Cheating on Myself (7 page)

“Sure,” I said, and took a sip of my wine. I’d lost control of the process. “How about hiking?”

“Yes! That’s great. Hiking is social, but not too extreme. Yoga?”

I lifted my eyebrows at him.

“Right. Not yoga. Those yoga guys are weird anyway. Remember when I went out with Kelly from my yoga class and she started doing breathing exercises while we were making out?” He shuddered. “So weird. Okay, how about other activities?”

“Eating out?”

“Fine. Ooh, wine tasting? That would be fun.”

“Who’s going on this date? You, or me?” I grinned at him.

“You’d love wine tasting. Maybe it will get you out of your Malbec slump.”

“It’s not a slump. I like Malbec. I’m just a creature of habit.”

“Exactly, and we’re trying to break you out of it. We’re trying to break all of your bland habits.” He checked the box next to ‘wine tasting’ and also checked the boxes next to ‘coffee and conversation,’ ‘cooking,’ ‘movies,’ ‘camping,’ and ‘exploring new places.’

“I’ve been camping three times,” I said, dubious.

“Did you enjoy it?” Anders looked up only briefly, still clicking through pages on my profile.

“I guess. I was in Girl Scouts at the time.”

“It’s not like you’re going to go camping on your first date. By the time it comes up, this guy is going to be so into you he’ll be thrilled to teach you all about camping. He can teach you how to do it and will feel like a hero.” He smiled. “Trust me.”

I groaned and drank more wine. “Did you just write that I’m ‘active, ready to explore new things, and always eager for a laugh?’” I cringed. “That’s so cheesy.”

“It’ll work. You’ll see.”

“The last book I read was some sort of chick lit,” I said, pointing to the section of the screen that asked what book I was reading. “It was funny.”

“You can’t put that. It makes you look desperate and dumb.” I simply nodded as he wrote that I’d just finished reading
On the Road
. At least I had read it, years and years ago, so it wasn’t a total lie.

“I like romance movies, too,” I said, feebly trying to re-insert myself into the process as he checked off the kinds of movies I liked. He just waved me off and pressed ‘next’ to go to the next screen. Apparently, I liked Action, Comedy, and Foreign movies only. We went through a whole bunch of screens about more general preferences, and I discovered Anders knew a lot more about me than I’d ever really realized. “How do you know my dream vacation would be in Italy?”

“Am I right?” He asked, looking smug. “When you and Erik went to London, you really wanted to go to Italy, right?” I nodded, thinking back to how much I’d pushed for us to go to Italy but finally caved at his insistence. “That’s when I knew you guys weren’t meant to be. It’s not cool that he wouldn’t go back with you. He’s too selfish. You need someone who realizes they would enjoy Italy a million times more than they did the first time, just because you’re with them. Not someone who feels like it’s a wasted trip because they’ve already been.”

I nodded and sat back to drink my wine while Anders finished my profile. He’d just proven that, in some ways, my friends probably knew me better than I even knew myself. That really needed to change.

CHAPTER FOUR

“
Your color is bland. Do you need me to make you an appointment with my colorist?” I stood to the side at the Clinique counter at Macy’s and watched as Laurel Wesley dabbed lipsticks on the back of her soft, doughy hand. She looked at me, then turned back to the mirror to test an orange hue on her thin lips. I’d been listening to Laurel coach me on every manner of things for the past thirty minutes, and asked myself—again—why I was still letting her get to me.

Laurel was Erik’s mom, and she had played the role of sorta-like-a-mother to me for the past twelve years. Because she’d been a big part of my life while I was with Erik—and was the closest thing I had to a parent of my own—I reluctantly agreed to join her on a shopping trip the weekend after I’d moved out of her son’s house. Though she had her flaws, Laurel was the only
real
parent I had gone to in recent years when I needed motherly advice, and I didn’t want to just drop her. After my dad died, Laurel had come around at just the right time. When I’d needed it most, Erik’s mom had happily given me more mom-advice than any girl could ever need. Granted, it was tainted with Wesley-isms, but that was better than nothing.

“Stella, are you listening to me?” She wiped the orange streak off her mouth and applied a pink coral gloss.

“Yeah,” I said absentmindedly. “I have a haircut next week. I’ll talk to her about it.”

