Before We Were Strangers (28 page)

ME:
So you didn’t really want to find me? Was it just for Ash?

There was no response.

Two hours later, I was on their doorstep, wearing plaid pajama pants, slippers, and a coat. It was six p.m. and the sun was beginning to set. Ash came to the door wearing white flannel PJs with a green turtle pattern on it. She swung the door open wide and announced, “Hello, Father!”

“Hello, Daughter.”

She pointed behind her with her thumb and lowered her voice. “Should I ask if she wants to come with us?”

I shook my head. Ash looked down for a second, as if figuring out what to do, and then yelled, “Bye, Mom! Love you, be back later.”

“Love you. Be careful!” Grace yelled from the other room.

“Ready?”

“Yep.” She bounced out the door.

“We’re going to a restaurant that serves breakfast anytime,” I told her.

“Oh cool. I’m gonna get blueberry pancakes during the Renaissance,” she deadpanned. I stared for a beat and then she started cracking up.

“You scared me for a second. I was concerned about your IQ.”

“I got that joke from a TV show.”

I laughed. “Now I’m really concerned about your IQ.”

The place Grace and I used to go to was long gone, so I took Ash to a diner in our neighborhood.

“Mom told me you guys used to do this breakfast-for-dinner thing all the time in college.”

“We did.” I smiled at the memory but didn’t want to dwell on the past. “How was school?”

“Good. Boring, except for ceramics.”

“You like pottery?”

“I love it.”

“My mom—your grandmother—loved it. She had a little art studio set up behind her house in California. She called it the Louvre.” I chuckled at the memory.

“I know.”

“Your mom pretty much covered everything, didn’t she?”

“Why didn’t you want her to come tonight?”

This daughter of mine didn’t pull any punches. “Like I said before, things are complicated.”

“You guys love each other, so why the hell aren’t you together?”

“It’s not that simple, Ash. I need time.”

“Well, I think you’re wasting it.”

Why was the fifteen-year-old the smartest one in the room?

Because she doesn’t have decades of bullshit clouding her judgment.

We ordered pancakes and milk shakes, and Ash told me about school and a boy she liked.

“Boys are pigs. You know that, right? Stay away from them.”

She sipped her milk shake thoughtfully. “You don’t need to do this. Seriously.”

“I do. I want to meet your friends and come to your school events. And that’s not a request.”

“I know.”

After we totally stuffed ourselves with pancakes, I paid and we headed out. On our way to the door, Ash stopped in front of the refrigerator case.

“You want a piece of pie?” I asked.

She dug into the little purse slung across her chest. “No, I’m gonna buy a piece for Mom.”

“I’ll buy it. What does she like?”

She raised an eyebrow. “You know what she likes.”

“One piece of chocolate cream and a piece of peanut butter to go,” I said to the woman behind the counter. She bagged it up and handed it to me, and I led Ash out of the diner.

Ash and I talked about music the entire way back to her house. It was no surprise that Ash had great taste and vast knowledge across genres. We agreed that we would see Radiohead together the next time they played in New York.
I wondered how many times Grace had played Radiohead or Jeff Buckley to Ash over the years. I hadn’t been able to listen to either one since college.

I followed Ash up the steps. She swung the door open wide, turned around, and kissed me on the cheek. “Thanks for dinner, Father.” She left me in the open doorway, holding the pie, as she ran up the stairs and called out, “Mom, some dude is at the door with pie!”

I swallowed, frozen in the doorway.

Sneaky little thing.

GRACE

Every time I laid eyes on Matt, I’d instantly be overcome by two conflicting feelings: shock at how handsome he was—lean, strong, defined, and somehow sexier with age—and total disbelief that he was even there. I was convinced I would wake up and things would be back to the way they were before.

But I wanted to be strong around him. I had spent a week crying over how he took the news. I’d done enough falling apart for all of us. Frankly, I was getting tired of mulling over all this shit; I had been doing it for a decade and a half. If he wanted to blame me for what his psychotic ex-wife had done, then so be it. I was done crying and I was done apologizing.

