Knowing Is Not Enough (13 page)

I caught the eye of the bartender and ordered a glass of water.

“Okay, you ask us out for a drink, and you’re not drinking?”

“I’ll order one in a bit. I’m making it an early evening.”

Her eyebrows rushed to meet each other, with her hand firmly planted on her hip. Pointing at my throat she said, “You just got here. What’s early? We wouldn’t be here at all if you hadn’t organized this little soirée. Something’s up with you.”

I clasped her free hand and pointed finger, lowering them to a respectable level. I shook my head. “Nothing is up with me. I’m fine. I only said that because I wanted to turn in early, but I can stay, that’s not a problem.”

“I was just about to say—”

“Let’s switch subjects . . . where is Peter at?”

She shrugged and pointed again at the bar. “You want to go over there?”

“Not really.”

“Isn’t that why we came?”

I shook my head. “It’s crowded in here. I don’t want to lose our seats.”

“Okay, I’ll just go back there and let him know you’re here. Watch my purse, okay?” Tobey walked over to the crowd of guys near and around Peter. She whispered to him and pulled him back to our table.

Peter didn’t waste any time. “About time you got here. What—or who—made you late?”

Before I could say anything, Tobey responded for me. “She wasn’t with anybody.”

Peter turned to me for conformation. I obliged. “Just
running late,” I agreed. The truth would only be the prequel to an interrogation, which I, unequivocally, refused to take part in.

“Okay, I want you to come over here and meet my friend.” Peter turned toward a group of guys. Tobey, to my surprise, followed along. “Where is Sanford?” She asked me. “I expected to see him.”

“He couldn’t make it.” I felt my cheeks flush.

“What’s wrong with you? Did you talk to him?”

“Yeah, he had something else to do.”

“Oh, that’s too bad.” Tobey exclaimed. “I was looking forward to hanging out with him.”

The music helped me pretend I didn’t hear her. I wanted push fast-forward on this night.

Peter turned back to us. “You ready?” He reached over and tapped the shoulder of one of the guys standing with the group by the bar.
What a difference a couple of weeks make
. He turned around, “Alex, this is Easton. Easton . . . Alex.”

We shook hands. “Nice to meet you, Alex.”

“Same here.” I turned and tapped Tobey’s shoulder. “This is my friend Tobey.”

Unlike Sanford, Easton and I faced each other eye to eye. I figured without my heels, he might have three inches on me. Easton was every bit the opposite of Sanford from his height, dress and demeanor.

Tobey continued to check out the scenery while Easton engaged me in small talk. “How do you know Peter?” he asked.

“Through Tobey, we usually talk to each other here.”

“Do you come here a lot?”

“Not really. I was here in the last week or so, but
before that not in about a year.”

He smiled.
Really good teeth
. “Why so long?” he asked.

“Well, let’s see . . . how about I give you the Reader’s Digest version. I didn’t hang out much while I was married. After my divorce it took some time, but I’m starting to get out. Work keeps me busy, too.”

Easton nodded his head in agreement. “Yeah, works keeps me busy. What do you do?”

“I’m a therapist. You?”

He grinned. “Take a guess?”

I smiled. “I would say a preacher, but that would make your presence here completely inappropriate.”

We laughed at the thought. He leaned over, whispered in my ear, “I’m an attorney.”

“Oh, what do you practice?”

“Injury.”

“Oh, okay. So, if I slip and fall, you’re my guy?”

“Yeah . . . well, yes, I could be.”

I smiled at his subtlety. “Do you have kids?”

“Yes, I have two boys.”

I smiled. “How old are they?”

“Five and eight.”

“You have
little
kids,” I exclaimed.

He grinned. “No—well, I guess you could say that. I don’t think of them as little anymore.”

On to the next obvious question. “Where there are kids, there are mothers. Where is your children’s mother?”

Easton appeared uncomfortable. “She’s around.”

“Around where?” His gesture prompted me to scan the room. “Is she here?”

Easton clearly didn’t want to talk about his wife. I had
no plans to use this information for anything other than satisfying my curiosity.

“It’s complicated.”

Unfortunately my curiosity wasn’t doused by his response. “How complicated can it be? You’re either married, or you aren’t, and I’ll be real honest with you—I think you already answered the question.”

My body language said it all—I didn’t want to continue our conversation. He lingered next to me, eventually coming to the foregone conclusion the conversation was beyond resurrection.

I turned away and saw a familiar face. Hunter. I didn’t think he’d remember me, but I wanted to move away from where I stood. Maneuvering my way through the crowd I tapped him on the shoulder, “Hi, I don’t know if you remember me? My name is Alex. I think we met here before. Do I look familiar?”

“Yeah, I remember you. How have you been?”

I smiled. “I’ve been good, real good. How have
you
been?”

“I’m doing okay.”

He wasn’t helping much with the small talk. “Didn’t you tell me you worked at the college?”

“I work with your friend Sanford,” he said.

I nodded. “Oh, okay, maybe that’s where I remember you from.”

Hunter looked around. “Is he here tonight?”

“No, he didn’t come,” I said. I still felt a shiver of excitement up my spine just from saying his name.

“Oh, okay,” Hunter said. “So, what’s been up with you?”

“Not a whole lot,” I replied.

Hunter nodded his head in Easton’s direction. “Your boy misses you. I didn’t pull you away from something did I?”

I looked over in Easton’s direction. “Not at all. I just met him . . . he’s a friend of a friend.”

