Trouble Me (8 page)

I hustle upstairs and walk in the condo to be greeted by Jeremy, who is sitting at my breakfast bar, eating my cereal.

“So? You have a date or not?”

“How’d you get in?”

“I’ve had a key to the place longer than you have, sister. Where are the spawn?”

“If you’re referring to Hunter and Beau, they’re sleeping.”

“I’m so excited. I’m trying to figure out what you’re going to owe me for this.”

“Ever the generous friend, Jeremy. Leave it to you to turn a favor into blackmail.”

“Naw, I’m kidding. I don’t have much to do today. I’m supposed to take Amanda out for dinner tonight, so this’ll work out.”

“
Amanda
Amanda?”

“Sure. I want her as a client.”

“Why? I hear she’s awful.”

“She’s never boring, and she’s making bank. I’d like ten percent of that bank.”

“I didn’t know you were in need of new clients.”

Jeremy snorts. “I’m the top agent in the business. My list is long and all grade-A talent. Sure, your Andy sucks up most of my time, but I’d be more than happy to attend to Amanda’s needs. I can always farm her out to one of my junior agents later, but she’d be a good addition. Plus, I know this movie’s going to turn her career dial up to eleven, so now is the time.”

“Dial to eleven? I didn’t figure you for a
Spinal Tap
fan.”

Jeremy waves a hand. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. It’s just an expression.”

Figures he doesn’t know the reference. Mr. Literal. “Well, you’re here, so feed my children when they get up. I’m off to take a shower.”

“I could come wash your back.”

“I could have Andrew kick your ass.”

He slaps the table. “There’s a little gumption from the missus. I love it.”

I go to shower, and, yes, I lock the door. He might have been kidding, but he
is
an agent, and you just never know.

Two hours later, Mari and I are on the train, headed toward Central Park and the Met.

“Have you ever been before?” She sits next to me. She’s got her pale hair pulled into a messy topknot, and she smells faintly of jasmine. Her running clothes are gone, and she has a pair of high-waisted shorts matched with a striped blue and white top. She is darn cute. I feel a pang of jealousy. I was never a fashion school contender, that’s for sure. And my widening body looks blobby compared to hers.

“No. I’m sure it’s typical tourist, but I want to see the Monet exhibit first, if that’s okay.”

“It’s my favorite. You’ll get no complaints from me.” She pulls
The Great Gatsby
from her big woven purse.

“Are you reading that? I love that.”

“Right now I was looking for my phone buried underneath it, but yeah, I’m reading it. I’ve read it before.”

“That one’s my favorite. I couldn’t ever get into
The Beautiful and the Damned
.”

“
Gatsby
’s the best. You can’t beat his character. A young, beautiful man who comes up from nothing and invents this gorgeous, mysterious life. Find me a man like that, and I’ll be in love.” She’s found her phone and pops the book back in her bag. “Sometimes I just re-read a chapter at random. And I draw scenes or copy down lines into my sketchbook, for inspiration.”

“Like what?”

“I like the eyes watching over the ash pile.”

“The all-seeing eyes. Nice and ominous.” The train skids to a halt at our stop. “So, we both like to run, and we both like
Gatsby
.”

She leads me off the subway. “And we both like Monet. I wonder what else we have in common.” She looks at me, like she’s looking for another clue, before she chuckles and breaks into a grin.

“Let’s go.”

The Metropolitan Museum of Art is a true feast for the eyes. It’s huge, built on a grand scale. Forget other museums; there’s no way to even get a look at all the amazing stuff in just this one museum in under a week.

“You know this is the equivalent of a fly-by. We’re only skimming the surface of all the art in this building.” Mari hands me a map to the exhibits and leads me past gallery after gallery. I crane my neck as we hustle past, trying to catch a glimpse of so many works of art.

“At least I know I can come back. Another day this summer, I could do a more methodical visit.”

