelingthatI’dbeendupedintothinkingthatMargaretlovedmemorethanshereallyhad.
“Areyouokay?”shesaid.
“Ohyeah,”Isaid.“Totally.Thisisgreatnews.Congratulations,Mags.”
“Thankyou,Joe.”
“GiveTobymybestaswell.He’saveryluckyguy.”
“Don’t,Joe—”
“What?It’strue.Goodforhim.”
“Okay,Joe,”shesaidwithasigh.“Ijustwantedyoutoknow—andhearitfromme—”
“Yeah.Yeah.Thanks,Margaret.Iappreciateit….”
“You’rewelcome.”
“So,haveyousetaweddingdate?WillIbeinvited?”Isaidwithanervouslaugh.
“Nodateyet.AndIdon’tknowabouttheinvite….”shesaid.“Tobywantsusalltobefriends…butI’mnotsureIcandothat—”
“Yeah.Well.Eitherway.Thisisgreatnews.Reallygreat.I’mgladyou’rehappy.”
“Doyoumeanthat,Joe?”shesaid.
“Ofcourse,”Isaid,mytonesoftening.
“Howaboutyou?Areyouhappy?”sheasked.
“Oh,youknowme,”Isaidwithalaugh.“Happyenough.”CHAPTER10
Cate
JustasIexpected,Joedidn’tcallafterthatdayonthebeach.IthinkCurtis,whohadalreadybeguntoplanmyweddingmakeup,wasmoreupsetthanIwas.Iwasdefinitelydisappointed,buttoldmyselfthatitwasamuch-neededrealitycheckandagreatremindernottogetmyhopesup.WhathadIbeenthinking,anyway?Obviously,JoeKingsleywasfromadifferentworld—anditseemedprettyclearthathehadgonehomeandconcludedthesame.MyworkmightputmeonprivatebeachesintheHamptons,andinproximitytoacertainclassofpeople,butthatdidn’tmeanIactuallybelongedwiththem.
Itwasprobablyablessingindisguise.IknewJoehadareputationforbeingabitofaplayboy,andIhadnointerestinbeinghisflavorofthemonth.Aflingwithamanlikehimcouldonlybreakmyheart,somethingIhadsodiligentlyavoided.
WhenIsharedallofthiswithCurtis,hegavemehisusualspeechabouthowIwasnotasecond-classcitizenjustbecauseIhadn’tgrownupwithasilverspoon.HealsoremindedmethatJoehaddated“thattrainwreckPhoebeMills.”
“Gee,Curtis.AreyoutryingtosaythatI’matrainwreck,too?”Isaid,smiling.
“OhmyGod!No!”Curtissaid,objectingalittletoomuch.“I’msayingthatIsawwhatIsaw.Thatmanwasdrawntoyou.Likeamothtoaflame.”
“Uh-huh,”Isaid,thinkingthatCurtismightberightaboutourattraction,butthattherewasstillamassivedifferencebetweenwantingtosleepwithsomeoneandwantingtodatethem.Joeclearlyhadnointerestinthelatter,andapparentlynotenoughinterestintheformertoevenmakeaphonecall.
Afewweekslater,mytheorywasconfirmedwhenIsawinthetabloidsthatJoewas,infact,stilldatinghiscollegegirlfriend.Icouldn’tdecidewhetherthatmadehimabadguyforgettingmynumberinthefirstplace—oragoodguyfornothavingcalledme.Intheend,itdidn’treallymakeadifference,butIfoundmyselfperusingmoreofthosemagazinearticles,searchingforcluesinthephotos.IwasespeciallyinterestedintheonesofJoeandMargaretdoingalltheirpreppyactivities:sailing,skiing,rare-bookbrowsing.Itmademealittleill,butIrefused,onprinciple,tobejealousofawomanwithanuninspiredbobhaircutwhoworeFairIslesweatersandpearls,sometimesatthesametime.
WhatIwasjealousof,though,wastherespectthatcamewithMargaretBraswell’scredentials,fromherHarvarddegreetoherworkinthePeaceCorpstohernobleteachingprofession.TherewasnowayIcouldcompetewithawomanlikethat.ItmademethinkabitmorethanIusuallywouldaboutwhoIwantedtobe,otherthanjustasurvivor.AsDaisyhadtoldmeyearsbefore,mymodelingdayswerenumbered,anditwasclearthatmymomwasnevergoingtoleaveChip,nomatterhowmuchmoneyImadeorhelpIoffered.Theendgamehadchanged,anditwastimetomakeamove.Formyself.
—
Thatfall,anopportunitycamealongwhenWilburSwift,anup-and-comingBritishfashiondesignerwhomI’dbefriendedduringhisBurberrydays,offeredmearoleathisnewlabel.Isaidyes,quittingmodelingforwhatIhopedwouldbeforgood.
Initially,Wilburhiredmetoworkonthecreativeside,butheultimatelymovedmetosales,praisingmypeopleskillsanddecidingthatIshouldhaveamore“visiblerole.”AsItraveledbackandforthbetweenourMadisonAvenuestoreandourflagshipinSloaneSquare,hehadmeworkingwithourmostprominentclientele.Istyledsocialitesandactors,dressingthemforpartiesandweddingsandcharityballs,aswellaseditorialshootsandred-carpetappearances.Itwasapaycutfrommodelingbutahugestepupinmyqualityoflife,andIfeltmorerespectedandvaluedthanIhadbefore.Don’tgetmewrong,Istillhadmassiveinsecuritiesaboutmylackofaformaleducation,butbythattime,Ihadseenenoughoftheworldandbeenaroundenoughwealthy,high-profilepeopletoknowhowtofakeit.IthinkitalsohelpedthatIbegantodeveloprelationshipswithsomeofmyclientsandtoseethatnomatterhowrichorsuccessfulsomeonewas,theystillhadproblems.Astheexpressiongoes:moremoney,moreproblems.Ididn’tthinkthatwastrue—theywerejustdifferentproblems.
Ifoundmyselfrememberingmyhigh-schooldaysinMontclair—whenI’dusedclothestofeelbetteraboutmyself—andhowI’dultimatelycreatedanewidentity—oratleastmaskedmyrealone.Ichanneledthatenergywhendressingmyclients,especiallytheoneswhoseemeddepressedorworriedaboutsomething.I’dusherthemintomydressingroom,sitthemdownonacomfortablechair,andhandthemanespressooraglassofchampagne.Thenwe’dhaveachat—andI’daskthemquestionsaboutwhattheywerelookingfor.Sometimestheydidn’tknow.ButI’dfindout,puttingthemateasebeforeassemblingagreatoutfit.Themomentwhentheylookedintothemirrorandsmiledfilledmewithsatisfactionandasenseofpurpose.Therewassomuchthatwasshallowaboutthefashionindustry—butitcouldalsobetransformative.
—
Aboutsixmonthsintomygig,WilburandIwereflyingfromNewYorktoLondontogether,enjoyingcocktailsinfirstclass,whenheaskedme,outoftheblue,whowouldbemydreamclient.Withouthesitation,IsaidPrincessDiana.InthemiddleofdivorcingPrinceCharles,shewastechnicallynolongerintheBritishroyalfamily,butthatdidn’tdiminishherstarpowerinanywaywhatsoever.
“Dreammaleclient?”Wilburasked.
Ishrugged,findingmen’sfashionsignificantlylessinteresting,thensaid,“Idon’tknow.RobertRedford…PaulNewman…maybeBradPitt.”
WilburtookasipofhisKirRoyale(hetraveledwithhisowncrèmedecassis,addingittotheairlinechampagne).“WhataboutJoeKingsley?”heasked.
MyheartskippedabeatasIshrugged,squeezingmorelimeintomyginandtonic,feelingrelievedthatJoehadn’tcrossedmymindforawhile.
“Yeah.He’dbeupthere,too,Iguess.”
“Cate,”Wilbursaid,smilingandshakinghishead.“WhyinGod’snamedidn’tyoutellmethatyouknowJoeKingsley?”
“What?”
“Iranintohimataparty—hetoldmeheknowsyou.You’remydirectorofcelebritysales,andyoudon’tmentionthatyouknowthemostfamousmanintheworld?”
“Well,firstofall,Idon’tknowhim.Notlikethat,”Isaid.“Andsecondofall,thereareplentyofmenmorefamousthanheis.”
“Suchas?”
“Idon’tknow…plentyofpeople.”
“Namethem.”
“AsIsaid:RobertRedford,PaulNewman,BradPitt.”
“Rubbish,”Wilbursaid.“Nobodyknowsthoseguys’parents.Orcaresabouttheirbabypictures.”
“Sowhat?”Isaid.“Allthatmeansisthatthoseguysareself-made—theycametofamelaterinlife—whereasJoeisfamousbecausehewasbornintoarichfamily.Hewasfamousatbirth.”
“Exactly,”Wilbursaid,asifI’dprovenapointforhim.
“That’snotimpressive,”Isaid.“Hehasn’taccomplishedanythingonhisown.”
“Well,neitherhasDiana.Allshedidwasmarryintoafamily.”
“Touché,”Isaid.
“So?”Wilbursaid.“Whydidn’tyoutellmeyouknewhim?”
“BecauseIdon’treally.Wejustmetonce.Inpassing.Itwasn’tabigdeal.”
“Well,youmadeanimpressiononhim,”Wilbursaid,smirking.
“Howdoyouknowthat?”Iasked,alittleperturbedwithmyselfforfeelingflattered.
“Becausehetoldme,girl!HetoldmehowyoutwometintheHamptons…onthebeach….Hesaidhelostyournumber,buthesomehowknewweworkedtogether…andhewantstocomeinforanappointment.”
“Oh.Cool,”Isaid,noddinganddoingmybesttofeignprofessionalnonchalance.“What’shelookingfor?Casualstuff?Businessattire?Blacktie?”
Wilburgrinned.“Hedidn’tmentionclothing.Buthedidaskmewhetheryouweresingle.”
“And?”Isaid,gettingafunnyfeelinginmystomach.
“AndItoldhimyouwere.”
“OhmyGod,Wilbur.YouknowIhaveaboyfriend,”Isaid.
I’dbeenseeingaBritishsoccerplayernamedArloSmithforacoupleofmonths.Jocksweren’treallymytype,butwithtattoosandspikyhair,Arlohadsomethingofarock-and-rollvibethatIloved.Wehadfuntogether,andthingsweregoingwell.
“You’regoingtoturndownJoeforathird-ratefootballer?”Wilbursaid.
“Wow,Wilbur.Don’tbesuchasnob.”
“Guiltyascharged.Iamasnob.”
“Well,I’mnot,”Isaid,reachingformylavendereyemask,readytoreclinemyseatanddozeoff.“AndI’mhappytosellJoeKingsleyaboatloadofclothes.ButI’mnotentertaininganyoftherestofthis.”
“Therestofwhat?”
“Youknowwhat.”
“Andwhyevernot?”
“Because,”Isaid,feelingresolute.“Idon’tneedthatkindofnonsenseinmylife.”
—
Abouttendayslater,JoestrolledintoournewSoHostorerightinthemiddleofabusytrunkshow.IspottedhimoutofthecornerofmyeyebutwaswithaclientandpretendedIhadn’tseenhim.Formorethanthirtyminuteshehoverednearby,turningdownhelpfrommysalesassociate,clearlywaitingforme.
WhenIwasfinallyfree,hetentativelyapproachedmeandsaid,“Hithere,Cate.”
“Oh.Hi,Joe,”Isaidwithabrightbutdetachedsmile.“Areyouhereforthetrunkshow?”
Joeputhishandsinhispockets,shuffledhisfeetalittle,thensaid,“Um.Well…I’mheretoseeyou,actually.”
Ilaughedandsaid,“Well,that’sashame.Iwouldratheryoubehereforthetrunkshow.It’samazing.”
“Well,yeah.That,too,”Joesaidwithashysmile.“Willyoushowittome?Please?”
Igavehimabrisknod,thenlaunchedintomysalesspiel,pretendinghewasjustanotherclientwithalotofmoney.Itwasaprofessionalopportunity.Nothingmore.Joelistenedintently,andwhenIsuggestedhetryafewthingson,heagreed.
“Lovely,”Isaid,usheringhimovertoafittingroom,intentionallychoosingthesmallerofthetwoavailable.
Overthenexthour,JoetriedonvariousitemsthatIselectedwhileIwaitedoutsideforhim,alongwithYolanda,ourseamstress.Everytimethedooropened,andhewalkedoutandstoodinfrontofthefloor-to-ceilingmirror,Ifeltalittlebreathless.Hisbodywasmadeforclothes,butitoccurredtomethatIdidn’toftenseehimdressedsonicely.Atonepoint,hesaidasmuch,fiddlingwiththelapelonajacketandaskingifitlookedright.
“Yes,”Isaid.“Idon’teventhinkyouneedanytailoring.Doyou,Yolanda?”
“No.He’sperfect,”shesaid,allstarry-eyed.
“Yes.It’sperfect,”Isaid,correctingherlittleslip.
—
Intheend,Joedecidedonanavysuit,twosportcoats,threeshirts,anorangenecktie,andapairoftandrivingmoccasins.AsIranghimup,Igavehimmyusualpost-salesreassuranceaboutspendingalotofmoney.Youdidreallywell.Yougotsomegreat,versatilepieces.Ithinkyou’regoingtobereallyhappywiththese.
Joethankedmeandagreed.Iwalkedhimtothedoor,thinkingIwasintheclear.Butatthelastsecond,hesaid,“Solook,Cate.Iwantedtosaysomething.”
“Yes?”Isaid,keepingitlight.
“Ijustwantedtosaythat…I’mreallysorryInevercalledyou.”
Igavehimablankstare,pretendingtobeconfused.
“Youknow.Afterwemet…”hesaid.“Thatdayonthebeach.”
“Oh.That.Yes,”Isaid,wavinghimoff.“Noworries.”
“Iwantedto—sobadly—butthetimingwasn’tright….”
“Hmm,”Isaid,nodding,thinkingofMargaret.
“Butitisnow,”hetoldme.
“Oh,itis,isit?”Isaidwithalaugh,thinkingthatheobviouslymeanthistiming.
“Yes,”hesaid,missingmypoint.“Sodoyouthink…maybe…Icouldtakeyoutodinnersome—”
“I’msorry,”Isaid,cuttinghimoff.“ButI’mdatingsomeonenow.”
“Oh,okay…Iwasn’tsure….Wilbursaiditwasn’tserious.”
“Well,Wilburdoesn’tknoweverythingaboutmypersonallife.”
“Oh,yeah.Ofcourse,”Joesaid.
Inoddedandgavehimaclose-lippedsmile.
Hehesitated,thensaid,“Yeah…so,um,whataboutlunch?Couldyoudolunch?Orcoffee?Ortakeawalkinthepark?”
Feelingbothempoweredanddetermined,Itoldhimthatprobablywasn’tagoodidea.“ButI’lltellyouwhat,”Iadded,nowjusttoyingwithhim.“Ifyouwanttogivemeyournumber,Icanbeintouchifthingswiththisguyeverchange.”
Joegrinned,thenreachedintohiswalletforhisbusinesscard.Hehandedittomeandsaid,“Thatsoundsgreat.I’mfeelingprettyhopeful.”
“Oh?Andwhy’sthat?”Isaid,myvoicesoundingsurprisinglyflirty.
“?’Causeyoujustcalledhim‘thisguy,’?”hesaid.“Notagoodsignfortheol’boy.”
“Andyou’reassumingyou’dbemynextchoice?”Isaid,playingitcoyandcareful.
“WhatcanIsay?”Joegrinned.“I’manoptimist.”
—
Thatevening,CurtiscameoverwithThaitakeout.IgavehimandElnatheupdate,andtheyhadoppositereactions,asusual.
“Hehadhischance,”Elnasaid,rollinghereyes.
“Hewasdatingsomeone!”Curtissaid.
“Well,nowsheis.AndArloisagreatguy,”Elnasaid.
“Iknow…butJoeissogorgeous,”Curtissaid.
“He’stoogood-looking,”Elnasaid.“Guyslikethataretrouble.”
“He’snota‘guylikethat,’?”Curtissaid.“He’sJoeKingsley.AnAmericanicon.Ifyougrewuphere,you’dunderstand.”
“SomethingtellsmeBlackfolksinthiscountrymightalsodisagreewiththisiconnotion,”Elnasaid.
“Shehasapoint,Curtis.Attheendoftheday,he’sjustanotherrichwhiteguy.What’sheactuallydonetobesofamous?”
“He’sfamousbecausehe’sJoefriggin’Kingsley,”saidCurtis,themasterofcircularreasoning.“That’swhy.”
“Stopencouragingthisshit,”Elnasaid.“It’snotgoodforher.She’shappywithArlo.”
“Arlo’sherboytoy,”Curtissaid.“He’snotherfinaldestination.”
Ilistenedastheyarguedbackandforthforafewminutesandthensaid,“Isn’tanyonegoingtoaskifIhaveanyinterestinJoe?”
“Well?Doyou?”Elnasaid.
“No,”Isaid.“Idonot.”
“Ha,”Elnasaid,gloatingatCurtis.
“She’slying,Elna,”hesaid,shakinghishead.“Idon’tknowifshe’slyingtousortoherself,buteitherway,she’sdefinitelylying.EveryoneisinterestedinJoeKingsley.”
—
Thefollowingday,Ireceivedabouquetofredrosesatthestore,alongwithanote.Itread:
Rosesarered,
violetsareblue.
Hewaitsforhercall,
’causepatienceisavirtue.
Itwasn’tsigned,butIknewwhoitwasfrom,andIhavetoadmititgottome.NopartofmewantedtobreakupwithArlo,andIwasn’tabouttocheatonhim,butIfoundmyselfthinkingofloopholes,waysIcouldcallJoeandstillbeontheup-and-up.Maybewecouldbefriends.Icouldalmostpictureit,thetwoofushangingoutincoffeeshops,orgoingtoKnicksgames,maybeevenattendinganoccasionaleventwhenhecouldn’tfindaproperdate.IimaginedthatArlowouldbecoolwithit—thatJoewouldwinhimover,justasIwouldwinoverJoe’snextgirlfriend.WecouldbeWhenHarryMetSallywithoutallthesexualtensionandconfusion.
Deepdown,though,IknewIwasjustrationalizing,andthatIcouldn’thangoutwithJoe,evenasfriends.Ialsoknewthathe’dmoveontosomeoneelsesoonenough.
Butthefollowingweek,Ireceivedanotherflowerarrangementatthestore—evenmorespectacularthanthefirst.Heraisedhisgameonthepoem,too,thistimeofferingalimerick:
ThereoncewasagirlnamedCate.
Aroundherhecouldn’tthinkstraight.
Shesoldhimsomepantswhilehebeggedforachance,
Thenprayedthatshe’dgoononedate.
Icrackedup,thenfoundhisbusinesscardinhisfile,callinghimonthespot.
“You’renuts,”Isaid,grinningintothephone.
“Whatdoyoumean?”hesaid,playingdumb.
“Theflowers.Andthisridiculouslimerick—”Isaid.
“Youdidn’tlikemypoetry?”
“It’sludicrous,”Isaid.“Andyouboughtmorethanapairofpants.”
“Nodoubt,”hesaid.“Ibrokethedamnbankinthatstore.”
Ismiled,thensaid,“Howareyouenjoyingyournewclothes?”
“Ilovethem….I’mactuallywearingmyloafersrightnow.They’reverycomfortable.”
“Good,”Isaid.“I’mgladyou’rehappy.”
“I’dbehappierifyouwentonadatewithme.”
“Yeah…well…Istillhaveaboyfriend,”Isaid,feelingawistfulpang,wishingIcouldsayyes.“Butmaybewecoulddosomething,asfriends…likethatlunchyoumentioned?”
“Hell,yeah!When?Tonight?”
ItoldhimthatthelasttimeIcheckedlunchdidn’thappenatnight—andthatIalreadyhadplansanyway.
“Okay.Howabouttomorrow?Thedayafter?”
“Ireallycan’t,”Isaid.“I’mleavingforFashionWeek…andIstillhavesomuchtodotogetready.”
“Whereareyougoing?”
“Paris.”
“Awesome.IloveParis.Whereareyoustaying?”
“AttheBristol.”
“Hmm…MaybeI’llshowupandsayhi.”
Ilaughedandsaid,“You’lljusthoponaplaneandheadovertoParis,huh?”
“Imight….Youneverknow,”hesaid.“Wouldyouhavedinnerwithme?Orlunch?IfIflewtoParis?”
“Idon’tknow,”Isaid,smilingintothephone.
“Butyou’renotsayingno?”
Ishookmyhead,nowfull-ongrinning.“Iguessyou’llhavetoflytoParisandfindout.”
—
Threedayslater,whenIcheckedintotheBristol,theladyatthefrontdeskhandedmeanenvelopewithmynamewrittenonthefront,informingmethatitwasfromagentlemanguest.Inoddedandthankedher,thinkingitwasprobablyfromWilbur.Butthelookofrestrainedgleeonherfacemademewonder.
There’snoway,ItoldmyselfasIdeclinedthebellman’soffertohelpwithmybagandtooktheelevatoruptothetenthfloor,eyeingtheenvelopethewholeway.WhenIgottomyroom,IstartedtoopenitbutfeltsofoolishlyhopefulthatImademyselfputitdownonthebedandwaitalittlelonger.
Iwenttoworkunpackingandgettingorganizedfortheweek.Itwasaritualthatnevergotold,especiallywhenIwasinanupscalehotel.Iarrangedmymakeupandtoiletriesinthemarblebathroom;hungmydressesandskirtsinthecloset;filledthedresserdrawerswithmyknits,nightgowns,andunderwear;linedmyshoesagainstonewall;andplacedmyhandbags,clutches,andbeltsontheottomanatthefootofthebed.Last,Iputmyjewelryinthesafe,settingthecodeto3005,mychildhoodapartmentnumberinHackensack.
Atthatpoint,Isatonthebedandpickeduptheenvelope,feelingabitmoreincontrol.Itprobablywasn’tfromJoeanyway,andevenifitwas,Ididn’thavetogetsweptupinoneofhisgrandromanticgestures.Iowedhimexactlynothing.ButasIopenedtheletterandsawhisinitialsatthebottomofthepage,Icouldfeelmyheartbeatingfaster.ThenIscanneduptoread:
DearCate,Iknowyou’regoingtobeverybusythisweek,butItookmychancesthatyoumighthaveanopeninginyourschedule.I’minRoom1010ifyouwanttoreachme.IfIdon’thearfromyou,noworries.Parisisneverabadidea.Fondly,JSK
IputtheletterbackdownonthebedasitstartedtosinkinthatJoewasnotonlyinParisbutalsoinmyhotel,andonmyfloor—whichIdidn’tbelieveforonesecondwasacoincidence.Itwasjustfurtherevidencethathecouldgetanythinghewanted.Whetheraroominasold-outhoteloragirl.Anygirl.Honestly,mymindwasalittleblown,butIwasn’tsurewhethertobeflatteredbyhiseffortorsuspiciousofhisintentions.Iruledouttheformer,tellingmyselftherewasnowayhe’dcomejusttoseeme.Attheveryleast,hehadabackupplan—anotherwomanhecouldcallandwineanddine.HisspontaneoustriptoPariswasn’tromantic—itwasaboutthethrillofthechase,andthefactthathecouldn’ttakenoforananswer.Thesecondhegotwhathewanted—whichundoubtedlywassex—he’dmoveontohisnextconquest.I’dbeendownthisroadbefore,justneverwithstakesthishighoramanthisfamous.Itoldmyselfitwasallthesamething,though,andaslongasIknewthedealupfrontanddidn’tcrossanylines,Icouldplayalongwithhisgame.SoIpickedupthephoneanddialedhisroom.
Joeansweredonthefirstring,sayingacheerfulhello.
Myheartpounding,Isaid,“Hey,Joe.It’sCate.”
“Cate!”hesaid.“Yougotmynote!I’msogladtohearfromyou!”
“Uh-huh,”Isaid,coolascanbe.“AndwhatbringsyoutoParis?”
“Umm…I’mheretoseeyou….Imean,Iwashopingtotakeyoutodinner,”hesaid,soundingtheslightestbitflustered.
“So,youreallyrolledthedicewiththatone.”
“WhatcanIsay?Iliveontheedge.”
“Yousuredo.”
“Well?Areyoufreeatall?”heasked.
“Well,let’ssee….I’mprettybookedthisweek—butI’mfreetonightifyouare?”
“Iam!”hesaid.“AndI’dlovetohavedinnerwithyou.Wherewouldyouliketogo?”
“HowaboutEpicure?Rightdownstairs?”Isaid,thinkingthehotelrestaurantseemedlikelessofadatethangoingoutonthetown.
“Perfect.I’llmakeareservation,”hesaid.“Howdoessevensound?”
“Makeiteight,”Isaid,figuringImightaswellmakehimwaitanextrahour.
—
Alongnapandacoldshowerlater,Iwasstandingbeforemyclosetinaplushwhitetowel,asecondonewrappedaroundmyhead,debatingwhattoweartodinnerwithJoeKingsley.ObviouslyIwantedtolookgood,butIdidn’twanttoflatterhimbytryingtoohard,either.IalsowantedtoreinforcethepointthatIwasaseriousprofessionalwoman—andthathewascrashingmybusinesstrip.Inthatvein,Icontemplatedmygo-tocamel-coloredpencilskirt,whichIcouldpairwithablackcashmeresweateroracrispwhiteblouse.Thenagain,Ididn’thavetobequitesobuttonedup.Icouldjustaseasilyplayhisgamewhilelookingabitsexy,whichmightbemoresatisfying,especiallywhenitcametimetorejecthim.
Ultimately,Ioptedforaclingybutstillunderstatedblacksheathdress—asamplefromournewcollection—andfour-inchstrappystilettosthatwouldputmeathisheight,maybeslightlytaller.Ikeptmyjewelrysimple,wearingonlydiamondstudearringsandaslimgoldcuffbracelet,andpulledmyhairbackinalow,tightchignon.Finally,Ididmymakeupwithalighthand—asusual—justalittleconcealerandpowder,alongwithblackmascaraandmysignatureredlipstick.
Glancingattheclock,IsawthatIstillhadafewminutestokillbeforeIhitthe“fashionablylate”window,soIsatdowntocallArlo,whowasinBrazilforasoccermatch.Iwaspreparedtotellhimthetruth—thatIwashavingdinnerwithapushyclientwhohappenedtobeJoeKingsley—butfeltalittlerelievedwhenhedidn’tanswerhisphone.Iwouldtellhimlater,nobigdeal,ItoldmyselfasIgatheredupmyroomkey,lipstick,andcompact.Istashedthemallinmysmallblackclutch,thenheadedoutthedoor.
Amomentlater,Iwasofftheelevatorandwalkingtowardtherestaurant.AsIgavemyselfafinalpeptalkaboutnot,underanycircumstances,fallingforJoeKingsley,Ispottedhimstandingbythema?tred’spodiuminhisnewWilbursuitandwasfreshlyovercomebyhowhandsomehewas.Istoppedinmytracksandtookadeepbreathjustashelookedupandsawme.Hisfacelitup,andIsawhimmouthanunmistakablewowasIwalkedtherestofthewaytohimataconfidentrunwaypace.
“Wow,”herepeatedinawhisperwhenIreachedhim.“Hello,Cate.”
“Hello,Joe,”Isaidwithonlyahintofasmile.
Hehesitated,thenplacedonehandonthesmallofmyback,theotheronmyshoulder,andgavemeadouble-cheekkiss,whichcanfeelalittlepretentiouscomingfromanAmerican.ButIdecideditworkedinthiscase,perhapsbecausewewereinParis—ormaybebecausehewasJoeKingsley,afterall.Americanroyalty.
“Youlookstunning,”hesaid.
Ithankedhim,debatingwhethertoreturnthecompliment.Idecidedthathe’dhearditenoughandsimplysaid,“Ilikeyoursuit.”
“Thanks,”hesaidwithabroadgrin.“It’snew.”
Afewsecondslaterthema?tred’politelyinterjectedwithagreeting,thenescortedustoasecludedtableoverlookingthehotel’sinteriorcourtyard.IcouldfeelafewstaresalongthewayandhadaflashbacktomyownfirstJoeKingsleysighting,onthebeach.IfeltalittlesheepishrememberinghowgiddyI’dbeen.
“Finally,”Joesaid,oncewewereseatedandsettledandalone.Heleanedoverthetable,staringintomyeyes.
“Finallywhat?”Iasked.
“Finallywe’reonadate.”Hesmiled,andIsawadimpleinhisleftcheekthatI’dnevernoticedinphotographsofhim.
“It’snotadate,”Isaid,shakingmyhead.
“Oh,it’sadate,Cate.”
“Lookatyouandyourlittlerhymes,”Isaid,tryingnottosmile.
“Hey,Igottastickwithwhatworks.Mypoetrygotushere.”
Itiltedmyheadandsaid,“Isthatwhatyouthink?”
“Yes,”hesaid,chucklingsomemore.“Ithinkthatlimerickdidyouin.”
“Oh,itdidmein,allright,”Isaid,rollingmyeyes.
“Admitit…youlovedit,”hesaid.
Igavehimaclose-lippedsmileandshookmyhead.
“You’reluckyIdidn’thityouwithoneofmyworld-famoushaikus.You’dhavemeltedonthespot.”
Icrossedmyarmsandsaid,“Tryme.”
Joeclearedhisthroat,thenputhiselbowsonthetable,restinghischinonhisclaspedhands.Hestaredoutoverthecourtyard,appearingdeepinthought.Afterafewseconds,heturnedbacktome,clearedhisthroatagain,thenbeganrecitinginthedeepvoiceofaShakespeareanactor,“HecametoParis…justtolookinherblueeyes…bythecandlelight.”
“Notbad,”Isaid,laughing.“Cornyashell,butnotbad.”
“Itmightbecorny,butit’strue,”hesaid,lookingsounbelievablyearnestthatIalmostbelievedhereallyhadcomeallthiswayjusttoseeme.
Istartedtorespondbutwassavedbyourwaiter,whoarrivedtogiveusarundownofthemenuandwinelist.JoerespondedinclumsyFrench,askingafewquestionsbeforeItookover,inmuchbetterFrench,orderingabottleofBurgundyandinformingourwaiterthatweneededanotherfewminutestoperusethemenu.
Whenwewerealone,Joesaid,“YourFrenchissogood.”
“Thanks.”
“Didyoutakeitinschool?”
“No.ItookSpanish.Ijustpickeditupfrommymodelingdays.Ididalotofworkhere.”
“Wow.That’ssoimpressive.I’mterriblewithlanguages.Itook,like,tenyearsofFrenchandit’sstillhorrible.”
“Itreallyis,”Isaidwithalaugh,thinkingthatitwasactuallyalittlesurprising—andrefreshing—asIwouldhavepeggedJoeasthekindofguywhowouldneverriskembarrassmentandonlydothingsthatheknewhewasreallygoodat.
Overthenexttwohours,asweorderedandateandfinishedourbottleofwine,Joecontinuedtosurpriseme.Hewassofullofcontradictions.Ontheonehand,hewasboldandbrashandadventurous,talkingabouthowmuchhelovedflyinghisairplaneandheli-skiingandwindsurfing.Ontheotherhand,heseemedintrospectiveandthoughtfulandkind—almostgentle.Inoticed,forexample,thathealwaysmadeeyecontactwiththebusboy,thankinghimeverytimeherefilledourwaterglassesevenwhenJoewasinmidsentence.Hedidn’tseemtoputhimselfaboveanyone,andhishumilityvergedonself-deprecationashetoldmeabouthisgradesincollege—andhowhe’dfailedthebarnotoncebuttwice
Ofcourse,Iknewthisalready,rememberingtheembarrassingheadlines,butIplayeddumbandsaid,“Oh.Wow.Thatmusthavesucked.”
“Yeah.Thefirsttimewasn’tthatbad….Imean,itwasahugebuzzkillandhassle.Butithappens….Thesecondtime,though?”Heshookhisheadandsmiled,likeitwasafondmemory.“Thatreallydidsuck.”
“Well,atleastyoucanlaughatyourself,”Isaid.
“Yeah,Itry.Butmymomdidn’tthinkitwastoofunny.”
PicturingDottieKingsley,Iwincedandsaid,“Ohh.Yeah.Ibetnot.”
“Shewasbesideherself.”
“Why?Isitthatbigofadeal?”Isaid,feelingalittledefensiveaboutmyownacademicrecord.“Youcantakethebarexamasmanytimesasyouwant,right?”
“Yeah,”hesaid.“Youcan…butlet’sjustsaythatthat’snotexpectedofaKingsley.”Hesaidhislastnameinanexaggerated,snobbishvoice.
“Yeah.Iguessnot,”Isaid,thinkingithadneveroccurredtomethatitmightbekindofadragtohavesupersuccessfulparentsorafamousname.Ihadalsoneverconsideredthattherewasanysortofsilverliningtohavinganabusivestepfatherandanarguablynotsogreatmother.Imean,hell,simplybyhavingbecomeafunctioningmemberofsocietyIwassomethingofasuccessstory.
“So,afterallofthat,doyoulikebeingalawyer?”Iasked,wantingtostayoffthesubjectofmyownlife.
Joeappearedtoponderthisquestion,takingasipofwine.“Yesandno.WorkingintheDA’sofficecanbefun…butitcanbedemoralizing.Imayquitsoon.”
“Anddowhat?”
“Oh,Idon’tknow.Ineedtofigurethatout,”hesaid,givingmealookthatmessedmeupalittleinside.
Iheldhisgaze,resistingtheurgetolookaway,butsaidnothing.
“Andwhataboutyou?”hesaid.
“Whataboutme?”
“Doyoufeellikeyourlifeis…ontrack?”
“Mylife?”Isaidwithalaugh.“That’saprettybroadquestion.”
“Okay.Yourwork?”
“It’sgood,Iguess.”
“Andhowaboutyourrelationship?”
Ihesitatedjustlongenoughtohavegivenhimmytrueanswer,thentriedtorecover.“Passionisoverrated.”
“Youdon’tbelievethat,doyou?”
“Yes,”Isaid.“Ido.AndI’vefoundthatit’sbettertokeepyourexpectationslowinlife.Abouteverything.”
“Damn,”Joesaid,shakinghishead.“That’skindofdepressing.”
Ishruggedandsaid,“Nottome.”
“Wereyourexpectationslowforme?Tonight?”
Ismiledandsaid,“Yes.Very.”
“SoIsurpassedthem?”heasked,hisfacealllitup.
“Unpeu,”Isaid,loweringmyvoiceandgivinghimmymostseductivelook.“Maiscelaresteàvoir.”CHAPTER11
Joe
Itwasn’tthefirsttimeabeautifulwomanhadshotmedown.Inmanyofthosecases,though,theyweresimplyplayinghardtoget.Ididn’tmindjumpingthroughanoccasionalhoop,butironically,thewomenwhoplayedthemostgamesusuallyturnedouttobetheleastinteresting.Everyonceinawhile,though,I’dcomeacrossawomanwhoreallywaselusive.Catefellintothatcategory.
WhenItrackedherdownatthestorewheresheworked,shewasverypoliteandpleasant,helpingmebuyabunchofniceclothes.ButIcouldn’treallyreadher,andwhenIgotupthenervetofinallyaskherout,shetoldmeshehadaboyfriend.ItwasaboundaryIalmostalwaysrespected,andalineInevercrossedifthewomanwasinaseriousrelationship,butwithCate,Igotthedistinctimpressionshewasusinghimasanexcuse—perhapsmakinghimupaltogether.
SoIputonafull-courtpress,sendingherflowersandwritingherpoemsandthenreallygoingoutonalimbbybookingalast-minuteflighttoParis,whereshewasheadedforaworktrip.Thewholethingwasprettyover-the-top,andinthebackofmymind,Iwasworriedthatitmightbackfireandputheroffentirely.ButIdecidedIhadnothingtoloseotherthanmypride,whichIdidn’treallycareabout,andafewdaysofwork,whichIcaredevenlessabout.AfterI’dbeenassignedyetanotherdrugcaseinvolvinganAfricanAmericanteenagerbeingchargedasanadultforsellingpot,Gary’swordswereweighingheavilyonme,andIwasaboutaninchawayfromresigninganyhow.
Asitturnedout,thetransatlanticgamblepaidoff.Catefinallyrelented,agreeingtomeetmefordinner.Iwassuperstoked,especiallywhenIsawherwalkingtowardmeinherhotblackdressandhighheels.IhavetoadmitIcanbeasshallowasthenextguy.
Butaswesattogetherbycandlelight,talkingforhoursoverabottleoffinewineandFrenchcuisine,Icouldfeelashift,alongwithatightnessinmychestthatIonlygetwhenIstarttoreallylikesomeone.Ilearnedthatlikeme,Catewasanonlychildwhohadlostherfatheratayoungage,butwedidn’tdwellonthesubject—oranythingtooheavy.Instead,wekeptthingslight,talkingmostlyaboutourworkandtravel.She’dbeenallovertheworldduringhermodelingdays,andIfoundherstoriesfascinating.Ilovedthewayshetalkedwithherhandsandthrewherheadbackwhenshelaughedandwasn’tafraidtoreachacrossthetableandtouchmyarmwhenshewasmakingapoint.Shewassoengaging—andthentherewassomethingunpredictableabouther,too,somethingthatkeptmeoff-balanceinthebestpossibleway.Atonemoment,she’dbeteasingmeasifwe’dbeenfriendsforyears;inthenext,shewouldsortofpullbackandstareatmewiththosealoof,ice-blueeyes,completelyunbotheredbylongstretchesofsilence.I’dfumblearoundtofillthemsothatourtimetogetherwouldn’tend.
WhenIfinallywalkedhertoherroomtosaygoodnight,itcrossedmymindthatImight,forthefirsttime,beinovermyheadwithawoman.Thethoughtofitthrilledme.
—
IstayedinParisthreemorenights,slippingnotesunderCate’sdooreverymorning,wishingheragoodday.Iknewshe’dbemostlytiedupwithwork,butIstillhopedthatImightseeheragainbeforeIleft.Meanwhile,Ikeptalowprofile,loungingaboutmyroom,watchingmoviesandcatchinguponsleep.WhenIdidventureout,Istayedoffthebeatenpath.Onemorning,IrentedabicycleandrodealloverMontmartre,discoveringthecoolestlittlecobblestonesquaresandcolorfulartdecobuildingsandhiddencafésandartgalleriesandbookshops.I’dalwayshadathingaboutusedandrarebooks,whichwasalittlestrangegiventhatIdidn’treadmuch.Ialwaysintendedto,andoftenIincludedreadingamongmyNewYear’sresolutions,butsomehowInevergotaroundtofinishingthebooksIcollected,orinsomecasesevenstartingthem.Myfavoritediscovery,though,wasaquaintshopspecializinginvintagehandbagsandsilkscarves.IimmediatelythoughtofCate,anddecidedIwantedtobuyhersomething.Foroveranhour,Iagonizedaboutmyselection,finallysettlingonamostlyblue“bridesdegala”Hermèsscarffromthefifties.Astheshopownertoldmeaboutitshistory,andhowthedesignhadbeenreimaginedseveraltimesoverthedecades,IpicturedhowprettyitwouldlookonCate.
—
OnmyfinalnightinParis,justasIwasgivinguponhearingfromher,shecalledmyroomandaskedwhatIwasdoing.
“Oh,nothingmuch,”Isaid,feelinghopefulthatshemightwanttoseeme.“Justhangingout…watchingamovie.”
“What’reyouwatching?”
“Braveheart.Foraboutthefourthtime,”Isaid,wonderingwhetherthatmademecheesyorromanticinhereyes.
Shelaughed,indicatingthatitwasmorelikelytheformer,thensaid,“Doyouwantsomecompany?”
“I’dlovesome,”Isaid,feelingsoexcited.“Myroomoryours?”
“Mine,please,”shesaidwithouthesitating.
“Cool.WhenshouldIcomeby?”
“Now’sgood,”shesaid.“UnlessyouwanttofinishBraveheart?”
“Nah,”Isaid,smiling.“Ialreadyknowwhathappens.”CHAPTER12
Cate
AshardasItried,Icouldn’tgetJoeoutofmymindafterournondatedate.Icontinuedtobelievethatpursuinghim—or,moreaccurately,lettinghimpursueme—wasabadideainthelongrun.Butafterthreenightsofknowinghewasrightdownthehall,wantingtoseemeandevenputtingsweetnotesundermydoor,Icouldfeelmyselfcavingtohispersistence,evenaskingmyselfwhatwouldithurttokisshimonetime?Afterall,hewasJoeKingsley.Itwouldbequitethenotchinmybelt.Guysdidthissortofthingallthetime.Whycouldn’tIdothesame?IfIjustplayedalongwithhisantics,IcouldforeversaythatIhadkissedJoeKingsley,mypreteencrushandanAmericanicon.
Idecideditwasjusttoogoodtopassup,butthatIneededtobreakupwithArlofirst.Icalledhimandcutrighttothechase.Toparaphrase,Itoldhimthatithadbeenagoodrun,butitwasn’treallyworkingformeanymore.Iblamedourschedulesandbusytravelandnotlivinginthesamecity.
“Besides,wedon’thaveallthatmuchincommon.Idon’tevenknowtherulesofsoccer,”Isaid,feelingastabofguiltthatI’dnevergonetowatchhimplayinperson.
“Yeah.ButatleastIneverhadtoworryyouwereagroupie,”hesaidinhiscuteLiverpoolaccent.
“Ha!That’scertainlytrue,”Isaid,smilingintothephone.
“So…doyouthinkwecanstillbefriends?”heasked.“Grabapintwhenyou’rebackintown?”
“Ofcourse,”Isaid,thoughIreallycouldn’tseeafriendshipcontinuing,especiallygiventhatwehadbettersexthanwedidconversation.
“Friendswithbenefits?”hesaid,clearlythinkingalongthesamelines.
“We’llsee,”Isaid,onthefence.Ontheonehand,itwassortoftheidealsetup.IcouldgodowhateverIwantedwithJoe,guilt-free,andstillhangoutwithArlo.Ontheotherhand,Ilovedagood,cleanbreak.Eitherway,Ihadsuccessfullyextricatedmyselffromanotherrelationship,andIfelttheusualsenseofreliefthatcamewiththat.
AsIsaidgoodbyeandhungupthephone,itcrossedmymindtojustcallitanightandnotbotherwithJoe.Buthismagneticpullwasapparentlytoogreat,becausethenextthingIknew,Iwascallinghisroom,theninvitinghimdowntomine.
Momentslater,hewasstandinginmydoorway,grinningatme.Hishairwasmessy,asifhe’dbeensleeping,andhewaswearingkhakishorts,afadedT-shirt,andthosewhiteterry-clothhotelslippersthatIdidn’tthinkanyoneactuallyeverputon.
Ismiledbackathim—itwasimpossiblenotto—andtoldhimtocomeonin,motioningtowardtheonlychairintheroom.Hetookafewstepsforward,pausingtogivemeakissonthecheek—onlyonecheekthistime.AsIclosedthedoorbehindhim,Inoticedhewascarryingasmallbagwithafancypastellogo.Maybehe’dpickedupaboxofchocolatesinthegiftshop,Ithought,asthatseemedlikesomethingoutofhisclichéflowers-and-poetryplaybook.
“Cuteslippers,”Isaidashesat,puttingthebagathisfeet.
“Thanks.Butbeforewarned:don’tevertrytotakethemhomewithyou.Imadethatmistakeonce.”
“Youstoletheslippers?”Isaid,mildlyamused,asIsatonthesideofmybed,facinghim.
“No!Ithoughttheywerefree—youknow,liketheshoepolishandthenailkit—buttheychargedmeanarmandalegforthem.”
Ilaughed,thenaskedwhathe’dbeenuptoforthepastfewdays.
“Oh,youknow,”hesaid,runninghishandthroughhishairandmessingitupevenmore.“Lotsofnapping…watchingmovies…Iwentonafewbikeridesanddidalittleexploringandshopping.”Hepausedandgavemeashysmile—oratleastasmilepretendingtobeshy—andadded,“MostlyIwasjusthopingtohearfromyou.”
“Yeah,right,”Isaid,rollingmyeyesandwavinghimoff.
“It’sthetruth,”hesaid,hiseyebrowsknittingearnestlytogether,“whetheryoubelieveitornot.”
Istaredathim,decidingthatIactuallydidbelievehim—whichwasdangerous.Itwasonethingtokisshim;itwasanothertostartimaginingthathemightlikeme.Icouldn’tletthathappen.Ihadtostayincontrol.Withthatrenewedresolve,Iscootedbackonthebedandleanedagainsttheheadboard,mylegsstretchedoutstraightandcrossedattheankles.Iwaswearingcashmeredrawstringshortsandamatchingtank,soIhadlotsofskinshowing,andcouldfeelhiseyesonme.IknewexactlywhatIwasdoing—andtheeffectitwashaving.
Sureenough,hetookadeepbreathandsaid,“God,Cate…Youlooksogood.”
Ithankedhim,thenpattedthespotnexttomeonthebed.“Wouldyourathercomeoverhereandtalk?”
“I’dloveto….CanItakemyslippersofffirst?”hesaidwithasmile.
Ilaughedandsaid,“Pleasedo.”
Hekickedthemoff,thenstoodandcameovertothebed,bringinghispaperbagwithhim.“Igotyouapresent,”hesaid,climbingupnexttome,lookingsoproudofhimself.
“Youdid,huh?”Isaid,sittingcross-leggedasIturnedtofacehim.
“Yep,”hesaid,handingittome.
Ireachedinsideandpulledoutaflat,squareboxthatfelttoolighttobecandy.Igentlyshookit,listeningtotherustlingsoundoftissuepaper,andsaid,“Whatisit?”
“Openit,”hesaid,nowbeaming.
Feelingself-conscious,Iremovedthelidoftheboxandpeeledbackthetissue,findingthemostbeautifulcobaltblueandpoppyredscarf,itsdesignunmistakablyHermès.
“Oh,wow,”Isaid,runningmyhandoverthesilk,surprisedbyhowlavishagiftitwas.“It’sgorgeous.”
“Youreallylikeit?”
“Yes,”Isaid,pickingitupbyonecornerandunfurlingitintheairbeforelayingitoutflatonthebed.“Iloveit.”
“It’svintage…fromthesixties….Ifounditinthecoolestlittlestore—that’swhyit’snotinanorangebox,”hesaid.
Ismiled,resistingtheurgetosay,Yeah,IwasprettysureJoeKingsleydidn’tgoforaknockoff
“I’mnotquitesureofyourstyleyet,butitseemedlikeyou,”hesaid,hisvoicesoft.
Myheartskippedabeatathisuseofthewordyet,andItoldhimagainthatIlovedit.“I’vealwayshadathingforscarves,”Iadded.
“Ohgood,”hesaid.“Andthecolor?Ialmostwentwithablackandwhiteonebecauseyouseemtowearmoreneutralcolors?”
Itoldhimthatwastrue,surprisedthathe’dnoticed,butthatIlikedpopsofcolor,especiallywhenitcametoaccessories.
“Yes.Likeyourlipstick,”hesaid,staringatmymouth.
ButterfliesfilledmystomachasIgazedbackdownatthescarf,tracingthepatternwithmyfingerbeforefoldingitdiagonallyinhalf,thenputtingitovermyhead.Thereweresomanywaystowearascarf—andI’dtriedthemall—butthistime,Iwentwithaseventieshippiestyle,tyingtwocornersbackatthenapeofmyneckandleavingthethirdfree,myhairspillingdownmybackandshoulders.
“Sochic,”hesaid,leaningbackonhiselbowandstaringoveratme.
Ismiled,reachinguptounknotandrestylethescarf,nowtyingitundermychin.
“Oh,Ilovethatlook,”hesaid.“It’slikeGraceKelly…inaconvertiblecruisingalongtheFrenchRiviera.”
Ismiled,thinkingthatitwasalsoasignatureDottieKingsleylook,ashesaid,“YouactuallyremindmeofGraceKelly.”
“What?”Isaid,laughing.“Welookabsolutelynothingalike.”
“Iknow.Butthewayyoucarryyourself,”hesaid.“You’reso…Idon’tknow…elegant.”
Iresistedtheurgetosaysomethingself-deprecating,havinglearnedthatthistacticgetsyounowhereinlife.Instead,Ithankedhimandslippedthescarfoffmyhead,foldingitneatlyandreturningittothebox.
Afewsecondspassedbeforehestartedtosmirkatme.“So.Didyoudumpthatdudeyet?”
“Thatdude?”
“Yeah.”
“HisnameisArlo,”Isaid,hesitating.“Andyes.Asamatteroffact,Idid.”
“Youdid?”hesaid,sittingup,suddenlyveryalert.“When?”
“Aboutthirtyminutesago,”Isaid,feelingbold.“RightbeforeIcalledyou.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“Why?Becauseyoudigme?”hesaidwithalaugh.
“Iwouldn’tgothatfar.”
Hesmiledandsaid,“Butyoudolikemealittle….Right?”
“Yes.Alittle,”Isaid,thenwentoutonanotherlonglimb.“Enoughtokissyou.Once.”
“Justonce?”Joesaid.
“Yep.”Inodded.“Oneanddone.Youknow—a‘whathappensinParisstaysinParis’typething.”
“ButwhatifIwanttokissyoubackinNewYork,too?”hesaid,leaningincloser,staringatmymouthagain.
“Let’snotgetaheadofourselves,”Isaid,bitingmylip.
Hemovedevencloser,hisfacenowinchesfrommine.IcouldseehischestrisingandfallingunderhisT-shirtashereachedoverandtouchedmyface,thencuppedmycheek,beforeslidinghishandtothebackofmyneck.HepulledmeclosertohimasIinhaledascentthatIwouldlaterlearnwasDior’sEauSauvage—thesamecolognehisfatherhadworn.
Ourforeheadstouchedfirst,thenournoses,andasIclosedmyeyes,Icouldfeelhiswarmbreathonmyface.Onedizzyingsecondlater,hislipsweregrazingmineinthesoftest,lightestwhisperofakiss.Itcouldbarelyevencountasakiss.ButIwantedittocount.Becauseitwasperfect.
Theperfectfirstkiss.
No—theonlykiss.
Myheartracing,Ipulledawayandcaughtmybreathandsaid,“There.Onekiss.That’sall.”
Heshookhisheadandsaid,“Justonemore?”
Itriedtosayno,butIcouldn’t.Instead,Inodded,inacompletedaze,ashetookmeinhisarmsandloweredmetothebedandkissedmeagainandagainandagain,leavingabsolutelynodoubtinmymindthatthiswasn’tjustaParisthing.
—
Sureenough,whenIreturnedtomyapartmentinNewYorkthreedayslater,therewasamessagefromJoeonmyansweringmachine.Icouldn’tquitebelieveitasIlistenedtohimramble,tellingmehemissedmeand“pleasecallmebackthesecondyoucomehome.Theverysecond.”
