Uptown Girl (12 page)

Some days later, Kate walked down the wide, quiet hall of Andrew Country Day. She hadn't seen Michael for over a week: he'd been off on a seminar and she'd been held hostage by Bina since the wedding. Tonight he was coming round to dinner and she expected he'd sleep over. She was looking forward to it.

She'd had a rough afternoon. Stevie Grossman, a fifth grader, was showing disturbing signs of schizophrenia – very unusual in a child his age, and heart-breaking. Kate knew he needed to see a psychiatrist – she had a friend at Ackerman Institute for the Family who might help – however, not only his parents but also Mr McKay were trying to minimize the boy's troubles in the face of her professional advice.

As she passed Elliot's third-grade classroom she caught a glimpse of him teetering on a chair, sticking transparencies on the windows. ‘
MATH IS FUN
!' they said. He was hanging them so they
showed their faces to the outside world and read backwards to the class.

‘Well, that ought to convince them,' she teased. She needed her dose of Elliot to cheer her up. ‘Good for the dyslexics, at least.'

Elliot whirled, startled by her voice, and nearly fell off the chair. He grabbed at the window to steady himself, then looked down at her and smiled. ‘Nice to see you, too,' he sighed. ‘Andrew Country Day. Home of learning for learning's sake.' Quite apart from Wall Street, Elliot could have made a lot more money as an academic or working in a New York City public school, but he loved teaching mathematics, hated disciplining kids and wanted to work with the best and the brightest. The trouble with Andrew was that every child was expected to be the best and the brightest by their type A parents, and a single B on a report card was testament to failure. Kate thought again of poor Stevie's frightened face.

Kate walked in and took a seat in Elliot's chair, putting her feet up on his desk. Maybe he could suggest something she could do for Stevie. But he beat her to the punch. ‘How's Bina doing?' he asked, swiping at her feet to get them off the desk.

‘As well as can be expected,' Kate said, shrugging her shoulders. After the wedding Bina had agreed to go home to face the music and begin her ‘exploration of singleness'. Somehow that translated into coming over to Kate's constantly for sympathy, and getting gossip about Jack from Max.

‘Poor Bina,' Elliot said. ‘I really like her.'

‘So do I,' Kate agreed. ‘She's like a sister to me.'

‘I liked Bev and Barbie, too,' Elliot said. ‘What a hoot.'

‘Well, I wasn't as close to them,' Kate reminded Elliot. ‘But I'm glad you and Brice had fun.'

‘Fun? Brice hasn't talked about anything else since. He's dying for the next installment.'

‘There is no next installment. It's not a soap opera. It's life, sort of. Bina is back managing her father's office. Maybe she'll meet some guy who needs a spinal adjustment.'

‘I'd like to see Bina,' Elliot said.

‘Look, Brooklyn isn't a spectator sport.' Kate stood up. She didn't want to hold her friends up to derision and criticism, even if she derided them and criticized them herself. ‘Bina is very low. She had a lot invested in Jack.' She sighed. ‘I've gotta go. I have a date with Michael tonight.'

‘Sit down another minute,' Elliot requested, for once without saying a word against Michael. Kate was surprised enough to do it, but only at the edge of the seat, ready for a quick exit if he got started. ‘Look,' he said. ‘I think I have a way to help Bina.'

‘Oh, Elliot. Please…' Kate began, rolling her eyes. ‘Unless you have a written proposal from Jack in your pocket there's nothing you can…'

‘Just listen,' he told her. ‘This might be as good as a written proposal.'

Kate looked at him with false expectation, as if he were about to reveal the secrets of the mummy's tomb.

‘Remember how at the wedding Barbie said she got dumped by that gorgeous guy?'

‘What gorgeous guy?' Kate asked as if she didn't know. She had had a dream and though she couldn't remember it clearly when she'd awoken, she thought Billy Nolan was in it. She'd put it out of her mind until this moment and it irritated her that Elliot had brought it up.

‘The best man. Billy,' Elliot reminded her. ‘Remember? The one who looked like a much more handsome Matt Damon.'

‘Oh, yeah. The toaster. What about him?' Kate said, her irritation showing. She tried to look bored.

