Leaving Unknown (29 page)

“Sorry. I’ve been working a lot of hours, and we’re also trying to get ready for the Monkey Flower Festival. It doesn’t help that Ronnie Two Shoes backed into the bandstand when he was setting up lights for last week’s dance and now it’s collapsed on one side…” I let her chatter, drinking in the daily movements of the sleepy town.

“…And Helen and Liz have been at each other’s throats over the nursery’s pink phlox shortage. They both put in orders for four flats each, but only four total came in. Naturally the nursery offered them each two flats, but they won’t have it.
Ruby and I have been calling it the War Over Four, and neither will budge. It’s a good thing Solomon wasn’t adjudicating maternity between these two, or the Bible would have seen some David Copperfield meets
Saw
action.”

I laughed. “Can’t the nursery dig up some fragrant anemones, mix them in with the phlox, and—
viola
—they ‘discover’ the lost four flats? As long as the distribution of both plants is exactly even between Liz and Helen’s booty, we may yet achieve world peace.”

“Genius! That’s why we need you here.
I
need you here. I made the mistake of meeting Samuel at the clinic the same day April picked up Busy’s heart medicine. I flipped through one of his health journals and now I’m convinced I have Moersch-Woltmann syndrome.”

“Nervous system disorder that causes intermittent muscle stiffness in the trunk and limbs, exaggerated upright posture, stiff-legged walk?”

“Oh my God! Do I need a plasma exchange?”

“Been lifting a lot of book boxes by yourself lately?” It was a job we’d usually shared.

“Yes.”

“Do the pains happen to present the day after that?”

“Yes!”

I chuckled. “Take a hot bath and call Bruce to move the boxes in the morning. You’ll be fine.”

“I’m cured! Thank God. I couldn’t handle a plasma exchange
and
work
and
the festival. Noah was enough of a bear about me taking only
one
day off. Of course, he’s a bear all the time these days…”

“Tuesday.”

“Ugh, sorry. I swear, the two of you. That must have been one humdinger of a fight that neither of you will talk about.”

“Tuesday.”

“Okay, Miss Avoidance, what else is new?”

I told her about connecting with Laura, and spending time with Marion and Jacob. I even told her about what I now dubbed the Costco Moment. Soon I ran dry. It felt like dancing at the edge of a crater because there was this giant thing I couldn’t tell her, what had happened with Noah. Now that I was accustomed to airing my nine-hundred-pound gorillas, I didn’t like the feeling. It was unnatural.

“Things sound good,” she said. “I’m half astonished you got my message. It took me forever to convince your friend that I was
named
Tuesday, instead of wanting you to call me
on
Tuesday.”

“I’m glad you did. It’s good to talk to you.” I was reluctant to end the call, but without means of extending it.

“Aloha, love.” She said, before cutting my connection to Unknown.

The next call was to my brother. I grabbed some apple slices for snacking, and dialed.

“Yo,” I said.

“Yo,” he said.

“I’m calling you back,” I reminded him.

“Oh right. Man, that secretary of yours is whack. It took me forever to explain that I was ‘Brick, your brother’ and not ‘your black lover.’”

I laughed at the thought of Laura as my secretary. “You should see the uniform. So what’s up?”

“Hey yeah, I saw that old boss of yours, you know, the writer.”

Shock made my lips numb. I sucked in air. “What?”

“I went to check out the Atlantic Book Festival, and what do you know, he was giving a talk. So I thought I’d introduce myself.”

“You met him?” It bothered me that Noah should have such intimate access.

“Couldn’t get near him. Interesting lecture, but he was mobbed by about a hundred boys afterwards. Though they may have been angling for the girlfriend. She was
hot
.”

My hand clenched the phone. “If you like that sort of thing.” I kept my tone neutral.

“I’ve always been partial to redheads.” Brick’s tone was approving.

I felt a wave of sick wash over me. “Redhead?” Beth was no ginger.

“Halfway down to her endless legs. I mean, I know you didn’t like her that much, but you might want to think before tangling with an Amazon. I bet she’s taller than Jules.” Beth was definitely not taller than Jules.

“Did he introduce her, let the fans meet the girlfriend sort of thing?” I probed.

“Naw. They couldn’t get out of there fast enough. She practically dragged him to the hotel elevators. Saucy minx.”