“Good.” Then she added under her breath, “Even though your stylist is doing you no favors.” Laurel stepped away from the lipsticks and surveyed the free gift that came with every qualifying purchase. “This is a good deal. I might have to buy something just so you can have it. Do you need some new stuff?”

“I’m okay,” I said. “They always put the ugly colors in the free gift, you know.” I could tell she was disappointed she didn’t have an excuse to buy something. “If you really want to buy something to get the free gift, I’d be happy to take it. I’m not that picky.”

“It’s good stuff, Clinique. Besides, beggars can’t be choosers. You take what you can get.” She arched her eyebrows at me, and I wondered if we were still talking about makeup, or if we’d moved into the Erik portion of our discussion. “You haven’t asked about Erik,” she snipped, leading me to wonder no more. “You don’t want to know how he’s doing?”

I sighed. “I do. I’ve been thinking about him a lot. I’m just trying not to obsess.”

“Have you called him?”

“No.”

“Don’t you think you’re being a little hasty?” We walked from the makeup to the handbags, and Laurel ran her hands across smooth, supple leather on display while I deliberately ignored her. The ugly coral color glowed on her lips like a beacon, which made it hard not to stare. “Did you really give him a chance?”

“Are we really having this conversation, Laurel?”

“He’s my son. You’re my… Stella. I think you make a nice partnership. Practical.”

Practical
. “Yeah, I know.” I didn’t want to offend her and say something I’d regret later. It wasn’t
practical
.

“You don’t look good.” She pursed her lips and appraised me. “Tired.”

“Thanks.”

“I just mean, it looks like you’re having a hard time adjusting. Are you sleeping? Don’t you get lonely in bed by yourself?”

I wanted to ask her if she got lonely in bed by
herself
. She and Peter, Erik’s dad, had been sleeping in separate bedrooms since Erik and Cat were kids. Laurel took the master suite and Peter slept on a day bed in his study. “I’m actually sleeping very well. It’s nice to be home.”

“Home?” Laurel scoffed. “You mean you never considered Erik’s house
home
?” She had started to get shrill, and I knew I needed to calm her quickly. Laurel struggled with public-private boundaries, and had no concern for airing her issues in front of strangers.

“Is he… okay?” I asked, not needing to fake the concern that crept into my voice. I didn’t really think Erik would be desperately writhing in agony and loneliness (though it would have been nice), but I did worry a little about how he was handling things.

Laurel sighed, deep and low and long. “He’s full of regret, Stella.” She squeezed her lips together, and I knew she was trying hard to conjure tears. She had her famous blubber-til-you-get-what-you-want face on. She used this tactic when Cat’s kids wouldn’t give her a goodbye kiss, or when we had a heated discussion at the Thanksgiving dinner table, or when the grocery store was out of her favorite artichoke dip. Like a five-year-old, Laurel used tears to get what she wanted. “He knows he made mistakes.”

I nodded, but said nothing. It’s not like I’d sprung my desire for more permanent commitment on Erik suddenly. He’d had more than enough chances to take my needs into consideration. He knew what was wrong with us just as well as I did, but he just seemed more willing to overlook the problems out of habit.

I’d had the time and distance I’d needed in the last few weeks to realize it wasn’t just his unwillingness to formally commit that had driven me to leave, but also that we’d fallen out of love. I still loved him, of course, but I wasn’t
in
love with him. The passion was gone, and only now that I’d stepped away did I realize I wanted that passion and someone who wanted to make me happy. On my terms.

“When are you going to go back to him?” She asked finally, after a few long moments of silence. “When are you going to realize what you left and take him back? We’re your family, Stella. You don’t just abandon your family.”

I didn’t bother telling Laurel that Erik hadn’t called
me
since the split, either, and the only “communication” I’d had with him had been through her. “I’m not,” I said quietly. “Erik and I want different things out of our life together, and there are a few deal-breakers for me.”

She
pfft
-ed through her teeth and choked out a laugh. “Such drama, Stella. Frankly, I didn’t realize you had all this foolish girl angst in you. I thought we’d taught you better.”

Foolish girl angst?
My college women’s studies professor would have a field day with Laurel’s analysis of the situation.

