Message in a Bottle (30 page)

It was late by the time they got back, and to Garrett, the following day seemed just as rushed. Theresa took him to her office and showed him around—introducing him to a couple of people—and afterward they visited the Museum of Fine Arts for the rest of the afternoon. That evening they met Deanna and Brian for dinner at Anthony’s—a restaurant on the top floor of the Prudential Building that offered wonderful views of the entire city.

Garrett had never seen anything like it.

Their table was near the window. Deanna and Brian both rose from their seats to greet them. “You remember Garrett from brunch, don’t you?” Theresa asked, trying not to sound too ridiculous.

“Of course I do. It’s good to see you again, Garrett,” Deanna said, leaning in for a quick hug and kiss on the cheek. “I’m sorry I forced Theresa to come with me a couple of weeks ago. I hope you haven’t been too hard on her.”

“It’s okay,” he said, nodding stiffly.

“I’m glad. Because looking back, I think it was worth it.”

Garrett looked at her curiously. Theresa leaned in and asked, “What do you mean, Deanna?”

Deanna’s eyes sparkled. “I got some good news yesterday, after you left.”

“What is it?” Theresa asked.

“Well,” she said nonchalantly, “I talked to Dan Mandel, the head of Media Information Inc., for about twenty minutes or so, and it turns out he was very impressed with you. He liked the way you handled yourself and thought you were quite a pro. And best of all . . .”

Deanna paused dramatically, doing her best to stifle a smile.

“Yes?”

“He’s going to pick up your column in all his papers, starting in January.”

Theresa put her hand to her mouth to stifle her scream, but it was still loud enough that the people at the nearby tables turned their heads. She huddled toward Deanna, talking quickly. Garrett took a small step backward.

“You’re kidding,” Theresa cried, disbelieving.

Deanna shook her head, smiling broadly. “No. I’m telling you what he told me. He wants to talk to you again on Tuesday. I’ve got a conference call set up for ten o’clock.”

“You’re sure about this? He wants my column?”

“Positive. I faxed him your media kit along with a number of your columns, and he called me. He wants you—no doubt about it. It’s something he’s already decided.”

“I can’t believe it.”

“Believe it. And I heard through the grapevine that a couple of others are interested as well.”

“Oh . . . Deanna . . .”

Theresa leaned in and impulsively hugged Deanna, excitement animating her face. Brian nudged Garrett with his elbow.

“Great news, huh?”

It took a moment for Garrett to answer.

“Yah . . . great.”

*  *  *

After settling in for dinner, Deanna ordered a bottle of champagne and made a toast, congratulating Theresa on her bright future. The two of them chatted nonstop throughout the rest of the evening. Garrett was quiet, not knowing quite what to add. As if sensing his discomfort, Brian leaned over to Garrett.

“They’re like schoolgirls, aren’t they? Deanna was parading around the house all day, just waiting to tell her.”

“I just wish I understood it all a little better. I don’t really know what to say.”

Brian took a drink, shaking his head. His words came out slightly slurred.

“Don’t worry about that—even if you did understand, you probably wouldn’t get a word in edgewise. They talk like this all the time. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear they were twins in another life.”

Garrett glanced across the table at Theresa and Deanna. “You might be right.”

“Besides,” Brian added, “you’ll understand it better when you live with it full-time. After a while, you’ll understand it almost as well as they do. I know I do.”

The comment was not lost on him. When you live with it full-time?

When Garrett didn’t respond, Brian changed the subject. “So how long are you staying?”

“Until tomorrow night.”

Brian nodded. “It’s tough not seeing each other much, isn’t it?”

“Sometimes.”

“I can imagine. I know Theresa gets down about it now and then.”

Across the table, Theresa smiled at Garrett. “What are you two talking about over there?” she asked cheerfully.

“This and that,” Brian said, “your good fortune, mainly.”

Garrett nodded briefly without answering, and Theresa watched as he adjusted himself in his seat. It was obvious he felt uncomfortable—though she wasn’t sure why—and she found herself puzzling over it.

*  *  *

“You were kind of quiet tonight,” Theresa said.