‘Well, Barbie dated him.'

‘Barbie dated everyone,' Kate said. ‘She'd just about run out of Brooklyn and had to start on Staten Island.'

‘Try and hold your focus,' Elliot said. ‘As you may or may not remember, Bunny also dated and got dumped by Billy. Right before she married Arnie.'

‘Bunny had really bad luck with men,' Kate said. ‘So?'

‘Well, she had good luck, as you call it, after Billy…if you consider Arnie good luck.'

Kate shrugged and tried to remember if she had picked up her white blouse from the dry cleaner's
or not. She wanted to wear it tonight. ‘And your point would be?'

‘Well, Bev had dated Billy, been dumped, then got married too. When I noted this odd probability my brilliant mathematical mind went into high gear and I started to do some digging.'

‘And?' said Kate.

‘And so…' Elliot continued, sounding a little annoyed. ‘And so, I went on a little fact-finding mission and found out six women at the wedding dated Billy and got dumped by him.'

‘So he's a slut,' Kate said. She thought of the way Billy had charmed her and was surprised there weren't thirty women there he'd disappointed. ‘Wow, Elliot. You're a regular Sherlock Holmes.'

‘You're not getting the picture here. You remember how I had to help you with statistics?'

‘How could I forget? You remind me at every possible opportunity.'

‘Well, I'm a genius,' Elliot told her. ‘Geniuses are always disrespected.' He spoke primly, holding his nose a little higher. ‘Stay with me here, Kate. You'll see. All six of these women, after getting dumped by Billy,
married
the very next man they dated.'

Kate shrugged. ‘Anyone would look good after that guy. He's just a player.'

‘Kate. Kate! Don't you get it!' Elliot almost shouted, clearly exasperated. ‘It's not about him. It's about what happens
after
him. Do you know the statistical likelihood of that phenomenon?'

‘Obviously not,' replied Kate, who herself was
getting pretty annoyed. She stood up. She wouldn't have time to stop at the cleaner's and if her white shirt wasn't at home she'd wear the green silk one. She picked up her purse. ‘Gotta go.'

‘Kate, I've worked it out and the probability ranges from one in six million three hundred and forty-seven to one in eighty-two million six hundred and forty-three. And that's
with
standard deviation.'

‘Talk about deviation,' Kate said, blowing off Elliot's ridiculous mathematical discovery, ‘when do you have time to shampoo your hair?' She got to the door. Then she stopped for a moment. ‘Anyway, how does that help Bina?'

‘Don't you get it?' Elliot yelled, actually pulling at his very clean hair. ‘We
use
it in Bina's favor.'

‘Use it?'

At that moment Mr McKay showed up in front of Kate like a migraine on a sunny day. ‘Is there an altercation going on in here?' he asked.

‘Certainly not,' Elliot assured him. ‘We were testing the acoustics of this room. For some reason the students in that corner near the door don't hear all of the class discussion. Kate thought it might be the cork boards.'

Kate nodded. ‘Proust and all,' she said.

Mr McKay blinked. Kate almost laughed out loud. He was so easily impressed by literary allusion. ‘Oh, I see. Well, that will suffice for now,' he said, and was gone as quickly as he had appeared.

‘He thinks we're having a lovers' quarrel,' Elliot said.

‘That, or he's going off to bake some madeleines.' Mr McKay brought his own baked goods to the cake sale. ‘So just tell me what the point of all that was before I run for the subway.'

‘The point,' Elliot told her, ‘is that Bina is supposed to explore her singleness, right? So we get her to date Billy, get her dumped, get her to see Jack, and wham, bam, thank you ma'am, he'll ask her to marry him.'

Kate could hardly believe what she'd just heard. ‘And I thought Stevie Grossman needed therapy,' she said. ‘Elliot, you're certifiable. Next you'll tell me to adopt Bev's black magic and that Bina needs to be a Pisces so she can swim to happiness.'

‘Kate,' Elliot said, his voice deeper, as it got when he became serious. ‘We're talking statistics and probability here, not astrology. I'm not Bev. I calculated it out, and it's as close to a sure thing as possible.'