I barely heard Brick prattle on. I felt seriously ill. How could I have been completely wrong about Noah? I knew from personal experience that he was a cheater, but I’d imagined it was because of our connection. I’d prayed there was an explanation for his silence. And now I had it—he had a girl in every port. I was nothing more than his Los Angeles girl. Sweat broke out as I thought about how many towns Noah visited in a year, how many he’d visited while I was in Unknown. I had to get out of here.

I managed a good-bye to my oblivious brother, give a halfhearted wave to Marion, and walked like a zombie back to Laura’s.

When I let myself into the apartment, my heart jolted at the sight of the envelope Laura had left on the coffee table for me.
It was old-fashioned snail mail, my name and Laura’s address written in Noah’s familiar handwriting. I held it for a few beats, feeling the weight of the letter. Then my hurt bubbled up and I hurled it into the trash. How dare he treat me as part of some harem?! I couldn’t bear the thought of the lies—or truths—the letter would hold. I put on my sweats, and was heading for the door when Laura came in.

“Oh hey!” she said, then her smile faded as she saw my face. “Are you okay?”

I could only nod as I passed her and headed out the door.

I don’t remember running, or how long I was gone, but I registered a change immediately when I walked back into Laura’s place. The living room was spotless. Laura had cleared out her clothes, tidied the magazines, picked up candy wrappers, and wiped down the surfaces. A note said,

I didn’t have to look to know the trash can had been emptied. I had no idea where the rubbish went. I didn’t care, though. That was how I wanted it.

I
was hot, sweaty, and irritated.

“I’m not sure you got my best side on that one.” The collagen-enhanced lips moved, as the pink and white gels swept the bleached hair off the Botoxed forehead. I dutifully replaced the viewfinder to my eye and snapped a picture identical to the first, wondering if there was a school that taught the wrist-downward hand on hip they all employed. When the “reality” star turned away, I paused and waited.
Within five seconds I was rewarded, and snapped a picture of her gorgeous manicure grasping the expensive silk fabric she wore, and unglamorously digging it out of her butt.
Click.

I slipped through the party, trying not to register the vacuous conversation but unable to avoid it entirely.

“I figure if I walk into a room and a man doesn’t look at me, he must be gay.”

“So then he asked me if I’d seen Breughel at the Getty. Like I’m supposed to remember all the clubs I’ve been to! Is Breughel that hot new DJ from Amsterdam?”

“I swear—this meeting with Scott is going to turn my career around three hundred and sixty degrees.”

“It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and it only comes along twice a year!”

“He got that part because he’s bilateral—he speaks English and Spanish.”

“Like, it’s
hard
to maintain a one-on-one relationship with someone if that person isn’t going to let me be with other people.”

“I owe a lot to my parents, especially my mother and father.”

I felt my brain absorbing the inanities, words sinking into a corner of my cerebellum, where their vacancy would leach the gray matter paler and paler until it would eventually die, the way the souls of Chihuahuas die on the inside when they’re dressed in pink satin jackets.

“Oh there you are!” The hostess pounced. “Come with me. Arabella doesn’t feel you got her best side.” She leaned toward me conspiratorially. “She’s one to watch, you know. About to really break out. You should promote her placement.”

I nodded. I’d long since given up explaining that I only took the pictures. I couldn’t complain too much. It was a good job and paid just fine. It didn’t give me the artistic satisfaction my work in Unknown had, but satisfaction had never paid the rent. There was nothing stopping me from taking candids
around Venice. Certainly it was rife with subjects. But it hadn’t engaged me yet, didn’t seize me with an immediate pull the way the desert had.

Instead of heading home after the party, I walked down Pacific to a small Venice walk street, paper clutched in hand. I found the sign for Ozone, double-checked the address, and hurried to Number 21. The draping fuchsia bougainvillea reminded me of home.

Ruby’s home, I corrected myself. The buzzer sounded and I took an old-time elevator with a folding iron cage door up to the fourth floor. A door across from the elevator was ajar. I approached it.

When the woman came to the door I was startled by how pretty she was.
Elegant
was the word that came to mind. She was tall, taller than I was, and had lustrous chestnut hair that looked like it could pull a locomotive if braided into thick shiny ropes. She wore it loose and free, curling down past her shoulders.

“Maeve?”

“Dimple?”

“Nice to meet you.” We shook hands. “Please come in.” Her smile was warm, gesture graceful. I noticed she had a crooked tooth. Everyone should have a flaw, I thought.

“Thanks for seeing me,” I said.

“It’s no problem. My schedule is flexible. I think this might work out.”