Mari shakes her head. “No, no, don’t attack it that way. Art is visceral. You let it draw you in. Let it call to you. Let the muses pull you in the right direction.” She closes her eyes for a moment. It looks like she’s listening for something. I stand there, waiting for something to happen. A couple of teenage boys walk by with their skateboards in hand and give Mari a weird look. I shrug, like I’m agreeing that there’s no explaining her.

She opens an eye and cocks an eyebrow. “Well?”

“Well, what?”

“What’s calling to you?”

Oh. I hadn’t been listening. “Um, the Monet exhibit?”

She frowns at me. “You’re no fun. We need to work on that intuition of yours. Let the muses in, Kelly from the South.”

I check the map, and we start down the wide hall to the wing of the museum with the French Impressionists. “I don’t have anything I need inspiration for.”

She looks at me, worried. “What do you mean?”

“I’m not working on anything. I’m not a creative type.”

“What do you do?”

Ugh. I’ve always hated that question. First, I didn’t relish the discussions when I was a teacher. People always commented on “summers off” and “done by three every day,” and that made me want to punch them in the throat. Teachers work hard. Don’t get me started.

Now, though, since Peter died, I hate it because I don’t have an answer.

I swallow. “I raise my kids. Right now I hang with my boyfriend.”

She smiles. “You don’t need to sound defensive. Those are plenty. Unless…” She leaves off.

“Unless what?”

“Unless they aren’t enough for you. You know, unless you don’t feel fulfilled. You know what I mean?”

My heart sinks a little. I do know what she means. She may have struck a tiny tender spot in my ego.

Always, always, I prided myself on purpose. I was my own person. I finished college, went out on my own before Peter and I were married. I had my own career.

And now, most days, I am fine with the fact that I’m not a teacher anymore, that I’m concentrating on this new thing with Andrew, and on taking care of my boys.

But…I look at Mari and wonder what to say about this. She’s unaware, strolling along toward the gallery, looking at the art. She has no clue that I’m chewing on her last comment.

Now there’s a baby coming. I can’t help but feel a gnawing worry. I’m a mom. I’ll be a mom to a baby, which is all-consuming. And this is a noble profession, raising a child, but I didn’t do a great job of content, peaceful mother when the boys were little. At the end of a day of poopy diapers and spit-up and colicky crying, I always felt stir-crazy, and I had a hard time not fantasizing about night nurses or tropical beaches where little babies slept through the night and never fussed.

She slows. She’s noticed that I’ve yet to respond. “Kelly?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you with me?” She smiles and touches my arm, like she’s shaking me out of my reverie.

“I was just remembering when my boys were little. No, I’m with you. Yeah, I’m fulfilled. We’re so busy right now, all of this is plenty enough.”

She nods and walks on. “You don’t need to convince me.”

I don’t know if I’ve convinced myself, though.

After a day of art, Mari and I part ways in the condo lobby late in the afternoon.

“That was fun.” She smiles and sips the last of her tea.

“Yeah, it was.”

“We should do more stuff while you’re in town. You’re only here for the summer, right?”

I can’t remember when I told her that. “That’s right. I was thinking about taking the boys to the zoo, the one in Central Park. Would you want to go do that with us?”

She smiles. “Sure, I’d be game. Let me know when, and I’m there—if I don’t have class, you know.”

She takes a step forward and gives me a hug. I’m a little surprised, but it’s sweet—a spontaneous gesture, channeled in my direction.

“I’m so glad we’re gonna be friends. It’s really good this way.” She gives my shoulder one more pat and turns to the door to the stairs. “See you soon!”

“Plan on it!” I give her a little wave. She’s gone.

I smile. I have my own friend in New York. What a nice surprise.

A
T
T
HE
E
ND
O
F
T
HE
W
EEK
, the boys are ready for a field trip too.

“Can we do the zoo today, Mom?” Beau calls to me from the kitchen.

