Beach Glass (22 page)

“You’re always distracting me.” He pulls me against his body, my back to his front, and the warm swoon of impending sex comes over me like a full-body flush. “Before you ask if I’ve ever done it in this hallway,” I pant, “no, because I have an eighty-year-old landlady who walks her hundred-year-old schnauzer every day around this time.”

I feel Carson laughing against my back. “Okay, no vestibule sex. But I’m not letting go of you,” he says. “Ever.” He hugs me to him tightly, leaving only my arms free to unlock the main door. And so we march like one body the few steps to my front door.

Carson nuzzles my neck as I put the key in the lock, though it refuses to turn, because it’s already open. I can totally see how I did something like that. I was so surprised to see him yesterday, and he was rushing me out, and I must have forgotten to lock the door. “Stop it,” I say through a giggle as he starts nibbling my ear. I turn around, meaning to push him away, but instead I seek his mouth and kiss him with undisguised hunger. I reach behind me to open the door, and we practically fall into my apartment, tugging at each other’s clothes.

Then a voice cuts through our heat like an ice pick. “Katy, what the hell is going on?” asks an incredulous Daniel.

“DANIEL!” I SAY stupidly, though there is nothing else to say. The only thing worse would be
It’s not what you think
, but with Carson’s hands on my breasts and mine on his belt buckle, that would be kind of insulting. I pull my hands away, and Carson does, too, though much more slowly as he eyes Daniel.

“Katy,” Daniel exhales, wide-eyed, “who the hell is this?”

Carson composes himself with lightning speed. “Carson Richardson Wakefield,” he says, extending his hand to shake, “the third.” Even in this incredibly awkward moment, I remember how disdainfully Carson used his father’s full name when he introduced me, and now he’s lording his over Daniel.

For his part, Daniel breaks from his shock to look at Carson’s extended hand. “You’re either kidding or you’re on crack,” he snarls.

“Just trying to be polite,” Carson says with a shrug.

“
Polite
, when you just had your hands all over my girlfriend?” Daniel charges. He turns to me. “Katy, will you please tell whoever this is,
the third
, to get the hell out of here?”

Carson folds his arms. “I don’t think I’m the one she wants to leave. And if you don’t know who I am, you don’t know who you are in this equation. Look, I get it, I’m guessing you two have history, yadda yadda,” Carson says, as though this is a small matter of inconvenience. “It’s over now, so just leave. You’re making Kate uncomfortable.”

My gentle Daniel, who won’t eat animals, who rescues wayward dogs, who always backs down from arguments, flushes with anger and pulls himself up taller. Even though this brings him almost to Carson’s height, Daniel’s wiry frame looks thinner, and his vintage button-front shirt, black hoodie, drainpipe jeans and Converse sneakers seem like weak armor against Carson’s disdainful gaze. It’s the same withering look Carson’s father gave him, yet somehow, Daniel withstands it.

“You’re so full of crap I don’t know what you’re saying,” he seethes at Carson. “And you don’t even know her name. It’s Katy,” he snaps. “And I’m not leaving.”

“Fine. We can do this the hard way,” Carson says dismissively. “We’ll let Kate decide who should go.” He turns to me with a set jaw. “Tell him.”

My chest starts to ache because I’ve forgotten to breathe, or even how to. I’m caught in the middle of a man standoff, one looking at me with expectant impatience, the other becoming more wounded with every painful second that I do nothing.

Finally, Daniel breaks the silence with a single word. “Katy!”

The tremor in it slashes my heart open. “Carson,” I say, “let me talk to Daniel for a while, please.”

Carson blinks, surprised by my choice. Then he tartly mutters, “Fine. Whatever,” and abruptly turns to leave.

“Wait, Carson,” I say, rushing after him as he stalks into the hallway. “Let me explain!” My words hit the vestibule door, where moments before he was distracting me with loving, playful caresses, as it slams shut.

I go back inside my apartment and close the door and lean my head against it, wanting just a moment’s peace. Daniel gives it to me, though I hear him turning away. As if things could get any worse, he’s now facing my wall of family photos, from which any evidence of us is conspicuously missing.