They were back in her apartment, sitting on the couch with the radio playing softly in the background.

“I guess I didn’t have much to say.”

She took his hand and spoke quietly. “I’m glad you were with me when Deanna told me the news.”

“I’m happy for you, Theresa. I know it means a lot to you.”

She smiled uncertainly. Changing the subject, she asked: “Did you have a good time talking to Brian?”

“Yah . . . he’s easy to get along with.” He paused. “But I’m not very good in groups, especially when I’m sort of outside the loop. I just . . .” He stopped, considering whether he should say anything else, and decided not to.

“What?”

He shook his head. “Nothing.”

“No—what were you going to say?”

After a moment he answered, choosing his words carefully. “I was just going to say that this whole weekend has been strange for me. The show, expensive dinners, going out with your friends . . .” He shrugged. “It isn’t what I expected.”

“Aren’t you having a good time?”

He ran his hands through his hair, looking uncomfortable again. “It’s not that I haven’t had fun. It’s just . . .” He shrugged. “It’s not me. None of this is anything I’d normally do.”

“That’s why I planned the weekend like I did. I wanted to introduce you to new things.”

“Why?”

“For the same reason you wanted me to learn how to dive—because it’s something exciting, something different.”

“I didn’t come up here to do something different. I came up here to spend some quiet time with you. I haven’t seen you for a long time, and ever since we’ve been up here, it seems like we’ve been rushing from place to place. We haven’t even had a chance to talk yet and I’m leaving tomorrow.”

“That’s not true. We were alone at dinner last night, and again at the museum today. We’ve had plenty of time to talk.”

“You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t. What did you want to do—sit around in the apartment?”

He didn’t answer. Instead he sat quietly for a moment. Then he rose from the couch, walked across the room, and turned off the radio.

“There’s something important I’ve wanted to say since I came up here,” he said without turning around.

“What is it?”

He lowered his head. It’s now or never, he whispered to himself. Finally turning around and gathering his courage, he took a deep breath.

“I guess it’s just been really hard this past month not seeing you, and right now, I’m not sure if I want to keep going on like this.”

Her breath caught for a second.

Seeing her expression, he moved toward her, feeling a strange tightness in his chest at what he was about to say. “It’s not what you’re thinking,” he said quickly. “You’ve got it completely wrong. It’s not that I don’t want to see you anymore, I want to see you all the time.” When he reached the couch, he kneeled in front of her. Theresa looked at him, surprised. He took her hand in his.

“I want you to move to Wilmington.”

Though she’d known this was coming sometime, she hadn’t expected it to come up now, and certainly not like this. Garrett went on.

“I know it’s a big step, but if you move down, we won’t have these long periods apart anymore. We could see each other every day.” He reached up, caressing her cheek. “I want to walk the beach with you, I want to go sailing with you. I want you to be there when I get home from the shop. I want it to feel like we’ve known each other all our lives . . .”

The words were coming quickly, and Theresa tried to make sense of them. Garrett kept talking.

“I just miss you so much when we’re not together. I realize your job is here, but I’m sure the local paper would take you on . . .”

The more he talked, the more her head began to spin. To her, it almost sounded as if he were trying to re-create his relationship with Catherine. “Wait a minute,” she finally said, cutting him off. “I can’t just pick up and leave. I mean . . . Kevin’s in school . . .”

“You don’t have to come right away,” he countered. “You can wait until school is out if that would be better. We’ve made it this long—another few months won’t make much difference.”

“But he’s happy here—this is his home. He’s got his friends, his soccer . . .”

“He can have all that in Wilmington.”

“You don’t know that. It’s easy for you to say that he will, but you don’t know that for sure.”

“Didn’t you see how well we got along?”

She let go of his hand, growing frustrated. “That has nothing to do with it, don’t you see? I know you two got along, but you weren’t asking him to change his life. I wasn’t asking him change his life.” She paused. “And besides, this isn’t all about him. What about me, Garrett? You were there tonight—you know what happened. I just got some wonderful news about my column and now you want me to give that up, too?”