I try to swallow hard, keep the bile down in my throat. So much for running to start the day. Today I can’t walk from the bedroom to the living room without wanting to hurl. I can’t wait to feel human again. My second trimester with both boys was a breeze, so I keep waiting for pregnancy number three to get easier too. I’m almost to four months, but every time I think the morning sickness is easing up, I have a morning like this one.

Beau has a carton of orange juice in his hand, and he’s waiting for an answer.

“Sure, love. I think it’s supposed to rain today, and that should bring the animals out. Not so hot.”

Hunter raises a hand from the couch. “I get to take the camera.”

“That’s fine.” I can’t talk. Ugh, I have cotton mouth in the worst way. “I need tea desperately.”

Beau raises the teapot. “I just poured you a cup, Mom.”

Bless this child. I give him a hug.

“Okay, guys, I’m going to invite Mari.”

Hunter stands up and comes into the kitchen. “Who’s she?”

“She’s the new friend I made.”

Hunter growls. “Must be nice. I used to have friends.”

I take a nice cleansing breath. “Yes, you’ve mentioned that a time or two thousand.” I hug him and plant a smooch on his cheek, much to his dismay. “Soon we’ll be home in Boise, and your social life can resume.”

Beau’s lost interest. He changes the subject. “I want to eat somewhere good after the zoo.”

“Somewhere good. Got it.” Andrew’s going to have to help me out on that one. I make a mental note to text him and ask where we should eat.

Andrew. That reminds me. “We need to pow-wow for a minute. Come sit.”

Hunter sits down at the kitchen island. “What?”

“If Mari can come, we need to keep Andrew a secret.”

Beau furrows his brows. “What does that mean?”

“Mari lives in our building. No one knows that Andrew lives here yet. It’s why things are so quiet so far.”

“Things are always quiet in Boise, Mom,” Hunter offers. I resist rolling my eyes.

“It’s different in New York. Lots of photographers here. And the longer they don’t know we’re in town, the longer we have some peace.”

“So what?” Beau digs through the fridge.

“So, don’t go telling Mari that my boyfriend is a big movie star. Can you both do that, please?”

“I thought you were his fiancée.” Hunter points at the bubblegum prize on my finger.

“Sure, yes. I’m his fiancée. Still needs to be a secret.”

Beau grabs a drink out of the fridge and heads down the hall. “My lips are sealed. Let’s get this zoo thing figured out before I die of old age.”

A tween and a teen in my house with gigantic attitudes. I’m doomed.

Mari’s free in the afternoon, and I’m psyched. The boys’ll be able to run around together, and I can have someone to chat with. After lunch, Andrew calls. He’s worried. “Janus needs to drive you.”

“No, he doesn’t. And he’s with you and Tucker on set, anyway.”

“So, how are you getting there?”

“I think we’re taking the subway.”

“And this Mari is coming?”

“Yes, she is. Is that all right with you?”

“I guess. It’s good to have people to hang out with.”

I clear my throat. “I wasn’t actually asking your permission. You’re my boyfriend slash fiancé, not my boss.”

“Slash fiancé, huh? That sounds like a quasi-designation.”

“You yourself stated that you were campaigning. I don’t want the effort on any of the upcoming proposals to slack. You’ve gotta work for it.” I admire the bubblegum ring on my finger as we talk.

“I could make a bad comment about last night and working it, but I won’t.”

“I think you just did. I’m gonna go; we’re meeting Mari downstairs in a minute. Have a good day.”

“I will. Have fun.”

“We will.”

He hangs up, and I marshal the troops.

The boys are gracious and close-lipped when they meet Mari. The subway ride is without incident. I only feel nauseated twice on the walk to the zoo from the subway, and the weather’s uncharacteristically cool and wet. This has all the makings of a great afternoon.

We stroll around the park in the mist, enjoying the antics of the animals, who seem to be playing in the rain. Hunter and Beau wander out in front of us, and I’m enjoying having an adult, a girlfriend no less, with me.