Ismiled,hitbyawaveofexcitement.I’dbeentryingnottoobsess.ButIcouldfeelmyselfstartingtofallforhim.Remindingmyselfthatthiswasareallybadidea,Ipickedupthephoneandcalledhimanyway.
“Cate!”heshoutedintothephonewhenheheardmyvoice.“It’sabouttime!Whendidyougetback?”
IconsideredtellinghimI’dbeenhomeforawhilebutdecidedtherewasnopointinplayinggames.Whateverwasgoingtohappenwouldhappen,anditwasprobablybettertojustgettheshowontheroad.
“Justnow,”Isaid.
“Asin—thisverysecond?”
“Yes.YoutoldmetocallyouthesecondIgotback,didn’tyou?”Isaidinaplayfulvoice.
“Attagirl,”hesaid.“WhencanIseeyou?”
“Whendoyouwanttoseeme?”
“Now?”
Ilaughedandsaid,“Howabouttomorrow?”
“Thatwouldbeawesome,”hesaid.“Whatshouldwedo?”
“Somethinglow-key,”Isaid,feelingexhaustedandjet-lagged—butalsohedgingmybets.
“Okay.Icouldcometoyourplace?Wecouldrentamovieandorderin?”
“Umm…Idon’tknow….Ihavearoommate,”Isaid.
Elnawasoutoftown,butIdidn’twanthimtocometomyapartmentregardless.
“She’swelcometojoinus…youknow,foralittlewhile,”hesaidwithachuckle.
“Idon’tknow,”Isaid,waffling.“Ikindofdon’twanthertoknowI’mhangingoutwithyou.”
“Whynot?”hesaid.“Shedoesn’tlikeme?”
“Shedoesn’tknowyou,”Isaid.“Butshedoesn’tliketheideaofyou.”
“Whynot?”hesaid,soundingalittlehurt.
“Ithinkyoucouldguessthereasons.”
“Hmm…Well,doyouliketheideaofme?”
“Thejury’sstillout,”Isaidwithasmile.
Helaughedandsaid,“Damn.Youreallydon’tsugarcoatanything,doyou?”
“Nope,”Isaid.“What’sthepoint?”
“Iagree.Ilikethat.”
Afewsecondspassedbeforehesaid,“Okay…well,howaboutyoucomeovertomyplacetomorrow?I’llmakeyoudinner.”
“Youcancook?”
“Notreally.ButIcangettakeoutandtransferittoplatesandpretendImadeit.”
“Nah,”Isaidwithalaugh.“Remember.There’snoneedtofakeanythingwithme.”
—
Thefollowingeveningafterwork,IwenthometoshowerandchangebeforeheadingdowntoJoe’s.IwasgladElnawasaway,whichmeantIdidn’thavetoansweranyquestionsaboutwhereIwasgoing.AsmuchasIconfidedinher,Iwasn’treadyforthat.WhenIgotoutoftheshower,Icrankedupmymusic,openedabottleofAmstelLight,andblewmyhairout,flat-ironingitpin-straightandpartingitinthemiddle.Goingforafemininebutlaid-backfeel,IputonavintagesilkMiuMiudresswithabrownandwhitefloralprintandnudeslingbackswithlowblockPradaheels.
Atthatpoint,Iwasonautopilotandcouldhavebeengettingreadyforanydate,butbythetimeIgotintomytaxi,IwaskeenlyawarethatIwasheadedtotheapartmentofJoeKingsley,amanwiththehighestpossiblepedigreewhowasway,wayoutofmyleague.Ifnotanabsolutefact,itwasastatementthat99.9percentoftheworldwouldagreewith—andaswegotclosertohisSoHoaddress,Icouldfeelmyselfstarttopanic.WhatintheworldwasIthinking,anyway?HowdidIthinkthiswasgoingtoendotherthanbadly?
Itoldmyselftherewasnopointinsecond-guessingmydecision—itwouldbetoodramaticandweirdtocancellastminute.Bettertojustviewthewholethingasanexperiment.SeehowfarwecouldgetbeforeherealizedwhatIknewtobetrue.Ormaybehealreadydidknow.Itwassuspicious—orataminimumnoteworthy—thatJoehadyettoaskanyrealdetailsaboutmyfamilyoreducationalbackground,simplyacceptingmyvagueandverymisleadingcommentsabout“stillfinishingupmydegree.”Itwastemptingtobelievethatthosetopicshadsimplyslippedthroughthecracks,butIknewbetter.GuyslikeJoealwayscameoutofthegatewiththatquestion:Wheredidyougotoschool?Inmostinstancestheymeantcollege,thoughtheboardingschooltypescaredabouthighschool,too.Andifyouwenttoapublicschool,yousureasshitbetterbefromanupscalesuburb.Itwasbizarrelyconsistent.Ialsoknewthosequerieswereusuallyjustaruse—disguisedascasualconversationwhentheywerereallytryingtodiscernmysocialstatus.Inotherwords:WasIaworking-classgirlwhohadusedmodelingtopullmyselfupbymybootstraps?OrdidIcomefroma“goodfamily”whohadinsistedthatIalsogotocollege?
ThefactthatJoehadn’treallypressedmeonthesubjectmeantoneofthreethings:(1)I’dsuccessfullymisledhimintomakingthewrongassumptions;(2)Heknewthetruthaboutme—onsomelevel—andlikedmeanyway;or(3)Hewasn’tanalyzinganyofthatbecauseallhereallywantedwasafling.Thelastoneseemedthemostlikely,IconcludedasweturnedontoablockthatfeltquintessentiallySoHo—hipbutalittlegrungy—withcobblestonestreetsandprewarwarehousesconvertedtoapartments.Ipaidmyfareandgotoutofthecab,lookingaround,halfexpectingtoseethepaparazzilurkingintheshadows.ButtherewasnosignthatJoe—oranyoneofimport—livedinthegraybuildingbeforeme.Therewasn’tevenadoorman.Iclimbedthestairs,scanningthebuzzers,lookingforJoe’sname,somehowknowingthathiswouldn’tbelabeled.
Itookachanceandhittheonlyunmarkedapartmentnumber,holdingmybreath,waiting.Afewsecondslater,Joe’svoicecamebackfuzzyovertheintercom.“Hello?”
“Hi.It’sme,”Isaid,myheartstartingtorace.
“Hey!Comeonin!Taketheelevatortothefourthfloor!”hesaid,buzzingmein.
Itookanotherdeepbreath,remindingmyselfthatIreallyhadnothingtolosesolongasIkeptmyexpectationslow,thenopenedtheheavyfrontdoor.Imademywaythroughthespartan,emptylobby,thentookasmallelevatoruptothefourthfloor.Whenthedoorsopened,Joewasstandingrightthere,waitingformewithahugesmile.Thursdaywasathisside,wagginghistailandattemptingtojumponmeasJoeheldhimbackandreprimandedhim.
“It’sfine,”Isaid,pettinghim,rememberingthatdayonthebeach.“ThursdayandIgowayback.”
“Iguessthat’strue!”Joelaughed.HewaslookingashandsomeasI’deverseenhim,dressedcasually,wearingfadedbluejeans,acreamHenley,andblackandwhiteAdidassneakers,thelaceslooselytied.
“So…hi,”hesaidwithacutelittlelaugh,thengavemeabighug.
“Hi,”Isaid,hugginghimback,inhalinghiscologne,whichalreadyfeltfamiliar.
Weseparatedandhestaredatmewithagoofygrin.“Youlookamazing.Wow.”
“Thankyou,”Isaidfeelingshy,attemptingtopetThursdayagain.Joeinterceptedmyhand,thenledmedownthehalltohisapartment.Thoughhe’dmentionedlivinginaloft,Iwasstillalittleblownawaybyhowdramaticandcavernousitwas.Withfloor-to-ceilingsteel-framedwindows,exposedbrickwalls,andacompletelyopenfloorplan,thespacewasverycool,butalsoabitcold,andIcouldn’tdecidewhetherIlovedorhatedit.AsIwalkedthewholewayintotheroom,puttingmybagonhismammothbrownleathersectional,IdecidedthatIwouldn’twanttoliveinaplacelikethis—Ipreferredcozyspaces—butthatitwasnicetovisit.Perfectforaone-to-several-nightstand.
“Whatdoyouthink?”Joeasked.
“It’sgreat,”Isaid,glancingathim,“forabachelorpad.”
“Ouch,”hesaid.“Maybeyoucanhelpmespruceitupsome?Ineedsomemoreendtablesandlampsandstuff.”
Ismiledandsaid,“Youdon’tneedmyhelp.”
“Yes,Ido,”hesaid.“Youhavegreattaste.AndIwantyoutolikeithere.”
“Youdo,huh?”Isaid,raisingmyeyebrows,nonchalantlyflirting.“Why’sthat?”
“BecauseIlikeyou,”hesaid.“AndIwantyoutobecomfortablehere…soyoukeepcomingback.”
BeforeIcouldrespond,heputhisarmsaroundmywaistandgavemeakiss.“Itoldyouitwasn’ta‘oneanddone,’?”hewhispered.
Myheartracingagain,Ithought,Shit.Yousuredid.
“Okay.Nowthatthat’ssettled…areyouhungry?”
“Alittle,”Isaid,thinkingthatIneverreallyknewhowtoanswerthatquestion.Maybeitwasaby-productofmodelingforsomanyyears—butI’dtrainedmyselfnottothinkaboutfood—unlessIwasdownrightravenous.
“Well,asyouknow,Ican’tcook.ButIdoepicappetizers,”hesaid,gesturingovertohiskitchen.“Wannasee?”
Inoddedaswetookalongstrolltotheothersideoftheroom,wherehe’dlaidoutabanquet-sizeplatter.Itwasloadedwithwheelsofcheeseandlittlerowsofcrackersandrolled-upmeatsandenoughdriedfruittochokeahorse.
“Impressive,”Isaid.
“Wait.Isthatimpressiveasinimpressive?Orimpressiveforabachelor?”
Igazeddownattheboard,pretendingtoscrutinizehiswork,thensaid,“I’dsayit’simpressiveonanabsolutebasis.”
“Yesss,”hesaid,pumpinghisfistintheairlikehe’djustsunkthewinningshotofabasketballgame.“Now.CanIgetyouadrink?”
“Sure,”Isaid,leaningonthecounter.
“Beer?Wine?OrIcanmakeyouacocktail?Mybartendingskillsarelegit,too.”
IsmiledandtoldhimthatI’dloveaglassofwine.
“Redorwhite?”
“Whatever’sopen.”
Heshookhisheadandsaid,“Nope.I’mopeningoneforyou.Forus.Pleasechoose.”
“Okay,”Isaid,nodding.“I’dloveaglassofred,please.”
Joegavemeabriskbartender’snodasherubbedhispalmstogether,thenwalkedovertoasmallbuilt-inwinerefrigerator,scanningthebottlesandselectingonefromthebottomrow.Iwatchedasheusedanold-schoolcorkscrewtoopenthebottle,tooktwostemmedglassesfromacabinet,andcarefullypouredourglasses,wipingthesideofthebottlewithadishtowel.Hereturnedtotheislandtohandmetheslightlyfullerglass,standingatthecornerofthecounter,perpendiculartome.
Ithankedhimasheraisedhisglassintheairandlookedinmyeyes.“Toourthirddate.”
“Butwho’scounting?”Isaid,clinkingmyglassagainsthis.
“Iam,”hesaidaswebothtookasip.“I’msentimentallikethat.”
“Areyou?”
“Well,”hesaid.“Aboutthingsthatmatter.”
Ibitmylip,feelingmyselfstarttoblushandwishingmyfairskindidn’tsoeasilygivemeaway.
“Ihaven’tstoppedthinkingaboutyousinceParis,”Joesaid.
Mystomachfluttered,butIplayeditcool.“Yes,”Isaid.“Pariswasnice.”
“You’renice,”hesaid,puttinghishandovermine,whichwasrestingonthecounter,nexttomyglass.
“Actually,I’mnotallthatnice,”Isaid,tryingnottosmile.
Hestaredatmeabeat,thensaid,“Youknowwhoyouremindmeof?”
“Uh-oh.DoIwanttoknow?”
“Okay.Thisiskindofrandom…butthatwomanBillyJoelsingsabout—”
“Thewaitresswhopracticespoliticswhilethebusinessmanslowlygetsstoned?”Ilaughed.
Hesmiledandsaid,“No.‘She’sAlwaysaWoman.’?”
Itriedtorememberthelyricstothatsong,andassomeofthemorecolorfullinescametome,Isaid,“Wait.Theoneaboutthecruel,lyingwomanwhowillcutyouandlaughwhileyou’rebleeding?”
Hesmiledandsaid,“Notthatpart.Iwasthinkingmoreofhowyouareinsuchcontrol.”Hestaredatmestone-facedforseveralsecondsbeforesoftlysinging:Ohhh,shetakescareofherself,shecanwaitifshewants
Iplayedalong.“Yougotme.Bothofthosethingsaretrue,”Isaid.
“Youreallyareamystery,”hesaid.
Irolledmyeyesandsaid,“No,I’mreallynot.”
“Okay,thentellmesomethings,”hesaid.“Aboutyou.”
Ifeltmyselftensingupalittle,asIsaid,“Whatdoyouwanttoknow?”
Hetookadeepbreath,thenexhaledevenharder,appearingdeepinthought.“Okay,”hesaid.“Whodoyoulovemostintheworld?”
Ilaughedandsaid,“That’sastrangequestion.”
“Isit?”
“Yes,”Isaid.“Whatkindoflovearewetalkinghere?”
“Love.Initspurestform.”
“Ihavenoideahowtoanswerthat—”
“Yes,youdo.”
“No,Idon’t….Whodoyoulovethemost?”
“Okay.Well,mygrandmotherisfirst.Handsdown.Secondismymother,”hesaid,tickingthemoffonhisfingers.“ThirdismyfriendBerry.FourthismycousinPeter.FifthismyuncleMark—Peter’sdad.”Hegavemeasmugsmileandsaid,“Easy.”
“OhmyGod,”Isaid,laughing.“That’ssoweird.”
“What’sweirdaboutit?”
“Thatyoucanrankeveryoneinyourlife—withnohesitationwhatsoever….Whodoesthat?”
“Ido,”hesaid.
“Okay.Well,tellmethis,”Isaid,feelingbold.“Wheredidyourlastgirlfriendfitintothatequation?”
“Thenornow,inrealtime?”
Intriguedthatshemightstillbeinthemix,Isaidnow
“Idon’tknow…prettyfardown.Maybesomewhereinthetwentiesorthirties?”
Ilaughed,thinkingthatIcouldn’tnamethirtypeopleIloved—orevenlikedalot.
“So,you’restillfriends?”Isaid.
“Sortof…Wedon’ttalk…butIguessIstillconsiderherafriend.”
“What’ssheupto?”
“She’sengaged,”hesaid,shrugging.“TeachinginBrooklyn.”
MakingamentalnotetoaskCurtisifheknewanythingaboutMargaret’sfiancé,Inoddedandsaid,“Okay.Whataboutthen?Whenyouweretogether?”
“Hmm.That’satoughquestion,”Joesaid,staringintothedistanceforafewsecondsbeforelookingbackatme.“Atherpeak,shewasprobablytiedwithUncleMark.”
“Shenevergothigherthantiedforfifth?”Isaid,laughing.“Ouch.”
Joelaughed,thensaid,“Holdup.Waitasec!Iseewhatyou’redoinghere.Youflippedthisshitaround—yougotmetalkingaboutmyself—”
Ishrugged,gavehimahalfsmile,andsaid,“SorrythatIcan’trankeveryoneinmylife.”
“Okay,I’llmakeiteasierforyou.Who’syourbestfriend?Canyouanswerthat?”
“Elna,”Isaid.
“Isshetheroommatewhodoesn’tlikeme?”
“Theideaofyou,”Isaid.“Andyes.”
“Okay.Andwho’snext?”
“Idon’tknow.ProbablyCurtis—theguyyoumetonthebeach,thedayyougotmynumberandthennevercalled—”
“Jeez!”hesaid,laughing.“Willyoueverletmelivethatdown?”
“Probablynot,”Isaid.“AndthirdwouldbeWendy.Ahigh-schoolfriend.”
“What’sWendylike?”
Ishruggedandsaid,“Oh,Idon’tknow…she’salotoffun,outgoing…alittleloud.Shewastheheadofthecheerleadingteaminhighschool.Thattype.”
JoenoddedandaskedwhetherIhadbeenacheerleader,too.
“Whatdoyouthink?”Iasked,poker-faced.
“Well…youwereamodel…sooo…”
“Notthesameatall,”Isaid.“Modelsdon’thavetobecheerful….Elnaisn’tcheerful.NoramI.”
“SoElna’samodel?”
Inodded.
“That’showyoumet?”
Inoddedagain.
“AndwhataboutWendy?Whatdoesshedo?”
“She’sastay-at-homemom,”Isaid,thinkingthatIcouldneverquitedecidewhetherWendy’slifesoundedboringorpleasant.Itdependedontheday.
“Doyoulikeherhusband?”
Ishruggedandsaidhewasfine.“He’salawyerlikeherdad.Sortofvanilla.Niceenough.”
Hesmiledandsaid,“AmIvanilla?”
Ithoughtforasecond,thensaid,“No.You’resweet…butnotvanilla.”
Hesmiled,thenpulledmeintohisarmsandgavemeaverynonvanillakiss.
—
Acouplehourslater,afterwe’dsnackedonJoe’scheeseboard,polishedoffthebottleofwine,andmadeoutonthesofa,hetookmebacktohisdimlylitbedroomandlaidmeacrosshisbedandkissedmesomemore.Ihadagoodbuzzgoingbutwasstillperfectlyclear-eyedandverycertainofhowIwantedthenighttoend.HavingsexwithJoefeltinevitable—aforegoneconclusion.Itwasgoingtobenoworlater,soitmightaswellbenow.
Withthatdecisionmade,Itookcharge,standingup,reachingbacktounfastenthehook-and-eyeclosureofmydress,thenshimmyingoutofit.Thestreetlightssoftlyilluminatedhisroom,andIcouldfeelhimwatchingmeinmymatchinglaceunderwearasIpulledbackthecoversandcrawledintohisbedbetweenthecrispest,coolestsheets.
WhenIfinallymethisgaze,Isawalookonhisfacethatwentbeyondlustandapproachedawe.Ithadtheeffectofmakingmefeelmorebrazen.
“MyGod,Cate.You’regorgeous,”hesaid,yethedidn’tmakeamove.Hejustlaythereontopofthecovers,frozenonhisside,restrainedandrespectful.
“Comehere,”Isaid,myheartpoundinginmychest.
“Hmm?”
“Takeyourclothesoffandcomehere,”Isaidmoreexplicitly,liftingthecovers,showinghimmybody,temptinghim.
“AreyousureIshoulddothat?”hewhispered.
“Yes,”Isaid,nodding.“Verysure.”
Joetookafewdeepbreaths,thensatupanddidwhatIasked.Nowitwasmyturntowatchasheundressed.Asamodel,I’dbeenaroundplentyofgood-lookingmenwithbeautifulbodies—andArlo’swasasrockhardandchiseledasanyofthem—butsomethingaboutJoe’sbodywasdifferent.Better.Maybeitwasthehaironhischest—whichIloved.MaybeitwastheknowledgethatitwasJoe.Ithoughtofthatposteronmywall,suddenlyrememberingamomentthatI’deitherforgottenorrepressed.MyfirstorgasmhappenedwhileIstaredupatit,fantasizingthatitwasJoewhowastouchingme.IhadnoideawhatIwasdoing—andhadonlyreadaboutsexinJudyBlume’snovelForever,whichdidn’tcoverthenitty-grittyoforgasms.ButIfigureditoutthatnight.Forasecond,thememoryembarrassedme.Butthen,aswitchflippedintheotherdirection,andIfeltevenmoreturnedon.Powerful,even.
Amomentlater,wearingonlyboxers,Joehadfoundmeunderthecovers.Helaybesideme,kissingmeevenmorehungrilythanhehadinParisoronhissofaearlier,pausingonlytoreacharoundandunhookmybra,pullingitoffme,thentossingittothesideofthebed.Iwrappedmyarmsbackaroundhimandsighed,aswelayskintoskinforthefirsttime.Itcrossedmymindthatthismightbeenoughfornow—itfeltthatgood—butthethoughtdidn’tlastlong,ashishandsstartedmovingallovermybody,everywherehecouldreach.Thatwentonforawhileuntilherolledmeoverandkissedmybreastsandstomach.Hetriedtomovehisfacelower,butIstoppedhim,grabbinghisshoulders,tellinghimtocomebacktome.Whenhedid,Islidmyhandsdownhisback,dippingthempasttheelasticwaistbandofhisboxers.“Taketheseoff,too,”Iwhispered.“Please.”
Hegroanedalittleinresponsebutobligedmyrequest.Whenhisboxerswereoff,Ilaidmycheekonhischest,gazingdownathim—allofhim—thentouchedhimforthefirsttime.AsIlistenedtohisbreathing,IstrokedhimassoftlyasIcould,watchinghimgrowevenharder.
“God,Cate,”hesaidwithalowmoan.
Islidmythongoff,thentookhishandandguideditdownbetweenmylegs.
“Damn,”hesaid,hisbreathingnowheavy.“You’resowet.”
“Youmademethisway,”Iwhisperedashisfingersmovedincirclesintheexactrightplace,whichonlyIhadeverbeenabletofind.
ThenIpulledhimbackontopofme,kissinghisneck,archingmyback,andspreadingmylegs.“Iwantyou,”Isaid.
“Oh,myGod,Iknow,”hegroaned.
“Imeanit.Rightnow.Iwantyou—”
“Areyousure—”hesaid,staringintomyeyes.
“Verysure,”Isaid,myheartpounding.
LookingasnervousasIfelt,henodded,thenreachedovertoopenthedrawerofhisnightstand,pullingoutacondom.Hequicklyputiton,hishandstrembling
Ispreadmylegsalittlemore,thenreacheddowntoslowlyguidehiminsideme.Likeourfirstkiss,everythingfeltlikeslowmotion.Histouchwaslightandlingeringandimpossiblygood.Heteasedmeforalongtime.Then,whenIcouldn’tstanditanothersecond,Iwrappedmylegsaroundhimanddugmyfingersintohisbackandpulledhimallthewayinsideme.AndthenIknewthattherewasabsolutely,positivelynoturningback.CHAPTER13
Joe
BythetimeCateandIhadsexforthefirsttime,IknewIwasgoingtofallinlovewithher.Ourchemistrywasthatgood.Thenagain,maybethesexwasincrediblebecauseIalreadyhaddevelopedsuchstrongfeelingsforher.Likea“chickenandeggtype”thing.Whoknowswhichitwas,butoverthenextfewweeks,Ibecameaddictedtoher.Shewassodamngorgeous,butitwasmuchmorethanthat.Ilovedherairofmystery,andthewayshewaswillingtocallmeoutonmybullshit.Ilovedthewayshewassostrongoneminute—andquietlyvulnerablethenext.Ilovedthewayshelookedatmeandhowshetouchedmeandthesoundofhervoiceandthewayshelaughedandthesmellofherskin.Notonlyherperfume,butheractualskin,especiallyafterwereallywentatitandshestartedtosweat.Shedrovemecrazy.LikeadrugIcouldn’tgetenoughof.Eveninthesatiatedaftermathofsex,whenIwouldhaverolledawayfromotherwomen,secretlywishingIcouldjustsnapmyfingersandbealone,IfoundmyselfwantingmoreofCate.Holdingherinmyarmsandstrokingherhair,I’daskwhatshewasthinking.
“Nothing,”she’dusuallymurmur,mygo-toanswerinthepastwhenIgotthesamequestion.
“Youhavetobethinkingsomething,”I’dsay.
ItwassomethingI’dbeentoldinthepast,whichInowunderstoodasastatementofmildfrustration.Atthatpoint,Catewouldnormallyshushmeorignoreme.Thenotknowingwasalittleunsettling.Atthesametime,themysteryofwhatwasgoingoninthatbeautifulheadofhersdrewmeinmore.
Meanwhile,sheinsistedthatwekeepourrelationshipasecret—thoughshedidn’tcallitarelationship,orlabelitatall.Sherefusedtogooutinpublictogether,exceptforonetimewhenIconvincedhertomeetmeintheverybackcornerofamovietheatersowecouldseeanindiefilmmyoldbuddyCharlieVancehadproduced.Weendedupmissingagoodbitofthesecondhalfwhenshedecidedtogodownonme.Afterward,shegotherselftogetherandwhisperedgoodbye.
“You’releaving?Beforeit’sover?”
“Youcantellmewhathappens,”shewhispered.“It’stooriskytoleavetogether.”
Asifithadn’tbeenriskytowrapherlipsaroundmydick.
“Okay,”Isaid,knowingthatshemadetherules.“CanIseeyoulater?Please?”
Sheshookherheadandsaid,“Let’squitwhilewe’reahead.Ihaveagutfeelingthatthepaparazziwillbewaitingforyou.”
Inodded,becauseIactuallyhadthesamefeeling;Ijustdidn’tcare.ButCatedid,sothatwasthat.Itwasunprecedented.Mostgirlswantedtobeseenwithme,andwiththem,ithadusuallyfeltlikeatestIhadtopass.Inotherwords:didIlikethemenoughtogopublicwiththerelationship?Thatwasalwaysthequestion.IthinkevenMargaret,wholoathedthepressandthespotlight,attimesfeltthatthemediavalidatedus.
ButCatedidn’tneedvalidation—frommeoranyoneelse.Iletourloosestatusquorideforanotherfewweeks,bidingmytime,thententativelybroughtitupagain.
“Haveyoutoldanyoneyou’reseeingme?”Iasked,aswesatonmysofaeatingChinesedeliveryanddrinkingSapporosthatshe’dpickedupfromthebodeganearmyhouse.
Withoutlookingatme,sheshrugged,asifIhadn’tjustaskedherayes-or-noquestion.
Ilaughedandsaid,“Well?”
“ImayhavementionedittoElna,”shesaid.
“Youmayhave?”
“Yeah.Isortahadto,”shesaid.“SheaskedwhoI’dbeenhangingoutwith,andwhyIalwayscamehomeinthemiddleofthenight…so…yeah…Itoldheritwasyou….”Hervoicetrailedoff.
“And?Whatdidshesay?”
“Notmuch,”Catesaid,shruggingagain.“ButsheagreedthatIshouldn’tgetbustedbeingseenwithyou.”
“Andwhy’sthat,exactly?”Isaid,staringatherprofile.
Sheputherchopsticksdownandlookedbackatme.“BecauseIdon’twantorneedthatkindofdrama.Iknowyou’reusedtoit,butI’mnot.”
Inodded,feelingalittlehurt.ShewasbasicallytellingmethatIwasn’tworththetrouble.“So…letmeaskyouaquestion….”
Shemadeherusualmmm-hmmmsound,likeshewasamenable,butalittlebored.
“Ifyoulikedmemore,wouldIbeworththedrama?”
Catesmirked,glancedmyway,andsaid,“Maybe.”
“Damn,”Isaid,pretendingtopout.
“Oh,poorbaby.DidIhurtyourfeelings?”shesaidteasingly.
“Alittle,”Isaid,asshesoftenedtheblowbycrawlingontomylap.
“No,Ididn’t,”shesaid.
“Yes,youdid,”Isaid,lovingtheattention.
Sheputherarmsaroundmyneck,thenstraddledme,pushingmeagainstthebackofthesofawiththeweightofherbodybeforenuzzlingthesideofmyfacewithhernose.
“C’mon,Joe.It’sbetterthisway.”
“Whatway?”
“Thisway,”shesaid,kissingme.“Justthetwoofus.”
Inodded,becauseitsoundednicewhensheputitthatway.Moreintimate,inthewaythingsalwaysarewhenthere’sasecretinvolved.
“So,Iguessthatmeansyouwon’tgototheProustBallwithme?”Isaid,pointingdownattheinvitationthathadjustarrivedinthemail.
“Idon’tdoballs,”shesaid.
“ButIneedadate.”
“I’msureyoucanscroungeoneup.”
“Youwouldn’tbejealous?IfIwentwithanotherwoman?”
Herjawtensedforonehopefulsecond.Butthensheshrugged,shookherhead,andsaid,“No.Idon’tdojealousy,either.”
“Younevergetjealous?”
“No,”shesaid.“What’sthepoint?Itdoesn’tchangeanything.”
“Damn,”Isaid.
Therereallywasnoonelikeher.
—
Abouttwoweekslater,Idecidedtotryagain.We’djustmadeloveandwerelyingnakedinmybedwhenIsaid,“I’mstarving.WhatdoyousaywegotoElTeddy’s?”
“Can’twejustorder?”
“ElTeddy’sdoesn’tdeliver,”Isaid.
“Well,wecandotakeout,then.Wantmetopickitup?Idon’tmind.”
“Whycan’twejustgo?”Isaid.
“Youknowwhy.”
“C’mon,Cate.Whatareyouscaredof?”
“WhosaidI’mscared?”shefiredback.“I’mnotscared.”
“Thenwhycan’twegoout?”
Shesighedandsaid,“We’vebeenoverthis.”
“ButIwanttositatatablewithyou,andletaserverbringusfood…andwecan’tgetmargaritastogo,”Isaid.
Shehesitated,andIcouldtellIwasmakingslightprogress.Butthensheshookherhead,kissedmycheek,andsaid,“Nottonight,Joe.”
“Whynot?What’swrongwithtonight?”
“Because,”shesaid.“Ididn’tbringanyofmystuff….”
“Whatstuff?”
“Stufftoshowerandgetready…mytoiletriesandmakeup.”
“Youcanusemytoiletries.Andyoudon’tneedmakeup,”Icontinued.“You’reanaturalbeauty.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Isthatayes?”
“No.It’snotayes.”
“C’mon.Icancallaheadandaskforaprivatetable.Nobodywillseeus—”
“Yeah,right,”shesaidwithalaugh.“Likeyoucanjustgoincognitosomewhere.”
“Icansometimes.IdidinParis.NobodyknewIwasinParis.”
“I’msuresomeoneknew.”
“Well,thepressdidn’t…andthepresswon’tbeatElTeddy’s,either.”
“Howdoyouknow?”
“Becauseit’saneighborhoodjoint,”Isaid,runningmyfingersthroughhersilkyhair.“It’slow-key.Nobodygivesashit.Andbesides…it’stime.”
“Why?”shesaid.“Whyisittime?”
“Becausewe’vebeentogetherforalmosttwomonths.”
“No,wehaven’t.”
“IfyoucountParis,wehave.Andyouhaven’tletmetakeyououtonetimehere….Allwedoishavesexinmyapartment.”
“Andyou’recomplainingaboutthat?”shesaidwithalaugh.“Isn’tthatadreamscenarioformostguys?”
“Maybe.Formostguys.Andmaybeformeinthepast,”Isaid,beingashonestasIcould,asifcandorcouldsomehowhelpmycase.“But,Cate…Ireallylikeyou….”MyvoicetrailedoffasIfeltasurgeofunfamiliarnervousnessthatonlygrewwhenshedidn’treply.
“Saysomething,”Isaidinalowvoice.
Shesighedandsaid,“Ireallylikeyou,too.Youknowthat.”
Ismiled,feelinglikeapuppywhohadjustdoneatrickandgottenatreat.“Howmuchdoyoulikeme?”
“Asolidamount.”
“Enoughtogodrinksomemargaritaswithme?Inpublic?”
Sheletoutalongsigh,pretendingtobedeepinthought.“Okay.Yes.Ilikeyouexactlythatmuch.Nomoreandnoless.”
Iperkedup,hopingtherewasn’tacatch.“So,you’llgo?”
“Okay.Fine.I’llgo.”
“Asin—rightnow?”
“Well,weshouldprobablyputsomeclothesonfirst,”shesaid.
Ilaughed.“Youthinkthat’snecessary?”
“Yeah,”shesaid.“Callmecrazy,butsomethingtellsmethatpeoplewouldnoticeifJoeKingsleywalkedintoElTeddy’sinhisbirthdaysuit.”CHAPTER14
Cate
AfterIsleptwithJoethatfirsttime,thefloodgatesopened.Wesaweachothernearlyeveryday,butalwaysinsecret,atmyinsistence.ItoldhimthatIdidn’twantanydrama—andthatwastrue.
WhatIdidn’ttellhimwasthatIknewhisinterestinmehadashelflife,andIbelievedthatwhateverspellI’dmanagedtocastoverhimwouldbebrokenthesecondpeoplefoundoutaboutus—andthetruthaboutme.Therewasnowaythathisfeelingsformecouldwithstandthescrutinyofhisinnercircle,letalonethetabloidpressandmillionsofpeopleobsessedwiththeKingsleyfamily.Eventually,itwouldbepointedouttohim—orhewouldotherwisefigureout—thatwejustweren’tcompatibleinanyrealway.Inthemeantime,oursecretalsofeltlikeaninsurancepolicyagainstpublichumiliation.ImightverywellfallinlovewithJoe,butIwasn’tgoingtoletthewholeworldwatchmecrashandburnwhentheinevitablehappened.
Fordays,whichthenturnedintoweeks,Iremainedvigilant.OtherthanElna,Ididn’ttellanyoneaboutJoe.NotCurtisorWendyorevenmymomwhenItookhertolunchforherbirthdayandknewthenewswouldmakethebestgift,evenbetterthanthediamondcrossnecklaceI’dgivenher.Ijustcouldn’ttakethechancethatChipwouldfindoutandsomehowtrytosabotageme.Itwassad—tragic—thathisabuserenderedmyrelationshipwithmymomsosuperficial,evenstrained.Ifheweren’tinthepicture,ItrulythinkIwouldhavebeensharingeverythingwithher.ShewouldhavebeenthefirstcallImadewhenJoeandImetonthebeach,andwhenheshowedupinParis.ButI’dlongsincelearnedthatIcouldonlybesoclosetoherandthattherewasreallynothingIcoulddountilshewasreadytoleavehim.Yousimplycan’thelpsomeonewhodoesn’twanttobehelped.
Meanwhile,IwassupercarefulwiththepaparazziwhooccasionallylingeredoutsideJoe’sbuilding.WheneverIspottedanyoneevenvaguelysuspicious,I’dwalkonby,returningonlywhenthecoastwascompletelyclear.SometimesI’djustheadhomeforgood,whichhadtheaddedbenefitofdrivingJoecrazy.It’snotthatIwantedtoplaymindgameswithhim,butIwaskeenlyawareofkeepingalevelplayingfield.SonomatterwhatIwasfeeling,whichwasgettingtobequitealot,Ididmybesttoappearblasé.Itwastheonlywaytoprotectmyself.
IthinktheconceptofacompletelyclandestinerelationshipintriguedJoeatfirst,ashementionedseveraltimesthatourhidingfeltromantic.Healsolovedgettingoneoveronthetabloidpress.Basedonstorieshe’dtoldme,hisrelationshipwiththepaparazzicouldgetcontentious,butevenwhenitdidn’t,Joestillwantedtowinthecat-and-mousegame.
AcynicalpartofmewonderedifJoelikedskippingallthewininganddiningandgoingstraighttothebedroom.Imean,whatguywouldn’tlikehavingno-strings-attachedsex,especiallyifyouknewtherelationshipcouldn’tgoanywhere?
Eventually,though,hestartedpressuringmetogooutinpublicwithhim.Itwasreassuring,evidencethathereallydidlikeme,butIstilldraggedmyfeet,wantingtoliveinourlimbofantasylandforaslongasIcould.
Then,onenight,whenhebeggedtotakemeouttodinner,Ifinallyrelented.AswelefthisapartmentandwalkedopenlythroughthestreetsofSoHoandthenintoTribeca,Iwasmorethanalittleapprehensive,hyperawareofallthedoubletakesandoutrightstares.Atonepoint,Ieventrailedafewstepsbehindhim,justtoplayitsafe.
“Whatareyoudoingbackthere?”Joesaid,laughing,seeminglyoblivioustotheattentionthatfollowedhimeverywhere.
Ishooedhimahead,butheinsistedonwaitingforme.EvenafterIcaughtup,though,ItriedtoappearasifIwasn’treallywithhim.Butbythetimewe’dsettledintoabackcorneroftherestaurantwithchipsandsalsaandapitcherofmargaritas,Icouldfeelmyselfstarttorelax.Joemusthavenoticedthechangebecausehereachedformyhandacrossthetable,givingitalittlesqueeze.
“See?”hesaid.“Lookatus.Totallyundertheradar.”
Iglancedaroundandhadtoadmitthathewasright.Therestaurantwaspacked,butnobodywaspayinganyattentiontous.Itwasanadvantageofatrendydowntownspot;thecrowdwastoohiptostareatacelebrity.
“So,whatdoyouthinkaboutdoingthismoreoften?”
“Goingouttodinner?”
“Yes.Andjust—makingthingsofficial.”
“Andwhatdoesthatentail?”Isaid.“Apressrelease?”
Iwasmakingajoke,butapparentlyitwasn’tsuchafar-fetchedconcept.“Well,notapressreleaseperse,”hesaid.“Butmaybeastatementofsomekind…”
“Wait.Seriously?”Isaid,nervouslyreachingforachip.
“Well,yeah,”hesaid.“Youknow,wecouldjustissueabriefstatementconfirmingourrelationship.”
“Andwhyisthatnecessary?”
“It’snotnecessary.Wecanalwaysstickto‘nocomment’ifyouprefer…butsometimessilencebackfires.”
“Howso?”
“Peopledrawtheirownconclusionsaboutwhat’sgoingon.”
Iswallowed,feelingawaveofnervousness,andsuddenlywishingwewerejustbackinhisapartment,hunkereddownonthesofa,stillplayingmake-believe.
“Look.Ireallydon’tcarewhatanyonethinks,”hecontinued.“Ijustwanttobeabletodothingswithyou.”
“Wehavebeendoingthings,”Isaidwithaknowingsmile.
Hesmiledbackatmeandsaid,“Yes.AndI’vegreatlyenjoyedthosethings.Believeme.ButI’dliketodootherstuff,too.Gotodinnerandeventsandpartiesandballgames.”
Inodded,listening,thinking.
“IwanttotakeyoutotheHamptonsfortheweekend.Andgoonvacations…andIwanttomeetyourfriendsandfamily.Especiallyyourmother…Haveyoutoldheraboutme?”
“She’sheardofyou,”Isaid,smilingathim.
Helaughed,thensaid,“YouknowwhatImean….Haveyoutoldheraboutus?”
Ishookmyhead.
“Well,Iwanttomeether…andIwantyoutomeetmymother,too.”
MystomachturnedasomersaultasItriedtodecidewhichscenarioIdreadedmore.
“Sowhatdoyouthink?”
“Idon’tknow,Joe—”
“Okay,Idon’twanttorushyou…butcanweatleaststophiding?Andjusttelleveryonethetruth?”
Iloweredmyvoiceandleanedtowardhim.“Youmeanthatwe’vebeenfuckingfortwomonths?Thattruth?”Isaid,mostlyjusttothrowcoldwateronmyfeelings.ButIthinkIwasalsotestinghim.
“Jesus,Cate,”Joesaidwithalaugh.“Doyouhavetosayitthatway?”
Ishruggedandsaid,“Well.Isn’tthatwhatwe’vebeendoing?”
“No,”hesaid,reachingformyhand.“We’vebeenmakinglove.”
Irolledmyeyesandpulledmyhandaway,saying,“Ugh.Pleasedon’teverusethatexpressionagain.”
Helaughed,thensaid,“Okay.Well,regardlessofwhatwecallit—Idon’tkissandtell….”
“Bullshit,”Isaidwithasmile.
“Idon’t!”
Itookasipofmymargarita,thenlickedsomeofthesaltfromtherimofmyglass.“So,you’retellingmethatyounevertalkedtoyourguyfriendsaboutwhatitwasliketofuckPhoebeMills?”
“Ugh!Stopsayingthatword!”
“Okay,fine.WhatitwasliketohavesexwithPhoebeMills?”
Heblushedandlookedaway.
“Yep.That’swhatIthought.”
“Okay.Yougotmethere,”Joesaid.“Butthatwasn’tarealrelationship.”
“Whatwasit,then?”
“Itwasmostlyjustsex.Imean,wedidhavefuntogether,but…”
Igavehima“gotcha”smile.
“Don’tlookatmelikethat,”hesaid.
“I’mnotlookingatyoulikeanything,”Isaid.
“Yes,youare.Doyouthinklessofme?”
“No.WhywouldI?YouthinkI’veneverhad‘justsex’before?Withnostringsattached?”Isaid.
“Idon’tknow,”hesaid,lookingintrigued.“Haveyou?”
Inoddedandsaidyes,ofcourseIhad.
“Wait.Isthatwhatwe’vebeendoing?”hesaidwithalookonhisfacethatIcouldn’tread.“Areyouusingmeforsex?”
“Yes,”Isaid,raisingmyglass.“Sexandmargaritas.”
Joesmiledandsaid,“C’mon.Beserious.Arewe…acouple?”
Myheartwasnowracing,andallIwantedtodowassayyes.Instead,Isaid,“Ithoughtweweren’tdoinglabels.”
“It’stimeforlabels,Cate,”hesaid,givingmeoneofhissmolderingstares,whichfurtherundidme.“Areyoumygirlfriend?”
Itookadeepbreath,remindingmyselfthattherewasnowaythiswasgoingtoendwell.ButIstillnodded,feelingmyfirstwaveofhopefulnessthatmaybewecouldbesomewhatofanormalcouple,atleastforalittlewhile.
—
Earlythefollowingmorning,afterrollingoutofJoe’sbedtoheadhomeandshowerforwork,Iwasambushedrightoutsidehisbuildingbyabeefymaninablackleatherjacket.Foronedisorientingsecond,IactuallythoughtIwasbeingmugged.ThenIsawthathisweaponwasacameraandrealized,toolate,thatIwasunderadifferentkindofassault.Blindedbyaflash,Iraisedmypursetomyfaceandbolteddowntheblock,debatingbetweenthesubway—whichhadbeenmyoriginalplan—andataxi,whichwouldmakeacleanergetawaybutwasmoreuncertainatthishour.Ioptedforthelatter,prayingthatI’dgetluckyandfindone.
AsIswiftlywalkedtothecorner,theguykeptperfectpace,atonepointevencirclinginfrontofme,shootingmestraightonasheranbackward,tauntingme.
Hey,honey,what’syourname?Click,click.Canyougivemeasexysmile?Click,click.HowlonghaveyoubeenfuckingJoe?Click,click.Areyouawhore?Click,click,click.
Itwasironic—sinceIhadusedthewordfuckinglastnight—andIsuddenlyrealizedthatonsomelevelI’dbeentryingtopreemptwhatothersmightsayaboutit.IfIsaiditfirst,itwouldhurtless.Buthearinghimsayitstillfeltdegrading,anditdidn’thelpthatpeoplewerestaringatmeasthecameramanandIbobbedandweavedalloverthesidewalk.Atonepoint,Itrippedandalmostfell,stumblingintoagray-hairedmaninasuit—whohadthenervetoshootmealookofdisgust—mumblingthatIneededtowatchwhereIwasgoing.Asifhecouldn’tplainlyseethatIwasbeingpursued.
WhenIgottotheintersection,Isteppedoutintothestreet,franticallysearchingforataxiastheguykepttakingpicturesandfiringoffrudequestions.Itwasunbelievablehowrelentlesshewas,butwhatshockedmemorewasthatnotasinglepersonsteppedintohelp.Instead,theyjustkeptcomingandgoinginthecrosswalksaroundme.
Finally,aloneGoodSamaritanwhowasoutforamorningjogintervened.Shewasyoungandpetitebuthadafierceexpression,andIwatchedwithaweandgratitudeasshesteppedbetweenmeandthecameraman,yellingathimtoleavemealone.Itwasjustenoughinterferencetoallowmetoflagdownataxi.
Slidingintothebackseat,Igavethedrivermyaddress,realizingIwasinafullsweatandonthevergeoftears.
“Areyouokay,miss?”heaskedaswemadeeyecontactintherearviewmirror.
“Yes,thankyou.I’mfine,”Isaid,wipingmyeyesandcatchingmybreath,allthewhilethinking,Holyshit
Aswemadeourwayuptown,ItoldmyselfthatIhadprobablyoverreacted—thatnothingtrulyterriblehadhappened.Yes,asleazyphotographerseemedtoknowwhatwasgoingonbetweenJoeandme—andwasnowinpossessionofwhatwerecertainlyhideousphotos.Butwhatcouldhereallydowiththem?WhowouldwanttopublishthosewithoutmoreconcreteproofthatIwastiedtoJoe?Andeveniftheydidmaketheirwayintoatabloid,sowhat?Ihadn’tcommittedacrime.JoeandIwerebothsingleadults,andwe’donlydonewhatamillionothersingleadultsinthecityhaddonethenightbefore.Whatwastheworstthatcouldhappen?
BythetimeIgotbacktomyapartment,I’dtalkedmyselfofftheledgeenoughtocallJoeandfillhimin.ButIleftoutsomeofthedetails,includingthewordwhore
“Oh,Cate.I’msorry,baby,”hesaid.
Hehadnevercalledmebabybefore,andIwassurprisedbyhowmuchitcomfortedme.
“It’snotyourfault,”Isaid.
“Yeah,itis,”hesaid.“Ishouldhavegonetogetacabwithyou.”
“Youoffered,”Isaid—becausehealwaysdid.“Anyway,thatwouldhavemadeitworse.”
“Maybe,”Joesaid.“ButIstillwishIhadbeenthereforyou.I’vebeendealingwiththeseassholesmywholelife.Attheveryleast,Ishouldhavepreppedyoubetter.”
“Howwouldyouhavedonethat?”Iasked.
“Idon’tknow—therearejustsometips….”
“Suchas?”
“Suchas…neverrun.”
“Whynot?”
“?’Causeit’slikerunningfromabear.Itjustampseverythingupandmakesitworse.Youhavetostaycalm.Pretendthey’renotthere….Plus,youdon’twantthemtothinkyou’reflustered.Theygetoffonthat.Picturessellforahigherpriceifyoulookpissedorupset…whichiswhytheytalkshit.Youjusthavetoignorethem.”
“Okay,”Isaid,takingmentalnotes,butthinkingthatwasprobablyeasiersaidthandone.“Well,Ijustwantedtoletyouknow….”
Hemusthaveheardthereluctanceinmyvoice,becausehesaidmynameasaworriedquestion.“Cate?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’tbescared,”hesaid.
“I’mnotscared,”Isaid,lyingthroughmyteeth.
—
Thatnight,IreturnedhomefromworktothestrongaromaofpotandthesoundofElnaandCurtislaughinginthelivingroom.AsIputmybagandkeysdowninthekitchen,Iroundedthecornerandsawthembothsprawledoutonthesofainacloudofsmoke,watchingaMaryJ.BligevideoonBET.Elna’sbongsatonthecoffeetablebetweenthem,alongwithaboxofWheatThinsandanemptycontainerofhummus.Clearly,they’dbeenatitforawhile.
“Ahhhh.Theresheis,”Curtissaid,glancingupatme.
“Yep.Theresheis,”Elnaechoed.
“Hey,guys,”IsaidwithasubstantialsighasIkickedoffmyheelsandploppeddownonafloorpillowontheothersideofourcoffeetable.
Curtisignoredme,staringatElna.“Doesourgirlhereknowhowmuchtroubleshe’sin?”
Elnasmirked,thenshrugged.“Idon’tthinkshedoes…butmaybe….Alwayshardtotellwithher.”
Itwasoneoftheirfavoriteschticks,talkingaboutmeasifIweren’tintheroom,thoughtobefair,wealldidittooneanother.
IrolledmyeyesandshotElnaanaccusatorylook.“Soyoutoldhim?”
“Lady,”Curtissaid,wavinghisfingerinmyface.“Shedidn’ttellmeshit.You’reonfreakingPageSix!”
MystomachdroppedjustasInoticedthenewspaperonthecoffeetable.Sureenough,Curtishelditupandwaveditinmyface.“Extra,extra!Readallaboutit!’
Ipushedhishandawayandgroaned.“DoIevenwanttoseeit?”
Elnagavemeaglazedlook,thenslidthebongacrossthecoffeetabletowardme.“Well,youmightwanttohitthisfirst.”
“Shit.Isitthatbad?”Isaid,refusingthebongandreachingforthepaperinstead.
“Imean—”ElnasaidasCurtishelditoutofmyreach.“It’snotthatbad—”
Igroaned,thensaid,“Okay,gimmethatthing.”
Curtisshookhisheadandpattedthespotonthesofanexttohim.“No.Youcomehere.Ican’tstoplookingathim.”
“Him?”Isaid,gettingupandmovingovertothesofa.“There’sapictureofJoe?”
“Yep,”Curtissaid.“Lookingfineashell.”
AsIsatdown,squeezingbetweenmyfriends,Isawtheheadline—JoeKingsley’sNewFling—alongwiththreephotographslaidoutsequentially.Thefirstwasamedium-rangeshot,takenlastnight,ofJoeandmewalkingintohisbuilding.Hewasholdingthedooropenforme,onehandonthesmallofmyback—whichwasn’tterriblyincriminating.Butthesecondshot—aclose-upofmeinbroaddaylight,leavingJoe’sbuilding,wearingthesamejeansandtop,withmessyhairandabewildered,bustedlookonmyface—toldadifferentstory.Inthethirdphoto,Iwasstandingonthecorner,holdingmypurseuptomyface.Thecaptionspelledeverythingoutforlessdiscerningreaders:FormermodelCateCoopertakes“walkofshame”aftersteamynightwithJoeKingsley.
“Ugh,”Isaid,puttingmyheadinmyhands.“Unreal.”
“I’lltellyouwhat’sunreal,”Curtissaid,pausingdramatically.“What’sunrealisthatIhadtoreadaboutthisinthepaper!Whydidn’tyoutellme?Whatisgoingonhere?”
“Okay.Calmdown,”Isaid,thensummarizedtheorderofeventsassuccinctlyasIcould.ItoldhimthatI’dbeenseeingJoesinceFashionWeekandhadn’ttoldhimsoonerbecauseIdidn’tquitebelieveitwasgoingtolast,andIdidn’twanttogethishopesup.
“Well,they’reup!Wayup!”Curtissaid.“I’llneverforgetthewayhelookedatyouonthebeachthatday.Howseriousisthis,anyway?”
Ihesitated,thentoldhimthetruth.“Idon’tknow.Imean,hecalledmehisgirlfriendlastnight—but…Ican’timaginethatit’lllastformuchlonger.”
“Yes,itwill!”Curtissaid.“Andremember—Icalldibsonyourweddingmakeup.”
Ishookmyheadandsaid,“See?That’sthereasonIdidn’ttellyou—”
“Shehasapoint,”Elnasaid.
“I’mserious,Curtis.Nomoreweddingtalk!That’snotgoingtohappen.”
“Okay.Well,howaboutjustregulareverydaymakeup?”hesaid,tappinghisfingeronthemiddlephoto.“Ifyou’regoingtobeinthetabloids,we’rereallygoingtohavetoupyourgame.”