I always loved how close Daniel and I were. Now I realize what a hard thing it is to know someone so well you can feel his pain. Daniel’s self-esteem is so fragile. I want to go to him, but I look at the passion-mussed bed where Carson and I made love yesterday, and I know I can’t. He won’t want me near him, even though he clearly came here last night to make sure I was okay, and he waited for me. Tears come to my eyes.

Daniel waited for me, and he got me and Carson. He got
us.

When Daniel turns around, I look away from his wounded eyes. My gaze flicks down to his hands, which are shaking from holding in rage and pain. He sees me looking at his trembling hands, and he shoves one in a pocket as the other rakes his floppy dark hair out of his eyes, and then they both wrap around him, and then they give up and fall helplessly to his sides.

“I don’t want to know,” he mumbles nervously. “He can’t mean anything to you. He’s too new.” A horrified look pulls the color from his face. “Unless he’s not new.”

“What? No, Daniel, you know I’d never cheat on you. I met him when I went away.” I don’t know why I can’t say Carson’s name right now, except that it seems as though it would hurt Daniel even more.

“You met him two weeks ago?” he asks.

“Almost three,” I murmur.

“Three weeks,” Daniel repeats. “But to you, his three weeks matches my five years.”

When I’m with Carson, the intensity of our relationship just seems part of the way he moves in the world, with everything on ten. Daniel’s words sting, making what I have with Carson sound flimsy. For a moment, his statement throws me. I loved Daniel enough to want to spend the rest of my life with him. How can I feel as much for Carson as I do? How does three weeks with one man, who I barely know, match against five years with a man I know so well?

Because
I know Daniel so well. Only breaking up with him was enough to bring him here with whatever he so desperately needed to say to me. Carson flew here all the way from Costa Rica, leaving behind a life that’s perfect for him, to tell me that he’s in love with me and never wants to be apart from me.
That’s
how three weeks equals more than five years.

“Fine, Daniel, you wanted to talk, let’s talk. Even though I told you what I wanted, and you said no, and that, as far as I’m concerned, was the end of our discussion. What was so important that you needed to say to me?”

I bite my lips as he stares at me in hurt surprise. I’ve never spoken to him this way before, knowing how his parents’ acid arguments traumatized him. Then he walks over to his backpack, reaches inside it, and takes out a small blue box. Oh, God.

Daniel walks back to me. “I didn’t really have that much to say.” He looks down at the box. “I just wanted to ask you to marry me.” He opens the lid and lifts his dark brown eyes to mine.

The heart-shaped diamond twinkles brilliantly at me from a band of gracefully engraved silver and a bed of black velvet. The ring is beautiful. I couldn’t have chosen it better myself. My hand rises to my face to stifle a sob.

Daniel’s voice trembles when he says, “I’m too late, aren’t I?”

“Yes!” I cry. “Yes, you’re too late! Why now, damn it? I wasn’t good enough for you to stay with before, so why am I good enough now?”

“Jesus, Katy, don’t you get it?” Daniel says. “There was no way I could marry you before! I shouldn’t even be asking you now!”

“Why the hell not, you bastard?” I say, my hands curling into fists.

“Because
I’m
not good enough!” Daniel shouts. “I’m nothing! I’m nobody, I have nothing, and I’m worthless, and how can I possibly marry you when I don’t even deserve you?!”

Everything goes quiet as I look at my shattered Daniel, with every ugly thought he ever believed about himself all out in the open, a raw wound. I remember Daniel telling me a story from his childhood. His parents were fighting so viciously, screaming, even getting physical with each other, though they knew Daniel could hear it all as he cowered alone and terrified in his bedroom.
They didn’t care
, he told me.
It was like I wasn’t even worth caring about.

Now I understand why Daniel never asked for a raise or a promotion at work, why he’s so shy and has only a few close friends, and why he never proposed to me. His parents’ divorce didn’t make Daniel hate the idea of marriage. It made him hate himself.

