Distracted (17 page)

“No thanks. I’m not interested in getting cancer. You
shouldn’t be smoking either, you know.”

“Eh, I don’t. I quit a few years ago. These are left
over,”

Patricia said, examining the crumpled package. “These
must be at least three years old.”

Erin watched, her mouth agape, as Patricia withdrew a
bent cigarette and sniffed it. Her eyes closed and she wore a
dreamy smile. “I know it’s not fresh, but I can still smell the
tobacco.”

The older woman slid the cigarettes into her desk
drawer and sat back in her leather chair. She templed her thin,
bony fingers, stared at Erin and waited.

After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, Erin
said, “I’m not fat.”

“Right. Why don’t you give me an update on Professor
Campbell.”

With a sigh of relief, Erin bent over and withdrew a
folder from her briefcase. She placed it on Patricia’s desk. “I’ve
got the last pages of his memoirs transcribed and I’ll begin
interviewing him next week. I’ve sent his photo albums to the
graphics department for scanning and once they’re complete I’ll
start working on the captions.”

Patricia shuffled through the papers and nodded.
“These are good. Do you think you have enough material for the
early years?”

“Too much, actually. He’s kept everything. It’s the
later years that lack depth.”

“Humph. Oh well, people really want to know about the
young and sexy Alex Campbell – the one who slept with all the movie
stars going to him for voice lessons. Wasn’t Marilyn Monroe his
student? It will sell better to younger audiences that way. The
only wild-haired old man that sells on book covers is
Einstein.”

With downcast eyes, Erin nodded. “You’re right, of
course. I’ll concentrate on those interviews,” she said, but it was
another sexy young man she imagined.

* * *

It was November and she caught the Acela high-speed
train to New York. The trip took less than three hours and Aidan
met her at the New York Penn Station with a frozen turkey. His bear
hug swept her off her feet.

“I hope you know how to cook that,” she said, eyeing
the bulging grocery sack with mistrust.

He took her hand in his and smiled. “We’ll figure it
out. I’ve picked up a few other things and we’ll stop by the deli
for a fresh pie.”

The trip to New York has been spontaneous; Aidan had
called with the invitation for Thanksgiving and because it hurt too
much to think about going home to the farm, Erin agreed.

When Aidan suggested she spend a couple of days in
New York, shopping and sight seeing with him, Erin hesitated.

“No hidden agenda; I’ll be on my best behavior,” he
promised.

Erin was glad she accepted his offer and anticipated
a few days of wanton shopping. Thanks to a daily jogging routine,
she had shed the extra weight and a few bonus pounds. She joined a
local gym and added weight training to her regimen, slowly
replacing her soft curves with sculpted shoulders, arms and
legs.

She accepted Patricia’s compliment with grim
satisfaction when the older woman noticed and said, “You’re looking
much better. Now don’t go overboard.”

Erin didn’t want to admit it, but the older woman’s
stinging criticism in October had motivated her. Her anger subsided
after the first few days and then she realized that the exercise
and running made her feel good. She also noticed other people
jogging in the neighborhood and they silently nodded to each other.
She stopped feeling quite so lonely.

Aidan hadn’t known about her weight gain and
subsequent loss, so he didn’t notice any physical changes. But he
did note the lightness of her step and the confidence in her
posture. Tactful, he said nothing.

They caught the green line subway to the Bronx where
Aidan had rented a large studio apartment.

“It’s only a thousand bucks a month,” he said,
shoving the door open with his foot, juggling the turkey in one
hand and his keys in the other.

Erin stepped inside the short hallway, which led to a
small kitchen on the right before opening into a bright and airy
room with new hardwood floors. Erin glanced around and noted a
bathroom beyond the kitchen. Aidan’s large bed dominated the room.
Bookcases flanked the walls along with stacking crates filled with
clothes. A small, glass-topped bistro table served as Aidan’s desk,
its surface filled with his laptop computer, folders and
papers.

“It’s cozy,” Erin said, dropping her duffle bag by
the bed. “But there’s only one bed.”

“That’s okay; I’ll sleep on the floor. Or you can. Or
we can sleep together if you promise to keep your hands off of me,”
he teased, dropping the turkey on the kitchen floor. “It’s only for
a few days, anyway. I couldn’t fit the futon in here because of my
books. Besides, I don’t entertain.”