Mari sips a Coke and chews the straw thoughtfully. “Why are you all in town? Visiting relatives?”

“No, for my boyfriend’s work.”

“What’s he do?”

I suck at lying. Here we go. “He’s got a project that wraps up end of September, but we’re just staying till school starts.”

“Is he a project manager for somebody?”

“No, he’s more of a consultant. They bring him in on jobs, and he takes his direction from the project manager. Kind of a hired gun.”

“In IT or what?”

“Media.” That isn’t a complete lie, I guess. I call to Beau to change the subject. “Beau! Don’t get so far in front of us.”

He turns around and taps his foot impatiently.

Mari chuckles. “He’s cute. Reminds me of my brother a little.”

“Oh yeah? How old?”

“Oh, younger than Beau.” She looks a little lost for a minute.

“Does he live on Long Island with your folks?”

She shakes her head. “No, I don’t get to see him anymore.”

There must’ve been a divorce. I don’t want to pry. “That’s a bummer. What’s his name?”

“They named him Cameron. I didn’t like it at first. I like it now. I miss him.”

I nod. Her tone strikes straight to the quick. That kind of melancholy always makes me miss Peter. “I know that feeling.”

“Uh-huh.” She points to Hunter. “If you ever want to go out, and you need a babysitter, I think I could handle these guys. They’re really grown-up.”

I love it when people compliment my kids. “I like them. Most of the time. And I might take you up on that. I was going to go to work with Andrew one day maybe next week, and then there might be a reception we need to go to.”

“The offer stands. You should have my number anyway, in case you get locked out of the building ever.”

We’re in front of the penguins. The boys are both crouched down, watching them swim and dive past the glass. Mari and I exchange numbers.

For one second, I consider that I’ve opened a door—just a tiny crack, but she’s got my phone number, and she knows which condo is mine.

But she doesn’t know Andrew. And if I met her anytime B.A. (before Andrew), I’d have done exactly what I just did. Be social. Try to make a friend.

No reason to do that any differently that I can see.

The penguins are putting on quite a show, chasing each other through the blue water, skimming up against the wall of the tank, giving the humans on the other side of the glass a thrill. Hunter and Beau are transfixed.

And the wave of nausea hits me, out of nowhere. “Mari, can you keep an eye on the boys? I need to…” I leave off and make a beeline for the nearest park bench, conveniently located next to a trash can.

Please don’t puke, please don’t puke.
I sit and put my head between my legs for a second, peel off my light raincoat, and try to take really deep breaths.

Mari rounds up the boys and comes over to me. “Is everything all right?”

Beau pats my back. “She’s having a baby. Major morning sickness.”

Well, there goes that gigantic secret. I look up from between my legs to give him a death stare.

But I’m taken aback by the look on Mari’s face. It’s ashen, and she frowns.

And then, just as suddenly, her expression morphs into a wide smile, and she plops down on the bench. “Wow! That’s great news! When are you due?”

“Ahhh…in February.”

Hunter pulls me up. “We should go sit and eat dinner. I don’t want a puking mom on the subway. I don’t care how big New York is; even with strangers that’d be humiliating.”

Mari hops up too, nodding in agreement. “There’s a fun place we can go eat just outside the zoo.”

Hunter cocks an eyebrow. “Are you vegan? ’Cause you look like you could be vegan.”

“No. The place is called the Burger Joint. It’s in the Parker Meridien hotel. It’s on our way out of the park, toward Chelsea.”

Hunter considers for a moment. “Hotel sounds too frou frou, but the restaurant sounds safe enough.”

Mari pats his shoulder. “Glad it meets your approval.”

Beau loops his arm into mine and guides me back toward the entrance. “Let’s go eat before Mom embarrasses us.”

Hunter walks in front of us with Mari, chatting, and Beau nods his head toward them. “I’m glad you met someone in New York, Mom. She seems cool.”

“She does.” I smile. I hope she’s cool, because she now knows one of our two secrets.