Authors: Joan Elizabeth Lloyd
Club Fantasy (2 page)
“So what are you going to do now?” Marcy asked, her voice small. “Are you really going to move away?”
Although this was almost as difficult as saying no to Glen had been, she was becoming more and more sure as she spoke. “Yes. I'm going away. I have to.”
“You're just going to pick up and move? Where will you go? What about a job?”
“I have an idea, but I need to make a phone call first.” She leaned forward and hugged her sister. “I didn't mean to hurt Glen but, much more important than that, I don't mean to hurt you.”
Marcy's face brightened and the lost little girl look faded. “I know that, silly. I'm just taking a moment to brood and wonder how much truth there is to what you said about wanting to be separate.”
“And ... ?”
“I think you might just have had the courage to realize things I didn't know were there. That's really duckspeak, isn't it. I only thought I was happy.”
“Some of this might be duckspeak and I'll admit I don't have a clue how much. I just know that I have to get away for a while.”
“Where are you going?”
“I'm going to make a phone call. Then I might have some answers.” Leaving Marcy still deep in thought, Jenna went upstairs to her room.
Fifteen minutes later, when Jenna returned to the neat living room, Marcy was still sitting in the same position on the corner of the sofa. “I've been thinking about it,” Marcy said, “and, although I want to punch myself for admitting this, you might be right about some of the things you said. The thought of your moving away, if only for a short time, is like having part of myself amputated, but I think it's probably right for both of us.” She smiled. “Not for forever, I hope, but for a while maybe.” She hesitated. “The thought of being here by myself scares the shit out of me and that makes no sense. We're two independent women.”
“Who are closer than most women ever get.” Jenna picked up her mug and sipped her now cold coffee, flopped back onto the sofa, and propped one ankle on the other knee. She and her sister had made a concerted effort to develop different friendships during college, worried that they were becoming almost clones of each other. “Do you remember Chloe Whitman?”
She watched as Marcy flipped through her mental filing cabinet. “Sure. She was in our undergraduate class in Albany. I didn't really know her but you and she were pretty close for a while as I recall. Chloe Whitman. All I remember about her is that she was tiny, with huge brown eyes. I always thought she looked like one of those Keene paintings of the kids whose faces were all eyes.”
“That's her. Pretty quiet, with a few girlfriends, myself included. God, the guys used to go crazy, wanting to protect her, spoil her, but she kept pretty much to herself. Anyway, Chloe and I have kept in touch over the years. We had dinner together several times when I was in New York City on business.
“She e-mailed me about six months ago that her aunt had died and left her a brownstone in Manhattan. She said that she was living there with lots of empty space and invited me to visit sometime. I just got off the phone with her. I asked about staying with her for a while, and she jumped at it. She even looked in the Sunday paper while we talked and found an ad for a temp agency specializing in translators.” She took a deep breath. “She invited me to move in as soon as I can spring myself from AAJ.”
“Oh, God, Jen,” Marcy said, her eyes filling. “It's so fast. My brain says it's the right thing for both of us, but my soul is bleeding.”
“I know, Sis,” Jenna said, wrapping her arms around her sister. “I know.”
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Marcy was in pain. Her sister was leaving and she felt as if she needed to mourn. No, that was stupid. Phones work two ways and we'll visit often. Anyway, she'll be back. Won't she? Marcy pushed any negative thoughts down and concentrated on the upside. Jenna was doing something so brave, something Marcy could never have done. She gazed at her twin and marveled at her ability to do something so momentous. Her sister had always been spontaneous, easy and relaxed about changes in plans. “You're really going to do this, aren't you?” she asked
“I am. I have to.”
“What about your job at AAJ?”
“I'm going to try to get a leave of absence but if they won't do that, then I'm going to quit.”
Marcy's eyes widened. How could Jenna be like that? Marcy found herself envious. She would have been making out budgets, lists of pros and cons. It would have taken her weeks to make a decision. “What about all your friends, the bowling league, your library volunteering? What about all that? You'll be leaving everything you know. What if you don't like Chloe in close quarters?”
Jenna chuckled and patted her sister's hand. “Stop worrying, Sis. I've saved a bit of money over the years so I can be flexible. If I don't like it there I can move somewhere else, or I can come back home.” She grinned her most charming grin, one Marcy had succumbed to her entire life. “Don't rent out my room so fast.”
“Sorry. I guess I do get carried away.” Marcy shook her head ruefully. “It's just that you boggle my mind. You're going to pick up and go. Just like that, when there's so much to plan.”
“What's to plan?” Jenna asked. “Chloe's got a place for me to stay at least for a while. I've got enough money to tide me over until I find work. What more is there?”
Marcy's mind whirled. “You've got to pack, for example. What will you take? Will you take lots of suitcases or should we mail boxes? You'll need to change banks. No, maybe you won't. Is there a branch of your bank in New York? What about your car? Will you take it with you? If you don't, will you sell it or put it on blocks or just let it sit while you're gone?”
Marcy stopped talking as Jenna held her hand up to stem the flow of words. “Sis, relax. It will all work out.”
Marcy stood and headed for the kitchen, her brain moving at a million miles an hour. “I'm going to make some fresh coffee and get a pad and pencil.” She stopped in the kitchen doorway. “We can begin with a list of what's to be done.”
When Jenna smiled her indulgent smile, Marcy said, “Okay, I'm organizing again, but it's necessary. It keeps my mind busy so I don't have to think about the hurt.”
“I know, and I'll leave all that to you. Let me know what I have to do and I'll do it.”
“Jenna, I can't make decisions like these for you.”