Erin glanced at Aidan, one eyebrow raised.

“Sure. I believe that. Anyway, do you realize this is
the first time you’ve had your own place since college? It’s
strange, isn’t it?”

Aidan nodded. “Yeah, it is strange. We’ve known each
other for so long. It’s lonely, that’s for sure.” He stepped closer
and rubbed a hand up and down her arm briskly. “Oh well. You’re
here now and we’ll have a great time.”

Erin tugged her jacket off and tossed it on the bed.
She kicked her shoes off and shrugged. “Let’s get that turkey into
the refrigerator and see what’s in the pantry.”

Aidan laughed. “Funny, ha ha. Like that’s going to
fit in the refrigerator. And my ‘pantry’ consists of two cabinets.
Things are pretty tight in here.”

“I see. We’ll make do,” Erin said.

* * *

The turkey still had not thawed by early Thursday
morning so they headed to Manhattan to watch the Macy’s
Thanksgiving Day Parade. They pushed their way through the crowd
along Central Park West for a glimpse of the bands, balloons and
floats. Clowns preceded the parade, flinging confetti and
enlivening the crowd.

“Clowns scare me,” Aidan said, shuddering. “They’re
really creepy.”

Next came the marching bands representing high
schools and universities across the United States. Erin couldn’t
help but smile at the serious expressions on the nervous teen
musicians.

Floats filled the street until, hours later, the
traditional Rocky and Bullwinkle balloons signified the end of the
parade.

Amazingly, the crowd dispersed into Central Park and
down side streets. Aidan and Erin worked their way to his favorite
restaurant near Central Park South, between the Ritz-Carlton and
Park Lane hotels.

“I told you it was great,” he said twenty minutes
later, sipping a cool draft beer and admiring the baseball
memorabilia that decorated the walls of Mickey Mantle’s.

After splurging on lunch and a decadent dessert of
New York cheesecake, they ambled along Fifth Avenue, admiring shop
windows. At Rockefeller Center, they watched people ice skate in
front of the giant Christmas tree.

“Thank you, Aidan. This is wonderful,” Erin said, her
eyes on an elderly couple holding hands while they skated. “I
wasn’t looking forward to the holidays but everything is so
exciting and all the stores are beautiful here. I’m glad I
came.”

“I am, too.” He turned towards Erin and put a hand on
her shoulder. “You know, you can stay if want. Leave D.C. and work
here. There’s dozens of publishers in Manhattan and you could be a
book editor, like you wanted.”

Erin bit her bottom lip.

“Thanks, but I like D.C. I’m working on a new project
and Patricia and I are getting along much better. I mean, she’s
forgiven me for the mess I made.”

“Are you still seeing that guy?” Aidan refused to
call Spence by name.

Erin gripped the railing but kept her focus on the
ice skaters. “Oh no; that’s been over for months. We haven’t spoken
since …. There’s nothing to talk about.”

Several minutes passed in silence.

“Let’s go to Radio City Music Hall,” Aidan suggested.
His spontaneous invitation brought a smile to Erin’s trembling
lips.

“Sure. That’s a great idea. My treat since you bought
lunch.”

* * *

The turkey finally thawed on Sunday, but by then
Erin’s trip to New York was winding down. They had spent the days
with Erin shopping and exploring Manhattan and in the evenings they
went to a Broadway play and a movie. They ate out, and Aidan’s
small refrigerator filled with leftovers.

Aidan offered the bird to his superintendent and they
caught the subway to the Pennsylvania Avenue station. They shared a
final dinner at a small Chinese restaurant before walking Erin to
the train platform.

“I think this is a misspelling,” Aidan said, frowning
as he read his fortune cookie. “Listen to this, ‘You will have good
luck and overcome many harmships.’ That’s gotta be ‘hardships,’
right?”

“Here’s mine,” Erin said, squinting at the tiny red
print. “It says, ‘Good luck bestows upon you. You will get what
your heart desires.’” She crumbled the slip of paper and tossed it
onto her plate.

“Hey, cheer up. We both have good luck fortunes,”
Aidan said. “At least it didn’t say, ‘That mole is cancerous.’”

