In the Distance There Is Light (19 page)

“I am not. How can you even say that? That man’s existence, and his fucking truck, are the direct cause of Ian’s death.”

“I think you’re only saying that to make yourself feel better.”

“Better? Better!” Spit flies from my mouth. “Feeling better has not really been on my to-do list of late. Fuck. I can’t believe this.”

“You might not want to, but I’m seriously considering meeting him.”

“Why?”

“Because I
need
closure. I need it more than anger toward a man I don’t even know. I want to look him in the eyes. The poor man’s life is probably ruined by this as well.”

I’m baffled by the words coming from Dolores’ mouth. “
His
life is ruined? What about our lives? None of his family members were killed, while
your
son was.”

“It was an accident.” Dolores’ calm facade is starting to crack. “Anyway, no need for you to come with me, but…” She pauses.

“But what?”

“You can’t hide forever, Sophie.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Dolores takes a step closer, removes her hands from her hips but doesn’t bring them to my shoulders the way I expect—want—her to. She lowers her voice. “You’re going to have to start your own life again some time. You’ve lived here for four months. You have no idea when you will go back to work. You don’t know what you’re going to do with the apartment. And all of that is understandable, but it’s not a life. At least, it shouldn’t be yours.”

I want to say something, give her a snippy comeback, but my throat swells and my eyes fill. Dolores is rejecting me. She wants me out. Our little arrangement has run its course.

“Fine,” I whisper. “I’ll pack my things and get out.”

“That’s not what I mean. I don’t want you to leave. I just want you to… I don’t know, face up to some things. Or at least try to. Make an effort to move on.”

I shake my head. “I’ve heard enough. This has gone on long enough, anyway. It needs to stop. You’re right. I’ll be out of your hair as soon as possible.” I start making my way toward the stairs. There’s nothing but red mist in my head. Nothing but that brutal first sting of rejection. Our affair that brought me so much comfort is coming to an abrupt halt.

Dolores comes after me and grabs me by the wrist. “Don’t do this, Sophie. Don’t run away from yet another confrontation.”

Vexed, I turn around, look her straight in the eyes. “Another?” I manage to say.

“Please, calm down. Let’s sit and talk about this like the adults we are.”

“I don’t need to sit for that. Just give it to me. Tell me everything you think I’m doing wrong.” Now it’s betrayal I feel. Dolores has never criticized me for anything. She has always been there for me one hundred percent.

“You’re in a state. You’re no longer thinking straight. We’ll continue this later.”

“No, just let me have it. Let me know what you really think. After all, we share a bed. I’m entitled to your true opinion of me.”

I can tell my unwillingness to back down is riling her up. “You can’t just sit by idly and wait for life to become okay again. It doesn’t work like that. You need to do
something
. You need to take some sort of responsibility. And for God’s sake, Sophie, call your mother back once in a while.”

I take a step back. “My mother? What does my mother have to do with any of this?”

“She’s a perfect example of how you avoid any confrontation. She’s your mother. She loves you. You’re both alive. Make some effort.”

“My mother is the biggest narcissist I have ever met. I told you that. You made me believe you understood. You made me believe so many things. Was it just to get me into your bed, huh, Dolores? Was that all that this was about?”

“You know very well that’s not how it is. I’ve loved our time together, despite how it came about.” There’s a lot of hurt in Dolores’ voice.

“Past tense. Okay.” My own anger, however, will not make way for anything else. I can’t get past the comment Dolores made about my mother. If she’s out to hurt me, I can give as good as I get. “I
will
pack my things then as I take it you’re breaking up with me.” At least I have an ounce of wherewithal left, just enough to make me swallow a vile comment about Dolores not being Ian’s real mother. I respect her too much for that.

Everything coils itself into knots in my stomach that I believe will never be unfurled. I’ve lost Dolores now as well. But I can’t just up and leave, not like this. “What do you want from me?” I ask.

“I want you to learn to stand on your own two feet again. I think I might be in the way of you doing that.”

“Do you want me to go?” My voice, at least, has reached a normal volume again, unlike the way my heart is pounding in my chest.

“God no. I don’t ever want you to go. But I don’t know what will happen if you stay. I want you to have a life. Your
own
life.”

I nod, tears dangling from my eyelids. “I’ll go.” It’s not so much that I’ve overstayed my welcome, I do understand that, but after what has just been said, I can’t stay. It has become impossible.

“Don’t go
now
. Be reasonable,” Dolores says, but she still doesn’t touch me, which is telling enough in its own right.

“I have no choice.” I cast one more glance at Dolores. She looks so good again today, so absolutely scrumptious in her light gray skirt suit with a red silk top underneath. Her blue eyes are moist. She has taken off her glasses and they dangle from her fingers.

It’s over, and we both know it.

I head up the stairs and pack whatever I can through a haze of tears. While I fill my bag and disconnect my computer screen, a new void opens in my heart. Or maybe it has been there all along, but Dolores did a good job of filling it with all her warmth and understanding and embraces.

Half an hour later, I’m in my car, on my way to Jeremy’s.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

It’s only when I arrive at Jeremy’s, and have unloaded my meager belongings from the car, that it really hits me. For the very first time in almost four months, I’ll be sleeping alone tonight. Since Dolores and I took our sleeping arrangement to the next level, we haven’t had sex every night, of course, but there was always extensive snuggling, kissing and falling asleep in each other’s arms. There was always comfort in the presence of the other. I can hardly ask Jeremy if I can share his bed.

After I’ve told Jeremy everything in a long, teary rant, he sits me down, and says, “First, you need a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow, we will come up with our battle plan for your new life.” He has taken my hand in his. His skin is sweaty and nowhere near as soft as Dolores’. “You should also text her to let her know you’re here with me. So she doesn’t worry too much.”