Tears spill from my eyes at the sight of him so broken. I don’t know how to put him back together or if I even can. Just as I start to go to him, his cell phone rings from his back pocket.

“Lucky you, saved by the bell,” he mumbles as he takes it out to ignore the call. But when he sees the caller’s ID, he answers it. “Hello? Yeah, she’s right here. Oh, uh, sure.” His eyes go wide with alarm as he hands me the phone. “It’s your sister. She says your phone goes right to voicemail, and she has to speak with you, right now.”

My throat goes dry, and I barely get out a hello before Bethy’s trembling voice cuts me off. “Katy, Mom’s in the hospital,” she cries. “She’s had a heart attack.”

“EVERYTHING WILL be all right,” Daniel says as he practically carries me down the street. I’m sobbing so hysterically I can’t even see, but Daniel’s voice is a lifeline. “Don’t worry, Katy. It will all be okay. Taxi!” he shouts, leaving me for a second to run into the street and nearly get hit by the off-duty cab he flags down.

As the car speeds toward the city hospital, where my mother is in intensive care, Daniel holds me close and takes my shaking hands in his. Mom’s boyfriend Vic and Bethy have been calling me all morning to tell me that Mom was having chest pains and collapsed. I turned off my cell phone last night after I called Daniel from Carson’s room, pretending to call my mother. The irony of my lie stabs me. Innocently, I forgot to turn my phone back on again, but while I was making love with Carson this morning, my mother was
 . . .
I sob so hard it hurts, and Daniel holds me tighter, repeating his soothing mantra of “It’s okay, it’s okay, shhh, shhh.”

At the hospital, Daniel strides quickly to the receptionist. “Rebecca McNamara. Came in this morning with a heart attack. Where is she?”

The receptionist quickly scans her computer and looks up. “Are you family?”

Oh God, does that mean she’s dead? I’d hit the floor if Daniel wasn’t supporting me, and he’s the one who answers, “This is her daughter.”

“Mrs. McNamara is in ICU, so family only. You can go up, third floor. You,” she says to Daniel, “have to stay here.”

I run for the elevators. Daniel is beside me, telling the receptionist okay, okay, he’ll stay where he is. He presses the button for me. “I’ll be right here,” he says as the doors close.

“I’VE TOLD YOU a hundred times, I’m fine,” my mother says, fixing her stern
I’m the teacher, you’re the student
look on her young doctor. Even lying in a hospital bed with a breathing tube in her nose, she’s formidable.

“And I’m telling you for the last time, Mrs. McNamara, we’re keeping you overnight so we can make sure you’re okay,” the doctor says before adjusting her IV and leaving.

“They just want to keep you around for your charming personality,” Vic says, squeezing my mother’s hand. Amazingly, she gives him a smile instead of one of her usual sharp comments. “Give us all a break and relax for a while, would you, Rebecca?” Vic asks her. “You gave us quite a scare. Look at poor Katy. She’s ready for the next available bed.”

“Are you all right, Katy?” my mother asks, looking at me with worry.

“No I’m not all right,” I say. “I mean, I am now that I know you’re okay. But Vic’s right, Mom, this was scary. Thank God he was with you.” I don’t want to think about what might have happened if she’d been alone. I should have visited her sooner, checked in on her.

I silently curse myself for running away with Carson. I know none of this is his fault, but I can’t help thinking that his hundred-mile-an-hour surprises don’t leave room for calling people, preparing for overnight stays, or much of anything else. It’s jarring, the results speaking for themselves. I know I should call him and tell him what’s going on, especially in light of the way we parted, when I told him to leave so I could talk to Daniel. But after what happened today and what might have happened, I just need some time to slow down and catch my breath. I take my mother’s hand to reassure myself that she’s still solid and here. I know I must look really worried, because her mouth tightens.

“I don’t understand why everyone is making a big deal about this,” she says. “Your sister doesn’t have to fly all the way here from California. It wasn’t that bad. I would have been fine.”

