It's a Waverly Life (22 page)

We soon passed the Palace of Fine Arts, where we navigated our way through a throng of families on their way to the Exploratorium. Finally we reached the entrance to Crissy Field. It looked like the entire city was out and about, walking, jogging, picnicking, frolicking. Kids were catching baseballs, windsurfers were catching waves, and even a few brave sunbathers were catching rays. Or trying to. It’s not easy to get a tan in San Francisco.

“Where did your friend say she’d be?”

I pointed toward the Golden Gate Bridge. “That way.”

We walked along the beach, and as we got closer to where Ivy was supposed to be, I started getting nervous. Was this the right call? I really didn’t know. Andie was busy watching the windsurfers and didn’t seem to notice my anxiety. I kept my eyes peeled for Ivy. Finally I spotted her along the shore about fifty feet ahead of us, a huge camera hanging around her neck. She was talking to two people whom I assumed to be the betrothed couple. A few feet away I saw a tall guy with blond hair adjusting some lighting umbrellas in the sand, his back to us.

“There they are.” I tried to contain the stress in my voice.

Andie turned her head to follow my gaze. “Cool, let’s check it out.”

We approached them, and as we got closer I noticed that my shoelace was untied. Just as I kneeled down, Andie gasped and grabbed my shoulder.

“Oh my God.”

“What?”

“Oh my God, he’s a liar.” She squeezed my shoulder. Hard.

I finished tying my shoe and started to stand up, but she pulled me in the other direction before I could see anything.

“We’re getting out of here.”

“What?”

“I can’t believe this. He said he was going out of town.” She kept pulling me, walking faster than I think I’d ever seen her move.

“Andie, what’s going on?”

“He’s cheating, that’s what’s going on. I can’t let him see me.” She kept one hand on my arm as we hurried back along the beach. She didn’t stop until we reached the sidewalk that led to the entrance.

“What did you see?” I said, out of breath.

“He’s cheating. I just saw him kiss her.”

“Who?” At this point I figured my best bet was to just go with it.

She put her hands on her hips.

“Josh.”

Josh?

“Who’s Josh?”

She pushed her hair behind her ears. “He’s this guy who’s been sleeping with my friend Alyssa from work. I’ve met him like five times, Waverly. And he’s out there getting his
engagement
photos taken?”

I was speechless. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

“What a jackass. I had drinks with Alyssa last night, and she said Josh was visiting his grandparents in Arizona this weekend.”

I tried to speak again, but all that came out was, “Oh.”

“They’ve been dating for like two months,” she said, shaking her head. “Alyssa
really
likes him. She lives over in Alameda, so I guess he figured he wouldn’t run into her in the city. What a tool.”

“Are you going to tell her?”

“Hell YES. Wouldn’t
you
want me to tell you something like that?”

I swallowed. “I guess so. I mean, if you were sure about it.”

“Well I’m one hundred percent sure about this. What a dick.”

I bit my lip. Because she’d yanked me out of there so quickly, I wasn’t
one hundred percent
sure that Andie had even seen Casey. I was trying to decide what to do when she put her hand on my arm.

“Listen, I’m going to go call Alyssa, okay?”

“Sure.”

“Why don’t you go back and say hi to your friend? I’m sure she’d like to see you. Just don’t say anything about this, okay?”

“Of course.”

“Cool. I’ll talk to you later?”

“Okay, bye.”

She started to walk away, then stopped and turned around. “And by the way, I’m proud of you for going to see your dad. I know how much that stresses you out.”

“Thanks, Andie. I’m glad…I’m glad he has a girlfriend.”

“Remember, Waverly, no matter what happens with that, we’re your family too, okay?”

I smiled. “I know.”

She left, and I stood there, not sure what to do next.

I watched her walk away until she rounded a corner and disappeared. I sighed and turned back to face the beach, thinking I would go say hi to Ivy, but my feet didn’t move.

Do I want to go back?

After a few moments, I decided to climb the hill back to my apartment. I’d had enough Nancy Drew for one day.

Early the next evening, I changed into my pajamas and slippers, poured myself a big glass of merlot, and called Ivy.

“Hey, it’s Waverly.” I carried the glass to the couch and sat down, tucking my legs underneath me.

“Hi, Waverly. How are you?”

“I’m good.” I took a sip of wine. “I just wanted to apologize for not making it to your photo shoot yesterday. I wanted to stop by, but…I wasn’t feeling all that well.” I figured that was true, given how sick I’d felt about the whole situation. I was beginning to feel like Bill Clinton with my liberal employment of semantics. For just a moment I thought about how Jake would call me out on that, but then I called myself out for thinking about Jake.
Be strong,
I thought.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. There must be something going around. Casey was knocked out too.”