“Jeez,Curtis!Ididn’tknowIwasgoingtobephotographed!Thisguytotallyambushedme.”
“Clearly,”hesaid,crackinghimself—andElna—up.
“Stopit,guys,”Isaidasourphonestartedtoring.
Elnaansweredit,madeafewsecondsofsmalltalk,thenhandedittome,mouthing,It’syourmother.
“Oh,God,”Iwhispered.“Doessheknow?”
Elnaputherhandoverthereceiverandsaid,“Well,itwassortofhardtounderstandherthroughallthehyperventilating,butyeah…I’mprettysuresheknows.”
Bracingmyself,Itookthephoneandsaidhelloasmymombeganfiringoffgiddyquestions:Isittrue?DidyouspendthenightwithJoeKingsley?What’sgoingon?Chipsaidyou’reonPageSix!
Iconfirmedthatthestatementsweretrue,feelingcertainthatChiphadfoundawaytodisparagemetomymom.
Sureenough,thenextwordsoutofhermouthwere“Chipsaiditwasaone-nightstand?”
Ibitmylip,nowfeelinghurtanddefensiveinadditiontoeverythingelse.OfcoursemymombelievedChip’snegativespin.Intheend,shewouldalwayschoosehimoverme.Always.Butpridestillmademecomebackather.“No,Mom.Itwasn’taone-nightstand.We’reseeingeachother,”Isaid,walkingafinelinebetweendefendingmyselfanddangerouslyoverblowingmyrelationshipwithJoe.
“Oh,wow.That’sincredible!”shesaid.“HaveyoumetDottie?”
“No.”
“Areyougoingto?”
“Idon’tknow,Mom.Idoubtit.We’llprobablybreakupsoon—”
“CanIpleasemeethimbeforeyoudo?”shesaid,clearlyhavingnofaithinmystayingpower.
“Idon’tknow,Mom,”Isaidagain,justwantingtogetoffthephone.
“C’mon,Cate!YouknowhowmuchIlovetheKingsleys.”
“Iknow,Mom.Buthe’sarealperson,”Isaid,tryingtoputintowordswhatIhadgrappledwithoverthepastcoupleofmonths.
“Iknowhe’sarealperson,”shesaid.“Whatdoesthatevenmean?”
“Itmeanshe’snotwhoyouthinkheis….He’sjustaregularguy.”
“Well,accordingtoPeoplemagazine,he’salsotheSexiestManAlive.”
Isighedandsaid,“Mom.Please.”
“Okay.ButdoyouthinkIcouldgetmypicturetakenwithhim?Atsomepoint?”
“We’llsee,”Isaid,thinkingthatattherateshewasgoing,therewasnowayI’dlethergetanywherenearhim.CHAPTER15
Joe
AfewnightsafterthepaparazzibustedCateleavingmyapartment,IwenttodinnerwithmycousinPeter,hisfiancée,Genevieve,andBerry.I’dinvitedCatetojoinus,butshe’dturnedmedown—forthethirddayinarow—alludingtonotwantingarepeatofthepaparazziincident.
“So,who’sthelatestmodel?”Berryaskedmejustafterourdrinkswerebroughttothetable.ItwasthefirsttimeI’deverkeptherinthedarkaboutanythingsignificantinmylife,andIwasn’tevensurewhyIhad,otherthanageneralfeelingofprotectivenesstowardCate.Thisquestionconfirmedmyinstinct—andIfeltannoyed.
“Ithoughtyoudidn’treadthePost?”Isaid.
“Idon’t.It’strash,”shesaid.“Isawitoversomeone’sshoulderonthesubway.”
“Likelystory,”IsaidasPeterandGenevievelistenedwithamusedexpressions.“Justadmitit—youstalkme.”
“Youwish,”Berrysaid,takingasipofherwine.“So…what’sthedeal?Isitjustafling?”
“No,”Isaid.“It’snot‘justafling.’Asamatteroffact,I’vebeenseeingherfortwomonths.”
“Wow.Twowholemonths?”
“Yes,”Isaid,ignoringhersarcasm.“Exclusively.”
“Aww,”Genevievesaidinherusualsweetvoice.“Goodforyou,Joey.”
“Okay,”Berrysaid.“So.Tellusabouther.”
“Hername’sCateCooper,”Isaid,overcomewiththewarm,tinglyfeelingthatCatealwaysgaveme.“She’samazing.”
Berrystaredbackatmeandsaid,“Wheredidyoumeet?”
“IntheHamptons.”Ihesitatedandthensaid,“She’stheoneyoutoldmenottodate.”
“Idid?”Berrysaid.
“Yeah.Aboutayearago.Imetherwhileshewasworkingonthebeach.Remember?”
“Oh.Yeah.Thatmodel.”
“Formermodel.Sheretired.”
“Andwhatdoesshedonow?”
“SheworkswithWilburSwift.”
“Who?”Berrysaid.
“WilburSwift,thefashiondesigner?”Genevievesaid.
Inodded.
“Neverheardofhim,”Berrysaid.
GenevievefilledBerryin.“You’dlovehisstuff.Hisdesignsaresocleanandminimalistic.”SheturnedtoPeterandsaid,“YouknowthatnavydressIhavewiththewhitepiping?”
“TheoneyouworetoLaura’sshower?”hesaid,referringtoourcousin’sbabyshower—whichwasmonthsago.ItwassoPetertokeeptrackofsuchdetails.
Genevievenodded,lookingproudofherattentivefiancé.
WithWilburnowlegitimized,IshotBerryasmugsmile,thenturnedinmychair,kickingonelegouttothesideofthetableandpointingdownatmyloafer.“TheseareWilburdrivingmocs.Softasbutter.Mynewfavorites.Anyway.CateisWilbur’sright-handwoman….Shehasimpeccablestyle—andshe’sjustreally…cool,”Isaid,wishingIhadthewordstocaptureheressence.“Andyes,shesoldmethese.”
Berrynodded,thensaid,“Interesting.So,where’dshegotocollege?”
Istaredatherandshookmyhead.“Look,Berry.Iknowwhatyou’redoinghere,andI’mnotgoingforit,”Isaid.
“What?”shesaid,allwide-eyedinnocence.
“Canyoustopbeingasnobfor,like,onesecond?”
“Iamnotasnob,”shesaid,trulybelievingwhatshewassaying.“I’mjustaskingbasicquestions.It’sprettystandardtoaskwheresomeonewenttocollege.”
“Nah.Goodtry.That’sacoded,elitistquestion.Andyouknowit.Yousoundlikemymother,”Isaid,gettingworkedup.IlookedatPeterandsaid,“Doesn’tshe?”
Alwaysthediplomat,Petershruggedandsaid,“Oh,Idon’tknow,Joe.She’sjustaskingwherethegirlwenttoschool.It’snotlikesheaskedwhatcountryclubshebelongsto—orwhatherfatherdoesforaliving.”
“Yeah.Forreal,Joe,”Berrysaid.“WhatshouldIbeaskingyou?”
“Idon’tknow—stufflike…whatweliketodotogether.Whethershe’snice.”
“Oh,Iknowwhatyouliketodotogether,”shesaid,rollinghereyes.“AndsodoeseveryoneelsewhoreadsthePost.ButI’llplayalong.Isshenice?”
Ismiled,shookmyhead,andsaid,“Actually?No.Notespecially.”
Genevievelaughedandsaid,“Wait.Seriously?”
“Well,she’snotabitchoranything…butshe’snotoneofthoseoverlynicey-nicegirls.She’snotfake.NothingaboutCateisfake.”
Berryraisedhereyebrowsandsaid,“Nothing?Amodelwithoutaboobjob?”
Ishookmyheadandsaid,“Okay,Ber.Nowyou’rejustbeingabitch.”
“Okay,sorry,”Berrysaid,herexpressionsofteningabit.“Whencanwemeether?”
“OnlywhenIcantrustyoutobepolitetoher,”Isaid.
“I’malwayspolite!”
IresistedtheurgetoremindheraboutNicole—andsomeoftheothertimesshe’dbeenlessthanpleasantwithwomenIliked—andsaid,“Wealsohavetogetthroughthisinitialpaparazzisituation.”
“Meaningwhat?”Petersaid.
“Meaningshejustgotstalkedandisnowalittleskittish….Catehatesdrama.”
“Andshe’sdatingyou?”Peterlaughed.“Goodluckwiththat,man.”
“Exactly,”Berrysaid.“Andalso,funfact:womenwhogoaroundsayingtheyhatedramasecretlylovedrama.”
“That’sprettyaccurate,actually,”Genevievesaid.
“Well,tellme,Ber,”Isaid.“Doyouhatedrama?”
“YouknowIdo,”shesaid,walkingrightintomytrap,asIknewshewould.
“Sothen—youactuallysecretlyloveit?”
“No,”Berrysaid.“Buthere’sthedifference.Idon’tgoarounddatingtheworld’smostfamousbachelorandthencomplainingwhenmypictureisinthepaper.Andyou’llforgivemeifIdon’tentirelybuythatamodel—oraformermodel,whatever—hatesphotographersandattention.”
Peterfrowned,thensaidtoBerry,“IhavetoagreewithJoeonthisone.Youcan’tassumeshelovesdramaorattentionbecauseofherformerprofession—orbecauseshe’sdatingJoe.”
“Exactly!Ashardasitmightbeforyoutobelieve,Berry…Cateisactuallydatingmedespitemyname…andstufflikethis,righthere,iswhyshedidn’twanttojoinus.”
“Youinvitedher?”Berrysaid,lookingsurprised.
“OfcourseIinvitedher.She’smygirlfriend.I’mfallinginlovewithher,”Iblurtedout,myheartracing.
“Whoa!”Petersaid,movinghischairbackwithexaggeratedsurprise,thenlookingatthegirls.“Didyouhearwhattheworld’smosteligiblebachelorjustsaid?”
“Isuredid,”Genevievesaid,claspingherhandsandbringingthemtoherheart.“Doyoumeanthat,Joe?”
Withoutflinching,Isaidyes,thenlookedrightatBerry.“AndI’mgoingtoneedyoutotrustme—andgiveherthebenefitofthedoubtforachange.”
Berrystaredbackatmeforafewseconds,thenasked,“Howseriousisthis?Isshe…marriagematerial?”
Itookasipofmywineandansweredadifferentquestionthantheonesheseemedtobeasking.“Well,ifby‘marriagematerial,’youmeansomeoneIcanseemyselfmarrying?…Thentheanswerisyes,”Isaid.“Sheabsolutelyis.”
—
Thefollowingmorningmymothercalled,playingdumb,waitingformetotellherthenewsthatsheobviouslyhadalreadyheardfromBerry.Iplayeddumbrightback,forcingherhand.
“Oh.AndIhearyou’reinlove?”shefinallysaidaftersomesmalltalk.Hertonewasneutral,butIknewbetter.
“Yep.Seemsthatway,”Isaid,bristling.
“Andsheworksinfashion?”
“Yes,”Isaid.“Shehasincrediblestyle.SheworkswithWilburSwift.Youknowhim,right?”
“Vaguely,”shesaid.“So,Joseph,wouldyousaysheismorelikePhoebeorMargaret?”
Ibitmytongue—andnotfiguratively—thensaid,“I’mnotsureIunderstandthatquestion,Mom.She’snotlikeeitherofthem.She’sherownperson.”Ipaused,thenadded,“Likeweallare.”
“Yes,”mymothersaid.“Isupposethat’strue….Well.WhencanImeether?”
“Soon,”Isaid.
“Howsoon?”
“AssoonasIconvinceherthatherlifewon’tsuckwithmeinit,”Isaid.ThenItoldmymotherthatIreallyhadtogo.CHAPTER16
Cate
Inthedaysfollowingmydebutinthetabloids,IfieldedcountlessphonecallsandemailsfromfriendsandacquaintanceswhohadeitherseenthePostorheardaboutit.EveryonewantedtoknowwhatthedealwaswithJoe.Itoldthemthatwewereseeingeachother,butthatitwasn’tserious.Wewerejusthavingfun.Itaddedup,ofcourse,becausethat’showtheworldsawhim.Hewastheultimategood-timeguy.
Meanwhile,Ikeptalowprofile.Iwastoonervoustoriskgettingcaughtagain,andItoldJoeIjustneededafewdaystoregroup.Onourfourthnightapart,heinvitedmeoutwithsomeofhisfriendsandfamily.Ideclined,optinginsteadformypaparazzi-freelivingroomwithElnaandCurtis.Attheendofthenight,hecalledmefromwhatsoundedlikeapayphoneatabar.
“Whereareyou?”Iasked.
“BrotherJimmy’s,”hesaid.
“Whichone?”
“TheoneonSecondAve.”
“Oh,”Isaid,feelingexcitedthathewassoclosetomyapartment.
“CanIcomeover?Ineedtoseeyou.Please?”hesaid,soundingalittlebitdrunk.Maybealotdrunk.
Mymindtickedthroughthecalculations—theriskofgettingbustedversustheconsiderablerewardofseeinghim—butdecidedthatitwasbettertobesafethansorry.“Idon’tthinkthat’sagoodidea,”Isaid.
“Aw,c’mon.Whynot?”
“Becauseit’slate.”
“It’snotthatlate.”
“Still.It’lllooklikeabootycall,”Isaid.
“That’sridiculous.You’remygirlfriend,”hesaid.“It’snotabootycall.”
Isighed,thinkingthatwaseasyforhimtosaywhenhewasn’ttheonegettingcalledawhore.
WetalkedincirclesforafewsecondsbeforeIsaid,“Look,Joe.Ifyouwerephotographedcomingtomyplaceatthishour,exactlynoonewouldconstruethatasyoumissingyourgirlfriend.”
Hesighed,thensaid,“Okay.Well,canIcomeseeyouinthemorning?Canwehangoutforalittlewhile?”
“Ireallycan’t,”Isaid.“Ihavetobeatworkearly.”
“Whataboutafterwork?”
“Maybe.Ijustdon’tknow.”
Hehesitated,thensaid,“Cate,what’sgoingonhere?Ifwe’regoingtobetogether,wehavetoactuallybetogether.”
“Iknow….”
“So,what’sthedeal?Areyoutryingtobreakupwithme?Already?”
“Notyet,”Isaid.
“Ouch.”
“I’mjustkidding,”Isaidwithalaugh.“Buttheotherdayreallyshookme.AndrightnowIjustwanttohunkerdownandavoidsomeslimeballphotographerchasingmedownthestreetcallingmeawhore.”
“Oh,Cate.Shit,”Joesaid.“Hecalledyouthat?”
“Yeah,”Isaid.“Hedid.”
“Okay.Look.ThisiswhatIwastryingtotellyou…”hesaid,suddenlysoundingsober—andveryserious.“Thisiswhyweneedtostepoutandestablishourselvesasarealcouple.Thesneakingaroundisbackfiring.Wehavenothingtohide.”
“Whatdoyoumean‘stepout’?Whatdoesthatentail?”
“Well.Itcouldbeanynumberofthings.Wecouldgotoaneventtogether.Dothewholered-carpetdrill.Poseandsmile,arminarm.”
“Idon’tknowaboutanevent,”Isaid,imaginingalltheconversationsI’dhavetohavewithhaughtyphilanthropisttypes.
“Okay.Wecanjustgoouttodinner…thetwoofus…andtipoffaphotographerastowhereweare.”
“Youmean—cooperatewiththepaparazzi?”Isaid,themerethoughtfillingmewithdisgust.
“Yeah.Butitwouldbeonourterms.”
“Howdowedothat?”
“Well…Oneoftheguys—Eduardo’shisname—hasbeenfollowingmeforyears….Buthe’slessoffensivethantheothers….Iknowhe’ddoitforus….Thenwecanplantanofficialstatement—”
“Anofficialstatement?”Isaid,myheartskippingabeat.“Whatdoyoumean?”
“Youknow…somethinglike‘AsourceclosetoJoeKingsleyconfirmsthatthetwohavebeeninanexclusiverelationshipforseveralmonthsnow.’Thattypeofthing…whichwillrunalongsideourphoto.”
“Haveyoudonethatbefore?”Isaid,thinkingofMargaret—andthegirlsbeforeher.
“No.”
“Thenwhyareyoudoingitnow?”
“BecauseIwannaprotectyou.”
“DoIneedmoreprotectionthantheothers?”Iasked,thinkingthattherewasnowayanyonehadname-calledMargaret—aHarvard-educatedbluebloodwithabob
“No,”Joesaid.“You’reactuallytougherthananygirlI’veeverbeenwith.”
“Sowhy,then?”Ipressed.
“Because,”Joesaid,“I’mcrazyaboutyou,Cate.AndIwantthistowork.Morethananything.Andifthiswillhelpusbetogether,Iwanttodoit.That’swhy.”
Itwassohardtobelievewhathewastellingme,but,somehow,Idid.
—
ThatFridayevening,afteragonizingaboutwhattoweartodinner,IwalkedoutofmyapartmentwearingalittleblackYohjiYamamotodress,blackslingbacks,andredlipstick.IthadbeenafullweeksinceI’dseenJoe’sface,andmyheartskippedabeatwhenIsawhimsmilingatmethroughthebackseatwindowofashinyblacktowncar.
Iquicklyopenedthedoorbeforehecouldgetoutanddoitforme,slidinginbesidehim.“Hey,”Isaid,feelingoddlyshy.
“Hi,there,”hesaidinalowvoice.“Youlookfantastic.”
“Youdo,too,”Isaid,noticinghewaswearingthesameWilburensemblehe’dworninParis.
WestaredateachotherforafewmoresecondsbeforeJoeturnedtotellthedriverwewereallset.
Aswepulledawayfromthecurb,Iaskedhimwhereweweregoing,ashe’dwantedittobeasurprise.
“Aureole,”hesaid.“Iwantedtotakeyousomewhereabitmoreimaginative…butitwastoughtogetareservationonsuchlatenotice.”
“Youhadtroublegettingareservation?”Isaid.“Thatseemsunlikely.”
“Ididn’tusemyownname,dippy.”
Ilaughed,thensaid,“So.Whatnamedidyouuse?”
“MylesSavage.”
Ilaughedandsaid,“How’dyoucomeupwiththat?”
“It’saguyIprosecuted,”hesaid.“WhoIlikedalot.”
“Butyouprosecutedhimanyway?”
“Hadto.ButImayormaynothavefumbledinmyclosingargument,”hesaidwithawink.
Ismiled.Joehadpreviouslyconfidedthathesometimesblewacaseonpurposewhenhedidn’tthinkjusticewasexactlybeingserved.
“Sohowdoyoufeel?”heasked.
“Alittlenervous,”Isaid.“Buthappy.”
“Good.Metoo,”Joesaid,grinning,beforeleaningoverandgivingmealightkissonthecheek.
Afewminuteslater,weturnedontoSixty-firstStreet.Joefinallyletgoofmyhandaswepulleduptotherestaurant.I’dbeenthereoncebefore,backinmyCalvinKleindays,andIwincedrememberinghowI’dembarrassedmyselfbyeatingthefuzzy-hairlayeroftheartichokeheart.I’dcomeaverylongwaysincethen,butIstilldidn’tbelongherewithJoe.Ipushedthethoughtoutofmyheadasthedriverstartedtogetoutofthecar.
“It’sokay,man,”Joesaid.“Stayput.Igotthis.”
“Areyousure,Mr.Kingsley?”thedriversaid.
Joesaidhewassure,thenpointedoutmywindowtoamansmokingacigaretteonthesidewalkjustafewdoorsdownfromtherestaurant.“Thereheis,”Joesaid.“Myguy.Eduardo.”
Inodded,mystomachchurning,thencheckedmylipstickinmycompact.Itlookedfine,butItoucheditupanyway,stalling.
“Youready?”hesaid.
Inodded.
Joesmiledandgavemeathumbs-upbeforegettingoutofthecaronthestreetside,thenslowlycirclingaroundtomydoor,givingEduardotimetogetinposition.Thesecondheopenedmydoor,thecarwasbathedincameraflashes.AsJoereacheddownformyhand,Igaveittohim,steppingaselegantlyasIcouldoutofthecarandontothecurb,whichisalwaystoughtodoinadressandheels,especiallywhilebeingblinded.
Thenextfewsecondswere,asmuchasIhatetoadmitit,abitofanadrenalinerush—sodifferentfromthelasttimeI’dbeenphotographedonthestreet.Thistime,itfeltmorelikemodeling.Plus,Iwasready,andIwaswithmyboyfriend,whowasalwaysdoingchivalrousthings,likeputtinghishandonmyback,guidingmetowardthefrontdooroftherestaurant,murmuringformetowatchmystep.Istilldidn’tbelieveinfairytales—orthatthisstorywasgoingtohaveahappyending.Butinthatmoment,Icouldn’thelpfeelingalittlebitlikeCinderella.
Rightaswegottothedoor,Joepaused,hishandstillonmyback,thenturnedtolookatmeandsmile.Idon’tthinkhewasstagingafinalshot.Itseemedmorelikehewantedtoreassuremethatwe’dmadeitthroughthegauntlet.Inanycase,Ismiledbackathimasthecameraflashedonemoretime.
Itwouldbetheimagewechosethenextday,inasecretmeetingwithEduardorightbeforehesoldexclusiverightstoPeoplemagazinefortwohundredthousanddollars.Hegaveushalf,whichJoeandIdonatedtotheKingsleyFoundation.Itboggledmymindthatanyonewouldpaythatmuchmoneyforonephotograph.Butwhatreallyblewmymindwaseverythingthatcameaftertheissuehitthestands.CHAPTER17
Joe
TheminutethePeoplemagazineissuelanded,andtheworldsawthatdazzlingphotoofCatewalkingintoAureoleonmyarm,shebecameafull-blownsensation—andnotmylatestfling.ThepaparazzicampedoutsideherapartmentandtheWilburSwiftstore,followingheralloverthecity,whilereportersandmorningshowsblewupheransweringmachinewithrequestsforinterviews.
IcouldtellCatehatedeverythingabouttheattention,butshehandleditwithgrace,followingmyadviceaboutnotrunningortryingtohideandinsteadjustgoingaboutherbusiness.Sheattributedallthehoopla(asshecalledit)tothequoteinthePeoplearticlefroma“Kingsleyinsider”confirminga“committedrelationship.”Obviously,thatwhippedsomefolksup,butItoldheritwasmorethanthat.Afterall,thepressandpublichadneverbeenthisfrenziedoverMargaret.
WhenIpointedthatouttoCateonenight,shelookedsurprised.“Andwhyisthat?”
“Becauseshe’snotyou,”Isaid,thinkingthatMargaretwasthetypeofgirleveryoneexpectedmetobewith—butCatewasthekindofgirleveryonewishedtheycouldbe.“And,Imean—haveyouseenyourself?”Ismirked,puttingonepalmonherassaswestoodatmystovetogether,makingpasta.
“C’mon.Beserious,”shesaid,brushingoffmycomplimentalongwithmyhand.“Doyouthinkit’sbecausewe’resuchanunlikelymatch?”
“Unlikely?Howso?”
“Youknow,”shesaid,lookingalittleuncomfortable.“Wehaveprettydifferentbackgrounds.”
“They’renotthatdifferent,”Isaid.
“ComparedtoyouandMargaret,they’reprettydifferent,”shesaid.
Ishrugged,wishingIhadn’tbroughtupMargaretinthefirstplaceandvowingnottodoitagain.“Oh,Iforgottotellyou!MymothersawthePeoplemagazine,”Isaid,changingthesubject.
“Shedid?”
“Yeah.Iguessherhairdressershowedherorsomething….Anyway,shetoldmeyouappearedtohave‘understatedelegance.’?”
“That’snice,”shesaid.
“Yeah.Shereallywantstomeetyou,”Isaid,testinganoodleanddeterminingthatitwasready.“Andthat’sfarfromagiven.Believeme.”
Catelookedthoughtful,thenaskedifmymotherhadevermetPhoebe.
“Nah,”Isaid,asIturnedofftheburnerandputonmyovenmitt.
“Whynot?”Cateasked,followingmetothesinkasIpouredthepastaintoacolander.
“BecauseIknewmymotherwouldn’tlikeher.”
“Andwhyisthat?”
“BecausePhoebelackedsubstance,”Isaid.
“Howso?”Catepressed.
“Idon’tknow….Shewasjustalittleshallow.Sheonlyreallycaredaboutfameandmoneyandherdesignergoods,”Isaid,rememberinghowshewasalwaysshamelesslytryingtogetfreebies.
“Ilikedesignergoods,too,”Catesaidwithashrug.“Imean…Iworkforafashiondesigner.”
Ishookmyheadandsaid,“It’snotthesamething.”
“Ifyousayso…”shesaid,hervoicetrailingoff.
“Yes.Isayso.Andmymotherwillagree,”Isaid.“She’sgoingtoloveyou.”
Catelookeddown,blushing.“EventhoughIdidn’tgotocollege?”
Iobviouslyknewshehadn’tgone,butitwasthefirsttimeshe’deversaidthewordsaloud,andIhatedthatshelookedsoembarrassed.
“Cate.Youhadadifferentpath.You’reself-taughtandself-made.You’vetraveledtheworld.Shit,youspeakfluentFrench.That’smoreimpressive.”
“Moreimpressivethanwhat?AHarvarddegree?”shesaid.“Idon’tthinkso….”
“Well,Ido,”Isaid.“AndIknowmymother.Canshebeasnob?Yes.Absolutelyshecan.Butsheknowssubstancewhensheseesit.Andmorethananything,shevaluesstrengthofcharacterandauthenticity,andyouaredrowninginboth.”
Categavemeasmallsmile,lookingdubious,thensaid,“Okay.Butthere’ssomethingelseIneedtotellyou….”
“What’sthat?”Isaid.
Shebitherlipandtookadeepbreath.“It’sreallyembarrassing.”
“Youcantellme,”Isaidsoftly.“Whateveritis…”
Sheswallowed,thenmetmygaze,hercheeksanevendeepershadeofpink.“Well,inadditionto,um,notgoingtocollege…Iactually…didn’tfinishhighschool….”
“Oh,”Isaid.Itwasn’tatallwhatIexpected—andIhadtoadmit,Icouldseewhyshewassoembarrassed—butIdidmybesttoreassureher.“That’sokay,honey.Whoyouarematterstome—nothowmuchformalschoolingyou’vehad.Youcanbeeducatedwithoutdegrees.”
Sheshookherhead,lookingsomiserable,likeshemightcry.“Idon’tknow,Joe.Ireallydon’tthinkyourmotherwillseeitthatway.”
“Yes.Shewill.Sheknowsthatsomeoftheworld’smostsuccessfulpeople…didn’tfinishhighschool,”Isaid,stumblingabitasIdidmybesttoavoidthewordsdroppedout
“Nameone,”shesaid.“Fromthiscentury.”
“Ican’tcomeupwithexampleslikethat…butthereareplenty….PrettysureJohnTravolta’sone….Andmymomlovesthatguy.ShesawGrease,like,tentimes.It’sthefirstvideosheboughtwhenwegotourVCR.”
“SobecauseyourmotherlikesGreaseshe’sgoingtobeokaywithmebeingahigh-schooldropout?Idon’tthinkso,”Catesaid,butatleastshewassmiling.“Yourfamilyrepresentspedigreeandgoodupbringingtothevastmajorityofpeopleinthiscountry.Ihardlythinkyourmotherisgoingtobeokaywiththis.”
“Look.Youlefthomeforabiggeropportunity,right?”
“Well…yeah…amongotherthings…”
Iwantedtoaskaboutthoseotherthingsbutassumeditwasmoneyanddidn’twanttomakehermoreuncomfortable.“Well,howisthatdifferentfromTravolta?”
“He’satadbitmoresuccessfulthanIam.”
“He’smorefamous.Notmoresuccessful.”
“OhmyGod,Joe.Beserious,”shesaidwithalaugh.“Yes,heis!”
“Okay,”Isaid,tryinganotherangle.“Doyouregretyourcareerinmodeling?Alltheexperiencesyouhadbecauseofit?”
Shehesitated,thensaid,“Well…yesandno…”
“Hey!Theanswerbetterbeno!”Isaid.“Wewouldn’thavemetifyouweren’tamodel.”
Shenodded,thensaid,“Iknow.I’vethoughtofthat…andIreallywasabletoseetheworldbecauseofthatjob.PlacesIneverotherwisewouldhavegone.Butstill…everyoneshouldgraduatefromhighschool.”
“Okay…sogogetyourGED,”Isaidwithashrug.“It’snevertoolatetogotocollege,either,ifthat’swhatyouwant.Andifyoudon’t,that’sfine,too.Youhaveagreatcareerandyou’resmartashell.Attheendoftheday,it’sreallyjustapieceofpaper….”
“Again.Ireallydon’tthinkyourmotherwillagree.”
“Yes,shewill.It’llallbefine.”
“Areyougoingtotellher?”
“Idon’tthinkit’snecessarytomakesomebigannouncement.Butifitcomesup,wetellthetruth.Andifshedoesn’tlikeit—”
“Whichshewon’t—”
“Thenherloss,”Isaid,raisingmyvoicealittle.
“Youdon’tmeanthat,”shesaid.
“Yes,Ido,”Isaid.“Iabsolutelydo.”
Shestaredatmeforafewsecondsbeforethankingmeinawhisper.
Ishookmyhead,thensaid.“Youdon’thavetothankme.That’sjustbasicshit….Loyalty101.”
“Maybe,”shesaidwithasmallsmile.“ButIcanstillthankyou.”CHAPTER18
Cate
InourdealwithEduardoandPeople,sellingthemexclusiverightstoourphotograph,theyagreedtoplaybyourrulesandprintonlywhatwewantedthemtoprint.Whichistosaythemostbasicinformationaboutme.Name,age,hometown,jobtitle,andareferencetothefactthatIhadoncebeenanElitemodel.And,ofcourse,therewasaquotefromafakeKingsleyinsiderdeclaringusanofficialitem.
Joe’splanworkedtoaT.Ourrelationshipwaslegitimizedovernight—hell,Iwaslegitimized—anditwasimpossiblenottofindthatgratifying,and,ifIadmit,alittleexciting.
Ofcourse,theelevationtoJoe’slegitimategirlfriendcamewithaprice,aseverythinginlifedoes.Iwasnolongeranonymous—whichwasoneofthethingsI’dalwayslovedaboutthecity.ImournedmysuddenlossoftheprivacythatI’dtakenforgrantedforsolong,evenduringthepeakofmymodelingcareer.I’dneverbeenaknownnamelikeCindy,Christie,orElle.
Iwasmaybebeingalittleparanoid,butIfeltasifIwasconstantlybeingwatched—onthesubway,inthepark,everywhere.EvenwhenIwasn’t,IfearedthatIwouldbeatanysecond.Icouldneverletmyguarddown,anditwasphysicallyandmentallydrainingtoknowthatIwasalwaysoneheadlineawayfrombeingexposedasanimpostor.Asin:High-SchoolDropoutDupesAmerica’sPrince
IdecidedIneededtotellJoethetruthaboutnotfinishinghighschoolbeforethepressfoundoutfirst,soIworkedupthecourageonenightaswemadedinnerinhiskitchen.Thefleetinglookofshockonhisfacecrushedme,thoughhequicklyrecovered,sayingalltherightthings.Itwasapainful,mortifyingcoupleofminutes,butitalsofeltlikeaweighthadbeenlifted.Iwassorelieved,infact,thatitcrossedmymindtoconfideeverythingaboutChip’sabuseandmyrealreasonsforleavinghome.Ultimately,though,Idecidedagainstthat,justasIhadwithWendyinhighschool.I’dratherbejudgedthanpitied,especiallybecauseIunderstoodthatthelatterdoesn’tnecessarilyimmunizeonefromtheformer.
Afewdayslater,JoeinvitedmetotheHamptonsfortheupcomingweekend.HismotherandBerryweregoingtobethere,andhewantedmetomeetthem.Isaidyes,tryingnottooverthinkthings,whichwasdifficulttodowhenCurtiskeptpepperingmewithgiddyquestions.
“Whatareyougoingtotakeasahostessgift?”heaskedmeacoupleofdaysbeforeourdepartureasthetwoofushungoutatmyplace.
“Idon’tknow,”Isaid.Thethoughthadn’tcrossedmymind—whichworriedme.WhatelsecouldIbeforgetting?
“Well,youneedtonailthat.”
Inodded,thensaid,“Ican’tgowrongwithanicebottleofwine,canI?”
“Yes,ma’am,youmostcertainlycangowrongwithabottleofwine.Dependingonthebottle,”Curtissaid.“Besides,wineasahostessgiftisacliché.”
“Sometimesthingsareclichéforareason,”Isaid.“Winefeelslikeasafechoice.”
“It’snotthetimetobesafe,”Curtissaid,shakinghisheadandpacingaroundmybedroom.“You’rehavingamoment,andyouneedtoseizeit.Amplifyit.Makeastatement.”
“Alrighty,then,”Isaid.“Howaboutabottleofchampagne?”
“Toopresumptuous.”
“Abottleofpastis?”
“TooFrench.”
“Dottie’shalfFrench.”
“Butyou’renot.Soit’spandering…andcanwepleasethinkbeyondalcohol.”
“Okay.Howaboutanicescentedcandle?”
“Ugh.Acandle?That’smoreclichéthanwine.Andanyway,scentsaretoopersonal.”
Isighedandaskedforhissuggestion,whichIshouldhavejustdonetobeginwith.
“Idon’tknow….Butitneedstobeexpensive…yetnotcomeoffasobviouslyexpensive.Likeoneofthosehomegoodsthatcatchesyoureye…untilyoupickitupandgetstickershock.”
Inodded,thinkingthatitwasthereverseoftheusualruleofthumb—tohavesomethinglookmoreexpensivethanitwas.
“ThinkABCCarpet&Home—notBarneysorTiffany,”hesaid.
“Well,yeah.ObviouslynotTiffany,”Isaid,picturingtheabsurdoverkillofshowingupwithablueboxandwhitesilkribbon.
“Itcan’tbeaknownbrand,butitneedstosignalluxury…likeafabulousserape-stripeTurkishrobethat’schicenoughtodoubleasapoolsidecover-up.”
Ilaughed,amusedbyhisspecificity.“Oh,sure.Theserape-stripeTurkishrobe,ofcourse.”
Curtissatonmybedandsmoothedthebedcoversaroundhim,ignoringme.“Weneedtothinkhigh-endlifestylehere,forsure…SlimAarons…BabePaley…BunnyMellon….”
“Or,say,DottieKingsley?”
“OhmyGod,yes.Yes!Goodpoint,”hesaid,pressingonehandtohistemple.“Canyoubelievethisishappening?”
“Nothingishappening,”Isaid,thoughIknewwhathemeant.
“Well,it’sabouttohappen,”Curtissaid.“It’son,girl.”
Ilaughed,butcouldn’thelpfeelingalittleexcited,too.
“Now,let’ssee…whatbagwillyoubepacking?”
“Arewetalkingaboutmysuitcase?”
“Yes,”hesaid.“Butyouknowyoucan’ttakeanactualsuitcase,right?”
“Ican’t?”Isaid,glancingoveratthecarry-on-sizerollerbagI’dalreadypulledfrommycloset.
Hefollowedmyeyesandlookedhorrified.“Thatthing?”heasked,pointing.“Noway.”
“Whatintheworld,Curtis?It’sabasicblackbag!”
“Still.No,”hesaid.“You’lllooklikeaflightattendant.”
“What’swrongwithbeingaflightattendant?”Isaid,shiftingintomydefensive,contrarianmode.
“Oh,stop.YouknowwhatImean.There’snothingwrongwithbeingaflightattendant.Noristhereanythingwrongwithabasicblacksuitcase,”Curtissaid.“Butit’sthewronglook….You’renotgoingonabusinesstrip.You’reweekending.”
Igavehimapointedlook,thensaid,“Pleaseneverusethatasaverbagain.”
“Butthat’swhatyou’redoing.You’reweekending,”herepeatedwithextrapanache.“IntheHamptons.WiththeKingsleys.Soyou’regoingtoneedasatchelofsomesort.”
“Asatchel?”Ilaughed.
“Softluggage.LikeaLouisVuittonduffel.Orabrownleatherbag,wellwornwithabeautifulpatina.Likeit’sbeenallaroundtheworld.”
“Thatsuitcasehasbeenaroundtheworld—andIhardlyhavetimetogetaleatherbagpatinaedinthenextfewdays,”Isaid.
“Yeah.No.I’msorry.Thatthingisdepressinglypedestrian.Whatelsedoyouhave?Anythingwithapatricianvibe?”
Ilaughed.“You’reabsurd.”
“Okay,howaboutaduffel?”
“Sorry.No.”
“Youdon’townasingleduffel?”
“Notthekindofduffelyou’retalkingabout.”
“Whatkindisit?”
“AnL.L.Beantotebag,”Isaid,thinkingoftheonethatWendy’smotherhadgivenmelongago.
Curtispursedhislips,thinking.“Ithinkwecanworkwiththat….Thelargesize?”
Inodded.
“Andwhat’stheaccentcolor?”
“Navy.”
“Okay…andisitmonogrammed?”
“Yes,”Isaid.
“Evenbetter.”
“Okay,”Isaid,amused.“ButpleaseexplaintomewhyonearthyouthinkL.L.BeanisbetterthanaTumisuitcase?”
“Becauseyouneedtogohighorlow.Old-moneytypeslovetheprice-pointextremes….Theyeitherdriveabrand-newMercedesorabeat-upVolkswagen….TheywearaRolexoraTimex…andtheyresistanysortofupgradeontheirelectronicsbecause‘Hey,thisonestillworks!’It’sreversesnobbery.Newmoneyequalsnewshit.”
“Wow,”Isaid,thinkingofJoe’sstubbornloyaltytovinylandcassettesoverCDs.“That’sreallytrue.”
“Yeah,”Curtissaid.“Stickwithme,kid.IknowwhatI’mdoinghere.”
—
ThatSaturdaymorning,JoepickedmeupjustbeforesunrisewithThursdayintow.Tomygreatamusement,hewasdrivinganoldJeepWagoneerwithseventieswoodpaneling.Smilingtomyself,IputmyL.L.Beantoteinthebackseat,alongwithagiftbagcontainingCurtis’schoiceofalinenrobe,thenclimbedintothecarnexttoJoe.
Hebeamedatmeandsaid,“Don’tyoulookcute.”
“Thanks,”Isaidwithalaugh,thinkingthatnooneevercalledmecute.
“Andlook—wematch,”hesaid,givingmeaonce-overashepattedmyleg.
Inodded—wewerebothwearingdenimandwhite,butthesimilaritiesstoppedthere.PossiblyoverthinkingwhatwasappropriateforabeachweekendwithDottieKingsley,I’dwornasleevelesssilkblouse,flaredjeans,andleatherslides,whereasJoehadonoldLevi’s,adingyT-shirt,andredhigh-topsneakers.
“Niceshoes,”Isaid.
“Youdon’tlikeChuckTaylors?”heasked,pretendingtobewoundedbeforecheckinghisrearviewmirrorandputtinghiscarindrive.
“Notparticularly,”Isaid.“Especiallywhenthey’rered.”
Joelaughed,thensaid,“Well,mymotherhatesthem,too.”
“Isthatwhyyouworethem?”Iasked.
Helaughedandhandedmeoneoftwocoffeecupsintheconsolebetweenus.“Hereyougo.Threecreams,nosugar.”
“Aw.You’rethebest.”Igavehimaquickkiss,thenleanedbackinmyseat,gettingcomfortable.
JoedrovedownSecondAvenue,onehandonthesteeringwheel,theotherfiddlingwiththeradiodial.HelandedonJohnMellencampsinging“WildNight”andimmediatelyjoinedin,beltingoutthelyrics.Itwasalittleloudforsoearlyinthemorning,buthisenthusiasmwasinfectious.Ilookedoutmywindowandsmiled,feelingacontentmentthatborderedonexcitement.Gettingoutofthecitywasalwaysathrill,especiallyinthesummertimewhenyouwerewithaguyyouliked.Reallyliked.Lifewasgood,Itoldmyself,andafewminuteslater,aswemergedontotheLongIslandExpressway,Iwassingingalong,too.
Thenexttwohourspassedquickly,asJoeandIlaughedandtalkedandlistenedtomusic.OccasionallyI’dfeelmyselfstarttofretabouttheintroductionstocome,butforthemostpart,Ikeptmyanxietyatbay.Iwasn’tonetoputmyfootinmymouth—Iwastoocircumspectforsuchmissteps.Itwasallgoingtobefine.Ormaybeitwasn’t.Eitherway,Iwouldsurvive.
—
BythetimewereachedthewindmillatHalseyLane,theeffectsofmypeptalktomyselfhadexpired,andthehighofourroadtripwasreplacedbyasinkingdread.Tobefair,itwastheeffecttheHamptonsalwayshadonme,evenwhenIwasn’theadedtheretomeetDottieKingsley.Itcouldbereallyfun—andwasundeniablybeautiful—butitwasalsoexhausting.Everywhereyoulooked,therewerebankersandlawyersandPRtypes,and,yes,models,alljockeyingforposition,franticallytryingtofigureoutwheretogo,whattowear,andhowtogainentrytothehottestrestaurants,clubs,andparties.Likeonebigcastingcall.EventhoughIhadoptedoutofthesceneyearsago,andmymemoriesofallthosepretentiousWhitePartieswereinthedistantpast,therewasnowaytopretendthatIwasn’tnowheadedintothebiggestauditionofmylife.
AswepulleddownaresidentialroadmarkedPRIVATE,JoewavedtoamansittinginaBuick,readinganewspaper.Heslowedtoastop,wounddownhiswindow,andyelled,“What’sup,Hank?”
“Sameold!Goodtoseeyou,Joe!”
Joewavedagain,thenkeptdriving,tellingmethatHankhadbeenwithhisfamilyforyears.
“Isheasecurityguard?”Iasked.
“Hedoesitall.Handyman.Gardener.Gatekeeper,”JoesaidaswereachedtheendoftheroadandtheentrancetotheKingsleydriveway.
Joeturnedontoit,butIcouldn’tseeanything,thepropertyscreenedbytallprivacyhedges.
“Herewego,”Joesaid,pullingthroughanopengate.“Home,sweethome.”
Conjuringimagesfrommymother’soldmagazines,Iknewitwouldbeimpressive.Butasthesprawlingwaterfrontpropertycameintoview,Icaughtmybreath.Itwassomuchmorespectacularinperson,thewayphotographedlandmarksoftenare.The“Kingsleycompound”comprisedthreebuildings,allgleamingwhiteclapboard.Themainhousewasamansionbyanymeasure.Ithadawidefrontporchandgreen-and-whitestripedawningandmanagedtobebothgrandandcharmingatonce.Itwasflankedbytwosmallerbuildings,whichJoesaidwerethepoolhouseandguestcottage.
“Wow.It’sbeautiful,”Isaid,overwhelmedbytheexplosionofcolor—theimpeccablegreenlawn,thepinkrosesclimbingwhitetrellises,thepurplehydrangeasbloomingallovertheyard,andthebackdropofvividblueskyandseameetingonthehorizon.
“Yeah.It’sprettyspecial,”Joesaidasheparked,acknowledgingthatevenherealizedthiswasn’tyourtypicalHamptonsbeautiful.
Hisvoiceandsmilewerebothsoft,nearlyreverent,andIcouldn’thelpthinkingofhisfatherandtheweightofhisfamily’shistory,especiallyasIlookedupandsawanAmericanflagflyingfromapoleinthecenterofthelawn.
“Whenwasitbuilt?”Iasked,wantingtoknow,butalsostalling,notquitereadytogetoutofthecar.
“Nineteenten,”hesaid.“Mygrandfatherbuiltit.”
“Hedid?”Isaid,impressed.
“Well,no.”Joechuckled.“Hehaditbuilt.”
“Oh,yes,ofcourse,”Isaid.“Andnowyourwholefamilysharesit?”
“Yeah,”Joesaid.
“Howdoesthatworkwithallthecousins?”Iasked,stillstalling.“Aretheresign-upsforcertainweekends?”
“Notreally,”Joesaid.Heopenedhisdoor,steppingontothecrushedseashelldrive,thenlettingThursdayoutofthecar.“Wejustsortofmakeitwork.It’smorefunwhenwe’reallheretogetheranyway.”
Ismiledtomyself,amusedbythenotionofmakingamassivewaterfrontestateintheHamptons“work,”thenreluctantlyopenedmydoorwhileJoeretrievedourbagsfromthebackseat.Itriedtotakemyown,buthewouldn’tletme,soIfollowedhimandThursdaydownthepathinstead,thenclimbedthestairsleadinguptotheporchofthemainhouse.Whenwegottothedoor,Joemotionedformetogoinfirst,bothofhishandsfull.
Itookabreathandopenedthedoor,holdingitforJoe.ThefoyerwasdimlylitwithafadedfloralwallpaperthatsurprisedmeuntilIrememberedCurtis’stheory.Thesepeoplehadnothingtoprove.
“Hell-oooo?”Joecalledout,droppingourbagsatthefootofawidestaircasethatturnedninetydegreesatmidflight.Whennobodyreplied,hemumbledthattheymustbeoutback,thenledmedownalonghallway,passingtwolargeroomsfilledwithdarkantiques,sun-fadedupholsteredfurniture,andwall-to-wallbookcases.Otherthaninalibrary,I’dneverseensomanybooks.
Aswereachedthebackporch,IgotunexpectedgoosebumpsfromboththesweepingviewandthefreshrealizationthatIwashere,inthisfamedsetting.Tuckedintoavastgreenlawnthelengthandwidthofafootballfieldwasaturquoisepoolsurroundedbystonedecking,atenniscourtlinedwithmorehedges,andgorgeousformalgardens.Beyondthemanicuredperfectionwasthecurved,ruggedshorelineandanendlessstretchofsparklingwaterdottedwithcolorfulboats,thesailsofwhichJoewouldlaterrefertoasspinnakers,awordIlovedthesoundof.
“Theretheyare!”Joesaid,pointingtoarowofwhiteAdirondackchairsinthefarcorneroftheyard,twoofthemoccupied.
MystomachdroppedalittleinanticipationasJoecuppedhismouthwithhishands,thenbeltedoutahello.DottieandBerryturnedandwaved,thenstoodinunisonandbeganslowlywalkingtowardusasThursdayracedaroundtheyard.BerrytrailedonestepbehindDottie,andIthoughtoftheQueenofEngland,wonderingifthisfamilyfollowedsimilarprotocol.Astheyapproachedtheporch,Icouldseetheywerebothwearingshiftdresses—Dottie’slemonyellowandBerry’samixofpastelbluesandpinks—andIfleetinglyquestionedmyoutfit.IremindedmyselfIneededtobeme—itwastheonlyway.
“C’mon,”Joesaid,takingmyhand,leadingmedowntheporchstepsandacrossthelawn.Hisgripwasfirmerthanusual,asifhecouldtellthatIwasnervous.Ormaybehewas.
“Well,youmadegoodtime!”Dottiesaidasshenearedus.Iinstantlyrecognizedhervoice,fromwhere,Iwasn’tsure.Maybeitwasadocumentaryoranepisodeof60Minutesthatmymomhadforcedmetowatch.Itwassurreal,beinghereinfrontofawomanwhomIwasjustmeeting,yetfeltlikeIknewsomuchabout.
“Yes.Ithinkitwasarecord!”Joesaid,squeezingmyhand.
“Ihopeyouweren’tspeeding,”hismothersaid,asweclosedthegap.
“Onlyalittlebit!”Joesaid,grinning.
Heletgoofmyhand,thengavehismotheraformalhugandkissonthecheek.IwaitedforhimtodothesamewithBerry,butinsteadhereachedoutandmussedherhair.Shepushedhishandawayandlaughed,andIcouldinstantlyfeeltheircloserapport.
“MotherandBerry…thisisCate,”Joesaid.“Cate,thisismymotherandBerry.”
Ipushedmysunglassesupontomyhair,headbandstyle,butinstantlyregrettedit,bothbecausethesunwasnowinmyeyesandbecauseDottieandBerrykepttheirglasseson.Notwantingtofidgetorappearnervous,Ilivedwithmydecision,squintingintothesunasDottiegracefullyextendedherslenderarmtoshakemyhand.
“Cate,”shesaid,makingmynameitsownsentence.Herfingersweredelicateandbirdlike,herskinoddlycoolgivenallthesunlight.“Howdoyoudo?”
Forsomereason,thewordingofhersimplequestionflusteredme,andIstumbledovermyreply.“I’mwell,thankyou….It’ssonicetomeetyou…bothofyou,”Isaid,shiftingmygazetoBerry.
“Thepleasureisallours,”Dottiesaidinatonethatwentalongwithherhandshake.Notquitealoof,butclose.Heroversizeglassesweredark,coveringmuchofherface,butIcouldstillmakeoutherchiseledcheekbones,whichJoehadinherited.Liketheestateitself,shewasmorestrikinginpersonandalmostformidable,despitehersmallstature.
“Yes,”Berrysaidinacheerfulvoice,steppingforwardtogivemeaquickhug.“We’veheardsomuchaboutyou,Cate.”
“Likewise,”Isaid,awordIdon’tthinkI’deverusedbefore.“Thankyoufortheinvitation,Mrs.Kingsley.Yourhomeissolovely.”ItwasanotherwordIseldomused.
Dottienoddedinresponse,asifI’djuststatedafactratherthangivenheracompliment,thensaid,“We’resopleasedyoucouldcomeforavisit….Shallwegoin?Areyouhungryafteryourdrive?”
Whatwasthepoliteanswer—yesorno?Fortunately,Joechimedinforus,announcingthathewasstarving.
Asweallmadeourwaybackintothehouse,Ibracedmyselfforaformalbrunchservedinthediningroomonatablesetwithsilverandcrystal.Iwasbothsurprisedandrelievedtofindthatwewereeatingonafarmhousetablejustoffthekitchen,withsimpleplacesettingsandsomebakedgoods,fruit,andapitcheroforangejuicethatlookedfreshlysqueezed.
“There’safreshpotofcoffeeinthekitchen,”Berrysaid.
“AndIcanputthekettleonifyouprefertea?”Dottiesaid,lookingatme.
Ipolitelydeclinedbothasweallwenttothetable,satdown,andbeganservingourselves.Noonespokeforanawkwardmoment.ThenDottieturnedtomeandsmiled.
“So,Cate,JoetellsusyougrewupinMontclair?”shesaid,usingherfork,Europeanstyle,topierceastrawberryhalf.
“Yes,”Isaid.
“That’salovelytown,”shesaid.“Doyourparentsstilllivethere?”
“Yes,”Isaid.“Well,mymotherandstepfather.”
“Isee,”shesaid.“Andyourfather?”
“HeactuallypassedawaywhenIwasquiteyoung.”
“Oh,I’msosorry,”Dottiesaid,cuttinghereyestohersonasiftosayheshouldhavewarnedher.
