Cape May (19 page)

The apartment was quiet again. Joanna closed her eyes and pictured herself walking through the front door of the Tea & Scones. Dropping the mail onto the small table by the window. Reaching out to adjust a knickknack. Straightening a picture hanging on the wall. Removing a dead leaf from a plant. Her sandaled foot smoothing a bump in the rug. Both hands sliding a chair back two inches. Michael sitting in one of the other chairs. He put his book down, looked up at her with a sad smile and reached out his hand. She took it and he pulled her onto his lap. She unbuttoned her blouse, feeling she’d die if he didn’t touch her. They kissed and fondled until Archie jumped on her lap and woke her up.

The clock read 2:45. Brian would be coming home, probably hoping to put an end to the torture of not knowing what was happening in his life. He was an accountant, a plan-ahead kind of man. It was bad enough she was thinking of uprooting him from his beloved Manhattan to the wilds of southern New Jersey. Now instead she might leave him for a man she’d known how many days?

All too soon, Brian’s key was in the door. Joanna’s heart beat faster out of a sort of fear, not for the romantic excitement she’d felt so recently with Michael. The thought of dropping dead from a heart attack wasn’t so unpleasant at this very moment. Her thoughts quickly returned to Michael, not Brian, as she imagined herself dying in his arms, Camille-style, looking up into his captivating blue eyes. The ridiculously dramatic vision made her smile, which is what Brian saw when he walked in.

“A smile. That’s been rare,” he said in a quiet, tired voice.

“Hi.” She paused. “You okay?”

“No. I’ve been wandering around all day.”

“Oh?”

“I swam at the gym. Bought two tax deductible books at Barnes & Noble, looked at new jazz CDs. Went to lunch with Frank. To talk.”

“How is he?”

“Helpful. Gave me some perspective. About us.”

“Wow. I didn’t know you two talked about real stuff.”

“Not usually. Had to though. Don’t want an ulcer.” He pulled off his sweaty T-shirt, threw it onto a chair, and walked into the kitchen for a glass of water. She wanted to say something, but couldn’t face hearing his reply to any of her possible sentences. Brian continued. “Bottom line, he said you were worth forgiving, and waiting for.”

“He did?”

“Yes. You can do no wrong in his eyes. He’s always had a crush on you.”

“Really?”

“God, Jo, you are the least self-aware woman I’ve ever met.” He paused. “And as I’ve had a crush on you since the day we met, I agree with him.”

Joanna was stunned into silence.

He continued, “After twenty years of marriage, anyone could get bored. Need a change.” When she didn’t answer he continued. “I know you didn’t go looking for this or anything.”

She shook her head.

“Things happen.”

She nodded.

“Do you…have any idea when things might…get back to normal? I may be able to get through this if I know…a decision is…there’s…”

“I understand.”

“Just…soon, Jo, okay? Maybe our marriage started in an unconventional way, but I love you. And I’d do anything to make you happy again.”

“Please stop, Brian. You’re making me feel even worse.”

“Good. I’d hate to feel this rotten alone. Just, please, end this soon. I don’t think I can stand it much longer, okay?”

They ate dinner together, trying to make polite conversation. It was awkward, but they got through it. Her hands shook, and he noticed, but didn’t say anything. After dinner he said, “Let’s watch a movie or something.”

“I’ll put on my pajamas.” She went into their bedroom and changed. She heard a strange voice in the living room
and opened the door. Brian was going through the messages
on the answering machine.

“Hey, Jo, what about this house?”

She walked out of the bedroom. “The Tea & Scones. You saw the outside of it, remember?”

“You interested?”

“Yes.”

He walked over to her and lightly caressed her arm. “Maybe we need to do this? Maybe you need this change?”

“Maybe.”

“Listen. I’ll do whatever’s best for you, now.” He gulped, “I can’t lose you.”

There was no way to reply to that.

Later that night, Joanna sat on the couch with Brian and managed to stay awake during some of the movie they watched. If she were asked the next day what that movie was, she wouldn’t have been able to answer. It was just time-filler until she could close her eyes and put an end to an awful day.

She did fall asleep on the couch, about halfway into the film. Brian watched the rest of the movie alone, numbing his pain with soda and potato chips. Then he went into their bedroom to sleep, alone.