‘Oh, come on, Elliot!' Kate exclaimed. ‘You've lost it. I don't even begin to have the time to tell you how flawed your plan is.'

‘Try,' Elliot challenged her.

‘Number one: Bina doesn't want to date anybody else. Number two: Billy is an asshole who has slept with every truly attractive girl in Brooklyn – and possibly lower Manhattan. Number three: Bina, as much as I love her, couldn't pick up a
guy if he had a handle on him, much less get a date with Billy Nolan. Will that suffice for now?' Kate said, pleased with herself.

‘Okay,' Elliot conceded. ‘But give me one more good reason it won't work.'

‘You're insane.' She began to walk down the hall.

‘You won't be saying that when I am Bina's maid of honor,' Elliot called after her.

Jesus, Kate thought, McKay would be on them in a private school minute. Kate turned around to where Elliot stood complacent and so annoying in his doorway. ‘No, Elliot. Just no.'

Elliot examined her face. ‘Kate, who tutored you so you passed your GMATs?'

‘You did,' Kate sighed. She knew the litany.

‘And who graduated top of his class from Columbia?' he asked her.

‘You did, but…'

‘And who was invited to accept an adjunct professorship and a grant at Princeton?'

‘You, but that doesn't…'

Elliot interrupted her.‘…But that doesn't mean that you can still doubt my abilities?' He shook his head. ‘In the land of the blind…Kate, this is an absolutely fascinating finding, and a tremendous opportunity to exploit and you are calling it hooey?'

‘I don't think I ever actually used the word “hooey”,' she said. ‘That sounds more like something McKay might say.'

‘But you know I'm
never
wrong when it comes to numbers,' Elliot told her.

Kate looked down at her watch and then again turned to leave. Let him screech down the hallway if he wanted to. ‘Elliot,' she said as she began to walk. ‘I don't believe in magic, I don't believe in superstition, or horoscopes, or coincidences that predict the future. Now I've got to go. I've got a date with Michael and I haven't shaved my legs in a week.'

‘Ah, yes, Michael,' Elliot said, walking past the lockers. ‘I thought…'

‘I would rather not go into your thoughts right now.' She got to the entrance. ‘Bye-bye.'

Elliot put his hand on her shoulder. ‘Look, Kate, this doesn't just involve you, it involves Bina and
her
future. At least let me present the facts to her. It ought to be her decision.'

Kate looked back at her friend, shook her head and shrugged her shoulders. Then she hurried down the steps on the way to her date.

Kate strolled along Eighth Avenue with the pleasant anticipation of the weekend before her. She decided that after the Bina siege, Bunny's wedding and Elliot's insane reaction she wouldn't allow herself to think about any of it. She wouldn't even think about her little clients at school. She had done a bit of what she thought of as ‘luxury' grocery shopping: stopping at some of the superb food specialty stores in her neighborhood and buying prepared curry chicken salad, a bunch of perfect red grapes and poached sole with lemon zest garnish.

Friday afternoon was a special pleasure to Kate. She had finally reached the point in her adulthood where she had hired a cleaning lady. Teresa only came for half a day each Friday but the forty dollars was well worth it because, at the end of a hard week, Kate could look forward to walking into a vacuumed, dust-free living room, and a bed freshly made up with clean sheets. When Kate
remembered her teenage years, she thought of the reluctance she had felt in going home to the four dirty rooms that she shared with her father, and the misery of shopping for the cheapest basics – sardines, canned soup and cereal. She would open the door fearfully, never knowing what she would find inside. All this had given her an enormous appreciation now for the security of knowing what to expect when she opened her own door, as well as a pride in order and cleanliness.

She passed by a Korean market and her eye was attracted to roses of an unusual apricot color. It would be nice if Michael brought her flowers, but if he didn't it would be lovely to have some of these roses in a bowl in the living room and a vase beside her bed. She stopped, and when the old merchant offered her ‘special discount two bunches for ten dollars only for pretty lady', she smiled at him, took out a ten-dollar bill and walked away with the paper-wrapped roses tucked under her arm.