“Thankyou,”Isaid,lookingdown,wonderingifIshouldacknowledgeherlossaswell.OrBerry’s,forthatmatter,asJoehadtoldmethatshe’dlostbothofherparentsinaplanecrash.ButIdecidedthatitwasbettertomoveonfromthegruesomeaccidentsthatunitedus.
Apparently,Berryfeltthesamebecauseshequicklychangedthesubject.“Joetellsusthatyouworkinfashion,”shesaidasshespreadcreamcheeseonherbagelhalf.
Itwasmoreofastatementthanaquestion,butIanswereditanyway.“Yes,”Isaid,nodding.“Ido.”
“I’msorry—Iforgotthedesigner’sname?”shesaid.
“WilburSwift,”Isaid.
“That’sright.Sorry.I’mcluelessaboutfashion—muchtoDottie’shorror.”
“Oh,Berry,”Dottiesaid,shakingherhead.“Youknowthat’snottrue.”
“ThatI’mcluelessorthatyou’rehorrified?”Berrysaidwithalaugh.
“Neitheristrue!…Now,Joeisanotherstory,”Dottiesaid.
“Heey,now!Iresentthat!”Joesaid,pretendingtobeoffended,butlookingoddlyproudofhimself.
Dottieignoredhimandlookedatme.“Cate,Idohopeyou’llbeabletoassisthimonthatfront.”
“I’mtrying,Mrs.Kingsley,”Isaid,playingalong.
Joelaughedandaccusedusofbeingjealousofhisstyle.
“Whatstyle?”Berrysaid.
Thetwosparredforafewseconds,soundinglikebrotherandsister,beforeDottiecutin.“Andhowisyourjobgoing,Joe?”shesaid,eyebrowsraised.
Joeavoidedhergaze,takingahugebiteofadonut.“It’sokay,”hesaidwithashrug,powderedsugaronhislowerlip.
Dottiestaredbackathim.“Just…okay?”
“Yeah,”Joesaid.“I’mthinkingofrequestingatransfertoanotherdivision.Maybewhite-collarcrime.”
“Whywhite-collarcrime?”sheasked.“Isitmoreprestigiousthandoingdrugs?”
“Yeah.Well,Mother,doingdrugsisn’tprestigiousatall,”Joedeadpanned.“Infact,thereisquiteastigmaattachedtoit.”
“Oh,Joseph,”Dottiesaid,wavinghimoff.“YouknowwhatImeant.Wouldthisbeapromotion?”
“No,Mother,”hesaid,speakingslowly,hisjawtensing.“Itwouldn’tbeapromotion.It’sjustadifferentdivision….I’mtiredofprosecutingpettydrugoffensesthat,forthemostpart,seemraciallymotivated.Garyagrees.”
Dottienoddedandsaid,“Woulditbebetterintermsofmakingpoliticalconnections?Ultimatelyrunningforoffice?”
Joeshrugged,andDottiesaid,“Whatdoyouthink,Cate?”
“Aboutmovingtowhite-collarcrime?”Isaid,meetinghergaze,wonderingwhyIfeltsonervous.
Dottieshookherheadandsaid,“No.AboutJoerunningforofficeoneday?”
IcouldfeeleveryonestaringatmeasIstumbledovermyreply.“Umm.Idon’tknow,”Isaid.“Imean…Ithinkhe’dmakeagreat…politician…youknow…ifthat’swhathewantstodo.”
“Keywordbeingif,”Joemumbled.
Dottiepretendednottohearhimasshekeptstaringatme.“Yes.Iagree,Cate,”shesaid.“Ithinkhe’dbewonderful.Hehassomuchtooffer—andcouldreallymakeadifference.”
Forafewseconds,themoodatthetableseemedalittleawkward.ThenBerryrightedtheship,chattingbreezilyaboutJoe’scousinPeter’srecentengagementandthespringweddingheandhisfiancée,Genevieve,wereplanninginherhometownofAnnapolis,Maryland.Ilistened,wonderingifI’dbeattending.IcouldonlyhopethatIwould.
—
Afterbrunch,JoeandIwenttoourrespectivebedroomstofreshenupandchangeintoswimsuits.Iwasn’texactlysureofouragenda,onlythatweweregoingoutonhisboat,andthatitwasjustthetwoofus.I’dbeenonboatsbefore,butonlytheextremes—eitheryachtsformodelingshootsortackyrivercruiseswithtourguidestellingbadjokesamidnauseatinggasolinefumes.SoIwasn’texactlysurewhattoexpectorwhattowear.Iplayeditsafe,changingintoatankiniwithacover-upandapairofleathersandals.Then,decidingIlookedabittoobland,IpulledtheHermèsscarfJoehadgivenmeoutofmybag,foldeditinhalf,andwrappeditaroundmyhead,tyingadoubleknotundermyponytail.
WhenIfinallyopenedmydoor,Joewaswaitingformeinthehall.
“Hey,baby,”hesaid,grinningatme.“Ilikeyourscarf.”
“Why,thankyou,”Isaid,reachinguptotouchit.“ThishotguygaveittomeinParis.”
“Wow.”Hegrinnedagain.“Hemustreallylikeyou,huh?”
“Seemsthatway,”Isaid.
—
Ittooksometimetogettothemarina,andevenlongertogetJoe’sboatfreedfromthedock.Itremindedmeofsnowskiing—theonetimeIwent,Icouldn’tbelievealltheeffortthatwasrequiredjusttogetontotheslopes.Itdidn’tseemworththetrouble,anditkeptcrossingmymindthatI’dratherbesittingonthebeachwithagoodbook.
OnceJoeandIwereoutonthesparklingwater,though,withanoceanbreezeonourfaces,itallmadesense,andIalmostunderstoodwhythesepeoplelovedtheirboatsasmuchastheydid.Itreallywasexhilarating,andmyheartracedasJoerevvedhisengineandspedtowardthehorizonunderthebrightestblueskypaintedwiththin,wispyclouds
Asgorgeousastheviewswere—ineverydirection—itwashardtotakemyeyesoffJoe.Idon’tthinkI’deverseenhimlooksexierthanhediddrivinghisboat,onehandonthesteeringwheel,theotherreachinguptokeephisbackwardbaseballcapinplaceashetooksharpturnsinthewater,showingoff.Grippingthetopofthewindshieldonthecenterconsole,Iyelledforhimtoslowdown,butheonlylaughedandwentfasteraswegotwetfromtheseaspray.Irationallyknewweweren’tinanyrealdanger—thatJoeknewwhathewasdoing—butthereweremomentsIstillfeltalittlescared.Itwasthegoodkindofscared,though.Anadrenalinerushfromthebeautifulworldandthisbeautifulman.
AfterJoegotthespeedoutofhissystem,weturnedaround,headingtowardtheshore.Ithoughtmaybeweweregoingbacktothedock,butinsteadweputteredupanddownaseriesofpeacefulinlets.AlongthewayJoeoccasionallyletmesteerashetoldstories.Somewereabouthisfatherandgrandfather,familylorepasseddowntohim.Buthealsosharedhisownmemories,whichrangedfromsimpleandsweettooutlandishandbraggadocious.Therewasevenonetaleofanear-deathexperienceinvolvingkayakinginastorm.Ilistened,marvelingoverbothhisstupidityandhisbravery.IwasespeciallyfascinatedbythereactionfromhismotherandBerry;hismotherhadbeenterrified,andBerryonlyangry.ItwasadynamicIcouldperfectlypictureafterhavingmetthem.
Asifreadingmymind,JoesuddenlyaskedwhatIthoughtaboutthem.
“Ilovethem,”Iblurtedout.Itwasabitofanoverstatement,yetstillfeltsincere,perhapsbecausemyheartfeltsofull.
Joelookedrelieved.“Youdo?”
“Yes.Berry’sreallysweet.”Ihesitated,thenadded,“Honestly,Ididn’texpectthat.Iknewshe’dbenice,butIthoughtshewouldbeabit…harderonme.”
Joenodded,notbotheringtoplaydumb,whichIappreciated.“Yes.Shecanbeveryprotective…butIcouldtellshelovedyou,too.”
Ismiledandtoldhimthatmademehappy.
“Andwhataboutmymother?DoyouseewhatImeanabouther?Shedidn’tlasttwentyminuteswithoutgrillingmeaboutrunningforoffice.It’srelentless.”
“Yeah,”Isaid.“Butshejustwantsthebestforyou—andthinksthatyoucoulduseyournametomakeadifference.Youreallywouldmakeagreatpublicservant.”
“Oh,Ilikethatdescription,”Joesaid.“Itsoundsbetterthanpolitician…andyoureallythinkso?”
“Yes.Yougenuinelycareaboutpeople.Youcareaboutthecasesyouprosecuteandyoucareaboutwhydefendantsfindthemselvesinsituationsthatleadthemtocommitcrimes,”Isaid,feelingawaveofprideinhim.Hewassuchagoodperson.“Ilovethataboutyou.”
“Wow.That’sreallynice.Thankyou,”hesaidasweenteredthemostpicturesquecove.Theshorewasrocky,andthewaterlikeglass.Forthenextfewminutes,weidledalong,takinginthescenery.ThenJoecuttheengineandannouncedthatthiswastheperfectspotforapicnic.Hewalkedaroundtheconsoletothefrontoftheboat,reachedfortheanchor,andtosseditintothewater.Iwatchedashequicklyandexpertlytiedsomefancynauticalknot,thinkingwhataturn-onitwaswhenamanwassogoodatsomething.
Heglancedup,catchingmestaringathim,andsmiled.“What?”
“IwaswonderingwhetheryouwereaBoyScout.”
Joelaughedandsaid,“Whatwereyoureallythinking?”
Iswallowed,feelingmyselfblushasIputmyhandonhistannedforearmandsaid,“Okay,yes.Iwasthinkingthatwatchingyoutieaknotiskindofsexy.”
Joelaughed.
Ismiledashemovedtothebackoftheboat,spreadatowelonthefloorboards,andaskedmetojoinhim.Isatdown,watchingashegottoworkunpackingasmallcooler.
“Whendidyouputthistogether?”Iasked,impressedwithhisorganization.
“Ididn’t.IbeggedBerrytopickitupfromastoreintown,”hesaid,openingabottleofchilledwhitewinewithacorkscrewandpouringitintoplasticcups.Hehandedmeone,thentookhissunglassesoff,hitchingthemonthecollarofhisshirt.
“Tous,”hesaid,raisinghiscupwithasoulfulexpression.
“Tous,”Irepeated,tappingtheedgeofmycupagainsthis.
Forthenextthirtyminutesorso,wesippedwineandategrapesandcheeseandcrackersandlittlecucumbersandwiches,talkingandlaughing.
Atsomepoint,mybuzzkickedin,thetalkingturnedintokissing,thenfull-onmakingout.
“Isthissafe?”Iwhisperedatonepointasheslidhishandundermyswimsuittop,thenpulleditupandkissedonebreastwhilehepalmedtheother.
“Yes,”hesaid.“It’stotallyprivatebackhere.”
“Whataboutlong-rangecameras?”Isaid,thinkingofallthecelebritieswhohadbeenphotographedtoplessonvacations.
“There’snobodyouthere,babe,”hesaid,nowtakingmyhandandpressingitagainsthiserection.
HeletoutalowmoanthatmademewetterthanIalreadywas,andIknewthenwhatwasgoingtohappen.Sureenough,Joelaidmeonmyback,pullingdownmybathingsuitbottom.Heslidonefingerslowlyinsideme,thentookitoutevenmoreslowlybeforeputtingitinhismouth.Thenhewentdownonme.
Itwassogood—toogood—andIbeggedhimtostopevenasIheldontohishead,myhandsrunningthroughhishair.Then,justasIwasonthebrinkofexploding,hepulleddownhisswimtrunks,climbedontopofme,andslowlyenteredme.
“How?”hewhisperedwhenhewasthewholewayin.“Howisitthisperfect?”
“Becauseit’sus,”Isaid,breathless.
“Yes.Because.It’s.Us,”hesaid,thrustinginsidemewitheachwordastheboatbegantosway,thenrock,waterslappingagainstthesides.
Istaredupatthesky,watchingthecloudsdriftalong,feelingcompletelyhelplessasJoetalkedtomeinalowvoice,tellingmethatIwashis.Ibelongedtohim.Hebelongedtome.Hisvoiceinmyearmademecomesofastandhard,andasIdugmyhandsintohisback,hecame,too,sayingmynameoverandover.
Afterward,welaytheretogetherforthelongesttime,sweatingandcatchingourbreath.Thesunwashot,buttherewasabreeze,andwebothfellasleep.I’mnotsurehowmuchtimepassed,butwhenwewokeup,weputoursuitsbackon.ThenJoesatupandsaiditwastimeforaswim.
“Wait,”Isaid.“Aren’ttheresharks?”
Helaughedandsaid,“Tons.ButI’mbravelikethat.”
Icouldn’ttellifhewasjoking.“Seriously!Tellme,Joe!”Isaid,ashestoodatthebackoftheboat,preparingtojumpintothewater.“Aretheresharks?”
“I’veneverseenasharkinthiscove,”hesaid.“Butyouneverknow.There’safirsttimeforeverything!”
Wonderingifitwasthefirsttimehe’dhadsexinthisboat,Istoodandmovedtowardhim,thenlookednervouslydownintothewater.Icouldn’tseethebottom.“Howdeepisit?”
“Abouttenfeet,”hesaid.Asecondlater,hewasdivingin.Asheswamjustbelowthesurface,Iadmiredthelinesofhisbody.Whenhefinallyemerged,heshookthewaterfromhishair,grinningupatme.“Getinhere!”hesaid.“Itfeelssogood.”
Itwassomethingpeoplealwaysclaimedafterjumpingintocoldwater;Iwasn’tbuyingit.“I’llpass,”Isaid.
“You’renotgoingtoswim?”heasked.
ItwasthelastthingIwantedtodo.BeyondthefactthatIknewitwouldbecold,Ididn’twanttoembarrassmyself.Iknewhowtoswim,butbarely—andhadadistinctmemoryoffailingawatertreadingtestintheswimunitofninth-gradegymclass.Icouldn’tbelievehowexhaustingithadbeentosimplystayafloat.
ButJoekeptbeggingme,andIdidn’twanttobethatgirl.SoIaskediftherewasaladder.
“Aladder?”Helaughed,doingabackstrokebehindtheboat.“Thereisnoladder,baby.Justjumpin.”
“Well,thenhowwouldIgetbackintotheboat?”
“There’salittleswimplatformbackhere.See?”hesaid.
Ilookeddownandnodded.
“C’mon.Justgetin.Now.”
Icouldtellthenthathewasn’tgoingtogiveup,soItookadeepbreathandclimbedoverthebackoftheboat,thenslowlyeasedmyselfdownontotheteakplatformthatwaslikealittlebenchjustabovetheoceansurface.Danglingmylegsintothecoldwater,Ikickedthem,hopingthatthiswouldbeenoughtoappeaseJoe.Ididn’twanttoconfesstoanothershortcoming.Butheswamovertome,grabbedmycalves,andtriedtopullmein.
Atthatpoint,Ipanickedandblurtedoutthetruth.“Joe,no!Ican’tswim!”
Hissmileturnedtosurprise,thenconcern.“Youcan’tswim?”hesaid,nowhalfoutofthewater,hisarmsoneithersideofmythighs.
“Well,Icanalittlebit,”Isaid.“Butnotverywell.AndIjust…Idon’tlikedeepwater.”
“Well,weneedtofixthat,baby,”hesaid.
Inodded,soembarrassed,asJoeheavedhimselfoutofthewaterontotheplatformbesidemeandsaid,“Everyoneneedstoknowhowtoswim.It’sjustnotsafe—”
“It’ssafeifIstayawayfromthewater,”Isaid,cuttinghimoffwithasmile.
“But,Cate,”hesaid.“Don’tyouloveitouthere?”
InoddedandsaidthatIdid,verymuch.
“So,we’llgetyoulessons.OrIcanteachyou.Hell.Whydon’twestartnow?”
Ishookmyhead,startingtopanic,knowinghowpersuasivehecouldbe.“Nottoday.Please?Anotherday.Soon.”
“Okay,”hesaid.“Weshouldprobablystartinapoolanyway.”
“Yes.Definitelyapool.WhereIcanseethebottom.Andtherearenosharks.”
Joeclimbedbackintotheboat,thenpulledmeupafterhim.Hegrabbedafreshtowelandwrappeditaroundme,eventhoughhewasthewetone.
“I’msorry—”Isaid.
“Forwhat?”
“ThatIcan’tswim,”Isaid.
“Whatever,”Joesaid,shakinghishead.“You’reexactlywhatIwant.”
Inodded,feelingalittlebetter,rememberingwhatwe’djustdone.
“Cate?”Joewhispered,cuppingmyface.
“Yes?”Isaid.
“Iloveyou,”hewhisperedintomyear.
Iinhaled,toooverwhelmedwithemotiontoexhale,letalonespeak,butfinallyfoundmybreathandvoice.“Iloveyou,too,”Iwhisperedback.
Heleaneddownandgavemealong,slowkissthatfeltlikeasealonourjointdeclaration.
Andjustlikethat,fortheveryfirsttime,IbegantoimagineafuturewithJoe.CHAPTER19
Joe
Itwasthemostbeautiful,sunnyday,perfectforCate’sfirstspininmyboat.IwasonacompletehighasIshowedherallaround(andshowedoffsome,too).Then,justwhenIthoughtthingscouldn’tgetanybetter,weanchoredinaquietcoveandmadeloveonthewaterbeforefallingasleepineachother’sarms.Whenwewokeup,Iwentswimming,burningoffnervousenergy,becauseIknewthatitwastimetotellher.Icouldn’twaitanotherday.
Backintheboat,Ifinallysaidit:Iloveyou.Justlikethat.Icouldseeinhereyesthatshefeltthesame,butIstillfeltasifmyheartmightexplodeinmychestasshesaidthewordsbacktome.
—
Whenwegothome,CateandIfoundBerryonthebackporchplayingsolitaireatasmallsquaretablewecalledour“puzzletable.”Rightaway,Icouldtellshewasinsomesortofamood,asshebarelylookedupfromhercards,curtlyansweringmyquestionsaboutherday(“itwasfine”)andmymother’swhereabouts(“she’sresting”).Itwasveryuncomfortableandalittlerude.
AfewmoresecondspassedbeforeCatequietlyexcusedherself,sayingshewasgoingupstairstoshower.Assheslippedintothehouse,itcrossedmymindtofollowherandreassureherthatBerryjustgotmelancholysometimes—andthatwhenshedid,shecouldcomeacrossasdismissive.Butasmall,paranoidpartofmeworriedthatI’ddonesomethingtoupsether.HadInotbeenappreciativeenoughaboutthepicniclunchshe’dpickedupforme?ShouldIhaveaskedhertojoinusontheboat?Isatdownbesideher,waitingforhertolookup.
Whenshedidn’t,Iclearedmythroatandsaid,“Areyouwinning?”
Berrynodded,andinthenextfewseconds,shefinishedthegameinaflurryofactivity.Iwatchedasshesweptupthecardsandbegantoshuffle,hereyesstilldown.
“Okay,Berry.What’sgoingon?”Iaskedinaquietvoice.“Didsomethinghappentoday?”
“Yes,”shesaid,finallymeetingmygaze.“Youcouldsaythat.”
“And?Doyoucaretoshareitwithme?”Isaid,tryingtobepatientbutfeelingthefirsthintofannoyance.Itturnedintofull-onaggravationwhenshejustshrugged.
Berryletoutawearysigh,asifIweretheonetestingherpatience,thenmotionedformetoclosethedoor.Ileanedbackinmychair,pushingitshut.ThenIcrossedmyarmsovermychest,waiting.
Severalmoresecondspassedbeforeshesaid,“Didyouknowthatshegrewupobsessedwithyou?”
Istaredbackather,completelyconfused.“Whatareyoutalkingabout?Who’sshe?”
“Cate,”Berryhissedunderherbreath.“Shehadaposterofyouinherbedroom.Uponherwall.Sheandhermotherwerebothobsessedwithyou.Stillare.”
“That’snuts,”Isaid,myvoicelowandeven,thoughIcouldfeelmyheartstartingtorace.
“Sorry.Butit’strue,”Berrysaid.
“Howthehelldoyouknow?”Isnapped.
“It’sintheNationalEnquirer.”
“Areyoukiddingme?”Isaid,myvoicelouder.“TheNationalEnquirer?!Whendidyoustartreadingtabloids?”
“It’saquotefromCate’sownmother.”
“AndtheNationalEnquirernevermakesupquotes?”
“Therearepictures,too.OfCate’smotherwithherKingsleymemorabilia.Youhavetoseeit.”
“Firstofall,I’mnotlookingatthatshit,”Isaid.“Secondofall,I’dbetathousandbucksthattheyliedortwistedthetruthorsomehowtrickedhermotherintosayingit.Andthirdofall,evenifit’strue,andCatehadalife-sizeposterofmeinherroomasakid,sowhat?Whatdoesthathavetodowithourrelationshipnow?”
Berrystaredatme,blinking,aself-righteouslookonherface.“Well,letmeaskyouthis,Joe.”
Istaredbackather,waiting.
“Didsheevertellyouanyofthis?”sheasked.
“You’reassumingit’strue!”
“Isawphotographs!”
“OfCate’sroomwhenshewasachild?”
“No.Butofhermotherandallthememorabilia.Didsheevermentionthatbackstory?”
“Backstory?Youmeanthathermothercollectsshit?LikealotofAmericans?Imean,myfatherwasawarhero,youknow?”
“Butyouweren’t.”
“Yeah,Berry.Igotthat.Thanks.”
“Oh,c’mon,Joe.We’renotplayingthatgamerightnow—”
“Thatgame?”Isaid.“Wow.Okay.Gotit.”
“Wearen’ttalkingaboutyourfatherrightnow,Joe!We’retalkingaboutthefactthatshegrewupobsessedwithyou.Andhadpicturesofyouinherroom.Didshetellyouanyofthat?”
“No,thathasn’tcomeup,Berry.Wehaveotherthingstotalkabout,fortunately.”
“Andyoudon’tthinkthisisasignificantomissiononherpart?”
“No,”Isaid.“Ireallydon’t.”
“Soyouaren’tatallsuspicious?”
“Suspicious?Ofwhat?”
“Ofherintentions.”
“Herintentions?Shelovesme!”
“Well,yes,Igatheredthat….Clearlyshewasonamission—”
“Whatever,Berry!Wemetrandomly.Iwalkedbyheronthefriggin’beach.Iwentuptoher….Ifanything,Iwastheoneonamission.Sheturnedmedownforthelongesttime.IflewtoParistotakeherout,forgoodness’sakes.”
Berrystaredbackatme,shakingherhead.
“Idid,”Isaid.“That’swhathappened.Thosearethefacts.”
“Well,clearlyitwasaneffectivestrategyonherpart,”shesaid.“Playinghardtogetorwhatever.”
“Shewasn’tplayinghardtoget….Shewashardtoget….Shewasreluctanttogooutwithme.”
Berryrolledhereyes.“Yeah,right.”
“Shewas,Berry!Shehadaboyfriend.”
“Shehadaboyfriend?”shesaid,asifthiswereyetanotherpieceofpivotalevidence.“Ididn’tknowthat.”
“I’msorryIdidn’tfillyouinonherentiredatinghistory,alongwithallthedetailsofherchildhood.”
Berryblinked.“Didshecheatonhim?”
“No.Shebrokeupwithhim,andthenwentoutwithme,”Isaid,fudgingthetimelineabit.“Whyareyoumakingsuchabigdealoutofthis?”
“Areyouactuallytryingtotellmethatyoudon’tseethisposterthingasaredflag?”
“No,”Isaid,readytodieonthesword.“Idon’t.”
“So,thiswoman—Cate’smother—hasaKingsleyobsession,andsheraisesherdaughtertofeelthesame.Andthen,yearslater,shejusthappenstofallinlovewithyou…foryou?”
“Isthatreallysohardforyoutobelieve?Thatsomeonewouldloveme?”
“That’snotwhatI’msaying,andyouknowit.”
“Thenwhatareyousaying?”
“I’msayingit’soddlycoincidentalthatshegrewupwiththiscrushonyou…andisnowdatingyou….Andfortherecord,Dottieagrees.”
“Oh,forChrist’ssakes,Berry!YoushowedmymotheraNationalEnquirerarticlesmearingmygirlfriend?Really?”
“Wejustwantwhat’sbestforyou,Joe.Wejustwantyoutobecareful.Youcanbetootrusting—”
“Don’ttellmetobecareful!”Ishoutedather.“It’scondescendingandinsulting.”
Shestartedtosaysomethingaboutalwayshavingmybackandbeingonmyside,butIwasnolongerlistening.Instead,Igotupandwalkedbackintothehouse,slammingtheporchdoorasIwent.
IfBerrywantedtotalkaboutsides,Icouldpickaside.Infact,Ialreadyhad.
—
AminutelaterIwasoutsideCate’sdoor.Iknockedonce,thenwalkedinbeforeshecouldanswerandsawherstandingbythewindow,wrappedinatowel.Shelookedsobeautiful,andforonesecond,Iforgotmyanger.ThensheaskedifBerrywasokay—andIknewinthatinstantthatwehadtogo.Wecouldn’tstayhere.
Itookadeepbreathandsaid,“Notreally.Butit’ssortofalongstory.I’lltellyoueverythinginthecar….Iwanttogo—”
“Gowhere?”shesaid,walkingovertome,fingercombingherwethair.
“Backtothecity.”
Frowning,shesaid,“Wait.What?Youwanttogohome?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?Whathappened?”
“I’lltellyouinthecar.Justtrustme.Weneedtogo.”
—
Abouttenminuteslater,CateandIwerebothchanged,packedup,andinthecar,withThursdayandourbagsinthebackseat.Fortunatelyformymother’sandBerry’ssakes,Ididn’tseethemasweleftthehouse.Otherwise,theremighthavebeenascene—whichtheycouldn’tstand.Theymuchpreferredtotalkshitbehindpeople’sbacks.
AsCateandIgotonthemainroad,itoccurredtomethatinleavingIwasratchetingupthedrama.IalsoknewIwasbeinghotheadedandstubborn.Butitfeltlikemyonlychoice.IhadtostandupforthewomanIloved.WhatBerryhadimpliedaboutherwassounbelievablyunfair,andIwasn’tgoingtohangaroundandtakeit.
SeveralminutesofsilencepassedbeforeCatespoke.“Doyouwanttotellmewhat’sgoingon?”
ItwasthelastthingIfeltlikedoing,butIknewIhadtotellherthetruth.Wewereateam,andthatwashowitwasgoingtobe.
Igrippedthesteeringwheel,tookadeepbreath,andsaid,“ApparentlytherewasahitjobaboutyouintheNationalEnquirer.”
“Oh,God,”shewhispered.“Whatdiditsay?”
“Ididn’tseeit.ButBerrysaidthere’ssomequotefromyourmother,”Isaid,glancingather.
Catelookedhorrified.“Mymother?”
“Yeah.Buttheymakestuffupallthetime.Includingquotes.”
“Whatdidmymothersay?Whatwasthequote?”
“Herallegedquote…”Isaid,glancingoveratherfaceandseeingherexpressionofpureanguish.
“Joe.Justtellme.”
Islowlyinhaled,fillingmylungstocapacity,beforeblowingout.“Sheallegedlysaidthatyouhadaposterofmeinyourroomwhenyouwereakid…andthatshecollectedstuffaboutmyfamily….”
“Shit.Unreal,”shesaid,underherbreath,asiftalkingtoherself.SheturnedtolookoutherwindowsothatIcouldnolongerseeherface.
“Iknow,”Isaid.“Itisunreal.That’swhatItoldBerry…thatIdon’tbelieveanyofit.”
“Actually,”Catesaidinasmallvoice,stillstaringoutherwindow.“Itistrue.Ididhaveaposterofyouinmyroom.Alongtimeago.”
Myheartsank—notbecauseIsawthisasaredflag,butbecauseIknewsomanyotherpeoplewould.Hell,myownbestfriendandmymotherdid.
“I’msorry,”shesaid.“Ishouldhavetoldyou.”
“It’sokay,”Isaid,thoughIdidwishthatCatehadtoldmeaboutitfirst.Ihatedlearninganythingabouthersecondhandlikethis.“Thisdoesn’tchangeanything.”
“Ifeellikeitdoes,”shesaid.
“No,itdoesn’t.Itreallydoesn’t.Youwerejustakid….Andanyway,I’mflattered.Youhadgoodtaste.”
“Stopit,Joe.You’renotflattered.Itprobablyseemssocreepy—”
“No,itdoesn’t.Iswear—”
Ikeptglancingather,butshewouldn’tlookmyway,soIsuddenlyveeredoffthemainroad,turningdownasidestreet.Ipulledovertothecurbinfrontofarandomhouseandparkedthecar.
“Please,Cate,”Isaid,shiftinginmyseattostareather.“Pleaselookatme.”
Ittookafewmoreseconds,butshefinallymetmygaze.Hercheekswerebrightred,andshelookedlikeshewasonthevergeoftears.
“Oh,honey,”Isaid.“Don’tbeupset.”
“Ican’thelpit,Joe.”
“Okay.Butcanyoujust…talktome?”
“Idon’tknowwhattosay.”
“Tellmehowyou’refeeling….”
“HowdoyouthinkI’mfeeling?”shesaid,hervoicebreakingup.“HowwouldyoufeelifyourmothertalkedtotheNationalEnquireraboutyou?”
“Awful,”Isaid.“I’dfeelawful.”
“Yes.That’sthewordforit.”
“ButI’msureshedidn’tmeananyharm.I’msureshethoughtshewasjustsharingacutestory,”Isaid.“Anditiscute.”
“Stopit,”shesaid,closinghereyesandpressingbothhandstohertemples.“It’snotcute.It’smortifying.Anditgivesthetotallywrongimpression.”
“Nottome.”
“ItdoestoBerry.Andyourmother.”
“Whocares?”
“Icare.Andsodoyou.Iknowyoudo.”
“Icareaboutyouwaymore.”
“WhatdidBerrysay?”sheasked.
Ishookmyheadandsighed.“She’sjustprotectiveofme.That’sall.”
“Tellmewhatshesaid,Joe.Please.”
Isighedagain,thensaid,“Shecalledita‘redflag.’?”
“Shit,”Catewhispered,bitingherlip.“ShethinksI’msomekindofstarfucker—”
“Don’tsaythat—”
“Golddigger—”
“Stop.No.”
Cateclosedhereyesandshookherhead.
“Look,Cate.Shedoesn’tknowyou,”Isaid.“She’llcomearound.Itoldheritwasaloadofcrap.Andhonestly,Iprobablyshouldhavestayedandtalkedthrougheverything.ButIjustgotpissed—”
“Didyourmotherseethearticle?”
“Yeah,”Isaid.“Berryshowedittoher.”
“Doesshethinkit’saredflag,too?”
“Idon’treallyknow.Ididn’tseeherbeforeweleft.”
Catenodded,thenaskedaquestionthatbrokemyheart.“Areyouembarrassedtobewithme?”
“No!”IsaidasforcefullyasIcould.“I’mproudtobewithyou.Soproud.AndIcouldn’tcarelesswhatthetabloidssay.Ilefttomakeapoint.I’msickofBerryandmymothergettinginvolvedinmylife,andI’mnotputtingupwiththiscrapanymore.Thesestupidconcernsaboutmynameandreputationandappearancesandwhatpeoplethink…It’salljustnonsense….Ijustwanttobehappy.Andyoumakemehappy.”
Catehesitated,thenstaredintomyeyes,andsaid,“Youmakemehappy,too,Joe….But—”
“Butnothing,”Isaid.“Pleasedon’tletthisaffectus.Please.”
“Okay,”shesaid.“I’lltrynotto.”
Itookoffmyseatbeltandleanedovertogiveherabighug.Shehuggedmeback,butwhisperedinmyearthatshewassorry.
“Don’tbe,baby.Youdidn’tdoanything.”
“Okay,”shesaidasweseparated.“ButI’mgoingtokillmymother.”
Ishookmyheadandsaid,“No.It’snotherfault,either.Thetabloidsmanipulatepeopleallthetime.Wejustneedtotalktoherandexplain,sothatthisdoesn’thappenagain….Weneedtoprotecther.”
“I’lltalktoher,”Catesaid.
“No.Wewill,”Isaid.“We’reinthistogether,Cate.Meandyou.”CHAPTER20
Cate
Ifsomeonehadtoldmetobrainstormworst-casescenarios,I’mnotsureIcouldhavecomeupwithanythingmorehorriblethanmyownmothersellingmeouttotheNationalEnquirer.Givinganysortofinterviewwouldhavebeenbad,butmymomtookittoanotherlevel,announcingtotheworldthatIhadgrownupwithahugecrushonJoeandthatshehadfueledthatinterestwithherownlifelongKingsleyobsession.Ofcourse,italsohappenedtobethetruth,whichmadeitsomuchworse.TherewasnothingIcoulddenywhenJoetoldmeaboutit.
Instead,Ifumbledmywaythroughthehumiliatingconfession.Foramoment,Iwonderedwhetheritwouldbetheendofus.IcouldeasilyimaginethatJoewouldbesoturnedoffbyitallthatI’dlosehim.Instead,hesweetlyinsistedthathewasflattered—andallhiswrathseemeddirectedBerry’sway.Iwasalittletouchedbyhowchivalroushewasbeing,butthefactthathefelttheneedtosofiercelydefendmyhonor,makingtheunilateraldecisiontoleavetheHamptons,onlymadememoreembarrassed.
Formostoftheridehome,Iwastoodistraughttotalk.Istaredoutmywindow,mymindracingwithparanoidthoughtsthatIwasreluctanttoputintowords.
ButasweapproachedManhattan,Iturnedtohimandsaid,“Areyousureyouaren’talittleupsetwithme?”
Joelookedsurprisedbythequestion,whichwassomethingofacomfort.“Yes,I’msure.WhywouldIbeupsetwithyou?”
“Idon’tknow….Becauseoftheposter.”
“Aposteryouhadwhenyouwerealittlegirl?”
“AposterIdidn’ttellyouabout.”
“That’snotimportant,”hesaid.“It’strivial.”
“Thenwhydidweleaveinsuchahurry?Ifyouaren’tupset?”
“YouaskedifIwasupsetwithyou.AndI’mnot.ButIamupsetwithBerry.Andmymother.”
“Why?It’snottheirfaultthatmymomspoketoatabloid.”Iwasplayingdevil’sadvocate—butalsotryingtounderstandexactlywhathadgonedown,aswellastheintimatedynamicamongthethreeofthem.
Joehesitated,frowningoutthefrontwindowasifdeepinthought.“Ireallydon’tseewhyBerryfelttheneedtoreadthatcrapwhenshehadjustmetyouherself.Especiallybecauseshe’sthefirstonetorailonthetabloids.”
“Well,isn’tthatkindofnatural?”Isaid,tryingsohardtobefair.“IfeellikeImighttakeapeek,too,youknow?”
“Fairenough,Iguess.Butshedidn’thavetobuyit,bringithome,andshowittomymother.”
“Okay.Butwhynotjustlaughitoffandmoveon?Insteadofstormingout?”
“Becausetheydrewfalseconclusions—thatyou’dbeensomesuperfanstalkingme.It’sabsurd.”
“Butifit’ssoabsurd,whygetsopissed?Doesn’tthatjustgiveheraccusationscredence?WhatifthetabloidsaidIwasanalien?Withoutabellybutton?”
Joesmiled.“Holycow.Wheredoyoucomeupwiththisstuff?”
Ishrugged,thensaid,“Well?Ifthearticlehadsaidthat,wouldyouhaveleftinahuff?”
“Itdepends,”Joesaid.“IfBerrybelievedit?Maybe.”
Ishookmyheadandsaid,“Idon’tthinkso.Ithinkyouwouldhavelaughedinherfaceandmovedrighton.”
“Sowhatareyoutryingtosay?”
“I’msaying—thatmaybeyou’renotjustupsetwithwhatBerrythinks….Maybeyou’reupsetbecause,deepdown,youthinkit,too.”
“That’snottrue,”Joesaidalittletooquickly.
“Okay…butdidyoureallyfeelthatIneededsuchstaunchdefending?”
“Needed?No.Idon’tthinkyouneededit.ButIthinkyoudeservedit.It’snotfairwhatshewasimplyingaboutyou—”
“Iknowit’snot,”Isaid,soappreciatinghisloyaltyandsteadfastsenseofjustice.Hell,basicfairness.“ButIstilldon’twantyoufightingwithyourfamilybecauseofme.”
Joeshookhisheadandsaid,“I’mnotfightingwithmyfamilybecauseofyou.I’mfightingbecauseofthem.Theirattitude…theirjudgment…andthathasreallynothingtodowithyou.It’sbeengoingonforyears,onamyriadoftopics.AndIhadtodrawalineinthesand.”
“Thankyou,”Isaid—becauseIhadn’tsaidityet.
Heshookhisheadandsaid,“Don’tthankme.It’ssobasic.You’ddothesameforme,wouldn’tyou?”
“Yes.OfcourseIwould.”
“Okay,then.Pleasedon’tworry.Igotthis.They’llcomearound.”
Inodded,trustinghim,fightingmyinstincttorunandhide.
“So.Myplaceoryours?”heasked.
“Mine,”Isaid.“It’scloser.”
—
Whenwewalkedintomyapartment,Elnacameoutofherbedroomwithalookofsurpriseandconfusion.
“Hey!Whatareyoudoingback?”ShefixedhereyesonmeasifJoewereinvisible.
“Changeofplans,”Isaid,thenseguedrightintoanintroduction,thinkingthatitwasalittlecrazythattheyhadn’tyetmet.“Elna,thisisJoe.Joe,thisisElna.”
Theyexchangedpleasantries,thenJoeaskedifhecouldusethebathroom.
“Ofcourse,”Isaid,pointingdownthehalltomyroom.“Youcanusemine.”
Henodded,thenquicklyleftwithourbags.Elnawatchedhisbackuntilheturnedintomyroom,thenwhispered,“Whattheheckisgoingon?”
Igavehertherundown,embarrassedalloveragain.Elnawaspredictablyindignantandappalledonmybehalfyetmanagedtosoothemealittle.
“IfJoe’sgotyourback,whocareswhatanyoneelsethinks?”
“Icare—”
“Well,don’t,”shesaid.
Inodded,justasJoereturned,andElnaimmediatelyaddressedtheelephantintheroom.
“Catetoldmewhathappened.Thatwasreallyawesomeofyoutodefendher,”shesaid.“Thankyoufordoingthat.”
Joenoddedandslidhisarmaroundmywaist.“Ofcourse.Always.”
Ireluctantlysmiled,asElnasuggestedwesitdown.“CanIpouryouguysastiffdrink?Ithinkyouneedone.”
“Okay,”Joesaid.“Twistmyarm.”
“Cate?”Elnasaid.
“I’lltakeone,too.Ormaybejustashot,”IsaidwithalaughbeforeleadingJoeovertothesofa.
Iwaskidding,butaminutelater,Elnareturnedwithasmallplastictray.OnitwerethreebottlesofAmstelLight,alreadyopened,andthreemismatchedsouvenirshotglassesofagoldenbrownliquor.
“Iwaskiddingabouttheshot!”Isaid,thoughitsuddenlyseemedlikeagoodidea.
Elnashruggedandsaid,“Kiddingornot,Ithinkthissituationcallsfortequila,don’tyou,Joe?”
Hesmiledandsaid,“Absolutely.”
Sheputthetraydown,andsaid,“Wedon’thavelimes,butshouldIgetsomesalt?”
“Nah,”Joesaid.“Let’skeepitsimple.”
“Ilikeyourstyle,”shesaidasshehandedhima“BigApple”glass,gavemeonewithaBritishflag,andtookaVegasglassforherself.
“Tohavingshittymothers!”shesaid,raisingherglass.“AndlestyouthinkI’mnotintheclub,Joe,mineistheshittiestofthemall!”
Iwastakenabackthatshe’djustgonetherewithDottie.“Joe’smotherisn’tshitty,”Isaid.
“Neitherisyours,”Joesaidtome.“Buttheybothmessedup.”
Hethenraisedhisglass.Ifollowedsuit,andthethreeofusthrewbackourtequila,returningtheglassestothetrayinunison.
“So.DoyouguysthinkIshouldcallmymom?”Iasked,glancingatthecordlessphonerestingontheendtablenexttome.
“Areyousureyou’rereadyforthat?”Joesaidinagentlevoice.
Inodded,thinkingtheshothadhelped.
“Okay,”hesaid.“Butdon’tbetoohardonher.Shejustmadeamistake.”
“Idisagree,”Elnasaid.“Thiswasmorethanamistake.Itwastotallyunacceptable.”Sheshiftedhergazetomeandsaid,“Letherhaveit.”
“Whoa,”Joesaidwithachuckle.“Elna,remindmenevertogetonyourbadside!”
“Justdon’tgetonCate’sbadside,andyouandIwillbejustfine.”Elnawassmiling,likeitwasajoke,butIknewbetter,andIcouldtellJoedid,too.
Hegaveherasolemnnod,thensaid,“Ipromise.”
Itookadeepbreath,pickedupthephone,anddialedmyoldhomenumber.AsIlistenedtoitring,Ivisualizedtheseventiesgreenwallphoneinthekitchen,willingmymomtoansweritbeforeChipcouldpickitup.Instead,Iheardhisloathsomevoiceinmyear:Toledanoresidence.
“Hi,Chip.It’sCate,”IsaidascalmlyasIcould,evenaseverymuscleinmybodytensed.“Ismymotherthere?”
“Yes.Butshecan’tcometothephonerightnow.”
Myjawclenchedtighter.Itwaspossiblethatshereallywasn’tavailable,butitwasfarmorelikelythatshewasstandingrightthere,andhejustwantedtocontrolthesituation.
“Okay,”Isaid.“Willyoupleasetellhertocallmeassoonaspossible?Ineedtodiscusssomethingwithher.”
“Discusswhat?”
Itookabreathandsaid,“WereyouawarethatmymothertalkedtotheNationalEnquirer?”
“Yep.Iamaware,”Chipsaidproudly.
Inthatsecond,Iknewhe’dhadhishandinthis.Hell,heprobablycalledthepaperhimself.
Itookadeepbreathtosteadymyself,butmyvoicestillshookasIsaid,“Sohowmuchdidtheypayyou?”
“Oh,itwasanicelittlechunkofchange,”Chipgloated.
Ibitmylipsohardithurtasmymindracedforaretort.“Well,thatwasn’tverysmartofyou,”Ifinallysaid.“Ifyouhadheldoutjustalittlelonger,maybeafewmoremonths,untilJoeandIwereevenmoreseriousthanwearenow,thatinformationwouldhavebeenworthalotmore.”
Satisfyingsilencefilledtheairwaves.
“Andalso,funfact:everyoneknowstheNationalEnquirerdoesn’tpayasmuchas,say,Peoplemagazine.But,ohwell!Liveandlearn—”
BeforeIcouldfinishmysentence,Chiphadhunguponme,confirmingmyvictory.Iputthephonedownandexhaled.
Elnaspokefirst.“Chip?”
Inodded.
“He’ssuchadick,”shesaid.
“Yeah,”Isaid,stillprocessingeverything.Foronesecond,Ifeltbetteraboutmymom,evenalittleguiltythatIhadrushedtojudgment.Butshestillsharedtheblame,asElnaalwayssaidabouther.Atmost,she’dbeenacoconspirator;attheleast,shehadn’tdefendedme.Sheneverdid.
IglancedatJoe,wholookedconfusedandconcerned.“Wasthatyourstepfather?”hesaid.
“Yes.Thatwasmymom’shusband.AndElna’sright.He’sadick.”
IknewIwasintrickyterritory—andthatthelastthingIwantedtodowasairmoreofmyfamily’sdirtylaundry.SoIstoppedthere.
IthinkElnamusthavesensedthatJoedidn’tknowthetruthabouthowI’dgrownupbecauseshequicklychangedthesubject.“Okay.Screwhim.Whatshouldwedotonight?CanIbeyourthirdwheel?”
“Absolutely!”Joesaidsoenthusiasticallythatitwarmedmyheart.
“ShouldwecallCurtis,too?”Isaid.
“Yes!CallCurtis,”Joesaid.
“Sure,”Elnasaid,thensmiledatJoe.“Butwarning:heprobablystillhasaposterofyouonhisbedroomwall.”
Joelaughedandafeelingofreliefwashedoverme.Yes,mymomhadletmedown,andJoe’smotherandBerrysucked,too.Butthoseweren’tthingsthateitherofuscouldcontrol,andtheycertainlyweren’treasonstothrowinthetowelonourrelationship.Ifanything,Icouldfeelthosethingsbringingusclosertogether,andIwasremindedofwhatIalreadyknew.ThatElnaandCurtisweremoremyfamilythanmyactualfleshandbloodwere.Thatyoucanmakeyourownfamily.
IcalledCurtis,fillinghiminoneverything,includingElna’sjokeathisexpense.Helaughed,thensaidhe’dberightover.
Overthenextthirtyminutes,Elna,Joe,andIfinishedourbeers,chattingaboutlightheartedtopics,tellingJoefunnystoriesaboutCurtis.Thestagewasperfectlysetbythetimehewaltzedintothelivingroom,satdownbesideJoe,andwhippedouthisancientautographbook.Iknewthathewasjustgoingalongwiththefanboyshtick,andthatthebookmostlycontainedsignaturesfromDisneycharactersthathe’dgatheredasakid.Honestly,itfeltabittoocloseforcomforttotheposters-on-my-wallstoryline,butIbitmytongueandletCurtisbehimself.IwatchedasheflippedopenhisbookandhandedittoJoe,alongwithaballpointpenclippedtooneofthepages.
“Firstthingsfirst,”hesaid,crossinghislegs.“CanIpleasehaveyourautograph?I’myourbiggestfan—”
Elnashookherheadandlaughed.
“Jesus,Curtis,”Isaid.“Youdon’tthinkI’vebeenembarrassedenoughtoday?”
“Oh,stop!”Joesaid,swattingmyleg,laughing.“I’mflattered!ShouldIsignhereonthispage?”
“Yes,please.RightunderMickey’ssignature.”
“MickeyMantle?”Joesaid.
“No,sir,”Curtissaid.“MickeyMouse.”
Joe’seyeswidened.“Wait.Holdup.You’vemetMickeyMouse?”
“Isurehave,”Curtissaid,sittingupstraighter.“AndMinnie,Pluto,Donald,andDaisy.”
“How’boutGoofy?”Joesaid.
“Yes,Goofy,too.”
Joenodded,pretendingtobeimpressed.“Where’dyourunintothem?DisneyWorld?OrLand?”
“Neither.WemetatthePhillySpectrum.Summerof’seventy-four.DisneyonIce.Istillgetchillsthinkingaboutit,”Curtissaid.“Lifehighlightforsure.Thisissecond.”
JoelaughedandscribbledhisautographrightunderMickey’s,thenshutthebookwithauthority.HeputitdownonthecoffeetableinfrontofabeamingCurtis.
“So,”Curtissaid,pointingatouremptyshotglasses.“ItlookslikeI’mbehind.”
Joenoddedandsaid,“Yeah,man.Catchup.”
“Okay.ButIdon’tdoshotsalone.Firmpolicy.”
“Fair,”Joesaid.“I’llre-up.”
“CateandEl?”Curtisasked,gettingtohisfeet.
“Mightaswell,”IsaidasElnanodded.
Afewsecondslater,wewerealldoingshots,openingmorebeers,andplayingCurtis’sfavoritedrinkinggame,NeverHaveIEver.Itwasthegrown-upversionofTruthorDare,andpotentiallyasdangerous,especiallywithCurtisaskingthequestions.Hestartedouteasy,saying,“NeverhaveIeverpickedupahitchhiker.”
AsJoetookasipofhisbeer,Iknewnottobefooled.Curtiswasjustgettingstarted.
“Didthepersonfreakoutwhentheyrealizeditwasyou?”heasked.
Joelaughedandsaid,“Nah.Hewascool.”
“Unlikeyou,”IsaidtoCurtis.
Heshrugged,thenraisedthestakes.“Okay.NeverhaveIever…snoopedthroughthestuffofsomeoneIwasdating.”
Thistime,onlyCurtisdrank.Aswealljokinglyshamedhim,hesaid,“ButIalwaysendupconfessing!”
“Doyouconfessbecauseyoufeelguiltyorbecauseyousawsomethingthatpissedyouoffsomuchyoucouldn’tkeepittoyourself?”Iasked,knowingtheanswer.
Hemadeafaceatme,thensaid,“Okay.Yourturn,Joe.”
“No,man,”hesaid.“You’reonarollhere.”
Curtissmiled,thensaid,“Okay.NeverhaveIever…hadaone-nightstand.”
“Defineone-nightstand,”Joesaid.
Curtislaughed.“Well,that’sayesifIeverheardone.”
“Forreal,though,”Joesaid,asIleanedin,socuriousabouthisanswer.“Definitionsonthistotallyvary.Isitwhenyousleepwithsomeoneonce,thenneveragainafterthat?Orwhenyousleepwithsomeoneonthenightyoumeetthemandthenneveragain?”
“Thesecondone,”Curtissaid.“Ithinkthetermimpliesthatitnotonlyhappenedjustonce,butthatitwasalsoimpulsive.Likeonthesamedayyoumet.”
“Okay,then.Phew.I’mintheclear,”Joesaid.WhileCurtisandElnadrank,Icameupwithalegalloophole:I’dhadsexwithaguyI’dmetonenight—butaftertheclockstrucktwelve.Hencetwoseparatedays.Nodrinkforme.
“Okay.NeverhaveIevercheated,”Curtissaid.
Elnaunabashedlydrank;Curtisproudlyabstained;andJoesheepishlygrimaced,thenaskedforclarification.“Onatest?Orinarelationship?”
“Eitherone,”Curtissaid,asIwaited,staringJoedown.
Joetookasipofbeer.
“Whichonewasit?”Iasked.“Atestoragirl?”
“Idon’thavetoanswerthat!Hesaideither—”
“Okay.Well,then…NeverhaveIevercheatedonagirlfriend,”Isaid,crossingmyarmsandstaringathim.
“Dang,”Joesaid,thendrankagain.
“Talkaboutredflags,”Isaid,smiling.
“Stopthat!Itonlyhappenedonce.AndIwasyoung!Inhighschool!”Joesaid.“Andanyway,youcheated,too,Cate!”
“Never!”
“Yes,youdid!”hesaid,thenaskedCurtisandElnafortheirtakeontheArlosituationandourfirstdinnerinParis.
“Thatwasn’tadate!”Isaidinprotest.
“Yes,itwas,”Curtissaid.“Drink.”
“Oh,whatever,”Isaid,takingalongdrink.
Thegamewentonforawhile,turningmoreoutlandishandrisqué.
NeverhaveIeverhadafriendwithbenefits.
NeverhaveIeverjoinedthemile-highclub.
NeverhaveIevergonedownonsomeoneinataxi…oramovietheater
BeforeIknewit,wewereallprettylit.IremindedJoethatourlastmealhadbeenhoursandhoursago,ontheboat,andsuggestedthatweordersomefood.
