Lost Along the Way (21 page)

No one spoke. When did they become old enough to even have this kind of conversation?

“Wow,” Jane said. “If you're thinking of marrying him at some point after college, then you really should just sleep with him and get it over with.”

“You really think you might get married?” Cara asked, unable to hide the shock in her voice.

“Maybe, yeah. And I think that I'd regret saying too much to you about our relationship if we do. Does that make sense?”

“I guess it does,” Cara said.

“Not even a little bit,” Jane countered.

“Well, I'm sorry! You guys are just going to have to deal with the fact that I'm not going to share every detail where he's concerned. There are some things that should be kept just between the two of us.”

“Then stop worrying about him leaving you and trust yourself!” Cara advised. “Though I have no idea what I'm talking about. I'm no expert.”

“And if that doesn't work, just get really drunk. That always helps,” Jane said.

“Do you think it's crazy to marry your college boyfriend?” Meg asked, looking for reassurance from the people whose opinions mattered the most.

“Not if he's the right guy; what difference does it make? You meet him when you meet him. You're not an idiot, you'll know it if it's right,” Cara said, though Meg wasn't sure that she actually believed it.

“I hope so. All I know is that I can't imagine my life without him, and I don't ever want to find out what that would be like.”

“Then don't fuck it up,” Jane said.

“I won't. I would never do anything to ruin this. Unless he breaks up with me, I plan on being with him forever.”

Meg remembered thinking that the women at the table next to them that night were just jealous because they were old—middle-aged, with crow's-feet around their eyes, lackluster hair, and fat rolling over the tops of their pants. Now she realized those women hadn't been middle-aged at all. They were probably the age that she was now. Her younger self had thought they were just a table full of bitter bitches, but that probably wasn't the case. They were likely just a table full of women who, like them now, had lived through marriages, children, jobs, loss, love, and everything in between, and found it impossibly hard to listen to little girls discuss how they felt old because they were turning twenty-one. God, if she had been sitting at that table, she probably would've smacked her younger self in the face. In retrospect, she admired the older women's restraint.

Meg snapped out of her daydream as the music was turned up a notch and the whole class started counting down the last ten seconds before they crossed the imaginary finish line. She
glanced over at Cara and forced herself to refocus on the here and now instead of remembering the life she used to have. When the class ended she unclipped her spin shoes from the spikes on the pedals and made her way to the hallway to change back into her sneakers. Cara soon trailed after her.

“Oh my God, that was amazing! I forgot how good it feels to work out like that.”

“It's a great class,” Meg said, trying to shake the memory. “You were riding pretty fast for someone who hasn't worked out in a while.”

“Are you kidding? You kicked my butt! I looked over at you at one point and you were pedaling like a million miles an hour. You're fired up this morning, huh?”

“I guess so. I just spaced out there for a bit,” Meg said with a shrug.

“What were you thinking about?” Cara asked.

“Nothing,” Meg lied.

“Okay,” Cara answered. “You don't have to tell me.”

They dragged themselves to Meg's car, parked a block away on the side of the road, and Meg tried desperately to understand why she'd given up on Steve so easily—why her younger self had been so willing to fight, but the adult version had somehow allowed forever to have an expiration date.

L
ook at you guys! You look like you had an awesome workout. I'm a little jealous,” Jane said when they returned sweaty and reinvigorated. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the TV with one of Meg's photo albums in front of her. “I was thinking of making myself a Bloody Mary. Do you guys want to join me? You worked hard, you deserve a midmorning cocktail.”

“I don't think I'm ready to break into the alcohol this early in the day,” Meg said. “I'm going to shower and then I actually need to run into town to get a new pie plate.”

“What's wrong with the five that you have?” Jane asked, only partially teasing.

“I want to make a deep-dish apple pie, and I don't think any of the ones I have are big enough to hold the filling properly.”

“I don't know how you sleep at night knowing that,” Jane joked. “It would keep me up for sure.”

“Do you mind if I tag along?” Cara asked. “I'd like to get some fresh air and maybe a new pair of sneakers in town. I'm thinking I might want to go for a run while I'm out here. It's so beautiful and the weather is perfect. I think it's time I lace up again.”

“You guys are starting to make me feel bad that I don't have any desire to exercise,” Jane said.

“Do you want to come to spin tomorrow?” Meg asked. “I think I'm going to go again.”

“I don't feel
that
bad,” Jane replied. “I'm happy right here for now!”

“Good!” Meg said. “Cara, do you really want to come?”

“Yeah, I'll take a quick shower and then let's go.”

“Sounds good!” Meg said as she turned and made her way to the bathroom to strip off her sweaty clothes. It wasn't lost on her that in less than forty-eight hours, Cara was starting to get her energy for workouts back and Jane's sense of humor was returning. They were both starting to heal, but after a full year out there Meg felt no closer to finding her old self than she had been when she arrived.
Maybe that Meg is never coming back,
she thought as she turned on the hot water and let steam fill her bathroom.
Maybe this is as good as it's ever going to get.