I’m about to tell my mother just how bad it was when I see Vic shake his head slightly at me. Then he gazes tenderly at my mother, though her eyes remain defiant and steely. And then her lips start to tremble, and she hides her face as she weeps. Vic moves closer to cuddle her. “Becky, you’re okay. I know it was scary. But we have each other. Everything’s fine.”

My mother hasn’t let anyone call her Becky since my father. And I haven’t seen her cry in years. I’d always thought she was hard, but now I see she just built herself a shell to hide in after my dad hurt her. But Vic is showing her the way out, and however scary the world might seem, she’s willing to try this with him, just like I was with Carson.

At the same time, I notice Vic holding my mother in the loving, protective way that Daniel has always held me. Quietly, I watch them, searching for a sign of which direction to take in the crossroads where I’ve found myself.

A FEW HOURS later, I rest my head against the cool metal wall of the elevator. Visiting hours are over, and my mother fell asleep a while ago anyway, still holding Vic’s hand. Bethy will arrive in New York soon, and Vic will let her into my mother’s apartment, so I can go home and collapse for a while.

I’m not at all surprised when I walk out to the hospital lobby and find Daniel still there, sprawled out on a reception area chair, not really watching the television mounted in a corner of the ceiling. When he sees me, he stands up quickly. “How’s your mom doing? The nurses would only tell me she was all right, but not much else.”

“She’s fine. The heart attack wasn’t as damaging as they initially thought.”

Daniel’s smile is wry. “She giving everyone hell already?” he asks, having been on the receiving end of some of my mother’s curt temperament.

I think about her unfamiliar, soft new smile, which apparently blooms when Vic is nearby. “Not yet, though that’s not a bad thing.”

With the situation no longer urgent, an unusual awkwardness settles between us. “Is he coming to take you home?” Daniel asks.

I know exactly who he’s talking about. “No. He doesn’t know this happened.”

Daniel’s eyebrows twitch in confusion, but he’s good enough not to say anything. He reads my face and sees how physically and emotionally exhausted I am. I lost my father suddenly. I almost lost my mother today just as quickly, in the snap of a finger. Relieved but still shell shocked, it’s all I can do to keep from lying down on the floor and weeping. I know that Daniel sees all of this and understands it, and that’s why he doesn’t ask why I’m not calling Carson. He just puts a gentle arm around me and says, “Come on. I’ll take you home.”

“You don’t have to,” I say as he walks me out of the hospital. “It’s so far for you. And I’m fine, really.” He knows I can read the look he gives me that says my objections are pointless. Daniel would never let me go home alone, especially after something like this. He hails a cab and gives the driver my address.

In the backseat, we sit apart for a few seconds, looking at each other in that deep, unguarded way you can look at someone you trust completely. Then my eyes fill, and I feel my chin trembling. Daniel comes to me immediately, without words, his arms open to catch me. And then I’m there, in that magic circle that always meant home to me. I don’t know how he creates this feeling of security, of love and complete acceptance that he didn’t get, but he does. I’ve never felt anything like it with anyone else. His arms enfold me, his body is stable and strong, his head lowers toward mine, and I’m enveloped by pure love. I have no right to this anymore, but God forgive me, I want it so badly. I need Daniel.

We don’t talk for the entire ride home. Nor when we get back to my apartment, do we discuss him following me inside. It all seems so natural, and, in my scared and weary state, so necessary.

When his phone rings, he glances at it for a second before handing it to me wordlessly. “Will you please,” my sister seethes, “turn on or plug in your freakin’ phone already, so I can stop calling your stupid ex?” The way she talks about Daniel makes me angry, but before I can say anything she asks, “How’s Mom? Vic tells me she’s all right, but I want to hear it from you. Is she okay?”

“Yes,” I say, plugging my phone into its charger. “Well, she’s different.”

“Oh, my God.” I hear Bethy hailing a cab at the airport. “What is it? Is her speech slurred? Is there paralysis? Different how, Katy?”

My phone screen shows many calls and messages from Bethy and Vic. None from Carson. I look at Daniel, who is putting out two plates and cups and looking through my cupboards, and say, “She’s happy.”