“Nah,let’sgoout,”hesaid.“Anyoneinthemoodforanicesteak?”
“Yesss!”Curtissaid.
Joestartedrattlingoffthenamesofhigh-endsteakhousesasElnashookherhead.“We’llnevergetareservationthislate.”
CurtisandImadeeyecontact,andIcouldtellhewasthinkingwhatIwasthinking—thatanyrestaurantwouldbumpJoe’spartytothetopofitswalk-inlist.IhadthefeelingJoewasthinkingit,too—andthatitembarrassedhim.
“You’reright,Elna,”hesaid.“Howaboutaburgerandbeeratadivebar?”
“Evenbetter,”Curtissaid,puttinghisbootsbackon.
Thepaparazzicrossedmymind,butIwastipsyenoughnottocare.Letthemtakepicturesofus.Letthemtalkshitaboutme.Iwaswithmypeople,andnothingelsemattered.
Lessthantwentyminuteslater,thefourofuswerewalkingintoarandomIrishpubonSecondAvenue.I’dpasseditmanytimesbuthadneverbeeninside.ItwasoneofthethingsIlovedaboutthecity—therewasalwayssomethingnewtodiscover.Asmyeyesadjustedtothedimlighting,Icouldseethattheclientelewasolder,mostlymale,andalittlerougharoundtheedges.ThebestpartwasthattheywerevastlymoreinterestedintheboxingmatchonthesmallscreenabovethebarthanthefactthatJoeKingsleywasintheirpresence.Wecrammedintoasmallbooth,orderedapitcherofbeerandmorefriedfoodthanwecouldpossiblyeat.
Atsomepoint,wegotupandplayedsongsonthejukeboxinthebackofthebar,singinganddancingtoupbeatclassicslike“SweetHomeAlabama”and“BrownEyedGirl”whileminglingwithsomeoftherowdierregulars.ThelastthingIreallyrememberwasJoecuttinginbetweenmeandanoldIrishguy.Hepretendedtobejealous,thenkissedmerightinfrontofeveryone.ItwasaveryfarcryfromdinnerwithDottieKingsleyintheHamptons—notatallthewaywethoughttheweekendwouldturnout.Butinsomeways—reallymostways—itwasevenbetter.CHAPTER21
Joe
Overthenextfewdays,mymotherandBerrybothleftmultiplemessagesonmyansweringmachine,apologizingandpleadingwithmetocall.Iignoredthem,andImustsay,itfeltgoodtotakeastand.
Atfirst,IcouldtellCateappreciatedmyloyalty,andthatitmadeherfeelalittlebetteraboutthewholeincident,butasthedayspassed,sheseemedtogrowuneasyandencouragedmetomakepeace.
“Theysaidtheyweresorry,”sheremindedmeonenightasweweregettingreadyforbed.
“Theywerehalf-assedapologiesatbest,”Isaid.
“Buttheywereapologies.”
Ipointedoutthathermotherhadapologized,too,butthatCatewasstillangryather.
“That’stotallydifferent,”shesaid.
“Howso?”
“Becausemymother’sdefenseisthatshedidn’t‘sayanythingbad.’?”
“Well,shehasapoint.”
“No,shedoesn’t!Andyouknowit,Joe.Talkingtothetabloidsaboutme—orus—isnotokay.Ever.”
“Yes,butshouldn’therintentionscountforsomething?”
Shestaredatme,deepinthought.“Well,yourmotherandBerryhadgoodintentions,too.Theywerejustlookingoutforyou.”
“Atyourexpense,”Isaid.
“ButI’mfine,”shesaid.“You’rewaymoreupsetaboutitthanIam.”
Iwasn’tsureifthatwastrue,soImumbledsomethingaboutitbeingtheprinciple.Whichitwas.IwassickandtiredofmymotherandBerrygettingawaywiththisstuff.
“Don’tgetmestartedabout‘theprinciple.’MymothersoldinformationaboutmetotheNationalfreakingEnquirer.She’sthereasonwe’reinthissituationinthefirstplace.”
“No,”Isaid,shakingmyhead.“I’vebeeninthissituationsinceIwasborn.Mymothercaresmoreaboutappearancesthanshedoesaboutme.AndBerryjusthopsrightonboardwithit.”
“Okay,”Catesaid.“We’regoingincircles.”
Inodded.
“So,”shesaid,crossingherarms.“Whatdoyousaywemakealittledeal?”
“Andwhatwouldthatlooklike?”Isaid.I’dbescrewedifsheweremyopposingcounsel.
“Ifyoumakeupwithyourmother—andBerry—thenI’lltakeyouhometomeetmine.”
IsmiledbecauseIknewshehadme.“Okay,”Ifinallysaid.“You’vegotyourselfadeal.”
—
Afewdayslater,Ihadtomakeabigopeningargumentasco-counselinamurdertrial.Catetookoffworktocomeandwatchme—whichIfoundreallytouching.Itwasthefirsttimeshe’dseenmeinaction,andInailedit,ifIdosaysomyself,probablybecauseIknewshewasthere.Mygrandmothershowedupaswell,thetwoofthemrunningintoeachotherinthecourtroomhallway,eachrecognizingtheotherfromphotos,thensittingtogetherinthegallery.ItwasthebestfeelingintheworldwhenIlookedoverandsawmytwofavoritepeople,sidebyside.
Afterward,mygrandmothertookustodinneratHarry’sofHanoverSquare.SheandCatehititoffrightaway,drinkingmartinisandtalkinglikeacoupleofchattyschoolgirls.Iknewthey’dgetalong,butIwassurprisedbyhowrelaxedtheybothwereastheybondedovertheirloveofoldHollywoodactressesandfilms.TheyagreedthattherewasnoonebetterthanIngridBergmaninCasablanca,buttheyseemedequallyobsessedwithKatharineHepburn,praisingherrolesinThePhiladelphiaStoryandGuessWho’sComingtoDinner(theyapparentlybothhadathingforSidneyPoitier).
“IlovehowoutspokenandunconventionalKatharineHepburnis,”Catesaid.
“Yes—andcantankerouswiththepress,”Garysaid,laughing.“Shehasnotimefortheirnonsense.”
IwaitedforGarytotellCatethatsheandKatharinewereactuallyprettygoodfriends,butshedidn’t,likelynotwantingtoname-drop.
“Youknow…sheworepantsinpubliclongbeforemostwomenwouldhavedaredtodoso,”mygrandmotheraddedinstead.
“Notbeforeyoudid,Gary!”Isaid.
“We’retalkingaboutHollywood,Joe,”mygrandmothersaid,alwayssomodest.“She’satrailblazerinthatworld—”
“Yeah,”Isaid.“Andyou’retheoriginaltrailblazer!”
Mygrandmotherattemptedtodeflectagain,butCatereturnedtothesubject,askingaboutGary’sworkforwomen’ssuffrage.Herprobingquestionsledtoalong,livelydiscussionaboutpolitics,reallythefirsttimeI’deverheardCatetalkaboutthesubjectbeyondtellingmewhoshevotedforinthe’92election.ShewassoateasewithGary,waymorethanshehadbeenwithmymotherandBerry,althoughtobefair,Cateneverreallyhadthechancetotalkwiththem.
Onthatsubject,Iwentoutonalimbtowardtheendofdinner,tellingmygrandmotheraboutourdisastroustriptotheHamptons.Shesidedwithme,asIknewshewould,andshowedCatetheappropriateamountofempathy.Iwasn’tsurewhatCate’sreactionwouldbetomyraisingthesubject—shewasusuallysoprivate—butshechimedrightin,fillinginthegapsofthestory,blamingherownmothermorethanmine.
Ishookmyhead,debatingthepoint,thentoldmygrandmotheraboutourdeal.Thatweweregoingtoletbothourmothers—andBerry—offthehook.
“Ithinkthat’stherightresult,”Garysaid,nodding.“Youhavetoremember—peoplegenerallydothebesttheycan.”
Cateleanedin,listening.“Whatiftheirbestisabysmal?AndI’mspeakingofmymothernow.Nothis.”
“Well,”Garysaid.“Atthatpoint,wehavetoworkevenhardertoshowthemgraceandforgiveness.”
AsCateearnestlynodded,Ismiledandsaid,“But,Gary,whyisyourbestsomuchbetterthaneveryoneelse’s?Huh?”
“It’snot,”mygrandmothersaid.“Wejustseeeyetoeye,Joey.”
“Alwayshave,”Isaid.
“AndIcantellthetwoofyoudoaswell,”mygrandmothersaid.
“Yeah,wedo,Gary,”Isaid,nodding,thensmilingoveratCate.“Wereallydo.”
—
Thenextday,IcalledmymotherandaskedifIcouldcomeoverafterworktotalk.
“Ofcourse,”shesaid.“Whattime?”
“Six?”
“Perfect.Wouldyouliketostayfordinner?”
“No,thankyou.Ijustwanttotalk.Itshouldn’ttakelong,”Isaid.
“Certainly,”shesaid.
“Great.DoyoumindifIaskBerrytocome,too?I’dlovetotalktothetwoofyoutogether.”
“Ofcourse.ThenI’llseeyoubothtonight.”
—
IranintoBerryinthelobbyofmymother’sbuilding.Wewerebothsoakingwet,caughtinanunexpectedsummerdownpour,whichgaveussomethingtotalkaboutontheelevatorrideupstairs.Wewalkedintothefoyer,andmymotherrantofetchustowels.
AfterdryingoffthebestIcould,Iwalkedstraightintothelivingroom,allbusiness,takingmyusualspotonthesofa.Mymotherfollowed.
“CanIgetyouadrink?”sheaskedasBerryduckedintothepowderroom.
“Yes,please,”Isaid.“I’lltakeabourbon.Neat.”
Shenodded,thenwalkedpastthebabygrandpiano,overtothebarcart,surveyingthebottles.“IsKnobCreekokay?”shesaid,glancingbackatme.“It’sallIhave.UncleMarkfinishedthelastoftheBlanton’s.”
“Whatever’sfine,Mom,”Isaid.
“Wouldyoulikeadrink,dear?”mymotheraskedBerrywhenshejoinedusinthelivingroom.
Berrydeclined,sittingonthefarendofthesofa,anawkwardgapbetweenus.Noonespokeuntilmymotherreturnedwithmybourbon—andamartiniforherself.Shehandedmemyglass,hoveringoverme.
“Thankyou,”Isaid,lookingupather.
“You’rewelcome,”shesaid,finallysettlinginherarmchair.
AsItookmyfirstsipofbourbon,Igotastrangefeelingofdéjàvu.Irealizeditwasmoreofaflashbacktotheweekofmyeighteenthbirthday,whenthetwoofthemhadambushedmewiththeirlectureonNicole.Thistime,though,thetableshadturned.Clearingmythroat,Ibegantospeak.
“WhathappenedintheHamptonscan’teverhappenagain,”IsaidasboldlyandclearlyasIcould.
“Joseph—”mymothersaid.
Iheldupmyhandandsaid,“Please.Letmefinish.”
Mymother’seyebrowsrosewithsurprise,butsheonlynodded,fallingsilentwhileIcontinuedmylecture.
“Ican’tmakeeitherofyoulikeCate,”Isaid.“NorcanIforceeitherofyoutoapproveofher.Infact,Iknowyoudonot.Catedoesn’thavethepedigreeyou’vealwaysfeltwasimportant.Notevenclose.Shedidn’tgotocollege,andbeforeyoureadaboutitinthepress,Ishouldtellyou—shenevergraduatedfromhighschool.”
Ipaused,lettingthisinformationsinkin,almostenjoyingtheshocktheytriedtomaskwithwide-eyednods.
“That’sfine,”mymothersaid,hereyesflickingoveratBerry.
“Iknowyoudon’tthinkthat’sfine,Mother,”Isaid.“Iknowyou’rebothjudgingherrightnow…andIknowyouboththinkshe’snotgoodenoughforme.ThatIshouldbewithsomeonemorelikeMargaret.”
Ipaused,daringthemtodenyit,relievedwhentheydidn’t.
“Butifyouwantarelationshipwithus—withme—you’regoingtoneedtokeepthoseopinionstoyourself,”Icontinued,nowonaroll.“BecauseIdon’tcarewhatanyonethinksofCate.Notthetwoofyou.Notthepress.Noone.MyopinionofCateistheonlyonethatmattershere.AndIhappentothinksheisthemostamazingwomanI’veevermet.She’sstrongandindependentandcompletelyself-made.She’salsobrilliant…andasworldlyasanygirlIevermetatHarvard—andmuchmoreauthentic.”
Istoppedabruptly,rememberingthatthiswasn’tasalespitchoraclosingargumentinalegalcase.Ididn’tneedtoconvincethemofanything;IjusthadtomakeitclearwhatIwasn’tgoingtotoleratemovingforward.
“Soyeah.That’sall,”Isaid.“Pleasekeepyourtwocentstoyourselves.BecauseIloveCate.Andsheisheretostay.”
Silencefilledtheroom,butImademyselfsitinit,waiting,untilBerryfinallyclearedherthroatandsaid,“You’reright,Joe.I’msorry.”
Floored,Istaredbackather,unabletorememberasingletimeinthetwentyyearsI’dknownherthatshe’dsimplyapologizedwithnostringsorexplanationsorbuts.
“Thankyou,”Isaid,nodding.
“I’msorry,too,”mymothersaid.“Wewerejustworriedaboutyou—”
“That’snoexcuse,”Isaid.
“Iknow,”mymothersaid,lookingdown.
“I’minlove—andI’mreallyhappy.”
“Andwe’rehappyforyou,”shesaid.
“Yes,”Berrysaid,nodding.“Andjustsoyouknow—likingherwasnevertheissue.”
“No,”mymothersaid.“She’slovely—”
“Theissuewassimply—”
IshookmyheadandcutBerryoff.“Thereisnoissue.Remember?”
Berrysighedandsaid,“Yes.Andwearedoingourbesttoapologize.Wearetrulysorry.”
Itookaswigofbourbon,swallowed,thenfinallyletthemoffthehook.“Okay,”Isaidwithacurtnod.“Apologyaccepted.”
Mymothergavemeaclose-lippedsmile,butshelookedlikeshemightcry.Itcrossedmymindthatshewasprobablyupsetaboutthehigh-schooldiplomathing,notthewayshe’dmadeCatefeel.Butitwasastart.
“Okay,”Isaid,drainingmywhiskey.“Ibettergetgoing.”
“Already?”Mymother’sfacefell.“Youjustgothere!”
“I’msorry,”Isaid,steelingmyselfforanyguilttrips.“ButIhavedinnerplanswithCate.”IputmyglassonthecoffeetableratherthantakingittothesinkthewayIusuallywould.
“Oh,”mymothersaid,lookingalittlewistful.“Well,havefun.”
“Yes,”Berryechoed.“Havefun.Pleasetellherwesaidhello.”
“Willdo,”Isaidwithabrisknod.ThenIstoodandsawmyselftothedoor.
—
Imayhavegonealittleoverboardwithmymessaging,butthemissionwasaccomplished.Inthenextfewdays,BerrycalledandinvitedCatetolunch,andmymothersentheranote,apologizingforthewaythingshadturnedoutintheHamptonsandsayingthatshehopedwewouldreturnsoon.IhappenedtobeatCate’splacewhenshereceivedit—sowereadittogether.
“Oh,my.Whatdidyousaytoher?”Cateaskedme.Shelookedconcerned,butalsotouched.
“Itoldherhowit’sgoingtobe.BothherandBerry.”
Iwaitedforhertoaskmorequestions,butshejustslidthenotebackintotheenvelopeandputitdownonherkitchentable.
“Youknowwhatthismeans,right?”Ifinallysaid.
“What?”sheasked.
Ipulledherintomyarmsandwhisperedinherear,“Itmeans…thatit’syourturn.”
“Myturnforwhat?”shesaidwithashiver.
“Yourturntomakenice,”Isaid,thenkissedherforehead.“Withyourmother.”
Shemadeanoncommittalsound,soIputmyhandunderherchinandmadeherlookmeintheeye.
“C’mon,Cate,”Isaid,myvoiceassternasIcouldmakeit.“Wehadadeal.Youpromised.”
“Iknow.I’mworkingonit.”
“Whatdoesthatmean?”
“Itmeans.I’mtryingtosetsomethingup….”
“Haveyoucalledyourmother?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“Sheinvitedustodinner.”
“Shedid?When?”
“Thisweekend.Saturdaynight.”
Igrinnedandsaid,“That’sfantastic.”
“Ihaven’tsaidyesyet.”
“Whynot?”
“BecauseIhateChip.AndIdon’twanttoseehim.Orbeinhishouse.”
“Okay.Well…wecouldhavedinnerinthecity?Thethreeofus?”
“No,”shequicklysaid.“Shedoesn’tliketodrive—”
“Wecouldsendacarforher?”
Sheshookherhead.“No.That’llcauseaproblemwithChip.Trustme.”
Ihesitated,thensaid,“CanImakeasuggestion?”
Shenodded.
“Let’sjustmeetthischallengehead-on.”
Shenoddedagain.
“Yougotmyback—andIgotyours,”Isaid.
—
ThatSaturday,IpickedCateuplateintheafternoon,andthetwoofussetoutforMontclair.Icouldtellshewasnervous,soatonepointIreachedovertoputmyhandonherthigh.“Canwehaveapositiveattitudehere?This’llbefun!”
“Yeah.Youdon’tknowChip….Itwon’tbefun.ButIdidinviteWendy…asabuffer.”
“Oh,cool,”Isaid.“I’mexcitedtomeether.”
“Yeah,”shesaid,soundingsoglum.
“Positiveattitude!”Isaid.“I’msureit’llbefine.”
“Itcouldbefine…oritcouldbehorrible…depending.”
“Dependingonwhat?”
“OnChip’smood.Onhowmuchhe’shadtodrink.Ontheweather.Whoknows?”
Iwasreallystartingtohatethesoundofthisguy,butfiguredCatewasprobablyexaggerating.“It’llbefine,”Isaidagain,pattingherleg,thenturningontheradio.
Aboutthirtyminuteslater,wearrivedinMontclair.ItwasoneofthoseJerseysuburbswithagreat,family-friendlyreputation,butitwasevenprettierthanI’dexpected.Aswedrovethroughthequaintdowntownarea,linedwithshops,restaurants,andanoldtheater,Imadeacommentaboutitseeminglikeanidyllicplacetogrowup.
“Forsome,maybe,”shesaidunderherbreath.
“Youdidn’tlikeit?”
“Thetownisfine,”shesaidwithashrug,thenpointedoutmynextrightturn
“Justfine?Whatdidn’tyoulikeaboutit?Toosmall?IalwayswishedIgrewupinasmalltown,”Isaid,babblingalittleinmyattempttokeepthingsupbeat.
“Thetownisgreat.Ijustdidn’tlikemyhome,”shesaid.
Iglancedather,struckbyhowsadthestatementwas,anditsuddenlyoccurredtomethatshemayhavegrownuponthe“wrongsideofthetracks,”sotospeak.Butafewturnslater,wearrivedonherquiet,tree-linedstreet.Thehomesweremodest,butperfectlyrespectable,andIfeltasenseofrelief.Notformysake—butforhers.
“It’sthatone,”shesaid,pointingatanarrowtwo-storyhousewithwhitealuminumsidingandgreenshutters.Thelawnappearedfreshlymowedandwatered,andthesimplelandscapingwasasneatascouldbe,likeachild’sdrawing.Whistling,Ishowedoffmyexpertparallelparkingskills,wedgingmycarintoatightspotalongthecurb.
“Andvoilà!”Isaid,turningofftheengine.
“Yep,”Catesaid.“Heregoesnothing.”
Ilaughedandsaid,“Hey!Whathappenedtothatpositiveattitudewetalkedabout?”
Sherolledhereyesandsaidshe’dtry,makingnomovetogetoutofthecaruntilIcamearoundtoopenherdoor.Asshesteppedontothesidewalk,Iputmyhandonherbackandwalkedbesidehertowardthefrontporch.Thehousewasonlyafewfeetfromthestreet,sowithinsecondswewereatthedoor.Oddlyenough,Caterangthedoorbell,hermotherimmediatelyappearing.Shewasattractive,andIcouldtellshehadbeenverybeautifulasayoungerwoman,thoughherskinwasnowweathered,likeshewasasmokerorasunworshipper.
“Oh,hi!You’rehere!Comein!Comein!”shesaid,beamingatusthroughthescreendoorbeforeCatepulleditopen.
Ismiledandsaidhello,thenwipedmyfeetonthedoormateventhoughIknewmyshoeswereclean.Catewalkedinfirst,hugginghermomandfieldingafewquestionsaboutourdrive,asItrailedbehind.Onceinside,Ididaquickscanofthefoyer,notingthegraylinoleumfloorwithanelaboratepatternandaframedpaintingoftheVirginMaryhangingonthewall.
“Mom,thisisJoe.Joe,thisismymom…Jan,”Catesaid.
“It’ssonicetomeetyou,Mrs.Toledano,”Isaid.
“Oh,pleasecallmeJan,”shesaid,staringupatmewithastarstruckexpressionthatI’dseenmanytimesbefore.
Istartedtoshakeherhand,thenchangedmymind,leaningdowntogiveheraquick,awkwardhug.
“Goodness,you’retall,”shesaid,blushingandlettingoutahigh,nervouslaugh.“Andmorehandsomeinperson.Mygoodnessgracious.”
“Mom,”Catesaidunderherbreath,lookingmortified.“Stopit.”
IlaughedandwavedCateoff.“Don’ttellyourmothertostop!She’sbeingnice,”Isaid.“Thankyou,Mrs.Toledano.”
ShesmiledatmeasCatepeeredupthestaircase.“IsChiphome?”
“Notyet,”Jansaid.“Butheshouldbebackanyminute.Wendy’scoming,too!Butshecan’tstay….Oh,goodness,mymanners!Comein!Sitdown!”
Ismiled,thenfollowedCateandhermotherdownashorthall,pastthekitchen,andintotheverybrownfamilyroom.Thewall-to-wallcarpetwasbrown;thesofawasbrown;thecoffeetablewasbrown;theheavycurtains,closedandblockingoutanynaturallight,werebrown.
CateandIsatnexttoeachotheronthesofaashermotherofferedussomethingtodrink,rattlingoffanextensivebeveragelist,whichincludednotonlywater,beer,wine,andCoke,butalsoCrystalLight,MountainDew,andmilk.
“Milk,Mom?”Catesaid,shakingherhead.“He’snottwelve.”
Ilaughedandsaid,“Shedidn’tsaychocolatemilk.”
“Exactly,”hermothersaid.
Ipretendedtocontemplatethisoption,thentoldherI’dtakeabeer.
“Wehavetwokinds,”shesaid.“RollingRockinacanandaHeinekeninabottle.I’massumingyou’dratherhavethebottle?”
“Actually,I’lltaketheRollingRock,”Isaid.
“Inaglass?”
“Thecanisfine,”Isaid.
“Doaglass,Mom,”Catesaid.
Hermothernodded,thenaskedifshewantedanything.Cateshookherhead.
“Okay,then!Bebackinajiffy.”
Whilewewaited,ItookCate’shandandsqueezedit.“She’sverynice,”Iwhispered.
“Thankyou,”Catewhisperedback,givingmeasmallsmile.
Amomentlater,Cate’smomreturnedwithmybeer.
“So,ladies…I’mdrinkingalone,Isee?”Isaidwithalaugh.
Jansaidshewassorry,lookinggenuinelyworried.
ItoldherIwasonlykidding,butshestillpoppedbackup,returningtoherchairwithaglassofwhitewine.Holdingitinherlap,shesaid,“Well,IknowCateisgoingtobeupsetatmeforsayingthis—butIjusthaveto—”
“Mom—”
“C’mon.Lether—”Isaid,smiling.
JanlookedatCateandsaid,“CanI?”
“Oh,whatever,”Catesaidwithasigh.
Janturnedbacktomeandsaid,“Well,Iwasjustgoingtosay…thatIcan’tbelieveyou’resittinghereinourhouserightnow.Andthatyou’redatingmydaughter.It’sjustincredible.Ilovedyourfather—andI’vebeenfollowingyousincethedayyouwereborn—”
“Okay,Mom.That’senough,”Cateinterjected.“Hegetsthepoint.”
“Well,thankyou.Truly.It’sreallyniceofyoutosayallthat,”Isaid.“Anditmeansalottomethatyoucaredaboutmyfather.Hecertainlydidsomuchtomakepeopleproud.”
“Yes,hedid.Hereallydid.Yourgrandfather,too.Andyourgrandmother,Sylvia?Whatapioneer!Ijustloveher!”
“Mom.Youdon’tevenknowher—”
“JoegetswhatI’mtryingtosay—”
“Yes,Ido,Jan.AndIappreciateit.Somuch…”Ihesitated,thentookthedirectapproach.“IknowCategaveyouahardtimeabouttheNationalEnquirer,butIthoughtitwasreallysweet.Ilovethatyourgirlhadmyposteronherbedroomwall.”
“OhmyGod,”Catesaidunderherbreath,buryingherfaceinherhands.
“See,Cate?”Jansaid,jubilant.“Itoldyouitwasn’tabigdeal!”
“Itreallywasn’t,”Isaid,tryingtomakethembothfeelbetteratonce.
Janlookedrelieved.“Well,thankyouforsayingthat…butitwon’thappenagain.Cateexplainedtomehowthemediais—Ididn’tknow.Ithoughtitwasokaysolongasyoudidn’tsayanythingbad.WhichIwouldnever.”
“Yes.Thetabloidsareaslimylot.Theywilltwistwhatyousay.Hell,they’llmakeupwhatyousay.Youhavetobecareful,andit’susuallybettertosaynothing.”
“Iknow,”shesaid,noddingearnestly.“Lessonlearned.Itwon’thappenagain.Ipromise.”
“Well,thankyou.ButI’mmostlyworriedaboutyou,Jan.IjustwantyouandCatetobesafe,”Isaid,drapingmyarmaroundCate’sshoulders.
“Gosh,”shesaid.“Thatisverysweet.”
“Imeanit.”
“Thankyou,Joe.”
Thedoorbellrang,interruptingourlovefest.
“Oh,thatmustbeWendy!”Jansaid.
Asecondlater,acutebrunetteburstintotheroom.
“Hello!Hello!Hello!”Wendysaid,givingJanabighug.
ShewasdefinitelythecheerleaderpersonalitythatCatehaddescribed,peppyandbubbly,bouncingonhertoesasshemadeherwayovertous.CateandIbothstood,andWendyembracedherforanunusuallylongtime.
“I’vemissedyousomuch!”shesaid.
Itseemedalittleoverthetopgivenhowclosetheylivedtoeachother—butgenuine.
Thesecondtheyseparated,Wendyturnedtofaceme,givingmeatoothygrin.“Hi!YoumustbeJoe!”shesaid,extendingherarmtoshakemyhand.“I’mWendy!It’ssowonderfultofinallymeetyou.Cate’sbeenhidingyou.Fortoolong.Fromherbestfriend.”
“Ihaven’tbeenhidinghim,”Catesaid.“We’vejustbeenlayinglow.”
“Well,betterlatethannever!”Wendysaid.Sheflippedherdarkhairbehindhershoulders,thenturnedandbouncedbackovertothechairnexttoJan,sitting,smoothinghershortskirtandcrossingherverytannedlegs.
“So,tellme.What’snewwithyouguys?”CatelookedatJanfirst,thenWendy
TheybothshruggedinresponseandCateaskedaboutGabby.
Wendy’seyeslitupasshetalkedaboutheryoungdaughteratlength.Herstorieswerealittledull,butherchattinessalleviatedanypressureonmetomakesmalltalk.ItalsoseemedtolightenCate’smood,Wendy’scheerfulnessfeelinglikeanantidotetothebrownshagcarpet.
AboutahalfhourofmostlyWendytalkinglater,Janaskedifwewerehungry.“Imadesomeoniondip,”shesaid.“It’sinthefridge.Icouldbringitout?”
“Well,sadly,Ihavetogetgoingsoon,”Wendysaid.
“Already?”Jansaid.
“Iknow.IwishIdidn’thaveto!ButMattisincapableofputtingGabbydownforanap,letalonebedtime.”Sheturnedtomeandtoldmehowwonderfulitwastomeetme.
“Thankyouforcoming,”Catesaid.
“Ofcourse!Ihadtomeetyournewbeau!”shesaid,beamingatme.
Ismiledandsaid,“Let’sgettogetheragainsoon.”
BeforeWendycouldanswer,weheardfootstepsinthefoyer.Asecondlater,Chipappeared.Istooduptoshakehishand,butherefusedtolookatme,issuingablankethelloinstead.
Janannouncedthatshewasgoingtogethimabeer,thenscurriedofftothekitchen.
Wendybrokethesilence.“Howhaveyoubeen,Mr.Toledano?”sheasked.“Fightingthegoodfightoutthere?”
Itwastherightthingtosay,apparently,becauseChipsmiled,nodded,andsaid,“Tryingto!…Howhaveyoubeen,Wendy?”
“Great,thanks!”shesaid,thenfilledhiminonherhusbandanddaughterasJanreturnedandhandedhimhisbeer.
Iwatchedthewholethingunfold,marvelingthatsomeonecouldbeinaroomthislongwithoutacknowledgingtwoofthefourpeopleinit.Itwasawkwardandweirdandrudeashell,andIfeltmyselfgettingangryonCate’sbehalf.
Wendyobviouslypickeduponthevibe,too,becauseshesaid,“So,Mr.Toledano,haveyoumetJoe?”
Chipsaidno,thenlookedoveratmeandnodded.“Hello.”
“Hi,”Isaidback.“Thanksforhavingme.”
“Noproblem.”
“Well,Ibettergo,”Wendysaid,finallylookingalittleuncomfortable,too.
JanandCatebothstartedtostand,butWendyshookherheadandsaid,“Nobodygetup!Iknowmyway!…Cate,callmesoon!Loveyou!”
“Loveyou,too,”Catesaid,hervoicestrained.
AssoonasWendywasgone,wealltransferredtothediningroomforJan’soniondip,followedbyalasagnadinnerservedwithgarlicbreadandasalad.Allthewhile,Chip’spassive-aggressivebullshitandbadmannerscontinued.NotoncedidheaddressCatedirectly,thankhiswifeforpreparingourmeal,oraskmeasinglequestion.Infact,allofhisactionsseemeddesignedtoshowmethathedidn’tknoworcarewhoIwas.Obviously,Ididn’tneedmyegostroked—andcertainlynotbythelikesofhim—butitbecametoomuchwhenheaskedwheremyparentslived.
Cate’sfootfoundmineunderthetable,hertoepressingintomine,asIclearedmythroatandsaid,“Mydad’sdead.”
“Sorrytohearthat.”
“Chip,”Jansaid,lookinghorrified.“Youknowwhohisfatheris.JosephKingsley,Jr.”
Chipstaredatmewithablankexpression,thenshruggedasiftosayNeverheardofhim.ItwassoabsurdthatIshookmyheadandlaughedbitterly.Hecouldslightmeallhewanted—butnotmyfather.
“What’ssofunny?”Chipasked.
“Nothing,”Isaid,shakingmyhead,stillsmiling.
“Seemslikeyou’reamusedaboutsomething?”hesaid,staringmedown,clearlytryingtointimidateme.“Whatisit?”
“Well,it’scertainlynotmydeadfather,”Isaid,gazingbackathim,poker-faced.
“Okay.Well,look.Webettergetgoing,”Catesaid,standing,pickingupherplate,thenstackingitwithmine,silverwareontop.Sheturnedandmarchedtothekitchen,andIheardaclangasshedroppedeverythingintothesink.Asecondlatershewasback,crossingherarms,tellingmeagainthatitwastimetogo.Meanwhile,Chipkepteating.
“ButImadedessert,”hermothersaid.
“Theysaidtheyhadtogo,Jan,”Chipsaid.
“Iknow,but—”
“Butwhat?”hesaid.“Whatdon’tyouget?”
Sheopenedhermouthtoreply,thenclosedit.
“We’lldodessertanothertime,Jan,”Isaid,gettingtomyfeet.“Atmyplace.”
“Oh,thatwouldbewonderful,”shesaid.“AndI’dlovetomeetyourmother.”
“She’dlovetomeetyou,too.You’llhavetocometothecitysoon,”Isaid,thenaddedhowmuchIthoughttheywouldhaveincommon,andthatsheshouldalsocomeouttotheHamptons.
Atthatpoint,IwasjusttryingtopissChipoff.Mytacticseemedtoworkbecausehegotupfromthetablewithoutaword,walkedoutoftheroom,thenheadedupthestairs.
Lookingdistraught,Janrushedafterhim.
“See?SeewhatImean?”Catewhispered.“He’samenace.Agoddamnmenace.”
Iputmyarmaroundher,kissedherforehead,andwhispered,“Iknow.C’mon.Let’sgetoutofhere.”
Shenodded,andthetwoofuswalkedtothedoor.Then,justaswewereabouttoleave,weheardChipyellingfromupstairs.
Cateclosedhereyesandshookherhead.ShethenturnedaroundandlookedupthestaircaseasChipshouted.Hiswordswereunintelligible,butitdidn’tsoundgood.
“Damn.Issheokay?”Isaid,nowworriedinadditiontoeverythingelseIwasalreadyfeeling.
Cateshookherhead.Istaredather,puttingallthepiecesofthepuzzletogether.Lookingback,Ifeelstupidthatithadtakenmesolongtoprocesswhatwashappeninginthathouse.Chipwasmorethananasshole—hewasawifebeater
“ShouldIgoupthere?”IaskedCate.
“No,”sheansweredquickly.“That’sareallybadidea….I’llgo….”
Jansuddenlyappearedatthetopofthestairs,descendingthemquickly.Whenshegottothebottom,sheforcedasmileandmumbled,“Sorryaboutthat.He’sjustinoneofhismoods.Hisjobissostressful—”
“Mom,”Catehissedunderherbreath.“Quitmakingexcusesforhim.”
“I’mnot—Ijust…Itwillbefine.”Shesmiledagain,biggerthistime,butIcouldseethefearinhereyes,alongwithatelltaleredmarkonherrightarmCHAPTER22
Cate
“Mom,please,pleasecomewithus,”Ipleadedundermybreathaswestoodbythefrontdoor.
“Ican’t,honey,”shewhispered,shakingherhead.
“Yes,youcan,Mom,”Isaid,doingmybesttostaycalm.“He’sgoingtohurtyou.”
“No…Icansmooththisover,”shesaid.
IshiftedmygazetoJoeandcouldseehisshock,alongwithfear.ItwassomethingI’dneverseenonhisface.Joewasneverafraid.Ofanything
“Jan—Iknowit’snoneofmybusiness—”hesaid,hisvoicelowbutstrong.
Itwaswhatpeoplealwayssaid,anditwasn’ttrue.
“Yes,itisourbusiness,”Isaid,cuttinghimoff.“Weneedtogetheroutofhere.Now.”
“Oh,Catie,”shesaidinherStepfordWifevoice.“I’llbefine.Ipromise.”
“No,Mom,”Isaid,feelingincreasinglyfrantic.“It’stime.It’swaypasttime.Please.Letushelpyou.Gogetinthecar.”
Beforeshecouldreply,Chipwaschargingdownthestairs.“Whatthehellareyouallwhisperingabout?”
Ifoughtagainstmyingrainedinstincttocower,findingthecouragetoreachoutformymom’shand.“She’scomingwithus,”Isaid,staringChipdeadintheeye.“That’swhatwe’rewhisperingabout.”
“Thehellsheis!”Chipsaid,grabbingmymom’sotherwristandyankingherashardashecould,likeshewastheropeinagameoftug-of-war.
Joeputhishandsintheair,palmsout,hisshoulderssquaredtoChip.“Whoa!C’mon,man!Lethergo!Calmdown!”
Chip’seyesnarrowedashedroppedmymom’sarmandtookaslow,dramaticsteptowardJoe.“You.Pompous.Prick,”Chipsaid.“Don’tyoudaretellmewhattodo.”
“C’mon,man.I’mnottellingyouwhattodo.I’mjust—Ijustwanteveryonetocalmdown.”
“Getthehelloutofmyhouse!”Chipsaid.“Andtakeyourlittlegold-diggingtrampwithyou.”
IheldmybreathinhorrorandhumiliationasJoesquintedatChip.“Whatdidyoujustsay?”hesaid.
“DidIstutter?”Chipasked.
“Apologize,”Joesaid,thetwomennosetonose.“Rightnow.Or—”
“Orwhat?”Chipsaid.
“Orelse…you’regoingtohavearealproblemonyourhands!”Joesaid.
Chipshruggedwithasmirk.“Ifthat’swhatyouwant.Let’sgo,prettyboy.”Heshovedhiswaypastmymomandme,thenwalkedoutthedoor,takingafewstridesontothefrontlawnbeforeturningtofacethehouse.“I’mwaiting!”hetaunted,hisarmscrossed.
Joetookasteptowardthedoor,butIblockedhispathwithmybody,andsaid,“Don’t,Joe.He’snotworthit.”
Joeshookhishead.“I’mnotgoingtolethimtalkaboutyoulikethat,Cate!Noway!”
“AndI’mnotgoingtoletyoufighthim,”Isaid,picturingasceneonthefrontlawn,alongwithtomorrow’sheadlines.Iturnedtomymomforonelast-ditch,franticeffort.“And,Mom,I’mbeggingyou….Ifyouevercaredaboutme,ifyoulovemeatall,you’llgogetinthecarandleavethatman,onceandforall.”
Shestaredbackatmelikeawounded,disorientedanimal,thenwhispered,“Ican’t.”Hereyeslookedblank.“Andyoubothneedtogo.”
Inthatsecond,somethingdiedinsideme,andIgaveup,onceandforall.“Okay,Mom,”Isaid,disgustdrowningouteveryotheremotion.“Haveityourway….Goodbyeandgoodluck.Let’sgo,Joe.”
Iturnedandwalkedoutthedoor,pastChip,andstraighttothecar.Tomyrelief,Joefollowedme,evenasChipcontinuedtotaunthim:“That’swhatIthought,prettyboy!”
Joestartedtoopenmycardoor,butItoldhimthatIcoulddoitmyself,andasecondlater,hewassittingbesideme,startingtheengine.Ashepulledawayfromthecurb,hisheadlightsilluminatedthelittlehousethathadoncebeenmymother’sdream.Andinthatsecond,IsilentlyvowedthatIwouldneverreturntothisplaceagain,sohelpmeGod
—
Joeheldmyhandthewholewayhome,butwebothsaidverylittle.Icouldtellhewasinshock,andmaybeIwas,too.Obviously,I’dseenChipabusemymomathousandtimes,butwatchingitunfoldwithawitness—withJoe—wasanewkindoftraumaforme.Ormaybeitwasthesametrauma,justadifferentlevelofshame.Noneofmyusualmechanismsofdenialweregoingtoworkthistime.JoehadseenwhereIcamefrom,andtherewasnotakingitback.
Hetookmetohisplacewithoutevenasking.Iwasglad,asImighthavetoldhimIwantedtobealonebutrealizedIdidnot.Whenwegotinsidehisdarkapartment,heturnedonafewlights,greetedThursday,thenpulledmetohim,givingmealonghug.Whenwefinallyseparated,Ibracedmyselfforalineofquestioningandfeltrelievedwhenhesaidonly,“Whydon’tyougotakeashowerwhileIwalkthedog?”
“Okay,”Isaid.
HekissedmyforeheadbeforeIturnedandwalkedtohisbedroom,thenhisbathroom,closingthedoorbeforeslowlyremovingmyclothes.Istartedtolookinthemirror,thenstopped,embarrassedbymyownreflection.ItoldmyselfthatI’ddonenothingwrong,butIstillfeltawaveofintenseguiltandshameasIsteppedintotheshower.Itwasthebestplacetocry,butthatnight,notearscame.
Abouttwentyminuteslater,Ifinallygotoutoftheshower,toweledmyselfoff,andwrappedmyselfinJoe’schenillerobe.Iwalkedouttothelivingroomandfoundhimsittingonthesofainhisfavoritegreen-and-blueplaidpajamabottoms.Onthecoffeetableweretwomugsoftea,thebagsstillsteeping,alongwithaplateofbutteredtoastcutonthediagonal.
“Iputalittlehoneyinyourtea,”hesaidwithasmallsmile.
WhenIdidn’tsmileback,hesaid,“I’msorry.Idon’tknowwhattosay….”
“Youdon’thavetosayanything.”
“Shouldwecallandcheckonyourmother?”
“No,”Isaid,shakingmyhead.
“Okay.Justcomesitwithme?”Hepattedthesofabesidehim.
Isatbesidehimashehandedmemywarmmug,steamstillrisingfromit.Ibroughtittomylipswithouttakingasip,thenturnedmyeyestohimandsaid,“Doyouthinkwecouldpretendthisdidn’thappen?”
Helookedsurprised,hiseyebrowsraised.“Idon’tknow,Cate….”
“Please?”
Hesighed,ranhishandthroughhishair,thennodded.“Fortonight,yes…wecanpretend.Butnotforever.”
ItookwhatIcouldget,thetwoofusdrinkingourteainsilence.
“Youshouldeatsomething,”hesaidatonepoint,gesturingtowardthetoast.
IshookmyheadandsaidIwasn’thungry,rememberingwhyIhadbeensothininhighschool.
Afterawhile,myeyelidsgrewheavy,thechamomileworkingitsmagic.ThenextthingIknew,Joewasgentlyshakingmeawake.“C’mon,honey,”hesaid,pullingmetomyfeet.“Let’sgotobed.”CHAPTER23
Joe
AsupsettingasourvisittoMontclairwas,IthinkitbroughtCateandmecloser.IcertainlyunderstoodherbetterthanIhadbefore,somanythingscrystallizing,includinghermotivationtodropoutofhighschoolandmovetothecity.Ialsogotwhyshehadalwaysresistedromanticrelationships,doingherbesttokeepmenatarm’slength,thewayshehadwithmeinthebeginning.Evennow,shedidn’twanttotalkaboutwhathadhappenedwithhermotherandChip,andwheneverItriedtobroachthesubject,shewouldshutdown.IdecidedIshouldleaveitaloneforawhile,givinghertimetoworkthroughwhatshewasfeeling.
Abouttwoweekslater,Itriedagain.
“Cate,canIaskyousomething?AboutyourmotherandChip?”Iasked,justafterwe’dmadelove.Shewaslyinginmyarms,andIfeltherbodytense.
“Okay,”shesaid,soundingmorethanalittlereluctant.
“Growingup…didyouevertrytogethelp?LikefromateacherorcounselororWendy’sparents?”
“No,”shesaid.
“Whynot?”
“Iwastooafraid.”
Iwrappedmyarmsmoretightlyaroundher,thensaid,“Afraidthathe’dhurtyouandyourmom?”
“Notme.Buther.Andhewouldhave,”shesaid.“Forsure.”
“Didheeverhityou?”
“No,”Isaid.“Forthemostpartitwasjustverbalabuse.ButIalwaysfeltthathewasonetriggerawayfromsmackingmearound,too.Ithinkheheldthatovermymom’sheadasanotherwaytocontrolher.Ifshedidn’tplayball,Iwasnext.”
“Damn,”Isaidundermybreath,feelingafreshsurgeofragetowardChip.Honestly,IwasafraidofwhatImightdotohimifIeversawhimagain.
“Andanyway,”Catesaid.“IfIhadtold?Nothingwouldhavehappenedtohim.Hewouldhavedeniedit.Calledmealiar.Itwouldhavebeenmywordagainsthis.Andhe’sacop—”
“Butpeoplewouldhaveseenthecutsandbruises,”Isaid,feelingnauseous.“They’dhavetobelieveyou.”
“Notheywouldn’t,Joe,”shesaid.“That’snothowthisstuffworks.Mymomwouldhavedenieditandgiveneveryoneherbullshitaboutfallingdownthesteps…andatthatpoint,whatcouldanyonedo?Theycan’tmakeheradmitit.”
“Yeah,”Isaidwithasigh.ItwasapatternI’dseenandheardabout,bothanecdotallyandinthecourseofmyjob.Itwasprobablywhymycolleagueswhoworkedondomesticviolencecasesseemedtoburnoutthequickest,nottomentionthesocialworkers,whodidthereallysoul-crushingwork.
“Plus,ifI’mtotallyhonest—”Catehesitated.“Itwasn’tjustthefearofChip.Itwasalsoafearofwhatpeoplewouldthinkofmymomandme.Iknowthatsoundsbizarre….Itdoestome,too,nowthatI’molderandawayfromit.”
“Whatdoyoumean?They’djustthinkyouwerevictims…ofsomethingterrible.”
“Yeah,”shesaid.“Exactly.ButIdidn’twanttobeavictim.Iwasashamed.”Shewassilentforseveralseconds,thenloweredhervoiceandsaid,“Onsomelevel,Istillam.”
“Oh,Cate.Youhavenothingtobeashamedof!”
“Iknowthatrationally,”shesaid.“Butitalwaysfeltlikeasocialclassthingtome—”
“That’snottrue,”IsaidasemphaticallyasIcould.“Domesticviolencedoesn’tdiscriminate.”
“Iknowthatnow.Butasakid—Icouldn’tseeit.AndIjustfeltsopowerless.IthinkIinternalizedalotofthingsthatChipwastellingme….ThatIwasdumb.ThatI’dneveramounttoanything.Itwashardnottofeel…worthless.”
“Whendidthatchange?”Isaid.“Assoonasyoulefthome?”
Shedidn’tanswerrightaway,butIcouldhearherbreathing—andalsofeelherchestrisingandfallingagainstmine.“Ittookalongtime.Averylongtime,”shefinallysaid.“Andsometimes…Icanstillhearhim…andIstillbelievehim.”
“OhmyGod,Cate,no.You’resoamazing—”
“I’mreallynot,though,Joe.Youalwayssaythat.AndIappreciateit—Ireallydo.Ilovethatyouseemethatway.ButifIwereamazing,Iwouldhavegottenmymomoutofthissituation.”
“Youjustsaidyourselfit’snotthateasy—”
“Iknow,butIstillfeellikeIfailedher,”shesaid.“Elnadisagrees—sheblamesmymomsomuch.”
“Fornotleavingonherown?”
“Exactly.Onsomelevel,Ithinkshe’sright.Ibelieveallthatstuffabouthowweareeachthecaptainofourownshiporwhatever.Thatyoucan’thelpsomeonewhodoesn’twanttobehelped.Butshe’smymother,youknow?”
“Iknow,”Isaid,kissingherforehead.“Ifeellikeweshouldtrytodosomething.Wecouldreporthim….Itwouldbehiswordagainstours—he’dlosethatbattle.”
“Yes.Butatwhatcost?Whatwouldhedotomymom?”
“Wecouldgetarestrainingorder—”
“Likethosework.”
“Wecouldgetherfull-timesecurity—”
“Believeme,I’vethoughtaboutallofthat.Everyfewmonths,Ihatchanewplan.Buttheothernight?…Somethingsnappedinsideme,andIstartedtothinkthatElnareallyisright.Howcouldmymomdothistoherself?Howcouldshehaveletmelivethatway?Imean,God…Ithinkabouthavingchildren…Ijustcan’timagineallowingsomeonetotreatmychildthatway.”
“Iknow,baby…Ithinkalotaboutthatstuff,too,lately.Havingkids,”Isaid,strokingherhair.“AndhowIwanttodothingsdifferentlythanmymother.”
“Yeah.ButIfeellikeshe’sdoneaprettygoodjob.You’veturnedoutreallywell.Anditdoesn’tseemlikeyoushouldhave,”shesaid.Icouldtellshewassmiling,butalsoserious.
“Iknow.She’sagoodmother.Shereallyis.ButsometimesIresentalltheKingsleypressureandhype.I’mnotgoingtodothattomykid—”Ithoughtforasecond,thenadded,“Ofcourse,withmymediocreaccomplishments,someofthatpressurewillbediluted.”
Ilaughed,butCatedidn’t.“Don’t,Joe,”shesaid.“Don’tputyourselfdown.Idon’tknowabetterman.”
“Wow,”Isaid.“Doyoumeanthat?”
“OfcourseIdo.”
Shetiltedherheadupandgavemeasoft,soulfulkissthatmademyheartexplode.
—
Therestofthesummerpassedbothblissfullyanduneventfully.Therewasnofurtherdramawithourfamilies,inpartbecausewelimitedcontactwithboth.Catecalledtocheckonhermothernowandthenbutdidn’tmakeanyattemptstoseeherandIdidn’tpressureher.Inthebackofmymind,Ifantasizedaboutarescueorrevengemission,butfornowIsafeguardedCate’smentalhealthandprioritizedourrelationship.
Meanwhile,Cateacclimatedtohergrowingfame.Shestilldespisedandfearedthepaparazzi,andweerredonthesideofkeepingalowprofile,butweweren’tinhiding,either.Wefreelywenttorestaurantsandbars,Broadwayshowsandbaseballgames.Weevenattendedtheoccasionalbenefitorgalaorfundraisertogether,thesortofboringeventsI’dbeensayingnotoformonths.Forashyperson,Catewasanaturalatworkingaroomandcouldturnonhercharismalikealightswitch.Onemoment,she’dbesittinganxiouslyinthebackofatowncar,dreadingthefunctiontocome,andinthenext,shewasdazzlingcelebritiesandpoliticians.
Thekeytohercharm,Ithink,wasthatshewasalwayssoauthenticallyherself.Despiteherinsecurities,sheneverovercompensatedbytryingtoimpressanyone,nordidshetrytohidebehindme.Instead,shemingledonherown,deflectingthefawningthatcamewithbeingmygirlfriendwhileshowinggenuineinterestinothers.Nobodycouldaccuseherofbeingmyarmcandy.Ifanything,Icouldfeelmyselfbecomingdependentonher.Icouldn’tstandtobeawayfromher,andevenaccompaniedheronafewofherbusinesstripstoLondon.
Yetasintenseandall-consumingasourrelationshipwas,itneverfeltunhealthyorobsessive.Beforeher,Ihadbelievedthatpassioncamewithaprice.Thatyouhadtochoosebetweenbeingmadlyinloveandbeingatpeace.WithCate,Ihadboth,anditwasmagic.
—
AssummerfadedintofallandCateandIenteredourthirdseasontogether,Idecideditwastimetogetaring—thatIcouldn’twaitanylongertoofficiallybeginourlifetogether.Iwasn’tsurewhatourfuturewouldlooklike,butIknewwewoulddefineittogether—ourway.
Ididn’tthinkitwasagoodideatoaskhermotherforherhandinmarriage,butanold-fashionedpartofmewantedtoasksomeone.SoIinvitedElnatolunch,thetwoofusmeetingatRao’sinEastHarlem,oneofmyfavoritespots.
Justtobeonthesafeside,Ibroughtastackoffilefolderswithme,spreadingthemoutonthetablebetweenussoitwouldlooklikeaworkinglunch.ThelastthingIneededwasforthetabloidstoaccusemeofcheatingonCatewithamodel.