“You might want to tell him that . . . he was giving me a serious look for a minute there.”

“Well, maybe this is the perfect time for us to sit down.”

Hunter and I found a couple of seats at a nearby table. We ordered drinks and I motioned to Tobey to join us. She handed me a card. “Easton left this for you.”

Easton himself was already by the door, but turned to beckon me to join him. Tobey was already sitting down with Hunter, so I headed over to Easton. He handed a second card that he pressed in my palm. “Just in case you didn’t get this.”

“I did,” I replied.

“I wanted to answer your question before I left. Yes, I’m married, but separated. Like I said . . . complicated.”

I searched his face. “Let me ask you this. Why are you out here meeting people—and you’re married?” I wanted to know, but I knew from his face that if I would get an answer, it wouldn’t be tonight.

He patted my arm. “It was nice meeting you.”

Hunter, Tobey and I had a couple more drinks before calling it a night.

At home I emptied my pockets and placed Easton’s card on the nightstand. I squeezed the pillow where Sanford had lain, inhaling his lingering cologne. Shifting, folding and repositioning my head until his aroma faded.

My mind replayed the night’s events too many times. I couldn’t fall asleep. I figured I might as well do something to pass the time, and went downstairs and grabbed a photo album from the bookcase. I poured a glass of wine, snatched an oversized blanket from the linen closet, curled up on the couch and went over every photo of Sanford with newly acquired rose-colored glasses.

I rolled over in bed, grabbed my cell phone, and looked at the time. Seven o’clock. I rubbed my palm across my forehead, attempting to push back the effects of wine and exhaustion. My attempt to lull my headache into submission without medication lasted five seconds before the phone rang.

It was Linda. “Wake up, sleepyhead, this is my second time calling you. How did it go last night?”

“Why are you calling me so early?”

“I’m dying to know! How was he?”

I rolled over onto my back. “How was who?” I questioned.

“The guy?”

I felt foggy. “What guy?”

“Are you still asleep?”

“Yes, Linda.”

“Call me once you wake up. Don’t forget.”

“Okay.”

I’d barely hung up the phone before it rang again.

What is up this morning?
“Hello?”

“Good morning!” Sanford. Another person brimming with sunshine.

“Good morning.”

“How did it go last night?”

I licked my lips. “It went okay. Tobey kept asking about you. She thought you were coming.”

“Well, I
was
coming, remember?”

I smiled. “Yes, I remember.”

“You completely missed that.”

I looked around the room. “Oh, I get it . . .
coming
,” I laughed. “You missed your calling.”

“Ordinarily you would’ve gotten that joke. You must still be asleep.”

“Yeah, I am. Couldn’t sleep when I got home, so I went through some old photos. I drank more wine too. That was a mistake.”

“Why were you going through those old pictures?” he asked.

“I don’t know . . . feeling a little sentimental. I wish you would’ve come with me last night.”

“I didn’t think you cared if I went or not.”

“I know—it wasn’t until I got home. Looking through those pictures, I started to wish you were with me. At the Boulevard too, but more then.”

“That’s nice,” he said. “Next time I’ll come. And how about today?”

I shifted on my pillow. “I really want to see you, but first I want to go back to sleep.”

He was instantly apologetic. “Oh, I’m sorry. You were asleep.”

I sighed. “No, don’t apologize. You didn’t wake me up, Linda did.”

“Checking on your night?”

“More or less.”

“Did you tell her anything about us?”

“That would be a negative. I think the mere fact I’m not still on the phone with her means I didn’t.”

Amused, he said, “You have a point. Well, call me when you wake up? I really want to see you. I have something to tell you.”

I pulled back the bed sheets. The fog of wine and exhaustion dissipated. “Oh you got to be kidding me. You can’t leave me hanging with that ending.”

“Don’t panic. I need to tell you something and I want to tell you in person.”

“Sanford?”

“Alex?”

My heart rested comfortably in my big toe. “There is no way I’m going back to sleep now, so you may as well tell me.”

“I want to tell you when I see you. How about dinner and a movie?”

“Fine—dinner and a movie. What time will you be here?”

“What do you want to see?”

“I really don’t care.” My mind raced with nervous energy. I didn’t know what to think or feel. I’d made love to him last night and today he was telling me he wanted to talk. Even with my limited dating experience, I knew
wanting to talk
doesn’t work out well for the receiver.

Sanford picked up on it. “I can tell you’re upset, so here goes. There’s an opportunity for me to teach in D.C. and I want to talk to you about it.”

“D.C.?”

“Yeah, D.C. I’ve been working on it for a while, and I want to get you up to speed on where I am with this.”

My head worked overtime to remain unswerving, open to the mounting feelings I had for Sanford, but the heart was already feeling the significance of his potential departure. “When are you leaving?”

“I’m not going anywhere yet. What time do you want me to pick you up?”

“Let’s do the matinee, about two o’clock.”

“All right I’ll be there in a few hours. You okay?”

“I’m okay.”

Disappointed about the contents of our impending conversation, I got off the phone, lay back and marinated in the thought of Sanford leaving for any period of time. I would find out soon enough what this meant. Unable to return to sleep, I got up and made myself a pot of coffee.

May as well get this day rolling
.

Sanford picked me up exactly three hours later. It was too early to go inside the theatre, so we went into the ice cream parlor next door, bought a couple of shakes and sat down.