I stepped into the apartment and was instantly in love. This was definitely going to work out. I staged a thoughtful hand to my chin to keep from blurting, “I’ll take it!” The rent wasn’t decided yet. Plus I hadn’t seen the shower. An icky shower is a deal breaker.

I took in the front room. It would have to be a seriously icky shower. The space was all light and windows, with the occa
sional stained-glass element creating the impression of living inside the light rather than simply letting it into the room. The woodwork was bare cedar, walls vanilla. Everything was designed to welcome, with surprising accents elevating the experience. The full-length mirror doors had subtle Victorian scrolling at the beveled edges. The kitchen wall had inlaid tiles. The corner bedroom was all windows on two walls.

The bathroom was anything but icky, tiled in white octagonal tiles with a decorative black pattern.

“How’s the shower?”

“Great.” She eyed me up and down. “The best is the tub. You’re tall like me, so you can appreciate that it’s an old-school clawfoot. Even people our height can stretch out fully.” She laughed.

“There’s tons of storage too.” She started opening cabinets. She didn’t have to.

We walked back into the airy bedroom. I absorbed the peace of it.

Dimple gave a nervous laugh. “Don’t think this is weird, but I kind of feel like we already know each other from emailing and talking on the phone, so here goes. If you want to see the room’s best feature, lie on the bed.”

I didn’t skip a beat. I stretched out on the left side. “What’s the feature?”

“Look toward the ocean.”

Without lifting my head from the pillow, I could see an incredible ocean panorama, sailboats dotting the horizon. I bolted upright. “Holy guacamole, was that a dolphin?!”

“Yeah.” She grinned. “You can see them most mornings. As soon as you open your eyes.” Smile splitting my face, I lay back down. Dimple dropped into a chair.

“So you want to sublet it furnished?” I started the negotiation.

“Mm-hmm. And you’re okay with month to month, so long as I give you reasonable notice that I’d like to come back?”

“Yep.”

“What can you afford?”

“What do you need?”

She looked over at me and giggled. “Men would tear their hair out if they saw how women negotiate.”

“It’s like watching them try to convince you they don’t need to ask for directions.”

As it turned out, we had exactly the same price in mind.

“A true meeting of the minds.” I grinned.

“Thank God. I’m so tired of feeling like everything is a battle.” She fell silent.

I figured if she wanted to tell me more, she would. I was sorry she was going away. She seemed like someone I’d like to know.

“Hey Dimple?”

“Yeah?”

“Where are you going?”

“I don’t know,” said my kindred spirit.

“Tell me how it is when you get there.”

We watched the waves.

“Hey Maeve?”

“Yeah?”

“Where’d you come from?”

“Unknown. It’s nice, you should try it.”

We watched the boats.

“Hey Dimple?”

“Yeah?”

“Want to meet my bird before you go?”

“Sure.”

I listened to the trees.

“Hey Maeve?

“Yeah?”

“Want to see your new patio?”

“In a minute.”

“I found a place to live,” I reported to Tuesday without preamble when she answered her phone later that day. Relying on Laura’s phone had made my calls efficient.

“That’s great,” she said, but her tone was subdued.

“Is everything okay?”

“No. Yes. I mean…I’m just tired.” She sighed.

“What is it?”

“I’m heading home from the hospital.” My heart stopped. Then kicked back on in overdrive. Tuesday. Or Noah. Or Ruby. In a split second I swam through a kaleidoscope of faraway faces.

“It’s Child.”

“What?” I croaked. My heart now thundered like an adrenaline needle had been jammed into its center. It physically hurt.

“It’s okay. He’s okay. God, I’m crap at this.” I could see her biting her lip.

“No one’s good at bad news,” I managed. “Please just tell me.”

“I was about to call you. We were waiting for definite news. He’s going to be fine.”

“What…?”

“He was having chest pains.”

I was immobile, hand pressed to my eyes, world pulsating.

“He went to see Samuel. The EKG revealed a significant blockage, so they hustled him to the hospital. They had him on the table within thirty minutes and put in a stent.” Her voice caught a little. “It was a ninety-eight-percent blockage.”

My breath came easier. This I understood. Medical details.
“Okay. That’s okay. My dad has a stent. In a way this is better. Now we know. Now we’re on alert, and we monitor.”

“I know. The doctors said he’s fine. He said he’s fine. It was a little scary, that’s all.”

“God. You’re telling
me
.” My relieved laugh was a bark. “That was almost as bad as when I thought Noah and Beth had gotten married!” It slipped out before I could stop it.