Erin sighed. “It’s been wonderful visiting you and
going shopping. You’ve been so nice to me this week. Too nice,
actually. You didn’t try anything. What’s up with that?”

“I promised,” Aidan said.

“Yeah, and it seems like it was an easy promise to
keep. Don’t you find me attractive anymore?”

Now it was Aidan’s turn to sigh. “Women! You complain
if I’m a gentleman, you complain if I’m not. Make up your
mind.”

Erin smiled slyly. “You’re seeing someone, aren’t
you? You’ve moved on. Admit it.”

“No, I’m not seeing anyone. Not really. There is
someone I’ve been chatting with but it’s nothing.”

“Chatting? Like online chatting? Are you saying you
have an Internet girlfriend? How do you know it’s a woman? It could
be some hairy shirtless guy with potato chips on his belly,
pretending to be a woman,” Erin teased.

“Ha, ha, funny. She’s a doctoral student in Australia
who’s also working on climate theory. I know she’s a woman because
we’ve had video conferences to share research.”

“So, she’s Australian?”

“No, she’s Japanese. She’s studying in
Australia.”

Erin nodded, not knowing what to say. She searched
her heart but couldn’t find the jealousy that burned through their
marriage and divorce.

“So yes, I guess you could say I’m trying to move
on,” Aidan added softly.

“That’s great. Really, I mean it,” Erin said as she
glanced at her watch. “Well, it’s almost time for my train. Time to
go.”

She stood quickly and pushed the chair back. As she
reached for her shopping bags, Aidan caught her hand. Standing
also, he pulled her close and cradled her head to his chest.

“Erin,” he whispered. “You know I’ll always love you.
You didn’t want me anymore. You know what you want. Who you
want.”

She hitched with a sob. Aidan really had grown up.
She realized, though, not even the tiniest part of her was sad
about that. She wondered if she could ever let go of Spence the way
Aidan had finally let go of her. “Yes, but he doesn’t want me. I
ruined it. Nobody wants me now,” she wailed.

“Give it time. You’re young and beautiful and
intelligent ...”

“Funny how that order is so important to men, instead
of intelligent, beautiful and young,” she muttered.

“You know what I mean. You’re gorgeous and brilliant
…” Aidan trailed off at her glare. “I mean you’re brilliant and
gorgeous and your fortune today said you would have good luck. Give
it some time,” he repeated, then kissed her quickly – on the cheek
– and shoved her away.

“Go. Your train is here,” he said.

“Thank you. I’ll always love you, too. Bye Aidan.”
She kissed him hard – on the lips – and smiled wickedly although
tears glistened in her lashes. She adjusted her shopping bags and
her rolling luggage and walked out of the restaurant.

A few minutes later she stowed her packages in an
empty seat and sat next to the window. Leaning her head against the
cold plastic pane, she surrendered to the tears.

Chapter Thirteen

It was mid-December in D.C. and Erin rode the
escalator up to the snowy street. The comforting aroma of donuts
greeted Metro riders. On one corner, a musician played his
saxophone, his case open on the sidewalk to catch coins and
dollars. On another corner, a tall man preached loudly, “Whose side
are you on?” Handmade signs with black, blocky letters quoted
scripture. Another man, this one selling flowers to couples,
approached her. “A rose for the lady?” Erin gave him a withering
glare, and his hand dropped.

At her apartment entrance, she unlocked her mailbox.
Inside she found another letter from Aidan, credit card bills, a
magazine and a thick, white envelope. She held it under her nose.
Mmmm … smells expensive, she thought. She slid her fingernail under
the flap and tore it open. It was an invitation to a gallery
opening in March from her publisher. Enclosed was a return envelope
for her R.S.V.P.

For the past few months, as Patricia had suggested,
she worked with the 86-year-old musician Alex Campbell and helped
him turn in a tidy memoir by deadline. Of course, 86 didn’t mean he
was dead and often Erin found herself removing his hand from her
bottom.

“Dr. Campbell!”

The old man would grimace at her, his best leer. Erin
began carrying a ruler and whenever his hands strayed, she smacked
them. The device was a familiar one to the old teacher, and he soon
developed a fondness for the spunky young woman. He even dedicated
his book to her.

“Erin: My glass shall not persuade me I am old, so
long as youth and thou are of one date.”