Elnalaughed,clearlyawareofwhatIwasdoing,thensaid,“Niceprops.”
“Onecanneverbetoocareful.”
“No,”Elnasaid.“Onecannot.”
“So,”Isaid,smiling.“Ithinkyoumightknowwhywe’rehere.”
“Yes,”shesaid.“IthinkImight.”
“I’mgoingtoaskCatetomarryme.”
“That’swonderful,”shesaid,butthelookonherfacewassoinscrutablethatitworriedme.
“Youthinkso?”
“Yes.Ido.”
“Thenwhyaren’tyousmiling?”
“BecauseI’mthinking…thisisheavystuff.Cate’slifewillchange.Imean,italreadyhas—butitwillreallychange.Forever.”
Iswallowed,feelingnervous.Theconversationwasn’tgoingexactlythewayI’dhoped.“Yeah.That’skindoftheideaofmarriage,”Isaid,forcingasmile.“Lifewillchangeforbothofus.Hopefullyforthebetter.”
“Yes,”shesaid,nodding.“Hopefully.”
“Okay,Elna.You’rescaringmehere,”Isaid.
“Idon’tmeantoscareyou,”shesaid,herexpressionsofteningalittle.“I’mhappyforyou.Forbothofyou.”
“SoIhaveyourblessing?”
Shesmiled.“Yes,ofcourseyoudo.”
Igaveasighofrelief,thensaid,“Doyouthinkshe’llsayyes?”
“Ithinkit’sverylikely,”Elnasaid.
“Butnotasurething?”
“Nothing’sasurethingwithCate,”shesaid.“Ithinkyouknowthatbynow.”
Inodded,thenaskedifshe’dhelpmepickoutaring.
“Oh,shit,”Elnasaid,shakingherheadandlaughing.“Iwashopingyouwouldn’taskmethat….Ihavenoideawhattotellyou.”
“Areyouserious?”Iasked.“Isn’tthatsomethinggirlsdiscuss?”
“Maybemostgirls…butnotus.”
“Shit,”Isaid.“So…noguessesonherfavoritecutofdiamond?”
“Well,I’dsaysomethingclassic…butnottoopredictableorboring.”
“Isaroundcutboringorclassic?”Iasked.
“I’dsayit’sclassic.ButIdon’tknow…maybealittleboring,too?”
“Okay,”Isaid,laughing.“Youdorealizethatyou’rezerohelphere,right?”
Shesmiledandshrugged.“Itoldyou.It’snotmything.”
“WouldCurtisknow?”
“Probably.Butyoucan’taskCurtis!Hecan’tkeepasecrettosavehislife.”
“Okay.WhataboutWendy?”
Elnamadeaface.“I’mnotahugeWendyfan,butit’sactuallynotabadidea….Ifeellikeit’sthekindofthingshe’dhavediscussedwithCate—”
“Doyouthinkyoucouldgetmehernumber?”
“Yes,”shesaid.“Justbecareful.Wendy’sthetypetoparlayyouaskingherringadviceintotakingthecreditforyourentiremarriage—andactinglikeshe’syourbestfriendforever.”
“Yeah.ButIalreadyhaveabestfriend,”Isaid,grinning.“AndI’mfixin’tomarryher.”
—
Thatevening,IcalledWendyandaskedifshewascomingintothecityanytimesoon,thatI’dlovetomeetupwithherforcoffee.
“Sure!How’stomorrow?”shesaid.
“Great,”Isaid.“Pleasedon’ttellCatethatwespoke.”
“Mum’stheword,”shesaid.
Thefollowingafternoon,wemetinacoffeeshopnearMadisonSquarePark.Icutrighttothechase.“Ineedsomeringadvice,”Isaid.
“Ohmygosh!Thisissoexciting!”Hervoicewasloud,andIcaughtthebaristaglancingoveratus.
Ididn’tknowWendywellenoughtoshushher,butIleanedtowardherandloweredmyvoice,hopingshe’dgetthehint.“Yeah.I’msoexcited.Butthisisobviouslyahugesecret.Nobodycanknowaboutthisconversation.”
“Ofcoursenot!”shesaid,sittingupasstraightasshecould.“AndI’msohonoredthatyou’dcometome.Truly.Thisisamazing.Thrilling.”
Ididn’tburstherbubblebytellingherthatI’daskedElnafirst.Ijustsaid,“IknowhowcloseyouandCateare—andhowlongyou’veknownher.”
“Yes.Cateislikeasistertome,”Wendysaid,tearingup.“Truly.Ijustlovehertopieces,andI’msohappyshe’sgettingthefairytale—andPrinceCharming—thatshedeserves.”
Inoddedandsmiledbutwasstartingtofeelslightlyuncomfortable.TherewassomethingaboutthewordsfairytaleandPrinceCharmingthatcameoffasslightlycondescendingtowardCate.ItoldmyselfIwasbeingtoocriticalandpressedonward.“So…thoughtsonthering?”
“Well,let’ssee…IknowCatelovesmine,”Wendysaid.Sheputherhandonthetable,thenstareddownatamammothrectangularstonethatlookedmorelikeglassthanadiamond.
“It’sverypretty,”Isaid,thoughthelastthingIwasgoingtodowascopyWendy’sring.
“Thankyou.Myhusbanddidagreatjob.It’sanemeraldcut.Funfact:lessthanthreepercentoftheworld’sdiamondsareemeraldcut.So,they’retherarest…whichmakesthemthemostexpensive….”
Inoddedandsmiled.
“Oh—andgoodnews.Catetrieditononce,anditfithertoperfection.So,weknowherringsizeisasixandahalf!”Hervoicewasloudagain,andthistimeIputmyfingertomylips.
“Oops!Sorry,”shesaid.
“It’sokay.Wejustwanttobecareful.”
“Oh,totally.”
“So.She’snevermentionedherfavoritecut?”
“Hmm,”Wendysaid.“WouldyoubelievethatIcan’trecallasingleinstance?Whichissostrange.Imean—IhadminepickedoutbythetimeIhadmyfirstkiss!”
Inodded,gladthatCatewasn’tlikethat,eventhoughitmademyprojecttrickier.
“Myonlyadvice?”Wendysaidwithasmirk.
“What’sthat?”Isaid.
“Gobigorgohome,yaknow?”Shelaughed,thensaid,“Also,don’tdoapear,marquis,orGodforbid,heart-shaped.Barf.”
“Thankyou,”Isaid,noddingandsmiling.“Thisisallveryhelpful.”
“It’smypleasure.AndIcouldn’tbemorethrilledforher!Imean—gah!Whowouldhavethunkit!TalkaboutaCinderellastory.”
“Well,that’ssweet.ButI’mtheluckyone,”Isaid.
Wendynodded,lookingearnest.“Yes.Youreallyare.Andshe’lllovewhateveryougiveher.”
“Ihopeso.”
“Hey,thisisjustathought,butdidyoueverthinkaboutafamilyring?Likeanheirloomofsomekind?”
“Yeah…Ihave…ButIdon’tknow…IthinkCateandIliketheideaofafreshstart,”Isaid,thinkingthatbothofuswantedtoescapethestorylinesofourpasts.
Incidentally,IalsowasalittlereadytoescapeWendy.Icouldtellherheartwasintherightplace,andthatshewasgenuinelyhappyforCate.ButIstillleftthecoffeeshopfeelingslightlyuneasy.
BythetimeIgothome,ithitme.Catewouldn’thavewantedmetopollherfriendsaboutthering.She’dwantmetopickitoutmyself,completelyonmyown.EvenifIgotitwrong,itwouldberight.
—
Aboutaweeklater,Iputonabaseballcapandsunglasses,madesureIwasn’tbeingfollowed,andwalkedintoHarryWinstonformyafter-hoursappointmentwithanoldergentlemannamedHorace.IknewI’dbepayingmorethanIwouldinthediamonddistrict,butitfeltrightandromantic.
Horaceimmediatelyputmeateasewithbothhisknowledgeandhisdiscretion,givingmeafulltutorialondiamondswhileassuringmethattherewouldbenoleaks.Afterwe’dcoveredthosebasics,heaskedmetotellhimaboutCate.
“Well,she’swonderful,”Isaid.“ButIassumeyou’reaskingabouthertasteinjewelry?”
“Yes,”Horacesaid.“Tellmeaboutherstyle.”
“Sheactuallydoesn’twearmuchjewelry,”Isaid,describingthefewpiecesthatsheworeonaregularbasis.HerCartierwatchwastheonlyrealstaple,alongwithtwopairsofstudearrings—diamondsandpearls—whichsherotated.Otherthanthat,shejustworeanoccasionalgoldbracelet.
“Isee.Lovely,”Horacesaid,noddingapprovingly.“Itsoundslikeshe’squiteunderstated…aminimalist.”
“Yes!”Isaid,knowingthatIwasbeaming.“That’sexactlythewordforit!She’saminimalist.Shesparkles,butsheisn’tflashy.”
“Understood,”Horacesaid.“Well,you’vecometotherightplace,Mr.Kingsley.”
Ismiled,moreexcitedbythesecond.
Forthenexthour,thetwoofuslookedatdiamondsofeveryshapeandcolor,includingayellowone.Theywereallbeautiful,butnothingseemedquiterightforCate.ThenHoracementionedaneternityband,andIperkedup,intriguedbythename.
“What’sthat?”
Horacetoldmeitwasaringwithuniformstonesthatwentthewholewayaroundtheband,pointingoutanexampleinaglasscase.
“Aretheyconsideredclassic?”
“Very,”Horacesaid,explainingthateternitybandstracedbackfourthousandyearstotheancientEgyptians,whoweresaidtoofferthemastokensofeternalloveandlife.
“Oh,wow.Ilovethat.”
“Yes.They’rereallybeautiful.Imusttellyou,though.It’shighlyunusualtogothatrouteforanengagementring.Theeternitydesignismorecommonforaweddingoranniversaryband.Mostladiespreferonesignificantstonefortheirengagementring—”
“Yes.ButCateisn’tlikemostladies,”Isaid.
“Yes.I’mquitesuresheisnot,”Horacesaid.
“Ireallylikethisidea,”Isaid,thewheelsturninginmymind.“Whatifwemixedinanotherstone,too?Likealternatedbetweenacolorandadiamond?”
“Wecouldcertainlydothat.Ifyougothatroute,I’drecommendemeraldsorsapphires.Theyareverysturdystones.”
“Ilovetheideaofsapphires,”Isaid.“Tomatchhereyes.”
“Hmm.Yes.Adiamondandsapphireeternityband,”Horacesaid,nodding.“Thatwouldbebeautiful.”
“Woulditstillsparkle?Iwantalotofsparkle.”
Horacenodded.“Indeeditwould.Formoresparkle,Iwouldrecommendroundstones.Itwillbestunningandunique.”
“Yes.That’swhatIwant.Stunningandunique.LikeCate.”
“Well,wewillmakethathappenforyou,Mr.Kingsley.”
“Joe,”Isaid,grinning.“PleasecallmeJoe.”
Horacesmiledandsaid,“Wewillmakethathappenforyou,Joe.”
“Thankyou,”Isaid.“Howlongwillittake?”
“Areyouinahurry?”
“Yes,”Isaid.“Iactuallyam.”
“I’llhaveitreadyinaweek.”CHAPTER24
Cate
TakingJoehometomeetmymomandChiphadbeenpainfulforalotofreasons.Iwasobviouslymortifiedandashamedbythecontrastbetweenhisfamilyandmine.Iwasalsofilledwithguiltandresentmenttowardmymom.Andthentherewaspure,burninghatredforChipthatIhadn’tallowedmyselftounearthforsometime.
Butoverthenextfewdaysandweeks,thewholeordealbecamestrangelycathartic,too.IwasrelievedthatJoeknewthetruthaboutChip,asitfeltlikethelastbitofmethatIhadn’tshared.Insomeways,itwasn’tunlikemymemoryofconfidinginElna,althoughtheriskfeltabitgreaterwithJoe—oratleastmoreembarrassing.Afterall,friendsdon’tgenerallyleaveyouwhentheydiscovertheskeletonsinyourcloset,buthigh-profileboyfriendsfromsociallyelitefamiliesverywellmight.
ButJoedidn’tleave—andhewasn’tatallpaternalistic,either.Heunderstoodthenuancesatplay,andIdiscoveredthattherewardintellinghimwasasgreatastheriskI’dfelt.Whetherheknewitornot,hisreactiontomyconfessionfeltlikeahugebreakthrough,bothforusasacoupleandformepersonally.Inaweirdway,Ifelttrulyunderstood—andsafe—forthefirsttimeinmylife.
Meanwhile,asmyconfidenceinourrelationshipgrew,sodidthespotlightonus.Itwasasiftheworldcouldsensethatweweremoreinlovethanever,thoughmorelikelyitwasjustthatweweresteppingouttogetherwithgreaterfrequency,thepaparazzibedamned.Ididmybesttoignorethecircus.AndwhenIdidsomehowcatchwindofanegativeheadline,Itookitwithagrainofsalt.
Hardertoignore,though,weretheincreaseddemandsonmytime.Myclientlistexploded,everyonewantingtowearWilburandworkwithme.Invitesforluncheonsandpartiesandgalaspouredin.Fashionmagazinesaskedmetoposeontheircovers.Otherdesignerssentmeendlessfreebies,beggingmetoweartheirclothesandshoesandjewelryandhandbags.Imostlyturnedthemdown,asitfeltwrong—andlikeaconflictofinterest,givenWilbur.ButwhenIdidacceptthem,theitemsimmediatelysoldout.AccordingtoCurtis,whowaspositivelygiddyaboutmyrisingfame,thetabloidshaddubbedthephenomenonthe“Cateeffect.”Healsoclaimedthatwomenwerestartingtoemulatemyminimalisticstyle,forgoingtanningbedsinfavorofpaleskinandditchingtheirlayered“Rachel’dos”forlong,straighthair.Mylongtimecolorist,Miguel,informedmethathenowwasbookedmonthsinadvance,aspeoplehadfiguredoutwhowasresponsibleformypaleblondhighlights.
OnenightasCurtiswasdoingmymakeupforaneventthatJoeandIwereattending,hetoldmehisclientsallwantedtoknowwhatcolorlipstickIwore.
Ismiledandsaid,“Doyoutellthemit’scalled‘red’?”
“Theyknowthat,”Curtissaidwithalaugh.“Theywanttoknowtheexactbrandandshade.Theywanttoknowwhatliplineryouuse.Theywanttoknowwhatmoisturizeryouuse.Theywanttoknoweverythingaboutyou.You’rebecomingafashionicon,”hesaid,applyingblushtotheapplesofmycheeks.“AndonceIdoyourweddingmakeup,you’regoingtomakemeastar,too.”
Ilaughedhiscommentoff,butCurtisdoggedlyremainedonthetopic.“Whendoyouthinkhe’llpopthequestion?”heasked.
“Calmdown,”Isaid.“We’veonlybeentogethersevenmonths.”
“And?Younevertalkaboutit?”
“No,”Isaid.
Itwasthetruth,thoughwedidreferencethedistantfuture,evendiscussingbabynamesatonepoint.Notsurprisingly,Joesaidhedidn’twanttohavea“JosephtheFourth”—thathe’dwantoursontohavehisownidentity—butthathelikedthenameSylviaforagirl,afterhisgrandmother.
“Whataboutyou?”Joehadasked,lookingalittleshy.“Whatnamesdoyoulike?”
Ishrugged,thentoldhimthatI’dnevergiventhesubjectmuchthought,butIdidlikeoffbeat,one-syllableboynameslikeFinnandTateandQuill.
“Oh,IloveFinn,”hesaid.
Ofcourse,Ididn’ttellCurtisaboutthatconversation.Therewasnopointinfeedingthemonster.
—
ThatColumbusDayweekend,JoeandIweresettogototheHamptonswithPeterandGenevieve.Thefourofushadgottentogetherfordinnerordrinksseveraltimes,andIreallyenjoyedtheircompany.PeterremindedmealotofJoe,althoughmoreserious,andGenevievewasveryfuntotalkto.Sheshowedgenuineinterestinmyworldoffashion,andwe’ddiscoveredthatGenevieve’sstylist,AmySilver,wasoneofmyfavoriteclients.
Atthelastminute,though,Peter,abankeratGoldmanSachs,gotcalledintowork.Iwasalittledisappointed,asI’dbeenlookingforwardtobondingwithGenevieve,butIwasalsohappyforthedowntimewithJoe.Ithadbeenaparticularlyfreneticweekforbothofus,andtheideaoftakinglongwalksonthebeachwithThursday,curlingupbythefire,andsleepinginsoundedsoappealing.IcouldtellJoefeltthesameandworriedthathewasalittleoutofsortsaboutsomething.Ididn’tpress,though,figuringhe’dbringitupwhenhewasready.
Sureenough,aboutthirtyminutesintoourdriveouteast,heclearedhisthroatandsaid,“So,Iwannatalktoyouaboutsomething.”
“Okay?”Isaid,feelingalittlenervous,hopingitwasn’tanythingbad.
“IknowItalkaboutquittingmyjoballthetime,”hesaid,shootingmeapensivelookbeforereturninghiseyestotheroad.“ButIthinkI’mreadytogivemynotice.”
“That’sgreat,honey!”Isaid.“Doyouhaveideasaboutwhat’snext?”
Hetookadeepbreath,thensaid,“Well…howwouldyoufeelifIactuallydidrunforoffice?”
“Areyouserious?”Isaid,staringathim.
Joenodded.
“Wow,”Isaid.“Whichoffice?”
“Congress,”hesaid.“TheHouseofRepresentatives.”
“Wow,”Isaidagain,gettingchillsatthethought.“Tellmemore.”
“Well…youknowthatbigmeetingIhadtheotherday?TheoneIwasnervousabout?”
“Yes?”
“Well,itwaswithJudithHope,”hesaid.
“ShouldIknowthatname?”
“She’sthechairpersonoftheNewYorkStateDemocraticCommittee.Andshe’stryingtoconvincemetorunforCongress….Whatdoyouthink?”
“Well,whatdoyouthink?Ithoughtyoudidn’twantthis?”
“Ididn’t…butIdon’tknow.MaybeIcoulddosomegood.MoregoodthanI’mdoingnow…”
“Whatdoesyourmothersay?”Iasked.
“Ihaven’ttalkedtoheraboutit.”
“Haveyoutalkedtoyourgrandmother?”
Heshookhisheadandsaid,“No,honey.Iwantedtotalktoyoufirst.”
“Oh,wow,”Isaid,feelinghonored—andalsooverwhelmedbytheresponsibility
“DoyouthinkI’dbeanygoodatit?”hesaid.
“Ithinkyou’dbeawesome,”Isaid.“ButIwantyoutobehappy.”
“Youmakemehappy.”
“Youmakemehappy,too…butI’mtalkingaboutyourjob.”
“You’remoreimportanttomethanmyjob—”
“Joe!”Isaidwithalaugh.“Focus!”
“Okay.Sorry,”hesaid,smiling.“I’mtrying.”
“Doyouthinkthismightbesomethingyoureallywant?Orwouldyoubedoingitbecauseyou’reJoeKingsleyandpeopleexpectitofyou?”Iasked.
“Idon’tknow….I’dsayneither.IthinkifIdidit—I’dbedoingitbecauseIthinkIhaveanobligationtohelpasmanypeopleasIcan.”
“That’sagreatanswer,”Isaid.
“Andsolongasyou’rebymyside,Ithinkwecanaccomplishsomebigthings…notthatIwouldexpectyoutogiveupyourcareertobesomecongressman’swifeoranythinglikethat.”
“Actually,Ithinkitmightbetimeformetomakeachange,too,”Isaid.Someofmyrecentthoughtsaboutworkweresuddenlycrystallizinginmyhead.
“Whydoyousaythat?”heasked.“Ithoughtyoulovedyourjob?”
“Ido.Insomeways.Imean…Ilovesomeofmyclients.Butforthemostpart,it’snotallthatfulfilling.Attheendoftheday,Isellclothestorichpeople.”
“It’swaymorethanthat—andyouknowit.Wilburdependsonyou.You’redoingsomuchforhisbrand.Fromabusinessperspective.Fromasalesperspective.Fromacreativeperspective.”
“Thankyou,Joe,”Isaid.“Butyou’reactuallydoingmoreforhisbrandthanIam.”
“Iamnot!IboughtafewthingsbackinFebruary,”hesaid,beinghiscuteliteralself.Ormaybehewasjustbeingself-deprecating.Sometimesitwashardtotell.
“Joe,look.IknowI’mgoodatmyjob.Butthebottomlineis,thefactthatI’mdatingyouhasmovedmoreWilburproductthanmysalesacumen.AndI’mjustnotsurethat’stenableformuchlonger,”Isaid,choosingmywordswithcare
“What’sthatmean?”heasked,lookingworried.
Itookadeepbreathandsaid,“Thecoreofmyjobissalesandcateringtohigh-endclients,andit’sreallytoughtodothatnowthatI’minthepresssomuch.”
“Why?”heasked.
“Becauseit’saservice-orientedbusiness,andwealthypeopleexpect—andwant—tobethecenterofattention.Thedynamicdoesn’tworkifI’msomeonetheyseeinthetabloids.Theydon’tlikeit…or,sometimes,theylikeittoomuch….Butnomatterwhat,italmostalwayscreatesthisweirddynamic.Itjustdoesn’twork.”
“Shit,”hesaid.“I’msorry—”
“Pleasedon’tsayyou’resorry.Otherwise,I’mnotgoingtowanttotellyoustuff.”
“Okay…I’msorry—ImeanIwon’t…Ijusthatethis.AndIfeelguilty.”
“Pleasedon’t.It’snotlikethat.Ipromise,”Isaid.“IthinkIjustneedachange.Changeisgood,right?”
Joenodded,thenaskedifIwantedtostayinthefashionindustry.
IsaidIdidn’tknow,thinkingtherewasn’tmuchelsethatIwasqualifiedtodo.
“Wouldyou…Idon’tknow…maybewanttogobacktoschool?”Joeasked,givingmeasidewaysglance.“Therearesomanyoptionsinthecity.NYU.Fordham.Columbia.TheNewSchoolorParsons.Withyourworkexperience,youcouldgetinanywhere.”
Ismiledandtriedtomakeajoke,askingifhe’dbewillingtowritemearecommendation.“IbetaletterfromJoeKingsleywouldgreatlyimprovemychances.”
“C’mon,Cate,”hesaid.“Beserious!Wouldyouwanttogobacktoschool?”
“Maybe,”Isaid.“Maybeatnight.”
“Atnight?I’dneverseeyou!”
“Well,Ihavetoearnaliving,”Isaid.
“True.Butyoucouldmoveinwithme.”
“I’dstillneedajob.”
“No,youdon’t.Icouldsupportyou.”
“No,thankyou,”Isaid,feelingembarrassed.“Idon’twanttobesupportedbymyboyfriend.”
“Okay.Well…youcouldworkformycampaign?Forasalary?”
“So,you’dbemyboss?”Isaid,makingapoint.
“No.We’dbepartofateam,”hesaid.“AndI’dberunningonaplatformwebothcaredabout.”
“Whichiswhat,exactly?”Iasked.
“Idon’tknow,”hesaid.“IjustknowthatI’dwanttohelppeople.Wecansorttherestofthedetailsoutlater.Together.”
Ilookedathim,thinkingthathesoundedmorethanalittlena?ve.Butitwasn’tabadstartforsomeonewho’dfeltsostuck.AndIreallylikedthepartaboutbeingtogether.
—
Theweatherforecastformostoftheweekendlookedmenacing,andtheskywasalreadyturninggray.Assoonaswearrivedatthehouse,JoesuggestedwewalkThursdaywhilewestillcould.Iagreedthatitwasagoodidea,sowetookoursuitcasesupstairsandquicklychangedintosweatsandsneakers.Onourwayoutthedoor,Joemadeastopinthemudroom,grabbingatennisballforThursday,thenrifflingthroughabasketcontainingamotleymixofbaseballcapsandotherhats.Ispottedtherainbow-stripedknitcapthathe’dwornthedaywemet.
“Irememberthisone,”Isaid,pluckingitfromthepile,wonderingifheknewitssignificance.
Hegavemeacutelittlegrin,confirmingthathedid.“I’mgonnawearitagain….”
Ilaughedandcalleditabsurd.
“Doyouwantahat?It’sgettingcoldoutthere….”
“Okay,”Isaid,takingtheelasticbandfrommyponytailandshakingmyhairloosebeforechoosingawhite,ribbedwoolhat.Iputitonand,channelingmymodelingdays,gaveJoeafauxpoutylook.
Hesmiledandpulledmeintoahug,whisperingthathelovedme.Hedidn’tsaythosewordsalot,soitmeantsomethingeverytime.ItoldhimthatIlovedhim,too,feelingsohappy.
Weleftthehouseviathebackporch,followingThursday,whoracedtothefenceattheedgeoftheproperty,wagginghistail,waitingforustocatchup.Amomentlater,Joewasunlatchingthegate,thethreeofusmakingourwaydownthewoodenwalkway,pastthedunescoveredwithseagrass.Wheretheboardsmetthesand,JoeandIpaused,takingintheview.Thatfirstglimpseoftheoceangotmeeverytime.Therewasnothinglikeit,nomattertheweather.Insomeways,Ilikeditevenbetterondayslikethisone.
“Whichway?”Joesaid.
Iglancedinonedirection,thentheother,pointingtowardthenortheast,wheretheskylookedslightlylessominous.JoenoddedinagreementasThursdayrantothewater’sedge,barkingandchasingaseagull.
Webegantostroll,findingthatsweetspotofwetpackedsandthatwashardenoughtowalkonbutnotinrangeofwaves.WelaughedatThursday’santicsbutdidn’ttalkmuch,fallingintoacontentedzoneofquiettogetherness.Agoodbitoftimeanddistancepassed,thoughitwashardtomeasureeitheronthebeach,beforeJoeaskedwhatIwasthinking.
I’djustbeenreplayingourconversationabouthispotentialcongressionalrun,andIansweredhimhonestly.
“Doesthatstressyouout?”
“No.”
“Notevenalittle?”
“Nothingstressesmeoutrightnow,”Isaid.“Exceptthesky,”Iadded,lookingupjustasthunderrumbledinthedistance.Itwasgettingdarkerandwindier,too.
“Shouldweheadback?”
“Maybe,”Isaid.Irememberedhearingoncethatyouweremorelikelytogetstruckbylightningonthebeach.IaskedJoeifthiswastrue,andhenodded.
“Yeah,”hesaid.“Notbecauseofthewater—justbecauseyou’retheshortestpathfromtheskytotheground.”
“Yikes,”Isaid,stoppinginmytracks.
“ButI’mtaller,soyou’restillsafe,”Joesaid,pullingmeintohisarms.
“Notifyou’rehuggingme,”Isaid,playfullypushinghimaway.
Joeassuredmethatnobodywasgoingtogetstruckbylightning,huggingmeagain.Inestledagainsthim,thinkingtherewasnowhereintheworldI’dratherbe.
Afterafewseconds,hereleasedmeandsaid,“Youknowwherewearerightnow?”
“No.Where?”Isaid,lookingaround.
“We’reaboutfiftyyardsfromwherewemet,”hesaid,pointinguptheshoreline.
“Oh,mygoodness,”Isaidwithasigh,remembering.Ismiledandsaid,“Youwereshamelessthatday.”
“Iwas?”Joesaid,laughing.Clearly,heknewexactlywhatImeant.
“Usingyourpoordogtomeetsomerandomgirlonthebeach,”Isaid.
Joegrinnedbackatme.“Aguy’sgottadowhataguy’sgottado.”
“Andlookatyounow,”Isaid.“Stillwearingthesameridiculoushat.”
“Hey!”Joesaid,pretendingtobeoffended.“What’ssoridiculousaboutit?”
“Everything,”Isaid,smiling.“Youlooklikeacourtjester.”
Helaughedandsaid,“No,Idon’t!Jesterhatshavethreepoints.Andjinglebells.”
“Fine,”Isaid.“Butit’sstillridiculous.”
Hereachedup,grabbedthecherryredpom-pomontop,andpulledthehatoff,depositingitonthebeach.“Isthatbetter?”
“Much,”Isaid,asThursdaypluckedthehatfromthesandandmadeoffwithit
“Gooddog,”Iyelledafterhim.“Getridofthatthing.”
WhenIturnedbacktoJoe,hewaslookingatmewiththeoddestexpression.
“Areyouokay?”Isaid.
Henodded,butIcouldtellhewasbreathingfunny,likehemightcry.
“Joe.What’swrong?”Iasked.
Hebithislip,thenranhishandthroughhislongerthanusualhair.“Nothing,”hesaid.“Everythingisperfect.”
Then,suddenly,hedroppedtooneknee,reachedintohispocket,andpulledoutaring.Thoughitwasperfectlyobviouswhatwashappening,Iwasstillinastateofdisbelief.Helookedupatmeandsaidmynameinawhisperedquestion.Cate?
“Yes?”Isaid,myheartpoundinginmychest,tearsfillingmyeyes.
Hebegantotalk.Hisvoicewaslowandhisspeechrapidashetoldmehowmuchhelovedmeandthathe’dnevermetanyonelikemeandthathewantedtospendhislifewithme.Hesaidsomeotherthings,too,butIcouldn’tfocusonhiswords.Itwasasifmytear-blurredvisionalsoaffectedmyabilitytohear.Ormaybemyheartwasjustbeatingtooloudly.
“CatherineCooper,”Iheardhimsayattheendofhisspeech.“Willyoumarryme?”
Iopenedmymouthtoanswer,butmyyescaughtinmythroat,andIcouldonlynod.Hereachedformylefthandandslippedadelicatebandontomyfinger.Sparklingwithsapphiresanddiamonds,itfitmeperfectly.
“It’sgorgeous,”Ibreathed,fightingbackmoretearsandthendecidingthatIdidn’thaveto.
“You’regorgeous,”hesaid,beamingupatme,justastheskiesopened.
“Comehere,”Isaid,andpulledhimuptohughim.
“Iloveyou,Cate,”hewhisperedinmyear,thewordssoundingbetterthantheyeverhad.
“Iloveyou,too,Joe,”Iwhisperedback.
“Forever?”heasked.
“Foreverandever,”Isaid.Justthen,ThursdayreturnedwithJoe’shat,clearlywantinginontheaction.
“Heythere,goodboy!”Joesaid.“Shesaidyes!She’sstuckwithusnow.”
Hestoopeddown,priedThursday’smouthopen,andremovedtheslobbery,sandyhat,promptlyputtingitbackonhishead.
“IguessI’mstuckwiththathat,too,huh?”Isaid,smilingupathim.
Henodded,holdingmygazeforthelongesttimebeforekissingmesoftlyinthefallingrain.CHAPTER25
Joe
MyoriginalplanhadbeentotakeCatetoParisandreenactourfirstdate,poppingthequestionatthetableoverlookingthecourtyardatLeBristol.Butgivenourhecticworkschedules,IknewitmightbeweeksbeforewecouldbothpulloffatriptoFrance,andtherewasnowayIcouldwaitthatlong.Besides,IworriedthatatriptoParismighttipheroffaboutwhatwascoming,andtheromanticinmewantedtosurpriseher.
Mynextideawastotakeasunsetcruiseaboardmyboat—whichIhadn’tyetdry-dockedfortheseason—andproposetoCateinthecovewherewe’dmadelove.Itwouldbealittlechillythistimeofyear,especiallyoutonthewater,butwecouldbundleup.IrantheideabyPeterandGenevieve.Notonlydidtheplanmeetwiththeirapproval,buttheyofferedtohelpmeexecuteit.Basically,we’dallheadouteastfortheweekend,andwhileCateandItooktheboatout,they’dbebackhome,settinguparomanticdinnerfortwowithlotsofcandlesandroses.Genevievebalkedabitontheroses,callingthemclichédandcheesy.PeterarguedthatIwascheesy—andthatCateshouldknowwhatshewasinfor.
“Fine,”Genevieverelented.“Butlet’sdopink,notred.”
“Noway,”Isaid.“Catehatespink.”
“No.Shedoesn’twearpink.Butshelikesitonotherpeople.”
“Howdoyouknow?”
“We’vediscussedit.”
“When?Howdidthatcomeup?”
“Youdon’tbelieveme?”
“Yeah,Ibelieveyou.Ijustwannaknowthecontext.”
Shelaughedandaskedwhy.
“BecauseIwanttoknoweverythingabouther,”Isaid.
GenevievelookedatPeterandsaid,“Gosh.He’sobsessed.Areyouthisobsessedwithme?”
Therewasonlyoneanswertothis,andPetergaveittoher,laughing.“OfcourseIam.”
Genevieveturnedbacktomeandsaid,“Thecontextwasthepinkbridesmaiddressshehadtowearforherfriend’swedding—adressshedetested.”
“See?”Isaid.“Itoldyou—”
Genevievecutmeoff.“Nope.Shedefinitelysaidshelikespinkonsomepeople—justnotonher.ShespecificallymentionedMarilynMonroe’sdressinGentlemenPreferBlondes.”
“Yeah.Shelovesthoseoldmovies,”Isaid,nodding.
“God.Youreallyareobsessed,”shesaid,lookingatmethistimeandshakingherhead.
Igrinnedandsaidyes,guiltyascharged.
—
Unfortunately,ourelaborateplanwasfoiledbytwothings:Petergotcalledintowork,andtheweatherforecastwasfilledwithrain.Genevievesuggestedwewaituntilthenextweekend,butItoldthemIwouldwingitalone.Ididn’twanttowait.CateandIwoulddriveupSaturdaymorning,spendarelaxingdaytogether,andunwindfromallthepressurewe’dbothbeenunderatwork.Then,justafternightfall,I’dbuildafire,openabottleofchampagne,andpopthequestion.Afterward,andassumingshesaidyes,wewouldcelebrateatanicerestaurant,orifCatewasn’tinthemoodtogoout,wecouldstayinandcooktogether.Itwouldallworkout—andCateactuallywasn’tthekindofgirlwhoneededrosepetalsscatteredatherfeet.
OnSaturdaymorning,Cate,Thursday,andIwereontheroadbynine.AllIcouldthinkaboutwasthering,especiallyaswetalkedaboutthefuture.ItoldheraboutmymeetingthatweekwiththeDemocraticstatepartychairwomanandhowshewastryingtoconvincemetorunforCongress,andCatetoldmethatshewasthinkingofleavingherjobaswell.Itwasallabitoverwhelmingandnerve-racking,butItoldmyselfthatitwouldworkout.Wewouldfigurethingsouttogether;Ijustneededhertosayyes.
ThecloserwegottotheHamptons,themoreexcitedandjitteryIbecame.Ididn’tknowhowIwouldgetthroughthewholedaybutknewIneededsomeexercise,andsuggestedwetakeThursdayforawalkonthebeachbeforeitstartedtorain
“Sure,”Catesaid.
Asweunpackedandchanged,Ieyedmysneakerwheretheringwashidden.ItoldmyselfIneededtowaituntillater,butthesecondCatewentintothebathroom,Ireachedintotheshoe,openedtheblackvelvetbox,andstuffedtheringinthepocketofmysweats.Justincasethemomentwasright,Iwantedtobeready.
Asitturnedout,thatmomentcameaboutamiledownthebeach,withThursdayatourside,closetothespotwherewemet.Fightingtheworstnervesofmylife,Iworkedupthecouragetodroptooneknee,reachintomypocket,andpulloutthering.MymindwasspinningasItriedtorememberallthepartsofthespeechI’dbeenpracticinginmyheadfordays.IhavenoideaifIsoundedeloquentorlikeablatheringidiot.AllIrecallwithanyclarityisthewayshelookeddownatmeandnodded,hereyesfillingwithtears.
Ifeltalmostdrunkaswewalkedbacktothehouseinthepouringrain,pumpedfullofthebestkindofadrenaline.Meanwhile,thewindpickedupandthewavesturneddarkgrayandchoppy.Whenwewerealmostbacktoouryard,therewasanelectricflashintheskyfollowedimmediatelybyadeafeningclapofthunder.CatescreamedwhileThursdaybeganbarkinghisheadoff,andthethreeofustookoffinamadsprintbacktothehouse.Bythetimewearrivedatthebackporch,weweredrenched,andaweirdcombinationofcoldandsweaty.Strippingoursoakedclothingoff,welaughed,thenrannakedupstairstothebathroom,headingstraightintotheshower.
Fromthere,theimagesaresearedintomybrain.KissingCateunderthehotwater.Pressingheragainsttheblack-and-whitetilewall.Slowlyenteringher,thenthrustingharderuntilshecalledoutmyname.Andmostofall,thewayshelookedatmeafterward,herblueeyessparkling,justliketheringonherfinger.CHAPTER26
Cate
ThatstormyweekendintheHamptons,JoeandItalkedendlesslyaboutthefuture.Hemadethefinaldecisiontoquithisjob,andIresolvedtogetmyGED,attendcollege,andhelpwithhiscampaign.
Wealsodecidedtokeepourengagementasecretfromthepress.Tothatend,Iwouldwearmyringonmyrighthandanddenyitssignificance—whichwouldbemorebelievablebecauseofthering’snontraditionaldesign.Wecalledafewclosefriendsandfamilywithournews,includingElna,Wendy,Peter,andGenevieve,whoalreadyknewofJoe’splans,alongwithhisgrandmother,mother,Berry,andCurtis,swearingthemalltosecrecy.Sadly,Ididnotcallmyownmother.WithChipinthepicture,itjustwasn’tsafeforhertoknow.Inthebackofmymind,Iwonderedifwecouldeveninvitehertoourwedding.WhenImentionedthistoJoeovercoffeeonSundaymorning,helookedhorrified.
“What?Yourmotherhastobethere,”hesaid.“We’llfindawaytogethertheresafelywithouthim.”
“Idon’tknowifthat’spossible.Itmightbetoorisky,”Isaid,envisioningChipcallingthemediaandblowingeverythingup.Orworse.
“Wecandoit,”Joesaid,stirringmoresugarintohismug.“Don’tworryaboutthat.”
“Or…wecouldjustelope?”Isaid.
“Isthatwhatyouwant?”
IhesitatedbecauseinsomewaysitalwayshadbeenwhatIwanted,evenbeforeIknewIwouldbemarryingintothehighest-profilefamilyimaginable.Therewerejusttoomanythingsmissinginmylifeforatraditionalwedding,includingafathertowalkmedowntheaisle.Weddingsalsocostafortune.Ihadsomemoneysaved,butitstillfeltlikeawaste.“Well,elopingsurewouldbeeasier,”Ifinallysaid.
“Forgetaboutwhat’seasier,”hesaid.“Isthatwhatyouwant?”
Isighed,thenshookmyheadandsaidno,mostlybecauseIknewthatwasn’twhathewanted—andIdidn’tthinkitwasfairtohimtohaveanyofmyissuescloudourdecision.Thatwasn’tthewaytostartalifetogether.
“Good.BecauseIwanttoseeyouwalkingdowntheaisle.Sobadly.”
Ismiled.“Okay.ButIdon’twantahugewedding,either,”Isaid,thinkingofWendyandGenevieveandhowtheplanningsometimesseemedtotakeawayfromtheunderlyingsentimentofmarriage.
“Iagree.I’dratherhavesomethingsmall,”Joesaid.
“Willyourmotherbeokaywiththat?”
“She’llhavetobe,”hesaid.“It’sourwedding.”
Ismiled.
“So…whatdoyouenvision?”heasked.
“Idon’tknow,”Isaid,lookingdownatmygorgeousring,feelingoverwhelmed.IlookedbackupatJoeandsaid,“Somethingintimateandveryprivate.”
Hegazedintomyeyesandsaid,“Goon.”
“Well…let’ssee,”Isaid.“Ipicturejusttwoattendants.Abestmanandmaidofhonor.”
“ElnaandPeter?”
“Yes.ElnaandPeter,”Isaid,thinkingWendymightbehurt,butshe’dgetoverit.
“Willwebeinachurchoroutside?”heasked,likealittleboyatstorytime
“Eitherone.Butmaybeachurchwouldbenice,”Isaid,thinkingthatitwouldalsoeliminatethepossibilityofthepaparazzifilmingourceremonyfromahelicopter.Wewouldn’thavetoworryaboutweather,either.
“Whereisthischurch?”
“Somewhereremoteandsecluded…maybeasmallwoodenchapelwithonlyafewpewsinside,”Isaid.ThatwouldbethelastplaceanyonewouldsuspectthatJoeKingsleywouldmarry.
“Ohhh,yes.Ilikethat.Alot…Whatelse?”hesaid,hisexpressiongrowingsofterbythesecond.
“Well…let’ssee….We’llexchangevowsafterdark…bycandlelight…becausetheremightnotbeanyelectricityinourlittlechurch.”
Joeclosedhiseyesandinhaled.“Yes.Candlescoveringthealtar.”
“Yes.Fillingthechurch…”Isaid.“Andthepastormightneedaflashlight,too.ToreadfromtheBible.”
Hiseyesstillclosed,Joesaid,“What’stheseason?Summer?”
“Maybe,”Isaid,imaginingawarmbreezecomingthroughtheopenwindowsofthechurch,rustlingmybouquetandhair.Ormaybetherewouldbeachillintheair.I’dalwayslovedtheideaofawinterweddingwithsnowfallingoutside.Icouldwearafaux-furstoleandlonggloves.“Anyseasoncouldwork.”
Joeopenedhiseyes.“Willtherebemusic?”
“Yes.Ofcourse.Butnothingelaborateorloud.Noorgan.Maybeavocalistoraviolinist.”
“Whataboutaharp?”
Ilaughedandsaid,“No.Therewon’tberoomforaharp.Thechurchistoosmall.”
“Willyouwearwhite?”heasked,lookinghopeful,perhapsbecausehe’drecentlyoverheardmetellingGenevievethatIloveduntraditionalweddinggowns—whethershortorwithcolor.
“Yes.I’llwearwhite,”Isaid—becauseitwasclearlywhathewanted.“ButIcan’ttellyouanythingelseaboutmydress.It’sbadluck.”
Ismiled,picturingasheathgownandasimpleveil.Maybejustacrownofflowersinmyhair.
“WillIwearatux?”
“No,”Isaid.“Itwon’tbethatformal.”
“Ah,right…Sojustasuit?”
“Yes.Adarksuit.Perfectlycut.”
“HowabouttheoneIboughtfromyou?”
Inoddedandsaidyesthatwouldbeperfect,alongwithapaleblueorsilvernecktie,perhapswithahintofshimmer.
Joestoodupfromthetableandcamearoundtopullmetomyfeet.“Tellmeaboutourfirstkiss…ashusbandandwife,”hesaid,ashisarmsencircledmywaist.
“Itwillbeperfect,”Isaid,gazingupathim.“Nottooshort,nottoolong.Justright.”
“Shouldwepractice?”
“Yes.That’sagoodidea,”Isaid,closingmyeyes.Ifelthiswarmbreathonmyfaceandhislipsbrushingsoftlyagainstmine.
“Likethat?”hewhispered.
“Mmm.That’sclose,”Isaid.“ButIthinkweshouldtryagain.”
Hekissedmeasecondtime,alittlelongerandharder.“Likethat?”
“Oh.Yes,”Isaid.“Exactlylikethat.”
—
Thenextcoupleofmonthswere,quitesimply,thehappiestofmylife.ItwasalsothefirsttimeIcaneverremembertrulyenjoyingtheholidays—atleastsinceIwasalittlegirl,beforeChipcameonthescene.JoeandIputallofourplanningforthefutureonabriefpauseandwentfullthrottleonalltheromanticactivitiesthatI’dalwayswistfullywatchedothercouplesdo.
WewenttoseetheChristmastreelightingatRockefellerCenterandtheRockettesatRadioCityMusicHall.Weice-skatedatWollmanRinkandwentsleddingonPilgrimHill.WehadteaatthePierreandhotchocolateatJunior’s.WewanderedthetoyaislesatF.A.O.Schwarzandperusedtheelaboratewinterwonderlandsbehindthedepartmentstorewindows,fromMacy’stoSakstoLord&Taylor—whichJoereferredtoasthepiècederésistanceofwindowdisplays.Therewassomethingsoendearingabouthowmuchheembraceditall,includingactivitiesthatmanydenigratedastouristy.Nothingwasbeneathhim,andIfellmoreinlovewitheverypassingday.
—
Aswerolledintothenewyear,Joefinallyresignedfromhisjobandbeganquietlyputtingtogetherhiscampaignteam.Meanwhile,IsignedupfortheGEDexam,orderedcollegebrochures,andgavemynoticetoWilbur.Itwasabittersweetmoment.AssadasWilbursaidhewastoloseme,heseemedtounderstandthatmycurrentrolewiththecompanywasnolongerfeasible.HewasoverthemoonwhenItoldhimthatJoeandIwereengaged.
Aswesatinhisswankycorneroffice,Iclearedmythroatandaskedthequestionthathadbeenonmymind.“Willyoumakemygown?”
Wilbur’sjawdropped,andittookasecondforhimtospeak.“Areyouserious?”
“Yes,”Isaid,smiling.“I’mserious.”
“Areyousure?Therearewaybiggerdesignersoutthere—”
“Iwantyou.Justsayyes.”
“Mygoodness,yes.Yes!…Itwouldbethegreatesthonor!”
Wilburwaspronetoexaggeration,butashepressedhishandtohisheartandblinkedbacktears,Icouldtellhemeantit.
“Thankyou,”Isaid.
“No.Thankyou,”hesaid,immediatelystandingandpacingaroundhisdeskthewayhealwaysdidwhenhewasexcitedaboutaproject.“Sotellme.Whenandwherewillyourweddingtakeplace?”
IclearedmythroatandsaidwewerethinkingaboutJuneorJuly—soasnottopreemptPeterandGenevieve’sspringwedding—andthatwehadchosenasmall,historicchurchonShelterIslandcalledUnionChapelintheGrove.
“Oh,IloveShelterIsland!”Wilbursaid.
“Metoo.JoetookmethereoverNewYear’s,”Isaid,thinkingoftheromanticweekendwehadspentattheRam’sHeadInn,abed-and-breakfastlookingoutoverPeconicBay.ItoldWilburhowwe’daccidentallystumbleduponthelittlechapelonthewesternbankoftheisland.IthadbeenestablishedasaMethodistprayerhallbackin1875.
“Howperfectlyquaint,”Wilbursaid.
Ismiledandsaid,“Yes.That’swhatwe’regoingfor.Cozyandunderstatedandprivate…soallofthisistopsecret.”
“Ofcourse!Iswear,”Wilbursaid,holdinguphisrighthandandplacinghisleftonanimaginaryBible.“Youknowdiscretionismymiddlename.”
Ismiled.
“Doyouhaveaflorist?Acaterer?Wherewillthereceptionbeheld?”
“We’renotsureyet.We’veonlymadeafewcallstotheinnandthechurch.That’sasfaraswe’vegotten—”
“Oh,honey.You’vemadecalls?Thisisgoingtoleaksofast,”Wilbursaid,lookingworried.
Ishookmyheadandtoldhimaboutouraliases—SylviaandDeanBristol—afterhisgrandmother,myfather,andtheParisianhotelwherewefirstkissed.
“Iloveit,”Wilbursaid,sittingbackdownathisdesk.Hepulledasketchbookoutofthetopdrawerandflippeditopentoablankpage.Thenhegrabbedasharpenedpencilfromapewtercupnexttohiscomputerandgazedoveratme.“So,let’stalkaboutthedress.Whatareyouthinking?”
Ismiledandsaid,“Well.YouknowmytasteaswellasIdo.”
“Yes,”hesaid.“Elegant,streamlinedsimplicity.”
“Yes.Iwantsimple.Nolaceorbeadingorotherembellishments.”
Wilburnodded.“Sleeveless?”
“Yes.Butnotstrapless.”
“Spaghettistraps?”
“Yes,”Isaid.“Maybeasilkslipdress,cutonthebias?Floorlengthbutnotrain.”
Wilburnodded,hispencilflyingoverthepageashebeganoneofhisinfamouscroquisdrawings.
Afterafewseconds,helookedupandsaid,“Veilornoveil?”
“Veil,Ithink,”Isaid.“Andmaybelongwhitegloves?Forahintofglamour?”
“Oh,heavens,yes…andyourbouquet?”
“Liliesofthevalley,”Isaid.“They’reJoe’sfavorite—andhismothercarriedthemwhenshegotmarried.”
“Fabulous,”hesaid.“AnodtotheKingsleytradition.”
“Yes,”Isaid.“Butwereallywanttodothingsourway—”
“Yes,”hesaid.“Amodern-dayCinderella.”
Ilaughedandaskedifthatmadehimmyfairygodfather.
“Bibbidi-bobbidi-boo,”Wilbursaid,wavinghispencillikeawand.
—
Fromthatveryfirstsketch,mygown—andourweddingplans—cametogetherquicklyandcovertly.Weusedouraliaseswheneverpossible—andwhenitwasn’tpossible,wehadvendorssignironcladconfidentialityagreements.Allthewhile,myhappystreakcontinued.
Morestrikingthanmyfeelingsofhappiness,though,wasthecompleteabsenceofself-doubtandmyusualrelentlessbrandofcynicism.Foronce,Iwasn’twaitingfortheothershoetodrop.WhyhadIalwayskeptmyexpectationssolow?Iwondered.HowcouldIhavebelievedthattruelovedidn’texistintheworld—orthatsomehowIwasn’tworthyofit?WithJoeatmyside,andhisringonmylefthand(ormyrightwhenIwasoutinpublic),nothingcouldstopus.
OrsoIthoughtuntilthatcoldbutsunnyMarchmorninginthepark.
Ihadjustcompletedmytwo-loopjogaroundtheReservoirandwasdoingmyusualstretchingbytheSouthGateHousewhenIsawamanapproachingme.I’mnotgreatatrememberingfaces,butIcouldhaveswornI’dseenhisbefore.Hehadanunusuallyfullheadofgoldenhairgivenhismiddleage—andcombinedwithhisstrongjawline,blueeyes,andweatheredskin,hegavemeaRobertRedfordvibe.AdowntroddenversionofRobertRedford,thatis,wearingabaggyolive-greensweatsuit.
Ashegotcloser,hekepthiseyesonme,andIgrewuneasy.Therewasnosignofacamera,butIsuspectedthathemightbeareporter.Thenagain,IwaswearingmystandardparkdisguiseofoversizesunglassesandoneofJoe’swoolcaps.I’deventuckedmyponytailintothebackofmyfleecejacket,asI’dlearneditwasmyhairthattypicallygavemeaway.Soitwasalongshotthatanyonewouldrecognizeme—unlesshe’dfollowedmefrommyplace.
ItoldmyselfIwasjustbeingparanoid,thathewasprobablyonlyinnocentlypeople-watchingthewayalotofNewYorkersdid.Sureenough,hestoppedafewfeetawayfromme,thenleanedonthechain-linkfencethatJoealwaysreferredtoasablightontheparkandstaredoutoverthewater.Clearly,hewasmindinghisownbusiness,andIneededtodothesame.