“He was?”

“Yeah, he came down with a terrible bug Friday afternoon. I had to rally my neighbor to help me with the lighting by promising to make him dinner.”

“So Casey didn’t go either?”

“Nope. It went great though. Josh and Jill, the engaged couple, were really happy with the results. They want me to shoot their wedding.”

So Casey
hadn’t
been there?
Ugh
. Enough of the mystery. I had to cut to the chase and figure it out. I decided to be as direct as I could without seeming too suspicious.

“Glad to hear that.” I paused, then took another sip of wine. “So, hey, what’s Casey’s last name? I…I met a blond guy named Casey the other day and am wondering if it’s the same person.”

“Casey? His last name is Thompson.”

“Thompson?”
As in NOT JAMES?
I hoped she couldn’t hear my loud exhale of relief, which nearly blew ripples in my wine.

“Did you meet him? Isn’t he great?”

“Nope, guess it was a different guy. But I’m sure your Casey is great.”

“He is. He’s the best.”

“I’m sure he is.” I hoped the other Casey was too. “So listen, I wanted to ask you something. Do you think you could maybe do a short photo shoot for me?”

“Did I miss something? Are you getting married too?”

I laughed. “Hardly. But I
do
need to document a labor of love with some photos, nothing fancy. It’s just something I’ve been working on, and if things work out, I think I could use your help even more. You think maybe we could get together soon? I’ll explain more later.”

“Sure, just let me know where and when, and we’ll make it work.”

“Cool, thanks Ivy.”

“No problem.”

I hung up and leaned back into the couch, wondering if any good reader e-mails had come in over the weekend. I could use a laugh, not to mention some additional material for my new idea. I picked up my wineglass and walked into my office.

Dear Waverly: I recently started dating a woman who has a little dog that she dresses up and carries around in her purse. She takes the dog absolutely everywhere, even to the movies. I keep telling her how inappropriate it is, but she doesn’t listen to me. What should I do to get through to her?

My reply:
I’m sorry, honey, but did you just say you CHOSE to start dating, i.e., the opposite of CHOSE NOT to start dating, a grown woman who carries a dressed-up dog around? And if she takes the pooch, as you say, “absolutely everywhere,” I assume it was present when you first met this woman, yet you still decided to ask her out. Hmm…methinks that makes you…a moron.

Dear Waverly: Why do women wear a face full of makeup to the gym? I can understand if they’re coming from work, but I’m talking about a Saturday morning spin class here. I know it shouldn’t bother me, but I think I hate them. Am I evil?

My reply:
Honey, I lump women who wear makeup to the gym into the same category as those who yap on their cell phones in restaurants or wear ski jackets when they’re not skiing. As my yoga teacher says, you just can’t argue with crazy. Namaste.

Dear Waverly: My boyfriend just gave me a bouquet of yellow roses. Thoughts?

My reply: I hate to say it, honey, but you’re gonna get dumped. For those of you out there who don’t speak flower, yellow roses = not smitten. Now if you come home to find him waiting on your doorstep with RED roses…that’s another story. Note to guys out there: non-yellow flowers + waiting on doorstep = FANTASY COME TRUE. (Huge bonus points for red roses.)

Dear Waverly: I got my teeth cleaned yesterday, and my dentist told me I have stains from drinking too much red wine. Just wanted to share.

My reply:
OMG, honey, will you be my BFF? Oops, I just got so emotional that I spilled some on my keyboard. P.S. I heart you.

I chuckled at the computer screen, then noticed that my wineglass was nearly empty.
Perfect timing
. I scribbled a few ideas in my Honey notebook before returning to the kitchen for a refill.

About a week before my meeting at Smithers Publishing, I was at my desk, looking through my Honey notebook, when I heard my doorbell ring. I put my pen down, closed the notebook, and put it in a drawer.

“Yes?”

“It’s me. Will you buzz me in?”

“Andie?”

“Yes, will you please buzz me in?”

Why didn’t she call first?
I opened the door, and a few seconds later I saw her walking toward me.

She was crying.

“Andie, what’s wrong?”

She passed me and went straight to my couch. “Do you have anything to drink?”

I followed her. “You mean something alcoholic?”

She gave me a look that said,
Are you really that stupid?

“Red wine okay?” I said quickly.

“Bring the bottle.”

I opened a bottle of pinot noir and poured two glasses, then went into the living room and sat down next to her.

“What’s going on?” I handed her a glass.

She took a huge gulp, then wiped a tear from her cheek and looked at me.

“I was right.”