When she heard the bedroom door shut, she was suddenly wide awake. It was the start of the longest night of her life. Every molecule in her missed Michael, and wanted him. She’d see him tomorrow at lunch. They had made the date. But if she saw Michael tomorrow she might not be able to leave him again. But if she stayed with Brian right now she’d end up resenting and hating him. She needed to get away, to try and think without their influence.

***

She was awake and resigned the next morning. If her personal life was a disaster and seemingly beyond her control—or more realistically too much in her control—at least she could continue to move forward with her Cape May dreams.

The bedroom door opened and Brian emerged, with puffy eyes, looking as if he hadn’t slept at all. She shoved down the guilt and said: “How would you feel if I called Cynthia today and drove with her to Cape May, and got her opinion of the house?”

Brian saw a glimpse of light at the end of his dark tunnel.
“That’s a good idea. You want me to come?”

“No. I’ve stopped you from working enough already. And I need some time away from things. You know?”

“Yeah.”

“Brian, I’m still…I haven’t…”

He put his hands on her waist, “I know.”

“I’ll call my boss and see if I can take a few days off.” He made a move to kiss her and she gave him a peck. “I haven’t brushed my teeth.”

Joanna called her boss, asked for, and got, the week off.
Her haggard voice undoubtedly fed her
bosses’ belief that she needed vacation time, even on such short notice.

Her possibly skewed thinking was that if she didn’t go to work, she wouldn’t take a lunch hour, and if she didn’t have a lunch hour, she couldn’t go to Excelsiors. If she stayed away from Michael, she could try to figure things out logically.

After a quick call to the realtor, and then Cynthia,
everything was in motion. Joanna picked up the phone
again to call Michael, but Brian came in the room and she quickly put it away.

She began packing for a few days in Cape May. Keep moving. Make plans. If she kept moving maybe she wouldn’t get caught.

Brian went back in his office. Joanna took out her phone. Again. She tried to push the numbers, but just couldn’t move. She couldn’t bear hearing Michael’s voice. How unforgivable would it be to send a text message? By the time she punched a few feeble words, and then deleted them, and then tried again, Brian came back into the bedroom. He sat on the bed next to the open suitcase. “How’s it going?”

She continued packing. “Good. I’m picking Cynthia up at 11:30. Her assistant will run the shop while we’re away. We’re looking at the house sometime after four. Ruth—the realtor—said she’d be free anytime after that. I’ll call her when we get there.”

“Um, where are you staying?”

“There’s a little place not far outside Cape May.” Tops, pajamas, and underwear went into her small suitcase. “It’s less expensive than right in town.”

They were quiet. “Jo,” he started.

“Hmm?”

“He’s not in Cape May now, is he?”

Joanna winced. “No. He’s not.” She didn’t add he’s here in Manhattan, and that he’d soon be hating her, waiting in Excelsiors realizing she wasn’t showing up for lunch.

“Good,” he said, and stood up. “I’m going back to work now. And Jo? I can’t do this much longer. I don’t know what’s happening in my own life. Like I have no control over anything. I love you enough to give you some time to figure things out, but have a heart.” And he left the room.

Joanna felt a horrible pang in her guts, because of Brian, and because she couldn’t face calling Michael to tell him she wouldn’t be meeting him. If she spoke to him, she’d have to see him, and if she saw him, her life as it was now
would shatter into a million pieces. She wasn’t ready for that.

She quickly thumbed in a text message to Michael. It wasn’t enough, but nothing would be.

***

Michael woke up Monday feeling something wasn’t right.

As was now his M.O., he woke up thinking of Joanna. As his eyes focused on the room around him, he tried to see it through her eyes. It was sparsely decorated, maybe too bare. He’d put more effort into the living room, which had tons of personality. The bedroom was just that: a room for a bed. The walls were white, the antique dresser was falling apart, and the carpet threadbare. He couldn’t stop his hopeful mind from thinking of the future. If Joanna left Brian, she might move in. That was the main reason he was
cleaning and thinning out the bookshelves, no matter how he lied to himself about other reasons. He was making room for Joanna and her things. Just in case. He’d like her to decorate the bedroom any way she wanted. Whatever would make her happy. It struck him suddenly that he didn’t know what type of furniture she liked, or how she lived in her apartment with Brian. Twenty years of living with her husband uptown. He wanted to imagine what she was doing right now, but couldn’t place her in a bedroom or living room.