Ifinishedmystretching,thenwalkedpasthim,mythoughtsmovingontomyto-dolistfortheday.Butnosoonerwashegonefrommymindthanhereappearedoutofthecornerofmyeye,walkingalongsidemeinperfectlockstep.Atthatpoint,Igotachill.Hewasdefinitelyfollowingme.Theonlyquestionwaswhetherhewasareporter—orsomesortofstalker.
Myheartpoundinginmyears,Ibegantorun.Hedidthesame,thencalledoutmyname.Cate.Pleasestop.Ijustwanttotalktoyou.Please.
Hisvoicewaslowandcalm,andtherewassomethingaboutthewayhesaidpleasethatdefusedmyfear,replacingitwithrun-of-the-millannoyance.
Istopped,turned,andlookedhimstraightintheeye.“Stopfollowingme!”Idemanded.“Now!”
“I’msorry,”hesaid.“Ineedtotalktoyou.Justforaminute.Please.”
Ishookmyhead,buthekepttalking.“It’snotwhatyouthink.It’snotaboutJoeoranythinglikethat,”hesaid.
“Thenwhat’sitabout?”Iasked,myhandsnowonmyhips.
“Canwesitdown?Please?”hesaid,pointingoveratabench.“IpromiseIonlyneedfiveminutes—”
Ihesitated,wantingtosayno.Butmycuriositygotthebetterofme,alongwithhisblueeyes.Theylookedkind.IremindedmyselfthatTedBundyhadkindblueeyes,too,butstillsaid,“Fine.Fiveminutes.”
Hethankedme,thenwalkedovertothebench,sittingononeend.Ifollowedhim,sittingontheotherend,waitingforhimtospeak.Iglancedatmywatch,lettinghimknowthathewasontheclock.
Meanwhile,hecrossedhislegs,thenuncrossedthem,likehecouldn’tquitegetcomfortable.Ormaybehewasjuststalling.Anotherfewsecondspassedashepulledapackofcigarettesandalighteroutofhispocketandofferedmeone.
Ishookmyhead.
“IsitokayifIsmoke?”heasked,soundingreallynervous—andnotatallpredatory.
Irelaxedabitmore,thenshruggedandsaidgoahead,watchingashelithiscigarette,tookalong,slowdrag,thenexhaled.
“Okay.Doyoumindtellingmewhothehellyouare?”Isaid,wavingawaythesmoke.
“Youreallydon’tknow?”hesaid,meetingmygaze.
“Noclue,”Isaid,thoughhereallydidlookeerilyfamiliar.“Havewemet?”
SilencestretchedbetweenusasIstaredathim,waiting.
“Yes,Cate,”hefinallysaid.“I’myourfather.”
Boltingupfromthebenchlikeitwasonfire,Itookafewstepsawayfromit,thenglareddownathim,somethingsnappinginsideme.“You’rearealsicko,youknowthat?”
“Cate—”
“Nicetry,”Isaid.“MyfatherdiedwhenIwasthreeyearsold.”
Heshookhishead.“No,Cate.Ididn’tdie….Shit…isthatwhatyourmothertoldyou?”
“Yes.That’swhatshetoldme,”Isaid,myvoiceshaking,myworldspinning.“Becausethat’swhathappened.Myfatherwasinacaraccident.He’sdead.Youarenotmyfather.”
“Yes,Iam,Cate,”hesaid,nodding,adesperatelookonhisface.Hedroppedhiscigaretteandcrusheditoutinthedirtathisfeet,thenlookedatmeagain.“Iwasinacaraccident—anaccidentthatIcaused.I’dbeendrinkinganddriving…andI…Ikilledamanandhispregnantwife.Igotchargedwiththreemurders…andIwenttoprison.Fortwenty-twoyears.Ijustgotout—”
Ishookmyhead,thinkingthattherewasnoway—nopossibleway.Butashestaredbackatme,IrememberedwhereIhadseenhiseyes.Theyweretheeyesfromthephotograph.TheonlyoneIhadofmyfather.
“OhmyGod,”Iheardmyselfsay.Mykneesbuckled,andIcollapsedbackontothebench.
Thenextfewminuteswerelikeadream,hisvoicecominginandout.Hetalkedaboutthelettersandbirthdaycardshehadsentmefromprisonandhowtheycamebackasundeliverable.Hetoldmeabouthisgriefandguilt.Hownotadaywentbythathedidn’tthinkaboutthatcoupleandtheirunbornbaby.HetalkedaboutfindingGod,andprayingforforgiveness,andlivingforthedaywhenhecouldseemeagain.
Hottearsstreameddownmyfaceasangerbubbledupfromdeepwithinme.Angerathimfordrinkinganddrivingandkillingpeople.AngeratChipfortakinghisplace.Angeratmymotherforlyingtomealltheseyears.“Whydidn’tshetellme?”Isaid.“Why?”
“Idon’tknow,honey.”
“Don’tcallmethat,”Isaid.
“I’msorry….”
Itookafewgulpsofair,thensaid,“Doesmymotherknowyou’reoutofprison?”
Henodded.“Yes.Ifoundherfirst—”
“And?”
“Anditdidn’tgowell.Shebeggedmenottolookforyou.”
“Why?”Isaid,althoughIknewexactlywhy.Tocoverforherselfandherlies.IwonderedifChipevenknewthetruth.Ibetnot—orhewouldhaverubbedthisinmyfacelongago.
Butthismangavemeadifferentanswer.“BecauseofJoe—andyourbeautifullife.Shedidn’twantmetoruinthings.”
“ShetoldyouaboutJoe?”
“No.IsawherintheNationalEnquirer.Abuddyofminerecognizedher—andshowedme….That’showItrackedherdown….”
Iclosedmyeyesasthebitter,shamefulrealitysankin.ItwasworsethanI’deverthought.JoewasaHarvardalumrunningforCongresswithafatherwhohaddiedanAmericanhero.Iwasahigh-schooldropoutwithafatherwhohadtakenthreelivesandspentmostofhislifeinprison.ThiswassomuchworsethanChip;Chiphadnevermurderedanyone.Andhewasn’tmyblood
Ithoughtofwhatthetabloidswouldsayaboutmewhentheyfoundout.WhatJoe’smotherwouldsay.Itwastoomuch—waytoomuch—andeveryfeelingofself-doubtandinadequacyI’deverknowncamerushingback.Joewastoogoodforme,plainandsimple,andevenifhecouldgetoverthehorribletruthaboutwhereIcamefrom,IknewthatIneverwould.
“Ihavetogo,”Isaid,gettingtomyfeetagain.
“Cate—”hepleaded,staringupatme,hisowntearsspilling.“I’msosorryIwasn’tthereforyou—”
“Sorrywon’tbringthosepeopleback.”
“Iknow.God,Iknow…butIhaveatonedasmuchaspossibleforwhatIdid.Andthevictims’familieshaveforgivenme.Ijusthopeyoucan,too—”
“You’vebeengonemywholelife.Mywholelife.”
“Iknow.Butyou’restillayoungwoman….It’snottoolate—”
Ishookmyheadandbackedslowlyawayfromhim.Ididn’twanttohearanotherword.“Yes,itis.It’swaytoolate.”
“Cate.You’retheonlythingI’veevertrulycaredabout.I’myourfather—”
“No!You’renotmyfather.Idon’thaveafather,”Isaid.“Oramother.Youarebothdeadtome.”
ThenIturnedandranawayfromhimasfastasIpossiblycould.CHAPTER27
Joe
ForseveralmonthsafterCateandIgotengaged,everythingwassodamngood.Excitingandhopefulandjustwonderful.IrealizedthatbeyondhowmuchIlovedher,beingwithheralsoallowedmetoescapebeingaKingsley,atleastinpart.Ourrelationshipwasthefirstthinginmylifethatdidn’tfeelfoisteduponme—likeHarvard,andlawschool,andmyrespectablejobasaprosecutor.Eventhecampaignfeltlikeanotherweightonmyshoulders,aburdenofmylegacy.ButwithCatebymyside,thatpressurefeltmanageable.ShekepttellingmethatIcoulddoit.Thatshewasproudofme.ThatIdidn’thavetobemyfather,butthatIwasmorethanthefree-spirited,risk-takinglightweightpersonaI’dalwaystriedtohidebehind.
Then,suddenlyandovernight,everythingchanged.Thatwasmyperception,anyway,thoughmaybeithadhappenedmoregradually,andI’djustbeentoobusywithmycampaigntonotice.
I’dreturnedfromPeter’sbachelorpartyinMiami,hisweddingonlytwoweeksaway.Myflightlandedaroundtwo,andIcalledCatethesecondIwalkedinmydoorfromLaGuardia.Ithadonlybeenforty-eighthourssinceI’dseenher,butImissedheracrazyamount.
Elnaansweredtheirphone,andafterwechattedafewseconds,sheputCateon.
“Hey!Where’veyoubeen?”Iaskedher.“Itriedyoutwiceyesterday.Didyougetmymessages?”
Shesaidyes.Nothingmore.
“Areyouokay?”
“I’mfine.Justalittleundertheweather…”
“Oh,shoot.Doyouthinkit’stheflu?It’sgoingaround.”
“No,”shesaid.“It’smostlyjustaheadache.”
“Amigraine?”Iasked,familiarwiththosefrommymother’sspellsovertheyears.
“I’mnotsure,”shesaid,soundingbothvagueanddistant.
“Okay.Well,canIbringyouanything?Medsorsoup?”
“No.I’llbefine,”shesaid.“Ijustneedtoliedown.”
“Okay,”Isaid.“Checkinwithmelater,okay?”
“Willdo,”shesaid,thenquicklyhungup.
—
Laterthatnight,whenIhadn’theardbackfromCate,itcrossedmymindthatshecouldbemadaboutPeter’sbachelorparty.Shehadn’taskedanyquestions,butIwassuresheassumedstripperswereinvolved—whichtheyhadbeen.Intheschemeofbachelorparties,ithadbeenonthetameside—justthestandardanticsinahotelsuite—butIwasstillfeelingguilty,wishingthatwehadtakenasailingtripinstead.
Attheriskofinterruptinghersleep,IcalledCateback.Sheansweredonthefirstring,soundingwideawake.
Wonderingwhyshehadn’tcalledme,Iaskedherhowshewasfeeling.
“Prettymuchthesame,”shesaid,hervoiceasflatasithadbeenonthefirstcall.
“Oh…Well,I’msorrytobotheryouagain—butIwasjustworried…areyouupsetwithmeabouttheweekend?”
“Theweekend?”
“Imean—thestripperstuff…It’sallsostupid…butharmless.AndIjustwantedyoutoknowthatnothinghappened.”
“Jeez,Joe,”shesaid.“Iwouldhopenothinghappened.”
Feelingalittlestupid,Isaid,“Yeah.Totally…Ididn’tevengetalapdance.Incaseyouwerewondering.”
“Iwasn’t.Butthanks,”shesaidwithalittlelaughthatIcouldn’tread.
“Okay…soyou’resureyou’renotupsetwithme?”
“Yeah.I’msure.”
“Andnothing’swrong?”
Shehesitated,thensaid,“No.Notreally.”
“Notreally?”
Shesighed,thensaid,“Ijusthavealotonmymind.”
“What’sonyourmind?”Isaid,gettingincreasinglyworried.
“Youknow.Everything.Thewedding.Thecampaign…It’salot….I’mjustnotsurewecanpullthisoff—”
“Pullthecampaignoff?”Iaskedher—becausenotadaywentbythatIdidn’tthinkaboutthrowinginthetowelbeforeI’devendeclaredmycandidacy.Ihadnoexperience,andbeyondhowworrisomethatwas,Iwasn’tevensurewhatIstoodfor.Attimes,IevenfeltparanoidthatIwasjustbeingmanipulated,usedformyname.MuchlikeatmyjobintheDA’soffice,everyoneinvolvedinthecampaignhadanagenda,butinsteadofbeingonecoginthewholeoperation,Iwasnowintheeyeofthestorm.
“Notthecampaign,”Catesaid.“Imeantthewedding.”
“Thewedding?”Iasked.“Didsomethinghappen?Didthepressfindout?”
“No.ButI’msuretheywill.Maybeweshouldputtheweddingonholdsoyoucanfocusonyourcampaign?”
“Noway,”Isaid.“Marryingyouismytoppriority.”
“But—”
“Butwhat?”
“Idon’tknow….”shesaid,hervoicetrailingoff.“Nothing,Iguess.”
“Cate.Pleasetalktome.Tellmewhat’sonyourmind.HaveInotbeenhelpingenoughwiththeplanning?”Iasked,suddenlysurethatwasit.ThepastfewweekshadbeenincrediblyhecticasI’dbeenbombardedwithendlessadministrativetasks,fromhiringstafftofilingpaperworktogearingupforfundraising.AndthentherewasthematterofValentine’sDay,whichshe’dtoldmeshehatedandwantedtoignore.I’dbelievedher,butmaybeithadbeenoneofthosetricks.AtestthatI’dfailed.MymindwasspinningasIwaitedforhertoanswer.
“Ijustdon’tknowthatthetimingisright….Idon’tknowifitmakessensetoplanaweddingwhileourlivesareinsuchflux….And,really,what’stherush?”
“There’snorush.ButIalsodon’tseethepointinwaiting.Andthelongerwewait,themorelikelythemediawillfindout.”
“Yeah,”shesaid.“Butiftheydofindout,therewillbeacompletecircusatthesametimeyou’reannouncingyourrun.”
“Okay.Soyouwanttowaituntilaftertheelection?Isthatwhatyou’resaying?”
“Yeah.Iguess.”
“Whataboutmovinginwithme?Doyouwanttoputthatonhold,too?”
Iheldmybreath,prayingshe’dsayno.Instead,shesighedandsaid,“Idon’tknow.Maybe.Youknowyourmotherhatestheidea—”
“Idon’tcare—”Isaid,gettingupset.
“Okay,Joe,”shesaid.“I’mjustfeelingalittleoverwhelmed.That’sall…andthisheadache—Ijustwanttogobacktosleep.Isthatokay?”
“Ofcourse,honey,”Isaid.
Itoldmyselftobepatient—thathermoodwouldpass.ButIfeltaknotinmystomachasIhungupthephone.
—
Forthenextfewdays,itwasmoreofthesame.CatekeptblowingmeoffandmakingupexcusesuntilIfinallytoldherIwascomingovertoseeher.Rightnow.
“I’mabouttogoforarun,”shesaid,evadingmeonceagain.
“Where?”
“AttheReservoir.”
“CanImeetyouthere?”
Shehesitated,thengavemesomeexcuseabouthowthepaparazziweremorelikelytorecognizeherifshewaswithme.ButIwasdeterminedtoseeher,alreadylacingupmyNikes.
Aminutelater,Iwasoutthedoor,hightailingituptothepark.WhenIgottotheReservoir,Ibeganwalkingclockwiseagainstthefoottraffic,searchingforher.Abouthalfalooparound,Ispottedherrunningtowardme.Wearingallblack,shelookedsostrong—herpacefasterthanusual.
Shedidn’tseemeuntilshewasrightonme,butassoonasshedid,shegavemeasmile.Itwasagoodsign.
“Fancyseeingyouhere!”Isaid,grinningather.
Sherolledhereyesandshookherhead.“You’retoomuch,”shesaid,leaningdowntoputherhandsonherkneesandcatchherbreath.
“Ihadtoseeyou,”Isaid.
Shestoodupstraight,thenstaredintomyeyes,herexpressionimpossibletoread.“Well.HereIam.”
“Yes.Asightforsoreeyes…MindifIjoinyou?”
“DoIhaveachoice?”shesaidwithalaugh.
Ismiledbackatherandsaidno.
“Well.Comeon,then,”shesaid,joggingawayfrommeandmotioningoverhershoulderformetojoinher.
Itookadeepbreath,thenreverseddirection,catchinguptoher.Forthenexttwentyminutesorso,weraninsilenceasIstruggledtokeepupwithher.Atonepoint,shesuddenlystopped,abruptlyswervingoffthepath.Shethenploppeddownontothegroundandbegantostretch.Ifollowedher,sittingcross-leggedinthegrassbesideher,waitingforhertosaysomething.
Whenshedidn’t,Iclearedmythroatandsaid,“Okay,Cate.What’sgoingon?You’renotyourself.”
“Itoldyou.I’mjustfeelingoverwhelmed,”shesaid,avoidingmygazeasshespreadherlegsinaVshapeandtouchedhernosetooneknee,thentheother.
“Areyougettingcoldfeet?”Iaskedherpoint-blank.
“Iwouldn’tsaycoldfeet,”shesaid,waffling.“Ijustthinkwe’removing…alittlefast.”
“Okay.Wecanslowitdown…ifthat’swhatyoureallywant.”
Shenodded.“Yeah.Ijustthinkweshoulddothatfornow.Youneedtofocusonyourcampaign.Giveityourall.Youcan’thaveanydistractionsrightnow.”
“You’renotadistraction.”
“Weddingsareadistraction,”shesaid.“LookatPeterandGenevieve.They’reconsumed….”
“Wearen’thavingthatkindofwedding.”
“Still.Ifthemediafindsout…”
“Wouldyouratherjustelope?”
“Joe.Stop!”shesaid.“ItoldyouwhatIwanted!Iwanttowait!You’renotlistening!”
“Okay,honey,”Isaid,puttingmyhandonherleg.“Calmdown.”
Shepushedmyhandawayandsaid,“Don’ttellmetocalmdown!Ihatewhenyoudothat!”
Ilookedather,surprised,becauseIcouldn’trememberasingleinstancewhenI’devertoldhertocalmdown.Ialmostpointedthisoutbutdecidedthatprobablywasn’tagoodidea.Instead,Ijustapologized.
“Don’tbesorry,”shesaid.“Juststopallofthis.”
“Allofwhat?”
“Theclamoringandnagging…Ijustneedalittlespace.”
“Fromme?”
“Fromeverything!”shesaid,hervoicerising,asIcaughtawomanstaringatus.Herfacelitupasshepointedusouttoherfriend.
“Shhh,”Isaid,lookingdownattheground.“Peoplearelooking—”
“Don’tshushme!Andofcoursethey’relooking!YoucametotheparkwhenItoldyounotto!”
“Icametotheparkbecauseyourefusedtoseeme,”Isaid,myworrymorphingintofrustrationwithatingeofanger.
“Exactly.IrefusedtoseeyoubecauseIdidn’twanttoseeyou.Gethowthatworks?”shesaid,hervoiceicy.
“Jeez,”Isaid.“Whyareyoubeingsuchajerk?”
“I’mnotbeingajerk,Joe!ItoldyouIwantedtogoforarunalone,andyoushowedupanyway!That’sselfishashell.It’snotalwaysaboutyou!”sheyelled,gettingtoherfeetandglaringdownatme.
“Dammit,Cate,”Isaid,standingandfacingher.“Iknowit’snotaboutme.I’mtryingto—”
“What?”sheyelled.“What,exactly,areyoutryingtodo?”
“I’mtryingtotalktoyou.I’mworriedaboutyou,”Isaid.
“Well,don’tbe!I’mfine!Iwasfinebeforeyou.I’mfinenow.AndI’llbefine—”Shestoppedabruptly,andsodidmyheart.
“Finishyoursentence,”Isaid.
Sheshookherhead.
“Comeon,Cate.Goaheadandtellme.Whatwereyougoingtosay?”
“Nothing,”shesaid,clearlylying.Thensheshookherheadandturnedtogo.
Igrabbedherarmandsaid,“Thatyou’llbefineafterme?Isthatwhatyouweregoingtosay?”
Shepulledawayandsaid,“No.IwasjustgoingtosaythatI’llalwaysbefine.”
“No,youweren’t,”Isaid.“That’snotwhatyouweregoingtosay.”
Shebitherlip,shookherhead,thensaid,“Okay,Joe.Youwanttopushthis?”
“Yes,”Isaid.“Ido.”
“Fine,”shesaid,hereyesflashingwithanger.
Iwaitedafewseconds,thenwatchedwithshockasshetookoffherringandshoveditintomychest.“Ican’tdothis.”
“What?”Isaid,backingup,horrified.
“Takethering,Joe,”shesaid,givingmeasteelygaze.
“No,”Isaid,shakingmyhead.“Don’tdothis—”
“Takeit,Joe.Now.”
Ikeptshakingmyhead,thenbegantobeg.Pleasedon’tdothis.Please.
Butsheclearlywasn’tlistening.Instead,shedroppedtheringontheground,thenturnedandwalkedaway.CHAPTER28
Cate
I’mnotsurewherethephotographerwashidingorhowlong-rangehiscameralenswas,buthecaughteverysecondofourfightinthepark—onvideo,noless—includingthepartafterIleft,whenJoesatbackdownonthegroundandcried,hisfaceinhishands.
Ineveractuallysawthevideo,butElnaandCurtisandWendydid,alongwitheveryoneelseandtheirmother,afterthefilmandphotographsweresoldtoEntertainmentTonightanddozensofotheroutlets.Iaskedmyfriendstogiveittomestraight—andtheydid,readingaloudtheheadlines,rangingfromHunkDumpedtoCateHatetothesimpleandsuccinctIt’sOver!
Itwasthebiggestshitshowtodate,provingonceagainthatbadnewsoutsellsgood.Theonlysilverliningwasthatthingsfinallyseemedblackandwhite.Ourcaught-on-camerafightcrystallizedmygutfeelingthatIcouldn’tmarryJoe.Ifthepresswentthiscrazyoverafightinthepark,Icouldn’timaginewhatthey’ddowhentheydiscoveredthetruthaboutmyfather.Itwouldbeunbearableforeveryoneinvolved,nottomentionthedamageitwoulddotoJoe’simageandpoliticalcareerandrelationshipwithhismother.Bottomline,thetabloidsgotitright,foronce.
Itwasover.
Meanwhile,Ihidfromtheworldasphotographersstakedoutmyapartmentandmyphonerangoffthehook.Iscreenedmycalls,ignoringeveryone,includingJoe,wholeftseveralpleasonmyansweringmachine.
TheonlytimeIpickedupwaswhenIheardmymother’svoicedroningonabouthowsadshewastoseethatJoeandIwereinafight.Overcomebyrage,IgrabbedthephonewithonehandasElnaheldmyother.
“Don’tevercallmeagain,”Isaid,myvoicelowandsteady.
“Cate?Isthatyou?”
“Yes,”Isaid,closingmyeyes,determined.“Andlistencarefully—becausethiswillbethelasttimeyoueverhearmyvoice.”
“Whatintheworldisgoingon?I’msoconfused—”
“Really,Mom?Areyoureallygoingtositthereandplaydumbwithme?”
Silencefilledtheairwaves.
“ImetDean,Mom,”Isaid.“Inthepark.Toobadthepaparazzididn’tgetavideoofthat,althoughI’msureit’sonlyamatteroftimebeforetheybreakthatnews,too—”
“Oh,Catie…I’msosorry—Ijustwantedtoprotectyou….”
“Bullshit,Mom!That’sthebiggestloadofcrapI’veeverheard.Youhaveneverprotectedme.Never!Notonceinyourlife.”
“Catie.Please.I’vetried—”
“No,Mom.Ifyouwantedtoprotectme,youwould’veleftChip.Youwouldn’thavemarriedhiminthefirstplace.Igrewupwithamonsterwhocompletelyevisceratedmyself-esteembecauseyou,Mom,areacoward.Aselfishcoward,”Isaid,myvoicenowshaking.
Elnawasstillholdingmyhandandsqueezeditashardasshecould.
“I’msorry,”mymothersobbedintothephone.
“Howcouldyoulietomelikethis?Aboutmyownfather?How?”
“Cate,please!Trytounderstand.Youwerealittlegirl.Ababy.Ididn’twantyougrowingupknowingthatyourfatherwasinprison—”
“Soyoutellmehe’sdead?Howaboutanicerlie,like,say,hemovedtoAfricatofeedstarvingpeople?”
Iwasmostlybeingsarcastic,butmymothermissedit,saying,“Butthenyou’dhavehopethathe’dcomeback.”
“Well,surprise!Hedidcomeback!”
“Hewasn’tsupposedto,”shesaid.“Theysaidlifewithnoparole.”
“Oh,forfuck’ssake,Mom!Doyouhearyourself?”
“Youweresolittle—”
“Okay,well,whataboutwhenIgrewup?WhenIwasateenager?WhenIlefthome?Itnevercrossedyourmindtositmedownandtellmethetruth?”
“Amilliontimes,”shesaid,sobbing.“But—Icouldn’t—”
“WHYNOT?”Iscreamed,pullingmyhandawayfromElnaasIstoodupandbeganpacingaroundtheroom.
“Because.ThenChipwouldhaveknown…andhewouldhave…”
“HewouldhaveWHAT,Mom?”
“Hewouldhavegoneberserk….”
“Berserklikethrowingcatshitaroundmyroom—orberserklikebreakingyourcollarbone?Orsomethingelse?”
“Cate.Stop.Please.”
AsIlistenedtomymothersobbing,doingherbesttojustifytheunjustifiable,IfeltanylasttraceofresidualcompassionI’deverhadforherdisappear.
“Imeanit,Mom.I’mdone.Pleasedon’tevercallmeagain.”
Ihungupbeforeshecouldrespond,thenpromptlycrawledbackinbed,whereIprettymuchremainedforthenextthreedays,exceptwhenElnamademegetuptoshoweroreat.
Onthefourthday,ElnaandCurtisstagedamini-interventioninmybedroom.
“Cate,youcan’thidelikethisforever,”Elnabegan.“Youhavetofacetheworld.”
“AndyouhavetotalktoJoe,”Curtisadded.“He’sleftsomanymessages.He’scalledbothofus—”
“Whathaveyoutoldhim?”Iasked,sittingupinbed.
“Nothing,”hesaid.“Iswear.”
“Elna?”
“Hehasn’t.Wehaven’t.Butyouhavetotalktohim.”
“There’snothingtotalkabout.It’sover.Igavehimbackthering.”
“Okay,look,”Elnasaid.“Ifyoudon’twanttomarryhim,that’sfine—”
“No,it’snot!”Curtischimedin.
“Yes,itis,Curtis,”Elnasaidinhermoststernvoice.“Butevenifshedoesn’tmarryhim,sheoweshimanexplanationaboutwhyshe’sdoingthis.”
“Whyisshedoingthis?”Curtisaskedher.
IsighedbecauseI’dexplainedittohimseveraltimesalready.Myfatherwasanex-conwhowasresponsibleforthedeathsofthreehumanbeings.Isaiditagain.
“Butyoudidn’tdoanything,”Curtissaid.“Youdidn’tevenknowanyofthat—”
“NobodywillbelievethatIdidn’tknow,”Isaid.“ItoldJoehewasdead.”
“Youthoughthewasdead!Joewillbelieveyou.You’renotaliar,Cate.Heknowsthat.”
“It’sjusttoomuch,”Isaid,thinkingofthethingsIhadkeptfromhimalongtheway.“AndDottieandBerrywillneverbelieveit.Never.”
“Butit’sthetruth—”Curtissaid.
“Sometimesthetruthdoesn’tmatter.Doyouknowanythingaboutpolitics?TheKingsleyfamily?”
“They’vehadscandalsbefore,”Curtissaid.“You’veheardtherumorsabouthisfathercheating,haven’tyou?”
“Thosearejustrumors,”Isaid.“Joedoesn’tbelievethem.”
“Wherethere’ssmokethere’sfire,”Curtissaid.
“Areyouseriouslycomparinginfidelitytomurder?”
“Itwasn’tmurder,”Curtissaid.“Itwasatragedy—andyes,itwascriminal—butnoneofthisisareasonforyounottomarrytheloveofyourlife.”
“Elna?”Isaid,turningtoher.“Willyoupleaseexplainthistohim?”
Elnaclearedherthroatandsaid,“Ithinkyou’remissingthepoint,Curtis.It’snotthatherfather’scrimesarethereasonnottomarryJoe.Andit’snotwhetherJoewillbelievethatshedidn’tknow…becauseI,forone,thinkhewillbelieveher….It’sthatCateseesthisasfurtherproofthatshecan’tlivetheKingsleylife.”
“Butshecan!”Curtissaid.
“Butmaybeshedoesn’twantto—”Elnasaid.
“Shedoesn’twanttomarrythehottestguyintheuniversewhoismadlyinlovewithherandtreatsherlikeabsolutegold?”hesaid.
“Maybeshedoesn’twantthepressurethatcomeswiththat.Theconstantscrutiny.Thefeeling—misguidedthoughitis—thatsheisn’tgoodenough.”
Inoddedandsaid,“Yes.Allofthat.Thankyou,El.”
“Butyoulovehim,”Curtissaid.“Doesn’tloveconquerall?”
“No,”Isaid.“Itdoesn’t.Andbesides—ifItrulylovehim,Ineedtolethimgo.He’llbebetteroffwithoutme.”
“Idon’tbelievethat,”Curtissaid.“Andneitherdoyou.Iknowyoudon’t.”
“Yes,Ido!Elna,helpmeouthere….”
Elnasighedandsaid,“Ican’thelpyou.Thisisn’tformetodecide.OrCurtis.OrthepressorDottieorJoe.Youhavetofigureitoutforyourself.”
IsighedandtoldherthatIalreadyhad.
“Fine,”Elnasaid.“Fairenough.Butyoustillhavetogetup,getdressed,andgetonwithyourlife.”
Inodded,knowingshewasright.
“AndyouhavetogotalktoJoe,”sheadded.“Youhavetotellhimwhat’sup.Youdon’thavetomarryhim,butyouowehimanexplanation.”
“Ican’ttellhimthetruth,”Isaid,adamant.“He’lljusttrytoconvincemeit’sokay…thatheunderstands…thatwe’llmakeitwork.”
“Becauseitwillwork!”Curtissaid.
“ButIdon’twantittoanymore.Idon’t.Idon’twantthis,”Isaid,nowcrying.
Elnaputherhandonmyarmandtoldmetocalmdown.
Inodded,takingabreath.
“Justgotalktohim,Cate.Tellhimamodifiedversionofthetruth.Tellhimsomething.”
“OhmyGod,thatpoorman,”Curtissaid.
“He’llbefine,”Isaid,assickeningimagesofJoewithotherwomenfilledmyhead.“He’llmoveonfast.”
“That’snotfair,”Curtissaid,shakinghishead.“Justbecausehe’saKingsleydoesn’tmeanhecan’thaveabrokenheart.”
“He’llbefine,”Isaidagain,wonderingifIeverwouldbe.CHAPTER29
Joe
Itwasourfirstbigfight.Reallyouronlyfightsincewe’dbeentogether.Yetthewholeworld,includingmyfriendsandfamilyandmyentirecampaignteam,sawaclose-upvideoofit.
Ididmybesttodownplayittoeveryone,laughingitoffasanotherexampleofthemediablowingthingswayoutofproportion.Yes,we’dhadaspat,Itoldthem,butwe’dquicklymadeup.Everythingwouldbefine.
Berrywastheonlyonewhogotthefulltruth,andIleanedonherjustlikeoldtimes.Weanalyzedthefight,alongwitheverythingthathadhappenedsinceCateandIgotengaged,searchingforclues.Wewerebothbaffled,butBerryconcludedthatI’ddonenothingwrong,andthatithadtobesomethinginternalwithCate.Ijustneededtobepatient,shesaid,andgiveheralittletimeandspace.
IdidmybesttofollowBerry’sadvice,showingasmuchrestraintasIcould—whichdidn’tamounttomuch.IleftmultiplemessagesonCate’smachine,andcalledherfriends,too.IjustwantedtoremindherhowmuchIlovedherandthatImissedher.
Butfourtorturousdayspassed,andthephoneneverrang.BySundaymorning,Iwasinastateofutterdespair.Itdidn’thelpthatitwasraining,andIlovedrainydayswithCate.AllIwantedtodowascurlupunderablanketwiththewomanIloved.Itriedtobeproductiveanddistractmyself,pretendingthatitwasalreadyMonday.Icalledmystaff,wentintotheofficetoworkondonorlists,thenhitthegymforaharderthanusualworkout.Nothingmademefeelbetter,soIcalledBerryandconvincedhertocomeday-drinkwithme.
Withinthirtyminutes,shewasonmydoorstepwithabottleofwine,apizza,andanoldphotoalbumshe’drecentlyunearthedfromheraunt’sapartment.
“It’sfiveo’clocksomewhere,right?”shesaid.
“Hell,yeah,itis,”Isaid,grinningather.“Comeonin.”
Forthenextfewhours,BerryandIporedthrougholdphotos,someofthemdatingbacktojuniorhigh,andlistenedtoCDsfromthatnostalgicera,asoundtrackofourfriendship.Meanwhile,thewineflowed.Berrywasn’tabigdrinker,butshekeptprettygoodpacewithmethatafternoon,probablysensingthatthat’swhatIneeded.Adearolddrinkingbuddy.
IdidmybestnottotalkaboutCate,becausebythatpointtherewasnothingnewtosay.ButeventuallyBerrybroughtherup.
“Ifshedoesn’tcontactyoubeforePeter’sweddingthisweekend,it’sover,”shedeclared.“Evenifshecomesbacktoyou,it’sover.Youcan’ttakeherback.”
Inodded,listening,cravingclarity,evenifitmeantBerry’srulesanddeadlines.
“Bythewedding,doyoumeantheactualceremonyonSaturday—orThursday,whenwe’reflyingdown?”
“Thursday,”shesaid,sodefinite.“Sheknowswhenyourflightsare.”
“Okay,”Isaid,nodding.ThatgaveCatefourmoredays.Surelyshewouldn’tblowmeoffforthatlong.“Andtellmewhythisisthecutoff?”Iasked.
“Becauseit’sonethingtodothiswhenonlyyouandIknowwhat’sgoingon;it’sanotherthingtoletyougotothatweddingbyyourself.”
Inodded.“Goon.”
“You’rethebestman,Joe.SheknowswhatPeter’sweddingmeanstoyouandyourfamily…andifsheletsyougointothatweekendsolo,whereyou’regoingtohavetofieldquestionsfromafewhundredpeople,she’saheartlessbitch.”
“Whoa,”Isaid.“That’salittleoverthetop.”
“Isit?”
“Whathappenedto‘shemightbegoingthroughsomething’?”
“I’mquitesuresheisgoingthroughsomething,”Berrysaid.“Butthatdoesn’tgivehercarteblanchetodowhateverthehellshewantstoyou.”
InoddedasBerrykeptgoing.
“You’vegivenhereverything.Thisgirl—withoutevenahigh-schooldegree—”
“Berry—don’tgothere—”
“Well,it’strue!”
“Thathasnothingtodowithanything.”
“Thehellitdoesn’t,”Berrysaid.“Look,Joe.Likeitornot,you’reaprettybigfuckingprize—andshe’sanunemployedhigh-schooldropout.”
“Shehadtoquitherjobbecauseofme.”
“Regardless.Whatintheworldisshethinking?Itmakesabsolutelynosense.Andbeyondthefactthatit’stotallycrazy,it’salsocruel.”
“Cruel?”
“Yes,Joe.It’scruel.”
Inodded.Becauseitsuddenlyseemedthatwaytome,too.“Okay.So,ifshedoesn’tcallmebyThursday,it’sover,”Isaid,gettingalittlefiredup.
“Yes.Over.”
Berrystaredatmealongtime,andsaid,“It’sgettinglate,andI’mdrunk.Ibettergo.”
“No!”Isaid,reachingforherhand,panicking.Ididn’twanttobealone.“It’sonlyeighto’clock.Staylonger.Staythenight.Please,Ber?Youcanhavemybed.I’lltakethecouch.”
Berrylaughedandsaid,“That’sallyouneed.Forthepaparazzitocatchmeleavingheretomorrowmorning.”
“Iguess,”Isaid,feelingawaveofpuresorrow.
Berrymusthavebeenabletotellbecauseshesaid,“It’sgoingtobeokay,Joe.Justgiveheralittlemoretime.”
“Butwhatifshenevercalls?”Isaid,staringdownatouremptypizzabox.“WhatifInevertalktoheragain?”
“Well,then…itwasn’tmeanttobe.”
Istaredather,myheadfuzzyfromwine.Isuddenlyrecalledoneofourfirstconversationsaboutherparentsandhowsomepeoplehadtheheartlessnesstosaythat“thingshappenforareason.”Itwascrap,shehadsaid,insistingthattheuniversewaspure,brutalchaos.“Ithoughtyoudidn’tbelieveinthatstuff,”Ifinallysaid.
“Whatstuff?”
“Fateanddestinytypestuff,”Isaid.
“Ididn’tusedto,”Berrysaid,restingherheadonmyshoulder.“Butlately…I’mnotsosure….”
“What’schanged?”
“It’snotaboutwhat’schanged,”shesaid,herspeechalittleslurred.“It’saboutwhathasn’tchanged.”
“Idon’tgetit.”
Berryturnedandlookedupatme,tearsinhereyes.
“Oh,shit,Berry,”Isaid.“Whyareyoucrying?”
“I’mnot,”shesaid,wipinghereyeswithtwotightfists.
“C’mon.Talktome.What’swrong?”
“Idon’tknow.”
“Yes,youdo.”
“I’mjustsad.”
“Why?Tellme.”
Shetookafewdeepbreaths,thensaid,“I’msadbecause…becauseImissmyparents.Afteralltheseyears,Istillmissthem….”
“Iknow,Ber—”Isaid,takingbothofherhandsinmine.
“AndI’msadbecauseyou’resad—andIhateitwhenyou’resad,”shesaid,nowtalkingquickly.“AndI’msadbecauseI’mnearingmymid-thirties,andI’mstillsinglewithoutaprospectinsight.”
Berry’sdatinglife—ormoretypically,herlackofadatinglife—wassomethingweneverreallydiscussed.Attimes,Ievenconvincedmyselfthatitdidn’tmattertoher.ShehadagreatcareerandmorefriendsthananyoneIknew.Isaidasmuch,butsheshookherhead,herchintrembling.
“Faceit,Joe.I’malone.Andthisisn’tapityparty.It’sjustafact.”
“You’renotalone,”Isaid.“Youhaveme.”
“NotsinceCate,”shesaid.“AndwebothknowthattheonlyreasonI’moverheretonightisbecauseshe’sbeingapsychobitch—”
Itensedup,confusedbycompetingloyalties.
Berrysniffedandwipedhernoseonhersleeve.“Sorry.Ishouldn’thavesaidthat.”
“It’sokay,”Isaid.
“No,it’snot.Idon’twantthistobemeversusher.Iwantyoutomakeup,andIwanttobeherfriend.ButJoe,I’malsonotgoingtolethertreatyoulikeshit.Andit’stakeneverythingIhavenottocallherandgiveherapieceofmymind.”
“Aww,”Isaid,feeingtouched,eventhoughIwasgladshehadn’tdoneit.“That’sreallynice—butIdon’tthinkthat’sasmartmove.”
Berrysmiledthroughhertearsandsaid,“Don’tworry…butcanyoupromisemeonething?”
“Anything.”
“Promisemethatthingswon’teverchangewithourfriendship.Nomatterwhat.Nomatterwhoyouendupwith.”
“Ipromise,”Isaid.“And,shit,ifCateleavesmeforgood,maybeyouandIshouldgetmarried.”
IwaitedforBerrytolaugh—ortellmehowridiculousthatwas.Instead,hereyeswelledwithtears.
Sheshookherheadandwhispered,“Don’tsaythat.”
MysmilefadedasIsaid,“Sorry.Itwasjustajoke.”
“Iknow—butjust…don’t,”shesaid,onetearrollingdownhercheek.
“Isitreallythathorridofanotion?”Iasked,makingonelastattemptathumor.
Berrybitherlipandshookherhead,“No,Joe,”shesaid,herchintrembling.“I’dmarryyoutomorrowifIcould.”
Ifroze,thinkingImusthaveheardherwrong,thatthealcoholwasplayingtricksonme,butshekepttalking.“I’vebeeninlovewithyousincetheseventhgrade,”shesaid.
Iopenedmymouth,butnothingcameout.Instead,Iputmyarmsaroundherandpulledheragainstmychest.“Shit,Berry,”Isaid,kissingthetopofherhead
“Yeah,”shesaid.“Tellmeaboutit.”
Mymindracingandcloudedatonce,Iwhispered,“Iloveyou,too,Berry.But—”
“Joe.Stop.Iknow.Iknowyoudon’tfeelthatway.Iknowyou’reinlovewithher.ButIneededtotellyou.Afteralltheseyears—Ijustneededtotellyou.”
Inodded,nowtearingupalittle,too.“I’mgladyoudid.”
“Youare?”
“Yes,”Isaid.“AndIpromisethatnothing—andnoone—willeverchangehowcloseweare.”
Then,asifoncue,thephonerang.Ithinkwebothknew,evenbeforeIanswered,thatitwasCate.CHAPTER30
Cate
ThatSundayevening,lessthanaweekbeforePeterandGenevieve’swedding,Imadethefinal,painfuldecisiontofollowmyheadovermyheart.AsmuchasIlovedJoe,wedidn’tbelongtogether.Itwasn’tgoingtowork.Breakingupwithhimwastheonlyway—andIneededtodoitbeforethepressgotwindofthestoryaboutmyfather.Itwasonlyamatteroftime,andIcouldn’twaitforthatbombtogooffinJoe’slife.
SoIpickedupthephoneandcalledhim.Itrangafewtimesbeforeheanswered.
“Hi,”Isaid,myheartracing.“It’sme.”
“Hi,Cate,”hesaid,soundingsotiredandsad.
“DoyouthinkIcouldcomeover?Totalk?”
“Ofcourse,”hesaid.“I’mdyingtotalktoyou.”
“CanIcomenow?”
Hehesitated,thensaid,“Well,Berry’shererightnow,actually.”
FeelingrelievedthatIcouldputtheconversationoffanothernight,Isaid,“Okay.Whataboutsometimetomorrow?”
“Wait,”hesaid.“Canyouholdononesecond?”
Isaidyes,thenlistenedtothemuffledsoundsofvoices.Whenhecamebackon,hesaid,“Now’sgood,actually.Berry’sabouttoleave.”
“Areyousure?”
“Yeah,”hesaid.“I’llseeyousoon.”
—
Fiveminuteslater,Iwasinacab,headeddowntown.Thetrafficwaslight—standardforaSundaynight—andIarrivedinSoHoinrecordtime.AsIslidoutofthetaxi,IspottedBerrysittingonthestepsofJoe’sbuilding,wearingalong,puffyblackcoatandredHunterrainboots.
“Hi,”shesaidwhenIgotclosetoher.Herexpressionwasinscrutable,butIcouldsomehowtellshewasn’thappywithme.Thatshe’dbeenwaitingforme.
“Hi,”Isaid,nowstandingrightinfrontofher,myhandontherailing.
“Areyougoingtobreakhisheart?”shesaid,stillseated.
Istaredather,speechless.
“Wow…You’rereallygoingtoendit….Aren’tyou?”
Icouldn’tmakemyselfanswertheyes-noquestion,soIstammeredmywaythroughanexplanation.“I—Ijustdon’tthinkwe’rerightforeachother—”Isaid.
Berry’sexpressiondarkenedevenmore.“Thenwhydidyouaccepttheringinthefirstplace?”sheaskedinasteelyvoice.
“Idon’tknow….Itwasamistake,”Isaid,feelingsoflusteredandguilty.“Ishouldn’thave.”
Shenodded,herjawclenched,andIbracedmyselfforhertotellmeoff.Instead,hervoicecamebackquietandeven.“That’scorrect.Youshouldn’thave.It’snotrighttoplaywithsomeone’sheartlikethat.”
“Iwasn’tdoingthat,Berry.Ilovedhim—Istilllovehim….Ijustdon’tthinkweareright—”
“Okay,whatever,Cate.Idon’tneedtohearallofthis….Ijustwantedtosaythathehasafamilyweddingthisweekend.Andit’sareallybigdeal.Andheneedsyoutogowithhim.Heneedsthesupport.”
Istaredather,takingthisin,thinkingthatIneededtojustripofftheBand-Aid.Forhissakeandmine.
Berrycontinued.“Ifyoudon’tgo…you’regoingtoruintheweekendforhim.”
“Itwon’truintheweekend,”Isaid.
“ForJoeitwill.Itabsolutelywill.He’llbetoosadtofakebeinghappyforhisowncousin.Andhe’sthebestman,Cate.Everyonewillbelookingathim,feelingsorryforhim,askinghimquestionsaboutwhereyouare.Includingthebrideandgroom.”
Inoddednoncommittally,thinkingitover.ThepossibilityofmyabsencenegativelyaffectingPeterandGenevieve’sweddinghadneveroccurredtome.Ifanything,IthoughteveryonewouldbebetteroffjustgettingtheshowontheroadwiththeirregularlyscheduledKingsleyprogramming.“But…Idon’twanttobeadistraction,”Isaid.
“You’llbemoreofadistractionifyouaren’tthere,”shesaid.“Besides,it’srude.HeRSVPedfortwo.”
“I’msurehecanfindanotherdate,”Isaid,instantlyregrettingthesnidewayIsounded.Itwasn’tfair.
Berrymadeascoffingsound.“He’sJoeKingsley.Hecan’tjustbringsomerandomdatetohiscousin’swedding.That’sworsethangoingalone.OhmyGod.Youreallyhavenoideathepressurehe’sunder,doyou?Doyouevencare?”
IsuddenlywantedtoexplainthatthatwasexactlywhyIwasbreakingupwithhim.Butitwasn’tworthit—shewouldn’tgetit.Howcouldshepossibly?Instead,Itookadeepbreathandsaid,“I’lltalktohim.I’llgivehimtheoption.ButI’mnotgoingtolieaboutmydecision.Mymindismadeup.”
BerryshookherheadandmumbledsomethingunderherbreaththatsoundedlikeIknewyouweretrouble.
“Excuseme?”Isaid,staringherdown,suddenlysoangry—andevenmoresureIcouldn’tbepartofJoe’sworld.Theirworld.
Shelookedmedeadintheeye.“Isaid…I.Knew.You.Were.Trouble.”
“Yeah,”Ireplied,myheartshuttingdownalittlebitmore.“I’mquitesureyoudid.Sothatshouldmakeyouveryhappy,Berry.Yougettoberightaboutme.Congrats.”
Berryopenedhermouthtoanswer,butIsteppedaroundher,determinedtohavethelastword.ThenIusedmykeytounlockthefrontdoorofJoe’sbuildingforwhatwassuretobethelasttime.CHAPTER31
Joe
TwentyminutesafterBerryleftmyapartment,Cateknockedonmydoor.
Iopenedit,forcedasmile,andsaid,“Didyouloseyourkey?”
Shehelditupandsaid,“No.It’srighthere….Iwasn’tsureifIshoulduseit—”
Ismiledagainandsaid,“I’mjustgladyou’rehere.Comeonin.”
Shetooktwostepsintomyapartment,thenstoppedlikeshe’dneverbeentherebefore.Icontemplatedgivingheraquickhugbutdecidedagainstit.Instead,Iturnedandmotionedhertowardthekitchen.Shefollowedme,andwhenwegotthere,sheputthekeydownontheisland.Itwasabadsign,andmystomachdropped.
“You’regivingitback?”
Shenodded,staringdownatit.
“Okay,then,”Isaid.“Iseewherethisisheaded.”
Sheliftedherchin,whichstartedtotremble,thensaid,“I’msorry,Joe.Foreverything—”
“OhmyGod,Cate.Areyoureallybreakingupwithme?”
“Ijustdon’tthinkwe’rerighttogether—”
Icutheroffandsaid,“Stopwiththevaguebullshit.Justgiveittomestraight.Isitover?”
Shenodded,hereyesfillingwithtears.
“Fuck,”Isaid,myheadspinningandmyheartracing.“Isitsomeoneelse?Arlo?”
“No,”shesaid.Shelookedsufficientlyhorrifiedtoputmymindateaseonthatonepoint.
“Okay,then.What’schanged?DidIdosomethingwrong?”
“No,Joe.It’snothinglikethat.Youdidn’tdoanything.”
“Thenwhy?There’sgottobeareason.”
“It’snotjustonething….”
“C’mon,Cate,”Isaid.“Pleasedon’tgivemethat‘it’scomplicated’bullshit.Ineedareason.”
“Ijustdon’tthinkwe’recompatiblelong-term.”
“Howarewenotcompatible?Wegetalongsowell!Weneverfight,”Isaid.
“Wejustaren’t.”
Iletoutafrustratedsigh,thensaid,“Soisthisoneofthose‘youlikethethermostatupandIlikeitdown’typethings?Ormorelike:youdon’twantkidsandareafraidtotellme?”
“It’sneitherofthosethings….It’salotofthings….”
“Nameone.”
“Well,”shesaid,crossingherarms.“You’reaKingsley…andI’m…farfromthat.”
“Well,that’sagoodthing,dummy,”Isaid,attemptingasmile.“BecauseifyouwereaKingsley,thenthatwouldbeaproblem.”
Sheforcedasmileinreturn,thenlookeddownatthecounteragain.
“Seriously,Cate.I’mgoingtoneedyoutobealittlemorespecifichere,”Isaid.“Ineedareason.”
“Reasons,”shesaid.
“Namethem.”
Shesighed,thensaid,“Ididn’tevenfinishhighschool….”
“You’refixingthat.Whatelse?”
“MymomandChip—”
“Wait,”Isaid.“Didsomethinghappen?”
“NotthatI’mawareof,”shesaidwithashrug.“Butwhatifitdoes?Itcouldhurtyourcareer.”
“No,itcouldn’t.”
“Yes,itcould,Joe.Don’tbena?ve.Chipcouldfindaway.Besides,it’sjustsoembarrassing….Mybackgrounddoesn’tgowithyours.Youbelongwithsomeonemorelikeyou—”
Isuddenlyfeltsqueamish,rememberingwhatBerryhadjustconfessedtomeandwonderingifCatehadsomekindofwomen’sintuition.Ifthatwasthecase,maybeshefeltguilty—likeshewasinBerry’sway.ItalsooccurredtomethatmaybeBerryormymotherhadsaidsomethingtoCate.Maybeoneofthemhadactuallytoldherthatsheneededtodothis.
Feelingdizzy,Isaid,“IsthisaboutBerry?Ormymother?Didoneofthemsaysomethingtoyou?”
Sheshookherhead.“Thisismydecision,Joe.Nottheirs.”
Iletoutawearysigh,rubbedmyeyeswithmyhands,andsaid,“Canwegotocounseling?Wouldthathelp?”
“No,”shesaid.“Idon’tthinkso.”
Inodded,unwillingtogiveup,butknowingthatIprobablydidn’thaveachoice.Cateknewherownmind;itwasoneofthethingsIlovedabouther.
Istaredather,overwhelmedbyheartbreak,asshetookadeepbreathandsaid,“Ididwanttoaskyousomething…andI’msureyou’llthinkit’sabadidea….Butifyouwant,Icanstillgototheweddingwithyou?”