Stubbornly, I push my phone away from me. “You text her.”

“Would you mind if I called her? Just to have a quick chat.”

“You feel sorry for her.”

“A little.” Jeremy says it as though he’s being pinched painfully at the same time.

“I’ve had some time to calm down, and I do feel for Dolores, because she’s alone now, too. But I think some sort of rift was the only way for us to end this. And it had to end.” My voice peters out at the end of the sentence, as though even my vocal chords are unsure of this conclusion. “It had to,” I repeat, more to myself than to Jeremy.

“I’ll make you some tea in a second. Then we’ll talk.” Jeremy grabs his own phone from the table and goes into the kitchen to call Dolores.

I strain to hear what he says, but I just make out snippets like “she’s safe” and “you take care”. I never asked her flat out so I don’t know if Dolores has someone to talk to about this, about us. I was too absorbed by what we were doing—too self-absorbed really. Maybe she’ll call June and tell her all about our sordid little affair. Because that’s what it feels like to me now. It’s just a bitter aftertaste, like when I have a hangover. It was fun at the time, but the consequences are far less glorious.

A few minutes later Jeremy comes back into the living room with two cups of tea. I never drank tea at Dolores’. Her professional-style coffee machine was too good.

“Okay, Sophie, my sweet, sweet friend. Please don’t be offended, but I have seen this coming for a while, so I have prepared for this moment.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Since when?”

“Since the day you told me, of course. I’m the king of unrealistic couplings. Remember Steve the law student? And Jared the Senate hopeful?” He purses his lips together. “Sometimes you really like someone you really shouldn’t, and the very fact that you shouldn’t makes you like them even more. Been there, done that. What you need now is a massive distraction and…” He taps his fingers onto the table. He’s actually excited about this. “Well, I took the liberty of having a conversation with Jackie O. about your future. If you don’t want to do investigative anymore, we can work something out. She can use someone extra for the weekend cultural pages, and since you’ve been, er, into the art world lately, that could be something for you. You can have one of the desks at
The Post
’s main office and you’d have annoying colleagues and daily boring editorial meetings, the works.”

“Wow. I love how you’re selling that.”
 

“You know what I mean, Soph. As for lodgings, just move in here. Come live with me. I can’t promise the same perks as living with Dolores has, but I truly don’t mind. I like having you around. I am a social butterfly, however, so I am out of the house quite often, because I have my own life to live…”

“Speaking of, what about your love life? What if you want to bring a guy over?”

“Then I will.” He shrugs. “There’s a bathroom between our bedrooms. And I’m not that loud, anyway,” Jeremy says matter-of-factly. “Besides, I no longer sleep with people who don’t have their own, very comfortable digs. No more college students or married men for me. I’m so past that.”

I give him a small but genuine laugh. “You really do have this all figured out.”

“It may be a long time before your life feels normal again, Soph, but I think it would be a good strategy to fake it until you make it.” He peers at me over the rim of his tea cup. “What do you say? Will you come to the office with me tomorrow? We can have lunch with Jackie.”

“You and Jackie seem very chummy.”

“It’s always a good idea to keep the boss close.” He cocks his head. “Is that a yes?”

“Okay.” Maybe both Jeremy and Dolores are right. Either way, it’s highly unlikely that two people who have my best interests at heart would both be wrong.

“Excellent. Now, guess who I’m interviewing for my podcast tonight.” His eyes sparkle.

“I honestly have no idea.”

“Vasily Cooke, the gorgeous artist whose work is on display in the Dolores Flemming Gallery at this very moment.”

“And I thought you came to the opening to give me moral support.”

“I’m self-employed, Sophie, darling. I must always have an eye open for new business.”

“Thank you.” I mean it from the bottom of my heart, though it does sort of feel like I need to be saved all over again.

“You’d do the same for me.” Jeremy waves me off. “I need to leave in an hour. Will you be okay on your own? I can reschedule if that would make you feel better.”

“No. You should go. I have to learn to be on my own again. I might as well go cold turkey.” I look around the room. Even though Jeremy has a lot of art on display, his apartment is the polar opposite of Dolores’ house. For starters, it’s pristine. No magazines lying around. No empty wine glasses to be found on the coffee table. It’s also modern with lots of ceiling spots shining indirect light on us, angular objects and bright colors. It would fit nicely in any lifestyle magazine on interior decorating, but it’s not cozy like Dolores’ house.

Oh, Dolores.

“Dolores said something pretty mean about me and my mother.” It helps to focus on the one thing she said that really hurt me. All the other things she said, I can understand now that I’ve had some time to calm down, but that particular remark still hurts.

“What did she say about the mighty Deborah Winters?” Jeremy asks.

“That I should call my mother back once in a while and that my relationship with her is a prime example of how I avoid confrontation.”

“Ouch.” Jeremy goes to refill my cup. “Do you need a shot of whiskey in that?”

“That was so below the belt. I can’t believe she actually said that after everything I told her.”

“She was upset. People say all sorts of things they don’t mean when they’re upset.”

“That might be so, but… well, I guess I don’t know how to move forward with Dolores after this. I don’t want to lose her entirely. Fuck, at times, I never wanted things to end between us.”

“I know.” Jeremy’s voice shoots up. “You sat in that very chair telling me all about your dreams for you and Dolores.”

“I kind of miss her already, even though I’m also still cross with her.”

“That might be so, but I do think it would be best for you not to see her for a little while. Wouldn’t want you to relapse.” Jeremy looks at his watch.

We sit in silence for a few seconds.

“Any chance of a hug before you leave?” I give Jeremy my most sheepish smile.