He imagined her standing on a chair, putting up curtains. The thought made him smile, and filled him with warmth, and not a small amount of lust. Later on, they could look for another, bigger apartment in Manhattan (if they could afford it) or, if she bought a bed and breakfast, he’d move to Cape May to be with her. Luckily, he loved Cape May and his work could be done anywhere, but he had to admit that if she wanted to move to the moon, he’d willingly go with her.

So why did he feel something was wrong? Because this was all so fast and so intense? The past few weeks were surreal, yet he’d never felt more centered and purposeful. Except for that possibility of having his heart broken per
manently. That very real possibility. The potential loneliness
ahead of him was too cavernous to even glance into.

He tried to dismiss his negative feelings, got ready, and arrived at the Excelsior at 11:45. There were knots in his stomach. Maybe he was just excited about seeing her again, but this felt different. Unpleasant. He found a comfortable seat in the hotel lobby and checked his watch frequently. By noon, when she wasn’t walking through the doors, he got up and went outside, searching for her in the crowd. By 12:10 he took out his cell phone to call her. He’d forgotten to turn it on. He did, and called her at the office.

“Joanna Matthews’s office,” said a woman.

“Is she there?”

“No she’s not coming in.”

His phone buzzed, indicating he had a text message. “I’m a freelancer. She told me to call, about potential work.”

“Oh, well, she’s taking off the rest of the week. Do you want her voice mail?”

“No. No thank you.” He hit the “End” button, and warily
clicked all the necessary buttons to get to the waiting message.

Five words from the woman he loved: “I cant come. Im sorry.”

CHAPTER 17

When Joanna pulled up to her sister’s building, Cynthia was waiting with her luggage. Joanna popped the trunk. One of the doormen easily lifted the heavy suitcase into the car. After thanking the man, Cynthia got in and the sisters headed south.

“Are you ready to do this?” Cynthia said.

“I brought water bottles and fruit, and CDs. I think you’ll love the house in person. You liked all the pictures on the website, right?”

“Yes, I think you’ve found a good one,” Cynthia nodded. “I really meant are you ready to move?”

“Sure. I love Cape May.”

“You don’t sound excited.”

“I brought some CDs,” Joanna repeated, “in case there’s nothing on NPR worth listening to.”

Cynthia paused, then said, “Do you want to talk, Jo?”

“No. But thank you.”

“You can’t hold it in forever.”

“Right now I have to. Can we just drive?” Joanna turned on the radio.

The one stop they made was for a bathroom break and a quick cup of coffee. While Cynthia browsed the magazine rack of the convenience shop, Joanna walked around, suddenly unable to sit still. Michael would’ve read her horrible text by now. Why hadn’t she called and talked to him? She should’ve called him. Still striding around, she took out her cell, pushed the numbers of his cell phone and hit “Send,” just as Cynthia walked up to her.

“Are you wearing a FitBit?”

Joanna terminated the call. “What?”

“You’re pacing like you’ve got to reach 10,000 steps or die trying.”

“Oh. No. Just antsy. You ready?”

She held up her purchases: “Mints and
Vogue
. Let’s go. You drive.”

***

Back in Manhattan, as Michael walked uptown, he tried to convince himself that this wasn’t the end of everything. She just got scared, or maybe a relative died, or her cat was sick. Obviously she was going through her own hell, but she should’ve called him. He was angry.

His phone rang, but by the time he got to it the call was disconnected. He checked: it was from her. Should he call her back? No. The ball was in her court now. He’d give her some space, and try somehow not to let the hurt hobble him. Was it anger or hurt? Either way, it felt awful.

***

Cynthia thumbed through her magazine in the too quiet car. The vibes coming from the driver seat were spiky and uninviting. For Joanna, the drive was torture. It was as if her psyche had permanently recorded every single minute of her time with Michael. She saw herself on the bus with him, thought about him when she saw signs for the Atlantic City bus terminal, heard his voice talking about the court house, and the Lobster Hideaway. It was almost unbearable. She must’ve gasped or something because Cynthia said seemingly out of the blue, “Are you all right?”

They drove past the Welcome Center, and the store with the balloon-penis cards, and Captain Mey’s Inn. When she saw Henry’s, and the arcade, she began having trouble breathing. She had to pull over to the side of the road into a handicapped parking space.

“Jo! What’s the matter? Are you sick?” Cynthia undid her seat belt so she could lean over and feel Joanna’s head.