Kate turned the corner and walked along her block. Many of the windows were open and as she passed the brownstones she could see people in basement kitchens preparing dinner, others in living rooms with a book or a glass of wine and even a few children playing on the stoops and tiny yards in front of the buildings. When she got to her stoop she strode up the steps quickly, had her key ready, entered the vestibule and managed to pick up her mail and get up the flight of stairs
to her apartment without dropping the delicacies, her purse, the flowers or the mail.

She entered her small but orderly space and sighed, kicking off her shoes and leaving them at the door. It was past five and she needed enough time to put away the food, arrange the flowers, take a shower and change her clothes. She would have to rush a little bit, but it was a pleasant domestic kind of rush and the afternoon sunlight slanting in across the living-room floor and over her bed made both rooms particularly enjoyable. She was just putting the last rose into the vase for her bedroom when the phone rang. She checked her caller ID. She simply didn't have time for another call from Bina. Cruel as it might be, they were starting to annoy her. She picked it up while she carried the flowers to her bedside table.

‘Look, I don't want you to be angry,' Elliot's voice said.

‘I'm not angry, I'm just in a rush.'

‘Of course you're not angry yet,' Elliot said. ‘I don't want you to be angry after I tell you what I'm going to tell you.'

‘Is it that I look fat in this skirt?' she asked. ‘It's too late for me to take it back now. You told me it looked good.' She put the flowers down and stood back to get the full effect. The room looked charming.

‘I know you're just joking, but I'm serious. Don't be mad. I'm inviting Bina and your friends to brunch on Sunday.'

Kate, who was slipping out of the new skirt while she cradled the receiver between her shoulder and her neck, nearly dropped the phone. ‘What would you do that for?' she asked. ‘What in the world would you do that for?'

‘I knew you would be mad,' Elliot said. ‘But, Kate, I've done a little more sleuthing and…'

‘Who are you? Nancy fucking Drew?' Kate asked. ‘No one does sleuthing, no one drives a roadster and no one is inviting my Brooklyn girlfriends to their Chelsea apartment for brunch except me – and I'm not even sure I'll do it.' She hung up her skirt and was delighted to see that she
had
brought home her white sleeveless blouse from the cleaner's. She would wear it with the top two buttons undone and the gray pants from Banana Republic. But first she'd get rid of Elliot and stop this stupid plan.

‘Kate, it isn't just Barbie and Bunny. There are six women that have dated Billy and right afterwards – right after he dumped them – they got married to other men.'

‘Are you still on that?'

‘The statistical probability is almost unheard of. Kate, you owe it to Bina to…'

Kate, truly annoyed, put her clothes down on the bed and held the phone so that she was speaking right into the mouthpiece. ‘Elliot, I don't know why you've gotten this bee in your bonnet, but kill it right now. You only want to have the Bitches over so that you and Brice can watch them up close
and personal and then make fun of them later.'

‘That is so unfair! This is just a way to help Bina.'

Kate looked at the alarm clock on her dresser. ‘Michael is coming over. I have to go. Bye.' As she replaced the phone she could hear Elliot whining.

‘But Kate…'

She rushed into the bathroom, showered, but kept her hair dry, got dressed and primped for a few minutes in front of the steamy bathroom mirror. Then she picked up her hairbrush, went into the kitchen and began brushing out her hair while she poured herself some peach ice tea.

Then she walked over to the window of her living room, and looked out into the frieze of maple leaves. Since their reconciliation after the night of Jack's failed proposal, she and Michael were slipping into that comfortable stage where both of them assumed that they would spend most of the weekend together and called one another just about every day.

Kate sat at the open window, sipping the tea and waiting for Michael's arrival. She had only to toss a few greens and take out her purchases and they would be ready for a pleasant dinner. Michael, as usual, was just a little bit late, but Kate didn't mind. It gave her more time to enjoy the peace of her apartment and the pleasant view of brownstones.

Last winter, after she had broken up with Steven, when the trees were bare, the view had seemed gray and empty, just as her life had done. Elliot
had nursed her through, and time…well, time had passed and done what it does.