She stepped into the shower and disappeared into the fog.

“Are you sure
it's okay to leave her there? What if we come home and she's passed out drunk on the floor or something?” Meg asked Cara as they drove through town toward the hardware store.

“She'll be fine. You know her, she doesn't believe in moderation. Anyway, we should cut her some slack. If I were her I'd be drinking a little more these days, too.”

“I just don't want to enable her. It's not the best way to solve her problems.”

“We're not. Anyway, Nick seems like a nice guy. Do you guys spend a lot of time together?” Cara asked, changing the subject.

“I guess we do, yeah. He's become a very good friend of mine.”

“I'm glad you have someone to spend time with out here. How'd you meet him?”

“House hunting, actually,” she said. “We were just looking for a house.”

November 2009

“See anything you like?” a strange voice asked. Meg looked up from the photos of homes for sale in the window of a real estate office. She was surprised to see a tall, dark, and handsome man standing next to her on the sidewalk, drinking a coffee. She wasn't sure whether he was referring to the houses or to himself. She in no way wanted this man to think she was even remotely interested in him; she made a show of waving her diamond rings in front of him so that he would see she was married.

“I'm sorry?” Meg asked. “My husband and I are interested in houses. That's all I'm interested in,” she added coolly.

“Great! Hopefully I can help you. I'm Nick. This is my firm.”

“Oh,” Meg said, feeling more than a little embarrassed that she'd mistaken his sales pitch for a come-on. “Then, yes! There are a few things here that look interesting! I'm Meg, and this is Steve,” she said as her husband returned from parking the car in a lot across the street.

“Hey, Steve. I'm Nick. Meg tells me you guys are looking at houses.”

“We are!” Steve said as he shook his hand firmly. “Do you think you have a little vacation home for us in your inventory somewhere?”

“Why don't you come inside so we can talk? I'm sure we can find something that might interest you. Do you have kids, or is it just the two of you?”

“No kids . . . yet,” Meg said. “But hopefully one day we will, so we want a four-bedroom.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed, albeit half-heartedly. “And we'd like something with a yard.”

“You got it. Let's see what we can do.”

Over the next two months Meg and Steve made the drive to Montauk almost every weekend so that Nick could show them properties that fit their needs. One Saturday in January he drove them to a quaint house tucked in the woods. The mailbox was dented and the pavement on the driveway had cracked like uneven slabs of layer cake. The front yard was covered with dead trees and plants that had long since surrendered to the cold, and one of the shutters on a second-floor window was hanging on for dear life. From the outside it looked like a house little kids in the neighborhood would be afraid to visit on Halloween.

“This is what you wanted to show us?” Meg asked, more than a little confused at how Nick had come to the conclusion that this would be a good vacation home for them.

“I know what you're thinking. It's scary.”

“It looks like it belongs in a Stephen King movie,” Steve said.

“This house needs work, but it has great bones and it's in a good part of town. If you're willing to invest a little money in renovations and cleanup, you can buy it cheap and turn it into something really great. You'll be able to make a nice profit down the road. It has character,” he said, looking at the sad structure and somehow managing to keep a straight face.

“It looks like it has ghosts,” Meg joked.

“Let's keep an open mind,” Steve suggested as they climbed out of Nick's car and stood in the front yard. “He makes a good point. We have the time to do some work, so we don't need to pay for something that's totally finished. If we buy a fixer-upper we can do whatever we want with it. I kind of think it could be nice.”

“Maybe,” Meg said. “It does have a nice front yard, and this is a quiet street.”

“There's a huge rental market in the summer for this part of town. If you choose to rent the house, even just for the month of August, you can make a nice amount of money. The house will basically pay for itself. It's a really smart investment if you have the patience to do the work.”

Meg wasn't sure how, but somehow Nick was starting to change her mind.

They climbed the rickety porch stairs and Nick opened the door. The appliances in the kitchen were twenty years old and were surrounded by cheap pink Formica counters on a diamond-patterned linoleum floor. The window in the living area was broken and a light fixture dangled precariously from the ceiling, but Meg still felt something tug at her heart. The second she stepped inside she began to play a home movie of her future in her head. She heard her kids laughing; she heard Sinatra playing on a stereo; she heard herself calling them all for dinner. She could see everything. It all just seemed to make sense.

“I can kind of see us living here,” Meg said.

“I can, too. How weird is that? This house is a mess, but it's the first one we've seen where I feel like we belong.”

“I told you there was something about this place,” Nick said. “It has so much potential. Not everyone can see it, but it really does.”

“It just seems like a nice family home,” Meg said as she wandered into a bathroom off the kitchen and imagined pairs of sandy flip-flops tossed in the corner and tiny bathing suits hanging on a wall hook to dry. She knew she would most likely never have children, but she wasn't ready to fully abandon her dream.