Joanna couldn’t talk, so she just kept shaking her head.

“Breathe, honey, just breathe.”

Some words came out: “I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”

Cynthia uncapped a water bottle. Joanna took a few gulps and slowly calmed down. Cynthia wet a paper towel and held it to her sister’s head. “You feeling better?” Letting out a deep sigh and sinking back into the car seat, Cynthia said, “Ohmygosh, I thought you were having a heart attack. Don’t do that again, okay?”

“I’ll try not to.”

“I was really scared.”

“I’m sorry I scared you.”

“I’ll drive the rest of the way.” Cynthia got out of the passenger seat and walked around to the driver’s side while Joanna climbed over the gearshift column.

When Cynthia buckled herself in, Joanna told her, “I suddenly thought about you seeing the house and hating it, and yelling at me for dragging you down here.” It was semi-true anyway.

“I’m not really that scary, am I?”

“Everything’s a little scary right now. If you love the house, that’s scary, too. There goes most of the money I have in the world.”

“And Brian’s money.”

“See? That scares me, too.”

“Let’s go see the house. No matter what I think, it’s your decision, and Brian’s, if…if…Well, I don’t know what the hell is going on inside you, and you won’t talk to me, so, whatever.”

Joanna answered by buckling her seatbelt.

“That’s all I’m gonna get from you, huh?”

“Cynthia, drive. It’s the next left.”

Cynthia drove the few moments more to the Tea & Scones while Joanna tried to turn off her emotions. It didn’t work. The physical pain of missing Michael grew when the car pulled into the driveway. The house once again was inviting, gorgeous, and Joanna’s dream come to life. But he was there, everywhere, standing on the porch telling her to stop being enthusiastic, his warm breath hitting her ear and disturbing her. God, she had been in love with him already, and she hadn’t even known.

Cynthia was out of the car and up the front steps before Joanna even managed to unbuckle her seat belt. Joanna took a deep breath, and got out to face the future. As she walked up the path, she said to Cynthia, “Do you want some time alone with the house or should I call Ruth the realtor. She’s in town, waiting for our call.”

“Give me some time and then call her.” Cynthia checked out the roof with binoculars she’d brought. If she were buying the house herself she couldn’t have been more thorough. She walked the perimeter, examining the windows, landscaping possibilities, backyard, parking area, everything outside the house. Then Joanna called Ruth.

While waiting, the sisters sat on the porch steps and talked. “It’s a great house, Jo. Perfect location. Close enough to walk to the shops and beach, but a little off the beaten track. It offers people quiet, if they want quiet. I think if you’re ready to handle everything, you should buy it.”

“I think so, too,” Joanna said, trying to sound enthused. She did adore the house and did want to buy it, but life in general was bleaker than it had ever been. Throwing herself into planning, seeing the house again, meeting with Ruth, it all was supposed to drown out her yearning for Michael and her guilt about Brian. But sitting on the porch, where she had stood with Michael, she was mourning his loss. It was as if he had died. But he wasn’t dead. He was back there in Manhattan, probably in his apartment by now, wondering what the hell was going on.

“Joanna?”

Joanna jumped. “What?”

“Where are you? I’ve never seen you like this. Is it all because of him?”

Joanna nodded, stood up, and walked down the path, pretending to look for Ruth’s car. While Cynthia remained on the porch, Joanna took out her cell phone and called Michael again.

He answered after two rings. “Hello.”

“I…I’m sorry,” was all she could manage.

“That’s all I get?” She couldn’t say anything. He continued, “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know.” Joanna felt the tears coming, and the lump in her throat made it hard to talk. To make matters worse, Ruth arrived and was parking. “I beg you to forgive me for…everything. I can’t stay on. I’m in Cape May, with my sister. We’re looking at the Tea & Scones again. I think I’m going to buy it.”

“Is Brian there?”

“No. I needed some distance from both of you. To think.”

“You’re buying a house with him, so you’ve made your decision, haven’t you.”

“Michael…”

Ruth was walking towards her, smiling so much that Joanna wanted to punch her in the face.

“Michael, I have to go,” she said, but he had already disconnected the call. “Hello?” She felt paralyzed with grief, but Ruth started talking and selling, and rattling off percents and numbers and dates. Joanna walked into her future house, and something inside her clicked shut.