“It was lovely to see you, Laurel,” I said, finally realizing I didn’t have to be nice to her even when she treated me like a child. She wasn’t my almost-mother-in-law anymore. I could just
leave
and I wouldn’t have to hear about how I’d hurt her from my boyfriend all night. “I have a date tonight—with a musician! I guess I need to get some rest beforehand since, you know, I look
tired
.” I smiled, turning toward the door. Then I looked back and muttered, “By the way, you look like a corpse in coral.”

As I walked away, I felt the pang of guilt I always felt when I’d been harsh to Laurel. I was storming out like a teenage girl, and it embarrassed me. After all, she was right: the Wesleys were my family. What right did I have to leave? They were all I had, and they’d been good to me. (Even if my name
still
wasn’t in the Christmas drawing. It’s not like I wanted a macrame potholder anyway.)

So even if I was unhappy, maybe I’d moved beyond the point of being able to just walk away, free and clear. Cat had always been the first to remind me that you can pick your friends, but you can’t pick your family… where did Erik and Laurel and the others fit into that? Had I lost the ability to choose? Was I really prepared to abandon my “family?”

* * *

I wasn’t lying. I really did have a date. I still couldn’t believe I’d done it, but when I’d gone back to water aerobics on Thursday I left my number taped to Barbara’s locker with a note to have Jonathan-the-musician call me. I had deliberately arrived to class late and left early to avoid any extended conversation with the regulars, but the note had worked. Jonathan had called me on Friday and we decided to go out on Saturday.

Initially, I was dreading it. It seemed sort of desperate that this guy had called me based on a recommendation from his grandma, but I was trying hard to be spontaneous and enthusiastic about the possibilities. I wasn’t exactly ready to find my next soul mate, but after my morning with Laurel, I was much more excited about having a date. It made me feel like I was moving on, and taking the necessary steps to get over Erik.

Lily came over to help me get ready, and I felt like I looked decent by the time I left home. Lil had tamed my curls into submission, and loaned me one of her cute, long sweater-dress things to go over leggings. The length of the dress hid the size of my thighs, which was a necessity, and I could wear my cute and comfy pumps that were sort of cool (if I squinted and didn’t look too closely). I was ready to date a musician!

Unfortunately, the guy who met me in front of the hostess stand at Nina’s, one of my favorite neighborhood restaurants, was about as far from Jon Bon Jovi as I was from Reese Witherspoon. The guy who introduced himself as Jonathan was bald, wearing a tux, and when he got close enough to give me a hello hug, all I could think is he smelled like a leaky basement.

“It’s nice to meet you,” I said, taken aback by the hug.

“It’s good to meet you, too.” Jonathan twitched nervously as the hostess pulled out my chair at our table. It was sort of cute, actually. Was he nervous? “Wow, you’re as hot as my grandma said.” He sat in the chair right next to me instead of in the seat across. Erik and I had always sat across from each other in restaurants, and made fun of the people who sat side-by-side at square tables. It always seemed unnecessarily close.

“Thanks,” I said, laughing at the awkward compliment. I wondered what Barbara had told him about me. It’s not like she knew anything about me, so she would have described me on looks alone. I was oddly flattered that an elderly woman had described me as hot. Apparently, I’d been starved for compliments if that meant so much to me. “So, you’re a musician?”

“Yeah, I play in quartets, mostly.”

“Oh,” I said, nodding. “That explains the tux, huh?” It made sense he was wearing a tux if he’d just come from playing a party or an afternoon wedding or something. For some reason, I’d been picturing a rock-band musician, not a classical musician. Even though he wasn’t my physical type, Jonathan suddenly didn’t seem quite as lame. Classical musicians were probably pretty sensitive, and obviously had a romantic side. It also took talent to play a tricky string instrument. Could I overlook the basement smell?

“What about the tux?” Jonathan said, puzzling over both the question and the menu. “Have you had the scallops here?”

“Yeah, the scallops are yummy. Were you wearing the tux for a gig this afternoon or something? Did you have a wedding to play? Or a cocktail party?”

Jonathan shook his head. “No.”

Huh. Had he worn the tux specifically for our date? I chose not to press on. I could overlook it. “Are you going to get the scallops?”