“I don’t want to give us up. There’s a big difference.”

“Then why can’t you move to Boston?”

“And do what?”

“The same thing you do in Wilmington. Teach diving, go sailing, whatever. It’s a lot easier for you to leave than it would be for me.”

“I can’t do that. Like I said, this”—he motioned around the room and toward the windows—“isn’t me. I’d be lost up here.”

Theresa stood up and walked across the room, agitated. She ran her hand through her hair. “That isn’t fair.”

“What isn’t fair?”

She faced him. “This whole thing. Asking me to move, asking me to change my whole life. It’s like you’ve put a condition on it—‘We can be together, but it’s got to be my way.’ Well, what about my feelings? Aren’t they important, too?”

“Of course they’re important. You’re important—we’re important.”

“Well—you don’t make it sound that way. It’s like you’re only thinking about yourself. You want me to give up everything I’ve worked for, but you’re not willing to give up anything.” Her eyes never left his.

Garrett rose from the couch and moved toward her. When he got close, she pulled back, raising her arms like a barrier.

“Look, Garrett—I don’t want you to touch me right now, okay?”

He dropped his hands to his sides. For a long moment neither of them said anything. Theresa crossed her arms and glanced away.

“Then I guess your answer is that you’re not coming,” he finally said, sounding angry.

She spoke carefully. “No. My answer is that we’re going to have to talk this out.”

“So you can try to convince me that I’m wrong?”

His comment didn’t deserve a response. Shaking her head, she walked to the dining room table, picked up her purse, and started toward the front door.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to get some wine. I need a drink.”

“But it’s late.”

“There’s a store at the end of the block. I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.”

“Why can’t we talk about it now?”

“Because,” she said quickly, “I need a few minutes alone so I can think.”

“You’re running out?” It sounded like an accusation.

She opened the door, holding it as she spoke. “No, Garrett, I’m not running out. I’ll be back in a few minutes. And I don’t appreciate you talking to me like that. It’s not fair of you to make me feel guilty about this. You’ve just asked me to change my entire life, and I’m taking a few minutes to think about it.”

She left the apartment. Garrett stared at the door for a couple of seconds, waiting to see if she would come back. When she didn’t, he cursed himself silently. Nothing had turned out as he thought it would. One minute he asked her to move to Wilmington, the next she’s out the door, needing to be alone. How had it gotten away from him?

Not knowing what else to do, he paced around the apartment. He glanced in the kitchen, then Kevin’s room, and kept moving. When he reached her bedroom, he paused for a moment before entering. After walking over to her bed, he sat down, putting his head into his hands.

Was it fair of him to ask her to leave? Granted, she had a life here—a good life—but he felt sure that she could have that in Wilmington. No matter how he looked at it, it would probably be much better than their life together up here. Looking around, he knew there was no way he could live in an apartment. But even if they moved to a house—would it have a view? Or would they live in a suburb, surrounded by a dozen houses that looked exactly the same?

It was complicated. And somehow, everything he’d said had come out wrong. He hadn’t wanted her to feel as if he were giving her an ultimatum, but thinking back, he realized that was exactly what he had done.

Sighing, he wondered what to do next. Somehow he didn’t think there was anything he could say when she got back that wouldn’t lead to another argument. Above all, he didn’t want that. Arguments rarely led to solutions, and that’s what they needed now.

But if he couldn’t say anything, what else was there? He thought for a moment before finally deciding to write her a letter, outlining his thoughts. Writing always made him think more clearly—especially over the last few years—and maybe she would be able to understand where he was coming from.

He glanced toward her bedside table. Her phone was there—she probably took messages now and then—but he didn’t see either a pen or pad. He opened the drawer, rifled through it, and found a ballpoint near the front.

Looking for some paper, he continued shuffling—through magazines, a couple of paperback books, some empty jewelry boxes—when something familiar caught his eye.

A sailing ship.

It was on a piece of paper, wedged between a slim Day-Timer and an old copy of Ladies’ Home Journal. He reached for it, assuming it was one of the letters he’d written to her over the last couple of months, then suddenly froze.