“Ha!” Tuesday’s snicker was equally relieved. “Married? As if. Holy vitriol, those two can barely pass a civil word since they broke up. And it was debatable how much they talked
before
it ended.”

There it was again. That moment when time shimmers a beat, like passing through a membrane to another world.

“What did you say?”

“I said I doubt they talked when they were still together. In the beginning, sure, but…”

“No. About Beth and Noah being broken up.”

“What about it?” She was confused.

“They broke up?”

“Of course! Before you left.” My world spun again. Tuesday sucked in some air. “Are you telling me you didn’t know?” she demanded.

“But…”

“He was going to tell you when you went to the store to say good-bye. I thought you might even stay. I don’t know what the hell happened, since neither one of you will talk about it, but afterwards he moped around like a kicked dog.”

I swallowed. “But then he…”

“Noah ran into Primrose Tarquin at the Wagon Wheel. She was waiting for Samuel and he was waiting for Bruce, so they got to talking. He did the math and realized you had to have broken up with Samuel before you left. Quite coincidentally,
all of a sudden he’s got meetings and a conference in Los Angeles and is off faster than you can say full-priced airfare.”

“But Beth called him. When he was here.”

“Probably to tell him she was keeping his Jeff Buckley records or demand that he return the hair she cleaned out of her brush and left in the trash can in his bathroom or something equally witchy.” Tuesday snorted. I was speechless. “Are you there?” she demanded.

I made a strangled sound.

“Myfriendsaretwomorons,” she muttered. To me, “I don’t know what happened out there, but after he got back he went from being a kicked dog to being a neurotic teenager, asking if there’d been any calls every two seconds, even though he had his phone in his hand constantly, to being an aaaaangry bear.”

“So.” I licked my lips. “So, when he was here, in LA, he wasn’t…he and Beth weren’t…”

“Weren’t even speaking. Correct. She was so spitting mad that he dumped her just when she’d gotten rid of you and thought she had a clear shot at her meal ticket that she was speaking in tongues. It was scary.”

“And now?”

“The good news is you can always get advice from Liz Goldberg on how to avoid a hatchet in your back or a horse’s head in your bed.”

“That’s not funny,” I muttered.

“Oh, I think it’s funny. I think you’re both effing ridiculous,” Tuesday asserted. It must be true, because for Tuesday to use even a sanitized swear word was extreme.

“It’s not as if he’s a saint,” I defended. “I know for a fact that he’s seeing someone already. Maybe he wasn’t cheating, but that’s pretty fast.” Especially considering.

“If you’re so
akamai
and
niele
, you can explain how you, in
California, know better than me, in Noah’s house
and
store every day.
E kala mai!
” In her agitation, she peppered me with Hawaiian.

“My brother saw him with a girl at the Atlantic Book Festival.”

“Ooooh,
that
girl. Was she tall, with auburn hair, really pretty?”

“Yes! You know her?” Being vindicated didn’t feel as good as I’d thought.

“That’s Jan, his publicist.” Tuesday’s voice resumed its disgusted tone.

“Mixing business with pleasure then.” Mine matched hers.

“Next time I see her, I’ll be sure to ask Jan if she broke up with her
live-in girlfriend
of
seven years
,
Kristin,
so she could swing the other way with her long-time client,” she said, with a snort. “You and Noah, and your rampant imaginations, are
perfect
for each other.” It didn’t sound like a compliment.

“What do you mean?”

“You think he’s married to Beth yet screwing his publicist. And every time he calls you, he gets some girl hyperventilating about the fact that you’re out at some fabulous party so exclusive she can’t get in. He’s convinced you’re living the glamorous socialite’s life and want nothing to do with a small-town hick like him—his words, not mine.”

“What? That’s ridiculous.” I protested. My brain was not processing all this information. Noah had called?

“You know you’re my little hibiscus,” Tuesday assured. “But you really blew him off.” She sounded disappointed. “I know I’m not allowed to discuss anything ‘Noah’ with you, but I don’t get it. You return everyone’s calls but Noah’s. And he was horribly worried about you being so broke when he saw you. He was ready to wire you every penny he had and move to LA to make sure you had enough to eat. He almost went manic
when he heard you’d lost your phone. It really hurt him to find out you were out partying every night.”

“I was working! I was photographing events.”

“Good luck getting that through his thick head. After fifty-seven unreturned calls, I can’t blame him. Why didn’t you just call back?”

“I never got any messages!” I was going to strangle Laura-Lola. “I had no idea! I thought he was blowing
me
off.”