Strutting toward him, I watched as his eyes scanned me from head to toe. I was wearing a short, silk nightgown and a devil-may-care look in my eyes. I took the bag from his hands. “Chocolate and peanut butter?” I asked, drily. He nodded. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Okay, well, it’s late.” He just blinked at me then looked down at his slippers.

“Um . . . all right, I’m gonna head home.”

“Okie dokie.”

He headed for the door and I followed to close it behind him. But just before he stepped out of the doorway, he turned, placed his hands on my silk-clad hips, and kissed me right below the ear.

I whimpered.

“Night, Gracie,” he whispered, and then he was gone. I stood in the doorway for several moments, trying to catch my breath. Just when I was learning to hold it together . . .

AFTER SCHOOL THE
next day, I went to Green Acres, which didn’t remotely embody its name. It was a subpar convalescent facility in the Bronx, where Orvin’s daughter had placed him after his wife died a few years earlier. The place really needed renovation. The walls were painted that heinous shade of vomit-green from
The Exorcist,
and the whole place smelled of putrid yeast from the bread-making factory next door. Green Acres was awful. There was a small yard in the back for residents to get exercise, but not a single blade of grass. I broke Orvin out of there at least once a week. We’d go to a nearby park and play chess, and even though he couldn’t remember my name anymore, I was fairly certain he knew who I was.

As we sat in the park, we listened to the wind whistling through the trees. “Do you still listen for it?” I asked.

“For what, doll?”

“The music.”

“Yeah. I do. I always hear it.”

“What do you think it means that I don’t hear it anymore?”

He took my second knight. “Check. I don’t know what it means. Maybe you’re not listening hard enough.”

How does he beat me every time?
I moved my king. “I’m listening.”

“No, you’re too busy feeling sorry for yourself.”

“I’ve never felt sorry for myself.”

“Maybe not before, no, but you are now. Checkmate.”

I reset the board. We played with a cheesy plastic-and-cardboard chess set that folded up and fit into my purse. “I’m not feeling sorry for myself. I’m just tired and kind of sad.”

“Why are you sad?”

I studied Orvin’s face. It was hard not to feel like Orvin didn’t belong in Green Acres because he seemed so spry and alert. Yet oftentimes he would forget everything and ask when he had to be at the shop, which sadly had been closed for more than a decade. This was one of his good days, but he could slip easily into forgetting.

“Do you ever wish you weren’t stuck in Green Acres?”

“My darling Grace, let me share a proverb with you.”

I was startled. He hadn’t called me by my name in . . . I didn’t know how long. “Okay.”

“ ‘I used to think I was poor because I didn’t have any shoes, and then I met a man with no feet.’ ”

I smiled sheepishly. “I am feeling sorry for myself, aren’t I?”

“More than that. You’re being ungrateful. You have the man you always wanted in your life again, a beautiful daughter, and a great job.”

“Yes, but that man doesn’t want me.”

“He will. Just be yourself. Find the music.”

ASH AND I
ended up at Tati’s for dinner that night. Tati was trying her hand at being domestic; she had met a man she actually wanted to date, and was bound and determined to impress him. It wasn’t the first time Ash and I had been guinea pigs, though I can’t say we enjoyed it. Tati was a terrible cook. Period.

Tati came to the table with a large platter. “Lamb tagine and Moroccan couscous!”

“Oh Tati, I hate eating lamb.”

She looked affronted. “Why?”

“They’re just too cute to eat.”

“Well, this one’s not cute anymore.”

I shook my head and took a small serving. Ash wrinkled her nose and took an even smaller one while Tati ran around, looking for a wine key.

“Can I have some wine?” Ash asked.

“Nope,” Tati and I said simultaneously.

“Just a sip? Dad said he’d let me have some wine at his house when he has me over for dinner.”

“You call him Dad now?” Tati asked.

“Well, not to his face, but what else am I supposed to call him? Matt? It wasn’t his fault that he didn’t get to be my dad.”

“Does he want to be called Dad?” I asked her, carefully.

“I don’t think he cares. He wants to come to all my school stuff and meet my friends.”

“I think it would make him feel good to hear you say it. The poor guy has been robbed of your childhood,” Tati said.

I bristled. “What happened to the man-hater in you?” I shot back.