Raising an eyebrow, Jenna said, “I've made the big one, you just get to make the little ones.”
Marcy huffed an exasperated breath. It had been like this all their lives. She did all the planning and Jenna went along. Their parents had always teased them. Jenna would be in charge of deciding the important things, like foreign policy, campaign finance reform, or whether America should go to Venus. Marcy, they said, would make all the small ones for all of them, like what to have for dinner, what courses to take in school, and where to go on vacation. It had always been her responsibility, one she'd taken on willingly. Hadn't she?
As she carefully measured decaffeinated coffee into the white paper filter, Marcy thought about what life would be like for her after her sister was gone. One moment she thought about how empty the house would be, the next she realized that she could have dinner at nine o'clock or leave dirty clothes in the living room if she wanted to. It was going to be difficult but she had to admit that it would have its benefits. She could stop being a constant role model for her sister, trying to teach by example.
She started the coffee brewing and grabbed a handful of jelly beans from the glass jar on the counter. As she chewed, she got a pad and pencil from the kitchen counter and headed back to the living room, already making notes.
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Glen Howell hadn't slept at all the previous night, and now sat in the small living room of his tiny condo several miles from the Bryant house. Stretched out in a lounge chair, he tried for the hundredth time to figure out what had gone wrong the previous evening. He'd sensed for several weeks that Jenna was putting him off, trying to avoid his proposal, but he'd figured that when the moment arrived she'd agree. After all, they were so right together.
He remembered the day they'd met. He'd been stunned, not by her good looksâalthough she was lovelyâbut by the force of her intelligence. Not only could she do a running, perfectly correct idiomatic translation of a complex legal conversation, but she did it with a calm style that impressed both him and his counterpart. He had realized at the time that she had sped the negotiations with a few well-thought-out suggestions and had wanted to see more of her, professionally and personally.
He'd asked her out to dinner and, to his surprise, she'd accepted. They'd begun seeing each other more and more frequently until they had slipped into a comfortable, almost married life. And the sex was good too.
He traveled back in his mind to the first night they'd made love. Neither of them had been virgins, of course, but they had come together new to each other. Since that evening they'd made love at least once a week. They had tried a few sexual experiments together, but he preferred standard missionary-position lovemaking. Now it was pretty much routine, but he was quite sure she climaxed most of the time.
If it wasn't the sex, why had she said no to his proposal? He'd planned the evening so carefully, from the violets on the table to the vintage of the champagne. He'd even arranged for the restaurant to play some of their favorite music, mixed with a little cool, soft jazz. He could still hear it. They'd had such a wonderful time. Finally, over brandies, he'd taken the ring from his pocket and watched her face tighten. He still couldn't understand what he had seen. If he hadn't known better he would have thought she'd looked like some cornered animal, like she'd been asked to do something illegal or immoral.
He remembered exactly what she'd said. “I need time. I need space. I can't do it. I just can't do it.” He had no clue what that meant. What kind of space and how much time? Did she really mean six whole months? Thanksgiving? Christmas? He reached for the phone, then pulled his hand back. He loved her, so he'd give her what she needed. But what about what he needed? He picked up the receiver and dialed Jenna's number.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Marcy. Is she there?” Funny, although the two women teased him about it, he always knew from just a hello which was which. He heard some muffled conversation, then Marcy said, “She is, but I think you'd be better off leaving her alone for a while.”
Glen sighed and let his shoulders droop. “I want to talk to her, make her understand that I'll give her whatever time she needs, although, frankly, those will be the longest months of my life. I want her to know, too, that I'll be there for her whenever she wants to come back.” When, not if. He didn't want to think about his life without her in it.
“I think she knows that but I'm afraid that it'll be a while,” Marcy said, then added, “If ever.” It was said so softly that he wasn't sure he'd actually heard it.
He allowed his body to slump back into his chair. “I know, but we'll still see each other at work. That'll have to be enough for now.”
He heard Marcy's heavy breath. “Glen, you know I think you're a great guy, but I have to be honest with you. She's planning to go away for a while. She's arranged to move to New York City and stay with an old friend, temporarily. I don't know what that means for you and her but I wouldn't hold out too much hope.”
Shit,
Glen thought.
She's leaving. Temporarily.
Marcy had said temporarily. “I need to talk to her before she leaves, tell her ... Please.” What could he tell her that she didn't already know?
Glen thought.
She's leaving. Temporarily.
Marcy had said temporarily. “I need to talk to her before she leaves, tell her ... Please.” What could he tell her that she didn't already know?
After another moment of muffled conversation, Marcy returned to him. “She won't talk to you. Not now. Maybe not ever. Maybe you should just move on.”
Move on? Glen felt his throat close and he swallowed hard. “Is she mad at me for asking her to marry me? I thought she'd be happy.”
There was a pause. “She's in a panic right now. She feels that she's never been by herself so she can't consider becoming part of a new pair. I sort of know how she feels. We've always been part of a very intimate twosome, one maybe only twins can understand, and now she wantsâmaybe
needs
is a better wordâneeds to be on her own for a while.”
needs
is a better wordâneeds to be on her own for a while.”
Glen realized that Marcy was right about the sisters' closeness. They had gone to college and graduate school together and had lived in their parents' house ever since returning to Seneca Falls. “Isn't there anything I can say or do? I could send flowers or something.”
“Glen, give her some time. I'll let her know how you feel. I think she knows how much you care but, in my opinion, it would be best if you just let her go.”
Glen sighed again. “What choice do I have? It's May now,” he said, and, ticking the months on his fingers, he continued, “so by Thanksgiving, this will all be in the past.”
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