***

Joanna put a binder on the house. Over the years, Cynthia had bought antiques from and sold antiques to Cape May residents. She knew people who knew people in charge and somehow managed to get the Tea & Scones inspected within the week. It passed. Joanna and Cynthia decided to stay a few more days in rooms at a tiny bed and breakfast just outside town. The separate rooms prevented them from getting on each other’s nerves.

One afternoon Cynthia walked into Joanna’s room. “Dinner plans. I saw a rustic restaurant, near the water. I can’t remember the name. Probably bad but fun food. Wait, I think it’s a man’s name. Harry’s? Henry’s?”

Joanna practically yelled, “No not there.”

“Ooooookay.”

“It’s only four o’clock. I practically just finished lunch.” She grabbed her sunglasses and headed out, saying, “I’m going for a walk. I’ll be back in an hour.”

Later they went to a diner. Joanna said, “I hope this place is okay?”

“It’s fine. And Jo, I don’t know what I said earlier…”

“I’m having breakfast for dinner. You?”

Cynthia nodded and pulled out a magazine to read. Joanna pretended to read. Not another word was uttered by either of them through the whole meal other than “Pass the salt.”

When she was alone that night in her room, Joanna went to bed early, hoping to fall asleep quickly. It wasn’t to be. Brain called to check on her, and a friend called to chat. The conversations were over quickly yet upset Joanna, probably because both times her cell buzzed she hoped it was Michael, even though she had no right to hope it was Michael.

The next morning, while waiting for various papers to be faxed by the sellers’ lawyer, Joanna and Cynthia went for a walk on the beach. Joanna was covered in sunscreen plus long-sleeved white shirt and big hat, and Cynthia was wearing a tank top and absorbing as much sun as she possibly could.

Cynthia said, “You know, it’s really nice here. Relaxing. I may come and visit you a lot.”

“I’d like that.” They continued walking.

Cynthia linked her arm through Joanna’s. “You can visit me, too, during your off-season. We’ll see some shows, go to exhibits.”

“I’m glad to hear you still want to spend time with me. I know I haven’t been a joy to be around.”

“No, you’ve been a pain in the ass.” Then quickly, “With reason, of course.” There was another long pause. “As nice as this is, I don’t know how anyone could give up a two-bedroom apartment in Manhattan.”

“I don’t want to live in New York any more. It’s changed, and I’ve changed.”

“What about Brian?”

“He’d stay in Manhattan until death do them part. In that apartment, too. He’s lived there over thirty years. I was thinking…”

“What?”

“Brian should keep the apartment. Sublet it or some
thing.” Joanna stopped walking. “That’s a good idea, Cynthia.
I’m going to talk to him about it.”

“What about the money you’d get for the apartment? Don’t you need it in order to buy the house?”

“Not if I use more of my inheritance, and savings. I’ve been socking away my paycheck since I started looking at houses. I’m not saying it’s a fiscally responsible thing to do, but it’s better than making Brian give up his beloved Manhattan after what I’ve, if I,” she stopped, staring off.

Cynthia said, “What?”

Joanna looked around toward the buildings. She saw the back of Morrow’s and the wooden walkway and steps. “Michael and I kissed for the first time right here.” With that, she turned and walked away, and Cynthia followed.

***

Everything that could be done in Cape May—the first steps on the tall house-buying ladder—was done. Before Joanna was ready, it was time to go home, and she was back in the car with Cynthia heading north to New York.

After an hour of quiet in the car, Cynthia took a chance and said, “This trip must’ve been painful for you.”

“Hmm?”

“You know what I’m talking about, Joanna,” she said, not caring if she got yelled at. “Michael.”

“It was.”

“It must’ve been romantic, meeting him like that.”

“It was.”

“Is it possible, Jo, that you got caught up in the drama of it all? Handsome stranger, beach, stars.”

“Maybe.”

“Any idea what your future entails?”

“No.”

“Well, sis, I don’t mean to be the cold, hard slap of reality, but you’ve just put a binder on an expensive house. Are you sure you want to be doing all this right now?”

“Cynthia, the only thing I know for sure is that I have to keep going forward. I want to move. I want that house. It’s the only thing I have any control over.”

“Okay, sister. I’m on your side, whichever it is.”

The usually long ride was much too short this time. She dropped Cynthia off at her apartment.

“Jo, please call if you need me. I meant it: I’m on
your side.”

Before Joanna was ready, she was pulling into the garage under their building. Brian was upstairs waiting for her.