“Right about what?”

“About CJ. He’s seeing someone else.”

“What? Are you sure?”

She nodded slowly and took another gulp of wine. Her eyes were watery and blank. I realized I’d never seen her cry before.

“What happened?”

She closed her eyes. “I can’t believe this, Waverly. I feel so…sick.”

I reached over and squeezed her knee. Andie was the strongest person I’d ever met. It was breaking my heart to see her so upset.

“My mom is going to go nuts over this if she ever finds out. Yet another reason to badger me about being single.”

“Andie, what happened?”

She took another drink. “I…I saw him.”

“You
saw
him?”

“I…I stopped by his apartment…to say hi…and I saw him through the window…with someone else…he was kissing someone else.”

“No way.”

“Way.”

I put my hand over my mouth. I couldn’t imagine what that must feel like. At least with Aaron, and then with Jake, I’d been spared
that
.

“I can’t believe I didn’t put the pieces together. From day one, it was right there, right in my face, but I didn’t want to see it.”

“Don’t blame yourself. You couldn’t have known.”

“I should have known. All those times…in the bedroom…I should have known. I’m so stupid.”

“You’re
not
stupid.”

“I certainly feel stupid.”

“Well believe me, you’re not. What
is
unbelievable is that you saw Mr. James with someone else.”

“Mr. James?”

“Isn’t James his last name?”

“That’s his middle name.”

Oh
.

This was unexpected. I hadn’t thought about middle names. So maybe CJ
had
been kissing Ivy? Was it really the same guy? I was totally confused.

“What’s his last name?”
Please please don’t let it be Thompson.

“Myers.”

Not Thompson!

I was so relieved, not for Andie, but for Ivy.
One out of two is better than nothing,
I thought.

For a long while Andie stared at her wineglass without speaking. Finally she turned to face me.

“Waverly.”

“Yes?”

“That’s not all.”

There’s more?

“He was…he was…”

“He was what?”

“He was…he was kissing a
guy
.”

“WHAT?”

She nodded slowly, a pained look in her eyes.

“A guy? As in he’s gay?”

She nodded again.

I wanted to say something more, but nothing came out.

“It all makes sense now,” she said. “Everything makes sense.”

“But why didn’t he tell you? I mean, this is
San Francisco
.”

“I know, I know. Leave it to me to fall for the one gay guy here who’s still in the closet.”

“I didn’t think
any
gay people here were still in the closet. That’s so, so
old school
.”

She took a drink of wine and tried to laugh. “He’s from Nebraska, remember?”

“Oh, Andie, I’m so sorry.”

“Me too. I really liked him, Waverly. I
still
like him. How messed up is that?”

“It’s not messed up. It’s unfortunate, but it’s not messed up. I mean, at least you found someone to care about, right?”

She looked at me. “Are you seriously trying to look on the bright side here?”

“Yes?”

“There’s no bright side here.”

“Hey now, that’s not true. Remember what you told me when I got back from Atlanta?”

“Not really.” She finished off her wine and looked over my shoulder. “Do you have any donuts?”

“Well, let me remind you.” I stood up and backed into the kitchen. “You told me what a big step it was to put myself out there like that, how I wouldn’t have even considered doing something like that a couple years ago. That I wasn’t a fool for trying.” I pulled a bag of Chips Ahoy! cookies down from the cupboard and held them up. “Will these do?”

She gestured for me to bring her the bag. “That’s true, I did say that. And a couple years ago you
wouldn’t
have done that.”

“So look at
yourself
, Andie.” I handed her the cookies. “You just had a relationship with a guy that wasn’t purely physical, and yet you really cared about him. You just said yourself that you
still
care about him. Caring for someone hardly makes you a fool, right? Isn’t that what you and McKenna have been telling me?”

She opened the bag and shrugged.

“Maybe it’s even a step forward for you? For me? For both of us?”

She put an entire cookie in her mouth and shrugged again.

I pointed at her. “Come on, Barnett, you know I’m right.”

She laughed just a little bit and choked down the cookie. “Maybe I should write to your column, see what your alter ego has to say about it.”

I refilled both our wineglasses and took a sip of mine. “I’m guessing my alter ego would say that you can’t stop believing in love, no matter how hard that may be. We all have to believe in love.”

She pulled another cookie out of the bag. “That’s
definitely
your alter ego talking.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because I get the feeling that
you
stopped believing in love the day Jake McIntyre got on a plane to Argentina.”

I put my wineglass down. “Actually, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.”

“About Jake?”

“About Jake
and
about my alter ego.”

“Well? Let’s hear it.”

“Give me a little time, okay?”