“I'm glad you aren't totally against it,” Steve said. Meg turned to look at him and saw that he was falling in love with it, too.

“It could be a great house,” she said as she grabbed his hand and dragged him into a small bedroom tucked in the corner. “For now it could be an office, but this room would make a nice size nursery.” Meg's eyes glazed over as she squeezed Steve's hand and got lost in a daydream where there was a mobile hanging from the ceiling, a crib tucked in front of the window, and a rocking chair in the corner. “What do you think?” Meg asked.

“I think we'd like to make an offer,” Steve said as he pulled her toward him. Meg tried not to let the fact that he blatantly avoided her question bother her.

“Fantastic!” Nick said. “You guys will be very happy here. I can sense it. Plus, I think you'll be able to get it for a steal.”

One month later they owned the house and soon after began renovations. They left the closing and Meg reached over and hugged Nick, unable to squash her bubbling enthusiasm for this major milestone in their life. “Thank you so much, Nick.”

“It's my pleasure. I hope you guys are very happy here. Oh, I almost forgot!” he said. He walked over to his car parked on the side of the road, and removed a bottle of champagne from the front seat. He handed it to Meg. “Congratulations, guys. If every client was as easy to work with as you were, this would be a very different job,” he joked.

“Why don't you let us take you to lunch before we head back?” Steve asked. “We're going to be doing a lot of work out here, and I'd love your recommendations on who we should use. Would you mind if we picked your brain a little bit over lunch?”

“Are you guys sure?”

“Of course!” Meg said. “We insist.”

Two hours later they were still at lunch, more than a little happy from celebratory drinks and the fact that it was Friday and no one had to go to work the next morning.

“Are you married?” Meg asked as Nick sipped his beer and popped fried clams into his mouth.

“Nope! I'm just a lonely bachelor. It's tragic, isn't it?” he joked. “I have a dog named Sebastian. He's the only man I have in my life at the moment.”

“Oh, you're gay?” Meg asked. “I was going to try to set you up with a friend of mine from work. Damn.”

“I'd love to meet your friend one day, but yeah, I won't be interested in her,” Nick said.

“I teach with a very cool guy, actually. I don't want to play matchmaker, but if you're ever interested in meeting someone, let me know. I'll set it up!”

“We can double date!” Meg added.

“Do you think that's a fair trade? I find you a house, you find me a boyfriend?” Nick joked. “Most people just send flowers or bottles of wine. You guys are really awesome.”

“Just happy,” Meg said. “So we like to see other people happy, too. We'll set it up. I promise.”

The date never happened.

Lots of things didn't.

“He was our Realtor, that's all,” Meg answered. “When we met him I was just hoping he'd be able to sell us a house. I never in a million years would've guessed that he'd become one of my
closest friends—my only friend for a while, actually—or that I'd end up living in the house alone. It's crazy the way things turn out sometimes,” she added sadly. She couldn't shake the melancholy that had descended on her since spin class. For some reason, today was one of those days when the memories refused to leave her the hell alone.

They entered the hardware store and Meg waved to the stock boy, Tyler, who was busy trying to fit a coiled-up garden hose onto one of the shelves.

“God, I love the way hardware stores smell, don't you?” Cara asked as she followed Meg through the aisles.

“What? You do? I never knew that! They kind of smell like dirt, don't they?” Meg asked, surprised.

“Not at all! It smells like rubber and sawdust and testosterone. You know, when I was younger I always thought that hardware stores were a great place to meet guys.”

“Name one guy you ever met in a hardware store!” Meg laughed.

“I'm not saying I ever met one, I'm just saying it's a good place to look around.”

Meg glanced over and noticed the two burly men perusing the barbecue tools. Maybe Cara was right.

“If we were young and single, I'd come back here before I went to a bar, that's all I'm saying.”

“Good to know.”

They made their way toward the back of the store, where the kitchen equipment was located. Meg was fishing through the pans when Cara grabbed her arm.

“Oh, speak of the devil! Look, there's Nick. Who's he talking to? She looks familiar.”

Meg glanced over at the girl with her arms wrapped around Nick's neck and sighed. “That's the girl from the coffeehouse. The one you threatened to sue.”

“That
is
her!” Cara said, stifling a laugh. “I'd rather not have to see her again—can we just stand back here until she's gone? That was not one of my finer moments.”

Meg allowed Cara to pull her behind a rack of paint cans. Nick was at the register, buying new dog bowls for Sebastian.

“Hey, Sheila,” he said, throwing the bowls on the counter and trying to remove himself from her grasp.

Sheila released her arms from around his neck and inhaled deeply. “You smell great—what is that?”

“Soap. And maybe some salt water. I was down at the beach earlier. I went surfing this morning.”

“You always smell so good. How come straight guys don't ever smell the way you do?”

“I have no idea,” Nick answered. It was obvious he wasn't all that interested in talking to Sheila, either.