She smiled for a moment, grateful that she had put those days behind her. It was funny; someone should write a book about the new, twenty-first-century stages of commitment and separation in relationships. Perhaps she would suggest it to Michael. Each action represented either a step in growth or a diminishment in love and trust. First a couple only had each other's home numbers. Then they exchanged phone numbers at work. Then there was the important moment when you program both numbers into your home and cell phones. Followed by the ceremonial leaving of the toothbrush, followed quickly by the leaving of the personal hygiene products – deodorant, moisturizer, a razor. Then, most symbolically, the critical exchange of keys. Eventually, of course, each of these actions was reversed. Kate didn't know when Steven had wiped her name from his cell phone but she remembered clearly the day she had deleted him.

While she and Michael had not yet exchanged keys, Kate felt that they were moving nicely from the dating phase into what she would call ‘a relationship' if the word didn't make her wince. And that was a relief. In her twenties, it seemed that dates had either been more casual or guys had played games, and when they parted after a time together Kate never knew if they would call her the next day or the next week or even at all.
Maybe it was because she was in school and there was a big pool of people to date so that it was easy to meet someone to replace the someone of the previous month. Now, however, since Steven, she felt some kind of shift. Dates always seemed to be an assessment on her part of the chance for a long-term hook-up and if she didn't feel a strong level of interest from a man she found herself losing interest in him.

As she looked down at the street, thinking of him, Michael appeared round the corner. From her vantage point she could observe him and remain unobserved. There was something about his walk that, seen from above, looked a bit prissy, but Kate put the unworthy thought out of her mind.

‘Yo, Michael!'

Down below, he stopped, looked up to the trees for a moment and then caught her waving from the window. ‘Hey,' he yelled up. ‘Sorry I'm late.'

She hadn't meant to make him feel guilty. She just shrugged, smiled and gestured for him to come up. She left the windowsill and buzzed to unlock the downstairs door, then opened the door to her apartment and waited for him.

She heard his steps on the stairs before she saw him, ignored his second apology and kissed him instead. He held her for a moment and it felt so good that she was disappointed when he stopped. But dinner was pleasant and Michael was appropriately delighted and grateful. She talked about the progress she was making with Brian Conroy,
the motherless little boy, and about trouble they were having with two brothers – twins – who kept trading places and confusing not only the staff but also their classmates. Michael told her about his week. All of his news lately had been about the mutual courtship between him and the Sagerman Foundation. Michael was still hoping for an offer to chair a department at the University of Texas. Kate wasn't sure whether or not she was included in his Austin plans. He didn't speak about it and she didn't ask. Did he plan for her to go? Or would he bring it up at some point in time? Maybe he only wanted to be offered it and then wouldn't accept. Austin. Kate tried to put it out of her mind. Texas was not for her. He was young to head up a department, and while it would be a coup and almost irresistible she didn't want to think about it. Michael, today doubting the likelihood of the offer, helped her clear and produced a white paper box containing a poppy seed pound cake for dessert. ‘I have some vanilla ice cream that might go well on top of that,' she told him.

‘I can think of something that might go well on top of something else before dessert,' Michael said. He took her hand. ‘Did I tell you how pretty you look?'

She shook her head. ‘Are you telling me now?' she asked, hoping for more.

Instead he looked down at her. ‘You have a problem with the buttons on your blouse.' From his height he could see her modest cleavage. She
smiled up at him. ‘You've made a mistake.' He put his hands on the next button. At first, she thought he was about to button her up, but then she realized what he was doing. ‘You silly girl. You've neglected to leave them all open,' Michael said. And in a moment, he had undone them.

In a few moments more, they were on her bed and she was – in the Victorian sense – being completely undone.

After Steven, with whom she'd shared such an intensely passionate relationship, Kate had been afraid that anyone she slept with would be second best, but if Michael lacked a little in humor or banter he more than made up for it in bed. Kate was so engrossed in her own thoughts that when she felt his hands move deftly over her body she had to rouse herself to put her arms around him and do more than simply lie back and enjoy it. Usually, she liked to turn him on, to hear his breathing change. Together, they kissed, fondled, and held one another. When Michael pressed his hands against her shoulders and rolled onto her she was more than ready.