“Turning over a new leaf. You should, too.”

“Call him Dad, if he wants,” I told Ash. I handed my glass of wine over to her. “Just one sip.”

She took a tiny sip and scrunched up her nose. “Ew.”

Tati looked up at the ceiling wistfully. “I loved the way he used to dress.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Did you and my dad get along when you guys were in college?” Ash asked Tati.

“Of course. Your mom and dad were inseparable. If I wanted to see Grace outside of class, then I had to see your dad, too. But we got along well, so it was all good fun back then.” Tati turned to me. “Speaking of the good ol’ days, I think you should come down and practice with us this week after school.”

“What on earth for?” I said through a mouthful of couscous.

“We’re looking for a cellist.”

“You should totally do it, Mom. I can go to Dad’s after school. He’s working from home now and invited me to come over after school whenever I want.”

“I don’t know, Tati. I don’t think I’m good enough anymore.” I was also worried that Ash was embracing Matt a little too eagerly. It made me realize how desperately she was missing Dan. “And Ash, how is it that you’re already so comfortable with your father? You barely know him?”

“I don’t know,” she said.

“I’m afraid you’re doing this to displace your grief,” I said.

“I think you’re overanalyzing this, Mom. I look at him and I see myself. I’m just comfortable around him. Plus, he’s so nice and wants to be a part of my life. Don’t ruin that for me because of your screwed-up relationship with him.”

“I’m going to pretend like you’re not being sassy right now.” Though she was probably right.

We continued to push the lamb and couscous around our plates. It was as terrible as it looked. Finally, Tati put down her fork.

“So, you guys wanna get a burger or something?”

Ash and I nodded eagerly.

“You should stick to spaghetti,” Ash said. “You’re good at that.”

“That was takeout, Ash,” I said, as Tati burst out laughing.

“Oh,” she squeaked, blushing.

“C’mon,” Tati said. “Let’s get those burgers.”

AFTER SCHOOL, FOR
the rest of the week, I went to practice with Tati and the New York Philharmonic. Ash went to Matt’s each day, and then each night, before she went to bed, she would recap every detail of their time together. She was falling in love with him, the way daughters do with their dads. How could she not? I was happy about it, but still, I felt this ache over my own relationship with Matt.

On Saturday, Tati offered to take Ash to a movie, and I went to dinner alone at a small Italian bistro, where I let the waiter talk me into ordering a bottle of wine.

“You can have a glass and take the rest home with you. We’ll wrap it up,” he said.

I agreed, but ended up staying for two hours and drinking at
least three quarters of the bottle. From under the little twinkly lights that hung from the awning, I watched people walking along the street, holding hands, kissing on the corner.
The Godfather
–like music and warmth from the outdoor heater was soothing me right to sleep. “Ma’am?” said the waiter as he reached for the bottle. “Can I wrap this up for you?”

That must be my cue to leave. Time for the tipsy lady to scram.
“Yes, that would be wonderful.” There was only about a glass left, but I took it anyway.

After I paid, I walked back the four blocks toward my house, but when I passed Matt’s street, I turned onto it.

From the other side of the street, I could see inside his loft. There he was, sitting on his couch, staring straight ahead. In the darkness below, I stood watching him, thinking it was weird that, between he, me, and Ash, none of us were together that night. He was sipping wine and looking pensively at something, or maybe nothing at all. I wondered what kind of music he was listening to. He stood up and walked to the window. I backed up farther into the shadows so he couldn’t see me. He was completely still as he stood there, watching the occasional car go by.

What is he thinking?

Finally, I said,
Screw it
. I darted across the street and rang the buzzer to his apartment.

He answered quickly. “Who is it?”

“It’s Grace.” My nerves were terrorizing my stomach.

“Come up.”

When the elevator doors opened, he was standing there, waiting. I looked down at his bare feet and up to his black jeans, his belt and white T-shirt, up farther to his mouth,
his neck, and his long, yummy hair, tied back. I shivered. “Hello.” I held the paper bag out to him and he took it.

He pulled the bottle from the bag, laughed, and then looked up at me with a wry smile, “Thank you, Grace. I’ve never been given an almost completely empty bottle of wine before.”