I tell Bethy I’ll see her tomorrow and collapse into one of my two dining room chairs. Daniel asks if I’ve eaten yet. We’ve had this exchange so many times over the years that I automatically ask him if he has.

“I ate French fries from a vending machine in the hospital lobby,” he says.

Knowing his food issues as well as I do, this makes me start to giggle.

Daniel smirks. “They tasted like French fried fingers,” he says, trying to make me laugh harder, and succeeding. “They came out of a machine! What did they fry them in, WD-40?” he asks, to my peals of laughter.

I’m still giggling as I watch him root around in my fridge. I haven’t done any food shopping since before I left for Costa Rica, which seems like a year ago. But ten minutes later, Daniel sets down a grilled cheese sandwich for me and a peanut butter and jelly for him with hot cocoa for both of us. Perfect comfort food. I devour mine as Daniel thoughtfully picks at his. “What’s the matter,” I tease, “did you fill up on French fries?” This triggers another round of giggles for both of us.

After I’ve finished, I sigh with contentment. “Thank you.”

“You must be wiped out,” Daniel says. I nod at him, realizing how exhausted I am. He stands and continues his caretaking, leading me to the bathroom to take out my contact lenses and washing my face with a cool cloth. Then he ushers me to the bed.

I remember the last time the two of us stood here, by my bed, and all the times before when Daniel began the sweet ritual of undressing me before we made love. He kneels in front of me and unzips my boots, placing my hands on his shoulders to steady me as he pulls them off. When he stands again, his dark eyes meet mine. His fingers brush my neck as he reaches behind me to unzip my dress. I feel tingles as Daniel’s fingertips trail down my back with the zipper, the soft cashmere parting and falling away. My heart starts to pound, my body so accustomed to Daniel undressing me, knowing it as a sweet act of foreplay. He reaches down and takes the hem of the dress and slowly pulls it up, over my hips.

Oh, I can’t. I can’t do this with him. I’m with Carson, my mind insists, but the thought is dim against the warmth of Daniel’s fingers and the feel of the dress being pulled up. I raise my arms, as if in surrender, and I see Daniel’s eyes go to my powder blue lace bra before the sweater blocks my vision. I can’t let this happen.

I want it to happen. I know it’s too much to ask Daniel to be with me after I’ve been with another man. And I don’t understand how I could love Carson and want to be with Daniel this badly. It’s not about sex, and it’s more than a selfish desire for comfort. There is something I need desperately right now, stability. And it radiates from Daniel like warmth from a crackling hearth.

The sweater is pulled away and I can see Daniel again, his eyes dark and sweet as syrup, his full mouth parted. The noise in my mind goes quiet. When I reach up to push the hair away from his handsome face, I don’t even try to stop myself.

But Daniel stops me. Gently, he takes my hand and holds it before it can reach him.

“Katy, I love you,” Daniel murmurs. “God, I love you so much. I never even knew what love was until I met you.” But as he speaks, he pushes my hand down to my side. “This means you’re saying yes, Katy. Yes to me. You wanted forever. Well, so do I. But I don’t want your answer now.” He caresses my fingers before taking his away. “Too much happened today, for both of us. I don’t care about him,” he says, though a hint of anger in his tone tells me otherwise. “I’ll get past that. But I want you to go back and look at him. Really look at him,” Daniel says, his voice strong and clear, “and if you think of me, even for a second, you’ll know what your answer is.”

His pronouncement leaves me stunned as he pulls the covers back for me. Slowly, with an empty feeling that can’t be filled, I climb into bed.

Daniel kneels next to the bed and looks into my eyes. “Are you okay?”

I’m so many things right now. Scared, spent, exhausted, and most of all, confused. I should tell him I’m fine so he can go. “No,” I admit. Daniel strokes my hair gently. I take his hand to stop him, but unlike him, I don’t have the strength to let go. I close my eyes as tears roll out of them.

After a moment, I feel warmth everywhere as Daniel wraps himself around me.