“Really?You’dstillcomewithme?”Iasked.Reliefwashedoverme,notonlybecauseIwantedhertobethere,butbecauseIstillhadanopening.Achancetochangehermind.
Shenoddedandsaid,“Yeah.Ifyouwantmeto.”
“OfcourseIdo.”
“Areyousure?”
“I’mpositive.”
Shenodded,thensaid,“Whatdowetellpeople?Iftheyaskaboutthefightinthepark?”
“Nobodywillask,”Isaid.“It’snoneoftheirbusiness,andwedon’toweanyoneanexplanation.”
“Okay,”shesaid,nodding.
“Willyouwearmyring?”Iasked.
Shefrozeup,thensaid,“Idon’tknow,Joe.”
“Please?”
“Okay,”shesaidwithasigh.
Beforeshecouldchangehermindagain,Iturnedandwenttomybedroom,fishedtheringoutofmytopdresserdrawer,andranbacktothekitchen.
“Here,”Isaid,handingittoher.
Shegavemethesaddestlook,thentookitandslippeditontoherrighthand.Iwouldhavepreferredtheleft,butitwasbetterthannothing.Iwasbackinthegame,andIfeltadashofhopethatIcouldwinherbackoverthecourseoftheweekend.Fornow,lesswasmore,andIwouldfocusonlogistics.Takecharge.
That’swhenIgottheideatotakemyplane.Flyherdown.Catewasn’tagirlwhogotcaughtupinluxury,butIfigureditcouldn’thurt.
“So,listen,”IsaidascasuallyasIcould.“IthinkI’mgonnaflymyselfdowntoAnnapolis….Doyouwantalift?”
Catelookedsurprised.“Inyourplane?”
“Yeah.”
“Butwealreadybookedflights—”
“Iknow.ButIthoughtthiswouldbemorefun.Plus,wecanavoidthecrowdsandpaparazzi,”Isaid,keepingmyvoicebreezy.
“Haveyoueverflownthatfar?”sheasked,chewingonherlowerlip,lookingworried.
“It’snotfaratall.It’saquick,easyflight.AndPetersaidtheweatherislookingbeautifulthisweekend,”Iadded.“Honestly,it’sapieceofcake.”
“Won’tyourmotherandBerrybeworried?”
“Probably.Buttough,”Isaid,makingapoint,justincasethetwoofthemhadanythingtodowithCate’schangeofheart.
“Okay,”shesaid,nodding.“Whattimewouldwego?”
“It’sobviouslyflexible.ButI’mthinkingwecouldleavethecityaroundtwoorthree.Gettotheairportbyfour.Takeoffshortlyafterthat.Thatwaywe’llbelandingrightatsunset.Itwillbebeautiful.”
Shehesitatedafewmoreseconds,lookingdownatherring,asshetwistedittwicearoundherfinger.Thenshelookedbackupatme,gavemeaslightsmile,andnodded.“Okay,”shesaid.“Thatsoundsnice.Thankyou,Joe.”CHAPTER32
Cate
AfterIagreedtogotoPeterandGenevieve’sweddingwithJoe,Itriedtoputmyemotionsonhold,tellingmyselfIjustneededtogetthroughtheweekwithoutoverthinkingthings.Itwasimpossiblenottobesad,knowingwhatwouldbecomingafterward,butonethingatatime.
Forthenextthreedays,IpretendedthatIwasonlyheadedtoamodelingshoot—andpreppedaccordingly,justliketheolddays.Igotmyeyebrowswaxed,myhighlightstouchedup,andmynailsdone.Then,ontheeveningbeforeweleft,IwenttoBergdorfandboughtablackoff-the-shoulder,silkcrepedressfromRiveGauche,theready-to-wearlinefromYvesSaintLaurent.
Curtis,whoinsistedongoingshoppingwithmeandwasstillindenialaboutthebreakup,pushedbackontheideaofmywearingblack.Hesaidthatblackwasadownerforaspringweddingbythewater,andthedresswaswaytoo“drapey”formybody.
“Itlookslikeapotatosack,”hesaid.
Itoldhimthatwasthepoint.Thedresshittherightunderstatednote,andthelesspeoplenoticedme,thebetter.
“Becauseyoudon’twanttoupstagethebride?”Curtiseagerlyasked.
Irolledmyeyesbutsmiled,thinkingthateveryoneshouldhaveacheerleaderasbigasCurtis.“No,honey.BecauseI’monthewayoutthedoor.Bettertoblendintothewoodwork,”Isaid,thinkingthatIalsoneededtoavoidtheweddingphotographer,lestIendupintoomanyofGenevieve’sphotos.
Curtisstuffedhisfingersintohisears,closedhiseyes,andshouted,“Ican’thearyou!Ican’thearyou!”
Iwaiteduntilhewasfinished,thensaid,“You’reridiculous.”
“No,you’reridiculous.AndIrefusetobelieveIwon’tbedoingyourweddingmakeuplaterthisyear.”
“Waitasecond.Isthisaboutmyrelationshipending—oryounotgettingtodomyweddingmakeup?”Ismiled,determinedtokeepthemoodlight—oratleastnotheavy.
“Both,”hesaid.“Oh!Thatremindsme—IpickedupanewMAClipstickforyou.It’scalledRussianRoulette.You’llloveit.”
“Well,thenamefeelssomehowappropriate,butI’mnotwearingredlipstickthisweekend.”
“Whynot?”
“Itoldyou.I’mgoingforunderstated.Neutral.”
“Redisaneutral.”
“Still.It’stoobold.”
“C’mon,Cate.Ifyou’regoingtoinsistonblack,canyoupleasejustdoaredlip?”
“I’mnotsurewhyyoucaresomuch.Butsure.Whatever,”Isaid,throwinghimabone.
“Personally,Idon’tcare,”Curtissaidwithasmile.“ButJoelovesyourredlipstick.”
—
TheplanwastomeetatJoe’splaceattwo,thenrideouttotheEssexCountyAirporttogether.Butaroundnoon,hecalledandtoldmethathismeetingwasrunninglate,andthatitmightmakemoresensetolinkupattheairport.Itoldhimthatwasnoproblem,thenaskedwhattimeIshouldarrive.
“Let’ssayfour,”hesaid.
“Okay,”Isaid,knowingthatforJoe,thatmeantclosertofive.“Aslongaswe’renotflyinginthedark,”Iadded,startingtogetalittleanxiousabouttheflight.Likealotofpeople,Ihadathingaboutsmallplanes,anditdidn’thelpthatIknewhowmuchhismotherandBerryfearedhisflying.
“Daylightsavings,baby!Sunset’snottillseven-something,”hesaid.“We’llbefine.”
“Okay,”Isaid.“I’llseeyouatfour.”
—
Aspredicted,Joejoggedintotheterminalafewminutespastfive.
“I’msosorryI’mlate!”hesaid,outofbreath.“Thetrafficwasinsane.”
“It’sfine,”Isaid,closingmymagazine.Istoodupandputonasoothingface.
“Man—”hesaid,shakinghishead.
“What?”
“Nothing…It’sjust…you’reasightforsoreeyes.It’sbeenalongtime.”
Mystomachflutteredalittle—becauseIlovedseeinghisface,too.ButIplayeditoffwithalaughandsaid,“Ijustsawyoufournightsago.”
“Yeah.ButIwasdrunkasshitfournightsago.”
“Youwere?”Isaid,suddenlywonderingifBerryhadbeendrinking,too.I’dreplayedourconversationmanytimes,feelingbothguiltyandangryabouteverythingshe’dsaid—andnotsaid.
“Yeah,”hesaidwithashrug.
“Well,I’mgladyou’renot‘drunkasshit’now.”
Joelaughed,butthesecondthewordswereoutofmymouth,Ithoughtofmyfatherandwhathe’ddone,andfeltawaveofnausea.Drunkdriving—orflying—wasnothingtojokeabout.
Ipushedthosethoughtsawayastwomenescortedusouttothetarmac.Theolder,obsequiousonewasinasuitandtie;theyoungerguy,inanorangevest,carriedmybag.
“Whatdoyouthink?”Joeasked,beamingproudlyasweapproachedhisredandwhiteplane.Iknew,fromhearinghimtalkaboutit,thatitwasaPiperSaratoga
“It’sverypretty,”Isaid,wonderingifthatwastheproperadjectiveforaplane.“OrshouldIsayhandsome?”
Joechuckledandsaid,“Pretty.She’sdefinitelyagirl.”
“Howcanyoutell?”Iasked,playingalong.
“?’Causeshe’sthatbeautiful,”hesaidwithanamoroussigh.
Ismiled,butIcouldfeelmyselfgettingmorenervousbythesecond.TheplanelookedsmallerthanI’dexpected—anddecidedlylesssturdy—almostlikeatoyplanewithlow,skinnywingsandathree-bladepropellerinfront.
AsIwatchedtheorange-vestmantakeJoe’sduffelfromhim,thenclimbarinky-dinkstaircaseandloadbothofourbagsontotheplane,itcrossedmymindtoabortthemission.Fearofflyingwastheperfectexcuse.Andbonus:hismotherwouldbeonmyside.Iwonderedifsheevenknewwhathewasuptotoday.
Iplayeditoutinmyhead,thinkingthatitwouldbeembarrassing,butsowhat?Iremindedmyselfthatthegamewasover;Ididn’thavetopretendtobethecool,adventurous,fearlessgirlanymore.Ifanything,itwasbettertogiveJoesomethingtotalktohisnextgirlfriendabout.Icouldhearhimnow,tellingherhowskittishI’dbeenabouteverything.Boats,swimming,skiing,airplanes.Allthestuffheloved.
ButIknewwhatwouldhappenifIbackedout.Joewouldstaywithme,andI’dbemessingthingsupforhim.We’dhavetorebookcommercialflightsandwouldn’tbeabletogettoMarylanduntiltomorrowmorning,whichmeanthewouldmisshisroundofgroomsmen’sgolf.Ihadnochoicebuttosuckitup.
Tryingtomakelightconversation,Iasked,“Howmanypassengersdoesshehold?”
“Six!”hesaidwiththeproudestgrin.“Butit’sjusttwotoday,babe!”
“So…nocopilot?”Iasked,thoughIalreadyknewtheanswer.Joehadtoldmebeforethattheplanewascertifiedforasinglepilot—andsincehe’dpassedhisfinalflighttest,healwaysflewsolo.
“No.Idon’tneedone.Thisisacinch,”hesaid,shiftinghisgazefromtheplanetome.“You’renotworried,areyou?”
“No,”Ilied.
Themaninthesuit,whohadbeenpretendingthathewasn’tlisteningtous,nowturnedaroundandsaidtome,“Thisisaveryhigh-performanceaircraft,miss.Itcanpracticallyflyitself.”
Ismiled,relaxingalittleasJoesaidtotheman,“Youforgotthepartaboutmebeingahellofapilot!”
Themanlaughedandsaid,“Yes.Theverybest,sir.”
“Monty,ifyoucallmesironemoretime…”Joesaid,raisinghisfistinjest
“Sorry,Joe.Habit.”
Joesmiledandwhistled,lookingup.“BlueskiesthewholewaytoAnnapolis!”
Atthatpoint,wewereatthefootofthestairs,andJoemotionedformetoclimbaboard.“Ladiesfirst!”hesaid.
Itookabreathandclimbedthefewstepsup,duckingintotheplanewhenIgottothetop.Thecabinwastightandstuffy.
“Haveagreatflight!”thetwomenyelledupatusinunison,waving.
IwavedbackasJoebellowedoutathank-you.Thenhepulledupthestairs,latchingthedoorshut.Stillcroucheddown,IaskedhimwhereIshouldsit.
“Nexttome!”hesaid,pointingtothecopilot’sseat.
Isatdownandputonmyseatbelt,watchingasJoewentoverameticulouschecklist,talkingtohimselfashefiddledaroundwithleversandbuttonsandvariouslaminatedpapers.Afterseveralminutes,heputonaheadset,flippedonaradio,andstartedtalkingtothecontroltower,rattlingofflettersandnumbers.JoewasthemostcompetentmanI’devermet,andIfeltasharppang,wonderinghowIcouldpossiblygivehimup.
Afterafewmoreexchangeswiththetower,Joeturnedtomeandofferedmemyownheadset.“Youwanttoputthison?”
“DoIneedto?”
Hesmiledandsaid,“Onlyifyouwanttolistenin.”
“Sure,”Isaid,noddingandtakingtheheadset.“IsthereanythingelseIshouldknow?”
“Thelifevestsarerightbehindus,”hesaid,pointingoverhisshoulder.“Underthefirst-rowseats.”
“Noothersafetyfeatures?”Iasked.“Oxygen?Stufflikethat?”
Joegavemeareassuringsmileandsaid,“There’snoneedforoxygen,honey.Wewon’tbegoingthathigh.Justsitback,relax,andenjoytheride.Andtheview!”
Inodded,puttingonmyheadsetandforcingasmileback.
Hegavemeafinalthumbs-up,thenturnedontheengine,stillflippingswitches.Afewsecondslater,hebegantodrive,steeringtheplanetowardtherunway,wherewewaitedinlinebehindtwootherplanes.Iwatchedastheytookoffandwecreptclosertothefrontoftheline.
Thenitwasourturn.Joe’sfacelitupmoreandmoreasthenoiseoftheengineandthepropellergotlouderandlouder,groaningandwhirringatonce,untilwewerefinallytakingoff,surgingupandintotheair.Itwasterrifyingbutalsoexhilarating,remindingmeofthetimeJoetookmeoutonhisboat.
Aswegainedaltitude,thevibrationsandnoiselessened,andIfeltmyselfstarttorelax.Itwassmoothsailingthroughbrightblueskies,thesunstillwellabovethehorizon.IwonderedwhatIhadbeensoworriedabout.ItreallywasapieceofcakeforJoe,andatonepoint,heevenflippedopenatinofAltoidsandofferedmeone.Ismiled,shookmyhead,andpointedattheskyasiftosaystayfocused.Henodded,lookingbackatthehorizon.
Aswecruisedalong,Ibegantodaydream,thinkingofallourhappytimestogether,refusingtocontemplatetheend.Notyet.Atsomepoint,thedroningofthepropellers,thewarmsunlight,andallthevibrationsoftheplanelulledmetosleep.
I’mnotsurehowmuchtimepassed,butwhenIwokeup,thesunwasbeginningtosetandwewereapproachingabodyofwaterthatmusthavebeentheChesapeake.Theviewwasbreathtaking.Weweregettingclose.AsIsatupinmyseat,Joelookedoverandsmiledatme.Ismiledback,feelingawaveofpurelove.Itoldmyselftostayinthemoment—tocherishthistimetogether.
Then,suddenly,theenginemadeaweirdsputteringsound.Inthenextsecond,Isawsmokeoutsidemywindow.IglancedoveratJoe,prayingthathe’dappearcalm.Instead,Isawpanicetchedalloverhisfaceandwatchedashebeganfranticallyflippingswitchesandtalkingadamantlyovertheradio.Ididn’tfollowwhathewassaying,butitdidn’tsoundgood,nordidtheloudbangthatfollowed.
Joejumpedandscreamedfuckasourpropellerslowed,thengroundtoasickeningstop.Meanwhile,theplanequicklylostaltitude,droppingandglidingwhileJoecontinuedtosteerandmaneuver.“Don’tworry!We’llbeokay!”heyelledwithoutlookingatme.
Inodded,believinghim.Hecoulddoit;hecoulddoanything.Butwekeptfalling,andJoelookedmoreterrifiedbythesecond.Myheartpoundinginmyearsandmythroatconstricting,Iclosedmyeyes.Fearingthatthiswastheend,theKingsleycursecrossedmymind.ItwassomethingJoeandIhadnevertalkedabout—somethingIdismissedasridiculous.Ineveryfamilytherewastragedy,especiallyinabigfamilylikeJoe’s.Yetherewewere.
WhenIopenedmyeyes,Joewaslookingatme,shouting,“We’velostpower!Wegottalandonthewater!”
Terrifiedandnowstartingtohyperventilate,Istaredathimandnodded.
SecondsfeltlikehoursasJoekeptyellingintohismic,sweatpouringdownhisforeheadandcheeks.Ibegantopray,thensilentlyrecitetheLord’sPrayer—atleastthewordsIcouldremember.ThyKingdomcome,thywillbedoneechoedinmyheaduntilIheardJoebegintoshout.
Mayday!Mayday!Mayday!
ItwasawordI’donlyeverheardinmovies,andIsuddenlyunderstoodwhatpeoplemeantbyan“out-of-bodyexperience.”IfeltasifIweresomewhereelse,watchingadisasterunfold,andIcouldonlyvaguelyhearthemanontheotherendoftheradiowhowastryingtohelpJoelandhisplaneonthewater.
Asecondlater,staticfilledtheairwavesandtheradiowentsilent.Wewereonourown.
“Fuck!”Joeyelled,rippingoffhisheadsetandthrowingittothefloorbetweenus.Fromthere,hislipsweremoving,butIcouldn’thearwhathewassaying,andIwonderedwhetherhewascoachinghimselforpraying.
“Grabthelifejacketbehindtheseat,”Joeyelledatonepoint,hiseyesstillonthehorizon.
Feelingparalyzed,Icouldn’tmove.
“Now,Cate!Lifepreserver!Now!”
Itookmyseatbeltoffandfollowedhisinstructions,grabbingmylifejacketandputtingiton,myhandsshaking.
“Sitdown!Headdown!Braceforimpact!”Joeyelled.
Igotbackinmyseatwhilewecontinuedtosink,glidingdownward,careeningtowardthewater.Irealizedweweregoingtocrashandmaybe—probably—die.Meanwhile,Joekeptsteering,concentrating,swearing.Hislipsneverstoppedmoving.
Inthosefinalfewsecondsbeforewecrashed,thecabinwaseerilyquiet,andmythoughtsscattered.Ipicturedmymotherandthenmyfather,forgivingthemboth.IsawElna,thenCurtisandWendy.Mostly,though,IsawJoeandmetogether,ahundredscenesandmemoriesflashingthroughmymind.
Thenwehitthewater.Iscreamedandclosedmyeyes,butwedidn’tdie.Instead,thebellyoftheplaneskippedacrossthesurface,once,twice,threetimes.Unscathed.Itfeltlikeamiracle.Thenwehitthefourthtime,andthewingonJoe’ssidedippedintothewater,andwewerethrownviolentlysideways.Watersurroundedus,andinstantlybeganseepingineverywhere.IlookedoveratJoeandsawbloodonhisforehead,hiseyesclosed.
Iscreamedhisname,buthedidn’tansweroropenhiseyes.Hecouldn’thearme.Nobodycouldhearme.Iwasalone.ItoldmyselfthatIhadtocalmdownandfocus,thatIdidn’thavemuchtime.Theplanebegantakingonmorewater,andIcouldfeelussinking.Itookoffmyseatbelt,thenreachedoverandunlatchedJoe’s.Ishookhim,tryingtowakehimup,stillcallinghisname.Hewasbreathing,butmotionless,anddidn’trespond.Ipulledhimfreefromhisbeltwithallmystrength,thenstoodandreachedforthelatchtoopenthedoor.Ihearditclick,butitdidn’topen,soIkickeditashardasIcouldanditfinallyreleased,morewaterpouringin.IscrambledbacktoJoe,draggedhimfromhisseat,andpulledhisbodytowardthedoor.Thewaterinthecabinwasnowknee-deep,whichhelpedmegethimtothedoor,asbythenhewasfloating.Ilookedout,straightintotheChesapeake,whichwasstillrushingintotheplane.Wehadtogetout—orsinkwiththeplane.Itreallywassinkorswim.Ipulledthecordonmylifejacket,relievedwhenitinflated.ThenItookafinaldeepbreathandpaddledoutintothefreezingwater,pullingJoebehindme.
Itwasalmostdarkbythen,andsohardtoseewithwaveshittingmyface.Ilookedaroundandnoticedthatonewingoftheairplanehadbrokenoffandwasfloatingnearby.Shiveringuncontrollably,IstruggledtoswimovertoitwhilebarelyholdingJoe’sheadabovewater.Afterafewstrokes,Iwasexhausted,anditsuddenlyfelthopeless.Thewingwastoofaraway,andIwasgettingnumb.ItoldmyselfIhadtokeepgoing.Ihadnochoice.Somehow,Igotusthere,reachingouttograbthewingwithonearm,grippingJoe’sheadwiththeother.AsIturnedtolookback,Iwatchedtheplanedisappear,becomingcompletelysubmergedinthebay.
Thenextfewminutesgotcolderanddarkerandmorehopeless,andIbegansobbingasuncontrollablyasIwasshivering.Itwastheend,andIknewit.ItoldJoethatIlovedhim,hopinghecouldsomehowhearme.
Atsomepoint,Iwascompletelynumb—sonumbIcouldnolongerfeelthecold.Then,justasIstartedtofallasleep,Iheardanengineinthedistance.Itriedtoyellbutcouldn’t—Iwastooexhausted.Ihadnovoice—andnofreehandstowave.So,Ijustprayedtheywouldfindus.ThelastthingIrememberedwasanincrediblybrightlightshininginmyeyes.
—
Dayslater,Iwouldlearnexactlythewaythingshappened.HowJoe’sMaydaytothetowerwasrelayedtotheCoastGuard,whoimmediatelydispatchedaboattosaveus.Atthesametime,witnessessawourcrashlanding,andnewsreporterswereimmediatelyonthescene,ourrescuebroadcastalloverthecountryandworld.
Butthatnight,whenDottierushedintomyhospitalroom,Iwasunawareofanyofthat.Ipicturedamuchdifferentscenario—thatshe’dbeenquietlysummonedfromherhotelinAnnapolis,thepublicunawareoftheaccident.
“Oh,darling,”shesaid,herheelsclick-clackingonthefloorasshecrossedovertomybedside.“ThankGodyou’reokay!”
Icaughtthenursestaringatusforabeatbeforesheclosedthedoor,givingusprivacy,anditsuddenlyoccurredtomethatDottieandIhadneverbeencompletelyalonebefore.I’dalsoneverseenhersodisheveled,includinginthephotostakenthedayherhusbanddied.Herhairwasmussed,hereyemakeupsmudged,andherlipsbare.
“HaveyouseenJoe?”Iasked.Myvoicewashoarseandsluggish,likeitwasn’tmyown.
“Yes,dear.I’veseenhim.He’sgoingtobefine.Justfine,”shesaidinasoothingvoice.Nurseshadtoldmethesame,butI’dfearedtheyweren’ttellingmethetruth—andIknewtherewasnowayDottiewouldlietomeaboutherson.Ifeltafinalsurgeofrelief.
“CanIseehim?”
“Soon,”shesaid.“They’rekeepingyoubothovernight—outofanabundanceofcaution.Joegotaprettygoodknockonthehead.”
“Iknow,”Isaid,wellingupwithtears,rememberingeverything.
Dottiereachedoutandpattedtheheavyheatedblanketsthatwerepulledupandtuckedaroundmychin.“Sweetheart,he’sfine.Ipromise.”
Inodded,blinkingbacktears.Sheswallowed,thenadded,“Thankstoyou,Cate.Yousavedhislife.”
“No,”Isaid,shakingmyhead.“Hesavedmine.Thatlanding…Idon’tknowhowhedidit.Ithoughtweweregoingtodie.”
“Cate,”shesaid,hervoicesuddenlystrong.“Hewouldhavediedwithoutyou.TheCoastGuardtoldmewhathappened…howyouwereholdingontohim.”
Ifeltmychinquiver,tearsstreamingdownmycheeks.
“Shh—shh,sweetie.Pleasedon’tcry,”shesaid.Shereachedintoherhandbag,pulledoutahandkerchief,anddabbedmycheeks.
“I’msorry,”Isaid,sniffling,pullingmyarmsoutfromundertheblankets,takingthehandkerchief,andwipingmynose.“Ishouldn’thavelethimfly….”
“NobodycanstopJoefromdoingwhathewants,”shesaid,smilingthroughherowntears.“Notevenyou.”
Inoddedandsaid,“Iknow.”
WesatinsilenceforseverallongsecondsbeforeDottieclearedherthroatandsaid,“Youcan’tleavehim,Cate.”
Istaredather,wonderingwhat,exactly,sheknew.Shespelleditoutforme.“Berrytoldmeyouwerecomingtotheweddingjusttobenice…beforeyouendthingsforgood….”
“Ilovehimsomuch,”Isaid.ItfeltlikethetrueststatementI’deveruttereduntilmynextone.“ButIjustwantwhat’sbestforhim.”
“Iknowyoudo,honey,”shesaid.“AndIhopeyoucanseethatyouarewhat’sbestforhim.”
Thinkingofmyfather,andthathorribleaccidentfromlongago,Ishookmyheadandsaid,“Idon’tthinkso,Dottie.IwishIwere…butIdon’tthinkso.”
“Yes.Youare,”shesaid,noddingemphatically.“Youare.”
“Therearethingsyoudon’tknow…”Isaid,myvoicetrailingoff.
Dottiepressedherlipstogether,inhaledthroughhernose,thensatontheedgeofmybed,takingmyhandinhers.Herskinwascool,justlikeitwasthatdayintheHamptonswhensheshookmyhandinherbackyard.Itfeltlikealifetimeago.
“Cate,”shesaid,gazingdownatme.“Ineedtotellyousomething—andIwantyoutolistenverycarefully.”
Inodded,blinking,waiting.
Afterseveralmoresecondsofsilence,shesaid,“Iknowaboutyourfather.Iknowabouthisprisonsentenceandthathe’soutnow.”
Stunned,Iaskedherhowsheknew.
Shetookadeepbreath,thensaid,“Yourmothertoldmeeverything.”
“Mymother?When?”
“AfteryourargumentwithJoeinthepark.Sheassumeditwasaboutthis….Shecouldn’tgetaholdofyou—soshecametomyapartment.”
Istaredatherindisbelief.Itwassomuchtoprocess.“Ididn’tknowaboutmyfatheruntiljustrecently.Ithoughthewasdead,”Ifinallysaid,wantinghertoknowthatIhadn’tliedtoJoe.
“Iknow.Yourmothertoldmethat,too.”
“DoesJoeknow?”Iasked.
“No,”shesaid.“Ididn’tthinkitwasrighttotellhimforyou.It’syourstorytoshare.”
“Thankyou,”Isaid,tooemotionalandexhaustedandoverwhelmedtomusteranythingelse.
“Joe’sright,”shesaid,lookingintomyeyes.“You’reagoodperson.AndIpraythatyouwillmarrymyson.Iwantyoutobehiswife,andIwantyoutobemydaughter-in-law.Mydaughter.”
Themomentfeltlikeamiracle—thesecondofthenight.
“Youdo?”Isaid,gettingchokedup.
“Yes.Ido,”Dottiesaid.“Cate,yousavedhislife.I’llneverbeabletothankyouenough.”
“Youjustdid,”Isaid,smilingthroughmytears.CHAPTER33
Joe
EveryonewantedtoknowwhatIwasthinkinginthosefinalmomentsbeforewesmashedintotheChesapeakeBay.Whatwentthroughyourmind?That’showpeopleusuallywordedthequestion,andbythelooksontheirfaces,Ithinktheywerehopingforsomesortofdeepexistentialanswer.
Thetruthis,Iwasn’tthinkingaboutthemeaningoflife—andInevercontemplatedthepossibilityofdeath.Therewerenoprayersofanykind.Goddidn’tentermymindatall.Itwasn’tthatIdidn’tbelieveinHim—becauseIdidanddo—buttherewasn’ttimeforthat.Instead,Ifocusedonmytraining,tryingtoremembereverythingIhadbeentaughtaboutditchinganairplaneinanemergencylanding.Touchdownattheslowestpossiblespeed,atthelowestpossiblerateofdescent….Keepthewingstrimmedtothesurfaceofthewaterratherthanthehorizon….Iftwoswellsdifferinheight,landonthehigherone….Ditchintothewind….Themorewhitecaps,thegreaterthewind….It’seasytomisjudgealtitudebyuptofiftyfeet,especiallyattwilight….Avoidthefaceoftheswellatanycost.
Beyondthosebasics,IwasonlyworriedaboutCate.Shecouldn’tswimthatwell,andthewaterwasgoingtobefreezingcold,andwewouldn’thavelongtogettosafety.Iwantedtohitthepausebuttonandreassureherthateverythingwasgoingtobeokay.Weweregoingtobefine.Iwasgoingtoprotectheratanycost.
Thefunnythingis,allmythoughtsandoptimismwouldhavebeenexactlythesamehadwebothbeenkilled.Iwould’vebeenwrong,ofcourse,butIwouldneverhaveknownthatIwaswrong.Inastrangeway,thatrealization,onethatfirstcametomeinthemorning,whenIwasstillinthehospital,broughtmeclosertomyfather.Itriedtotellmyselfthathisfinalhumanemotionwasn’tfear,butsomevariationofthesamegrittyfaiththatI’dfelt.ItoldmyselfthatIwasmorelikehimthanIthought.
Inmywildestdreams,though,Ineverwouldhaveimaginedtheturnthingswouldtake.ThatIwouldhitmyheadandbeknockedunconscious.ThatCatewouldbeonherown.Thatshewouldhavetofindthesuperhumanstrengthandcourageandwherewithaltogetusoutofthatbrokenplanebeforeitsanktothebottomofthebay.Thatshe’dthenhavetokeepmyheadabovethewater,somehowgetusbothovertothewing—whenshecouldbarelyswiminthebestconditions—andholdonfordearlife,fightingexhaustionandhypothermia.Inotherwords,IneverfathomedthatCatewouldhavetosaveme
ItmakesmealmostcryeverytimeIthinkaboutit.Howscaredandaloneshemusthavefeltinthatdark,coldwaterwithoutanyhelpfromthepersonwhogotherintothesituation,themanwhowassupposedtoprotecther.
“I’msosorry,”ItoldCateintheearlymorninghoursaftertheaccident,cryingasIheldherinmyarms.We’dbothbeentreated,andanurse,alongwithmymother,hadwheeledherintomyroom,sowecouldtalkalone.“I’llneverforgivemyselfforlettingthishappentoyou.”
“Oh,Joe.It’sokay,honey.I’mfine,”shesaid,crying,too.“We’rebothfine.Wemadeit,baby.”
“Iknow.ButIleftyouallalone,”Isaid,wipingawaytears.
“ButIwasn’talone,”shewhispered,holdingmesotight,thetwoofuslyingsidebysideinmybed.“Iwaswithyou.Iheldonbecauseofyou.Iwasn’tgoingtoletyougo.”
“God,Cate,”Isaidundermybreath,thinkingthatI’dneverfeltsolovedinmywholelife.
Ialsofeltafreshwaveoffaith,justlikethefeelingIhadwhenIwastryingtolandthatplane.Thistime,though,itwasaboutCateandme.AndIjustknewweweregoingtobeokay.Nomatterwhatthefutureheld,weweregoingtobeokay.EPILOGUE
Cate
It’sbeentwentyyearssinceJoeandInearlylostourlivesinthefreezingcoldwatersoftheChesapeakeBay.Thenightmareshavemostlysubsided,butnotaweekgoesbythatIdon’trememberthefeelingofalmostlosingJoe.
Foralongtime,Iwantedtoerasethosememoriescompletely,alongwiththetraumaofChipandmychildhood.Withthehelpofawonderfultherapist,though,IhavecometorealizethatthosethingsareapartofwhoIam—asawoman,awife,andamother.Whatdoesn’tkillyoumakesyoustronger,theysay,andIbelievethat’strue.MaybeifIhadn’tbeenforcedtosurviveChip,Iwouldn’thavebeenabletosaveJoe.AndsurelysurvivingthatcrashhelpedmedowhatIeventuallydid:sitdownwithBarbaraWaltersandtellher—andthewholeworld—aboutthedomesticviolenceI’dgrownupwith.
Asterrifyingasthatwas,itwasalsoempowering.Liberating.Because,asitturnsout,thetruthreallydoessetyoufree.Itsetmymomfree,too,asshefinallyleftChipandthathouseinMontclair.ShenowlivesinanapartmentinMurrayHillandworksonthenonprofitthatJoeandIfoundedtohelpwomenlikeher.Perhapsmoreincrediblethanherescape,sheandDeanbecameclosefriends,maybebecausetheybothunderstoodredemptionandsecondchances.
I’velearnedsomuchaboutthosethings,too,buttome,lifeislessaboutovercomingadversityandmoreaboutthepowerofgratitude.Onthisanniversaryofourplanecrash,Iamfeelingparticularlythankful.JoeandIarewithourkidsinourfavoriteplace,oursecondhomeonShelterIsland,notfarfromthechurchwherewemarriedinasmallceremonybeforethirty-fiveofourlovedones,includingBerry,whoisnowoneofmyclosestfriends.
Atthirteen,SylvieandFinnareoldenoughforqualityconversation,yettooyoungtowanttoescapeus,andJoeandIaren’ttakingthissweetspotoftheirchildhoodforgranted.Aswefinisheating,Finnclearsthedisheswithoutbeingasked,whileSylviereachesforherphone,whichhasbecomeherappendage.TheyareascloseasI’veeverseenboy-girltwins,butoppositesinvirtuallyeveryway.FinnismorelikeIam—fair-skinned,towheaded,andeven-tempered—whileSylvieisaloud,lovable,dark-eyedcloneofJoe.Adaddy’sgirltothecore.
Iwatchhernow,holdingupherphone,posingforaselfie.Sheraisesherbrowsandpuckersherlips,faux-animatedandfrozenforonesecondbeforeresumingherfurtivetapping,sending,scrolling.
“Twentyyearsago.Wow,”Joesuddenlymusesaloud.Itisourfirstmentionofthedate,thoughIcansomehowtellthatit’sbeenonhismindasmuchasmine.
“Whatwastwentyyearsago?”Sylvieaskswithoutlookingupfromherphone.
“Yourfather’semergencylanding,”Isay—becauseIdon’tlikesayingcrash.Ishiver,rememberingthecold.
“Oh.That.Yeah,”shesays.
IwaitforJoetosaysomethingmore—somethingprofound—whichhe’sbecomesomuchmorecapableofovertheyears.Instead,hesmiles,thosegorgeous,crinklylinesappearingaroundhiseyes.
“That’swhatyougetfortryingtodumpme,”hesays,givingmeawink.
Ilaughandsay,“Well,that’safreshtakeonthings.”
“YoutriedtobreakupwithDad?”Sylvieasks,givingmeahorrified,accusatorylook.
“Tried?Yourmotherdidbreakupwithme.Shecalledoffourengagement.”
“Wait.Youweren’tmarriedwhenyoucrashed?”
“Wedidn’tcrash,”Joesays,hatingtheword,too.“Isuccessfullyandskillfullyditchedtheaircraft.”
“Yeah,dummy,”Finnsays,returningtothetableandtakinghisseatnexttome.“Dadditched…andtheywereflyingtoUnclePeter’swedding.MomandDadgotmarriedthreemonthslater.”
Sylvierollshereyesandsays,“LikeI’msupposedtomemorizeourwholefamilytimeline.”
“It’skindofabigthing,”Finnsays.“Thenightyourparentsalmostdiedandall.”
“Buttheydidn’tdie,”Sylviesays.
“Noduh,CaptainObvious,”Finnshootsbackather.
“Allright.Enough,”Isay,doingmybesttoniptheirbickeringinthebudbeforeitescalatesintoanargument.
“So,Mom,”Sylviesays.“Whatgives?WhydidyoutrytodumpDad?”
“It’salongstory,”Isay.
“OhmyGod.Didsomeonecheat?”Sylvieasks,hereyeslightingup.Toher,anydramaisgooddrama.
“No,Sylvie.Nobodycheated,”Joesays.
“Itwasjustacomplicatedtime,”Iadd.
“Complicated,how?”Finnpresses.
“Well,Grandpahadjustgottenoutofprison.Whichwasverystressful.”
“AndthatwasDad’sfault…how?”Sylviesays.
“Ididn’tsayitwasDad’sfault.Isaiditwascomplicated.Iwasupsetandembarrassedandinshock…aboutGrandpa…andIwasworriedmaybeyourfatherandIdidn’tbelongtogether.Thatweweretoodifferent.”
“Dad.Isthattrue?”Sylvieasks,clearlyintriguedbythistwistonourfamilylore.
“It’struethatyourmotherfeltthatway,”Joeconfirms.“Butobviously,itwasn’tthetruth.Wewereclearlymeanttobe.”Heleansoverandkissesmeonthecheek.“Andasyoucansee,Iwonherbackover.”
“Yes,”Isay,smiling.“Andbesides,ourfightisn’treallythepointhere.”
“Whatisthepoint?”Finnasks,alwayswantingthebottomline.
“Thepointisgratitude,”Isay.
“Yes,”Joesays.“Wehavesomuchtobegratefulfor…whichiswhywehavearesponsibilitytogivebacktoothers.”
“Weknow,Dad,”Sylviesays.“Towhommuchisgiven—”
“Muchisexpected,”Finnsays,nodding.
“Yes.Exactly,”Joesays.
Heglancesatme,andwelockeyesforafewsecondsbeforeheturnsbacktothekids.“Andso…onthatnote…there’ssomethingwewanttotalktoyouabout.”
“Holdon,”Sylviesays.“Areweintrouble?”
“No,”Joesayswithalaugh.“Imean—yes—butnotinthewayyoumightthink….Wewanttotalktoyouaboutthestateoftheworld.”
“Ugh.Politicsagain?”Sylviesays.
“Ifbypoliticsyoumeanmoralityandfightingforwhatisright,thenyes,”Joesays.“Thereissomuchmoreworktodo.”
“Areyougonnarunforpresident,Dad?”Finnsays,hiseyeslitupwithexcitement.
Joelooksatme.
“Onlywithbothofyourblessings,”Ianswer.
We’vegonebackandforthforsuchalongtime,andthisiswhatJoeandIfinallydecided.Heshouldrun,butonlyifthekidsareokaywithit.Ithastobeafamilydecision.
“WouldIhavetogiveupsocialmedia?”SylvieasksinclassicSylviefashion.
“Yes,”Isay.“Youprobablywould.”
Shegroansandsays,“Well,thenIsayno.”
“Gah,Syl.That’ssoselfish,”Finnsays,relishinghissister’smisstep.
Sylvietriestobacktrack,sayingthatshewasonlyjoking,butIdon’tbelieveher.
“Iunderstandthatwouldbehard,”Itellher.“MaybeyoucankeepInstagram.Juststayprivateandpostmorejudiciously.”
“Okay!”Sylviesays.“I’min!Ihearthere’sabowlingalleyintheWhiteHouse!”
Joelaughsandsays,“Easysell!”
“Youmeansellout,Dad,”Finnsays,makingafaceatSylvie.
“Shutit,Finn,”shesays.
“So,youthinkyoucanwin,Dad?”Finnasks,hisblueeyesasbigasquarters.
“Idon’tknow,Finn,”Joesays.“ButIthinkwehaveagoodshot—”
“Areallygoodshot,”Isay.
Joelooksatmeandsmiles.
“Whatifyoulose,Dad?”Sylviesays.“Willyoubereallysad?”
“Probablyso,”Joesays.“Butthat’snotareasonnottotry,isit?”
Sylvieshakesherhead,lookingsolemn.“No.It’snot.”
“Andevenifyoulose,you’llstillbeasenator,right?”Finnasks.
“IfthegoodpeopleofNewYorkallowmetokeepmyjob,”Joesays.
“Theywill,”thekidssayinunison.
“Themoreimportantquestion:willyourmotherkeepme,too?”Joesays,comingovertomychair,thenpullingmeupandintohisarms.
Ilaughandsay,“Yes…Ican’tgetridofyou.Itriedthatonce….”
“Yes,youdid,”hesays,nuzzlinghisfaceagainstmine.“Andyouseehowthatturnedout.”
“Okay,youguysaregettinggross,”Finnsays,gettingupfromthetable.
“Yourfaceisgross,”Sylviesays,crackingherselfupandfollowingherbrotherintothefamilyroom,whereweplanonwatchingCasablanca,inmemoryofJoe’sgrandmother.Shepassedawaybeforethekidswereborn,butthey’veheardsomuchabouther,alongwiththelegacyoftheirgrandfather.
Istarttofollowthem,butJoeholdsontometighter.
“So,we’rereallydoingthis?”hewhispersinmyear.
“Yes,”Isay,pullingbackjustenoughtogazeintohiseyes.“Weare.”
IgetaquickflashoftheWhiteHouse,imaginingwhatitwouldbeliketolivetherewithJoeandthekidsandourtwodogs.It’sobviouslyalong,difficultroadahead,butIhavefaithinmyhusband,feelingcertainthathewillprevail.Healwaysfindsaway.
Butwinorlose,wewillhaveeachother,andthat’sallthatreallymatters.Itellhimasmuch,andhesmilesandnods.Thenwebothturnandjoinourchildrenbythefire.Author’sNote
EversinceIwasalittlegirl,IhavebeenfascinatedbytheKennedyfamily.Mymotherinspiredthisearlyintrigue,sharingvividrecollectionsofherownchildhoodwiththeromanticbackdropofCamelot.IrememberhershowingmeacopyofLifemagazinethatshe’dsavedfromJuly1953,whenshewasonlyeightyearsold.OnthecoverwasaphotoofJohnF.KennedyandJacquelineLeeBouviersmilingonasailboat,theheadlinereading“SenatorKennedyGoes-a-Courting.”Ilovedlookingatthatpicture,aswellassomanyotherhappyimagesofJackandJackieovertheyearswiththeirtwoadorablechildren,CarolineandJohn,Jr.
Ofcourse,Iknewhowtheirstoryended,mymotheralsotellingmehowCBSNewsinterruptedhersoapopera,AstheWorldTurns,withanewsbulletinasWalterCronkiteinformedashockednationthatPresidentKennedyhaddiedfromgunshotwounds.
Fromallthesestoriesandphotos,boththebeautifulandtragicones,IunderstoodthattheKennedyshadcapturedtheimaginationofanationandhadtakenonaculturalandemotionalsignificancebeyondpolitics.Wecaredaboutthesepeoplenotbecausetheyhadmoneyorpowerorfame—butbecausewehadsharedsomeoftheirmostintimatemoments,fromtheirweddingdaytothebirthoftheirchildrentothefuneralofafatherandhusband,sonandbrother.Howcouldwenotfeellikeweknewthem?
AsIgrewolder,sodidmyinterestintheKennedysandpolitics.Imajoredinhistoryincollege,thenwentontolawschoolattheUniversityofVirginia(RobertandTedKennedy’salmamater)whereIstudiedtheConstitutionandcivilrightsandsomanyofthethingstheKennedyfamilyfoughtfor.Iadmiredtheirspiritofserviceandsenseofidealism,butIalsoknewofthescandalsandtragediesthatplaguedthem.Icametounderstandthelayersofhypocrisyandself-destructionthatsooftenseemtoaccompanyuncheckedprivilegeandambition.Ultimately,IhopedthatJohn,Jr.,wouldriseabovethesethings,escapetheso-calledKennedycurse,andfulfillhisfather’slegacy.IthinkmanyAmericanssharedthiswish.
AfterIgraduatedfromlawschoolin1997,ImovedtoNewYork,tookthebarexam,andwenttoworkatalargefirm.Itwasanexcitingtimeforme,bothpersonallyandprofessionally.Ihadneverlivedinabigcitybefore,anditwascrazytothinkthatImightatanymomentrunintoJFK,Jr.,orhiswife,CarolynBessette-Kennedy,whetheronthesubway,inCentralPark,orattheirusualTribecahaunts,fromElTeddy’stoBubby’stoTheOdeon.Irespectedtheirprivacy—andhadalwaysbeenwaryofthetabloids—butIremembersheepishlypickingupmagazineswithJohnandCarolynonthecover,captivatedbyhischarismaandheramazingsenseofstyle.Therewasnogettingaroundthefactthattheywereicons—nomatterhowmuchtheybothmayhavewantedtoleadnormallives.
FastforwardtwoyearstoJuly16,1999.ItwasaFriday,andIleftmylawofficethatevening,takingtheescalatordownintoGrandCentralStation.Ipassedthroughtheterminalseveraltimesaday,toandfromworkintheMetLifebuilding,whichadjoinedthestation.OftenIwasintoomuchofahurrytonoticeitsbeauty.Thatnight,though,Ifeltoddlycontemplativeandmelancholy,thinkingofJohn’smother,Jackie,whohadfoughttopreserveandrestorethehistoriclandmarkdecadesearlier.Itwaslongbeforewehadsmartphones,butforsomereasonIhadanactualcamerawithme,andIstoppedtotaketwophotographs—oneofthecelestialblueceiling,theotheroftheTiffanyglassclockinthemiddleofthestation.Ithenwentonmyway,headedtotheJitneystop,whereIboardedabustotheHamptons.Likemanytwentysomethings,myfriendsandIhadasummershare,allofuscrammingintoasmallhouseontheweekendssowecouldescapeourjobsandtheheatofthecity.
Thefollowingmorning,Iwokeupinthebasementofourrental,whereaboutadozenofushadcrashedonpull-outsofabedsandsleepingbags.Asmalltelevisionwason,andreportersweretalkingaboutaplanecrash.Iwasstillhalfasleep,notpayingtoomuchattention,untilIrealizedthatitwasJohn’splanethathadgonedownoffthecoastofMartha’sVineyard,enroutetohiscousinRory’swedding.CarolynandhersisterLaurenwerebothonboard.Iwatchedthecoveragealldayinastateofshockanddisbelief,refusingtobelievethattheyweregone,holdingoutdumbhopethatJohnwouldsuddenlyappearwithhistrademarkgoofygrinandanotheroneofhiscrazystories.Ofcourse,thatneverhappened,andthelossofthosethreeyoungpeoplehashauntedmeeversince.
ThoughIwasstillpracticinglawatthetime,Iwasalreadywritingmyfirstnovelwiththehopeofonedaybeingpublished,andthestorytellerinmebegantoobsessoverthepersonalcomponentoftheirverypubliclivesanddeaths.IwonderedwhatitmusthavebeenliketobeJohn—thepressurehemusthavefelttocarryhisfather’storch.IthoughtalotaboutCarolyn,too—howdifficultitmusthavebeentomarryintothatfamedfamily.
Asawriter,Ioftenaskmyselfwhatif.AnditisthisquestionthatIalwaysreturntowhenIthinkofJohnandCarolyn.WhatifJohnhadn’tflownhisplanethatnight?Whatiftheweatherhadbeendifferent?Whatifhehadbeenabletosafelylandhisplane?Whatwouldthetwohavedonewiththeirlives?Wouldtheyhavehadtheirownchildren?Wouldtheyhavesurvivedtheflashbulbsthatfollowedthemeverywhere?Wouldtheyhavefoundthehappily-ever-afterthateludedhisparents?
MeanttoBeismyeleventhnovel(twelfthifyoucounttheonethatIwaswritingduringmylawyeringdays,whichwasneverpublished),butIfirstthoughtaboutwritingthisbookyearsagoasIwonderedaboutthosewhatifquestions.WhenIfinallydecideditwastimetotellthestory,IimaginedandcreatedJoeKingsleyandCateCooper.LikeJoe,Johnfeltthecrushingweightofexpectationsandhistory.AndlikeCarolyn,Catefoundherselfintheshadowofaniconicmanandfamily.Butbeyondthatframework,JoeandCatearepurelyfictionalcharacterswithuniqueinteriorlivesandbackstories,hopesanddreams.
Inthissense,itisimportanttorememberthatwewon’teverknowthefulltruthaboutJohnandCarolyn’srelationshipandtheirfinalmomentstogether,justaswewillneverknowwhattheirliveswouldhavelookedlikehadtragedynotintervened.Idobelievethatthisispartofthemagicandbeautyoffiction—wecantakeasadstoryandtransformitintosomethingcompletelydifferent.
SomuchhashappenedsinceJuly1999.Theworldhaschangedmanytimesover.Weenteredanewmillennium;wesufferedthrough9/11;andweallwentonline.Butsomethingshaveendured,includingthemythologyoftheKennedyfamily.InthewordsofthepopularBroadwaymusicalJackieKennedysoloved:“Don’tletitbeforgot,thatoncetherewasaspot,foronebriefshiningmoment,thatwasknownasCamelot.”ItismyhopethatMeanttoBecapturesthatfleetingbrightlightwhileexaminingthedarkersideofthestory.Mostofall,Ihopeitinspiresmyreaderstoimaginewhatif….ForJenniferNew,
whosegenerousheart
makeseverythingmorespecialAcknowledgments
Firstandforemost,Iwouldliketothankmyeditor,JenniferHershey.I’vewantedtotellthisstoryforalongtime,andI’msogratefultoherforgivingmetheencouragementtofinallydoso,aswellasallherinsightalongtheway.
ThankyoutoSarahGiffin,alwaysmybiggestcheerleader,whohelpedmetothefinishlineofafirstdraftduringmywritingretreatinWisconsin.Thereisn’tabettersisterintheworld.
Tomymother,MaryAnnElgin,whoinstilledinmealoveofbooksandfairytales—includingCamelot.
Tomybestie,NancyLeCroyMohler,whoscrutinizedanddiscussedeverysentenceofthisnovelwithme(andalsowroteCate’slineinFrench!).
Tomyassistant,KateHardiePatterson,areal-lifeMaryPoppins,whois“practicallyperfectineveryway.”I’msoluckytohaveher,bothpersonallyandprofessionally,alongwithmyloyalpublicist,StephenLee,andmywonderfulnewagent,BrettneBloom.
ToGinaCentrello,KaraWelsh,SusanCorcoran,JenniferGarza,DebbieAroff,KimHovey,AllysonLord,CorinaDiez,PaoloPepe,LorenNoveck,ErinKane,andmyentiretalentedteamatPenguinRandomHouse,aswellasElenaGiavaldi,whobroughtmyvisionforthiscovertolife.
ToallmyfriendsandfamilywhoprovidedinputorotherwisesupportedmewhileIwrotethisbook,especiallyAllysonJacoutot,JenniferNew,JohnTully,JeffMacFarland,LarynGardner,JuliePortera,MichelleFuller,SloaneAlford,SteveFallon,MarthaArias,RalphSampson,HarlanCoben,CharlesandAndrewVance-Broussard,LeaJourno,JimKonrad,KatieMoss,andTroyBaker.
Aboveall,myheartfeltgratitudetomyinnermostcircle:Buddy,Edward,George,andHarriet.Iloveyouendlessly.BYEMILYGIFFIN
SomethingBorrowed
SomethingBlue
BabyProof
LovetheOneYou’reWith
HeartoftheMatter
WhereWeBelong
TheOne&Only
FirstComesLove
AllWeEverWanted
TheLiesThatBind
MeanttoBeABOUTTHEAUTHOR
EmilyGiffinistheauthorofteninternationallybestsellingnovels:SomethingBorrowed,SomethingBlue,BabyProof,LovetheOneYou’reWith,HeartoftheMatter,WhereWeBelong,TheOne&Only,FirstComesLove,AllWeEverWanted,andTheLiesThatBind.ShelivesinAtlantawithherhusbandandthreechildren.
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