Moore to Lose (24 page)

“It’s cold out here. Brrrr.” Mia was hopping up and down to keep warm.

“I just wanted to get you alone, away from everyone. And this is where it all started exactly a year ago.” Bending down, Michael kissed Mia tenderly.

Mia wrapped her arms around Michael’s waist. His body heat felt good in the frigid night air. “You are the best thing that has happened to me in a very long time, Michael.”

“I love you, Mia.”

She pulled away from his chest and looked up at him. Say it, she screamed at herself, say it. He is wonderful. Say it. The thought of not having him in her world was painful to just think about. So, it must be love, she thought. But it still didn’t feel the same. It felt comfortable and it felt fulfilling. It just wasn’t all-consuming. And maybe this is what healthy love feels like, Mia thought. It was hard to know. Just say it, an inner voice screamed. She could feel the smile on her face growing as she looked up at his sweet face.

“Hey, get in here, you’re going to miss the ball drop.” Seth screamed from the door.

Mia grabbed Michael’s hand and headed toward the house. This year she didn’t release his hand before entering. Pulling his hand and arm over her shoulder, she leaned back into him as they did the countdown in front of the TV. As it turned to 2001, Mia turned to Michael. This year there was not awkwardness between them as they shared the first kiss of the New Year.

Michael took Mia’s face in his hands, “Here’s looking at you, Kid.”

Wrapping her arms around his waist, Mia smushed her face into his chest. What a sweetheart, she thought and felt overwhelmed with guilt for not saying I love you back to him. The truth was she did love him. Very much. He had really grown on her and she felt very safe with him. Yet, it still wasn’t that all-consuming, over-the-top, crazy OCD love that she wanted to be consumed by — that she knew existed. That she knew she was capable of feeling. But it was a comforting, secure love. Her mother’s words, that no two loves were ever the same, seemed to be very astute.

Pulling away from his chest, Mia looked up at him.

“What?” He cocked his head to the side. “What’s that look?”

Giving him a devil grin, she grabbed his hand and headed for the back door.

Michael looked surprised as Mia led him out into the cold night.

“What’s up?”

“We didn’t finish our conversation.”

“You’re right, we didn’t.” Mia’s heart ached at the concern in his eyes as he was clearly not sure what would be coming at him next.

“So, I think we should finish it.”

“Ok,” trepidation had entered his voice.

“I love you, Michael.”

The shock that registered on his face was classic. He appeared to have been stealing himself for not such a happy admission.

His smile was slow. But it was a sweet smile that immediately reached his eyes.

They both stood there, not moving in the cold night, frozen in a moment, each understanding that a chasm had been bridged.

Michael was the first one to speak. “C’mere, you.” He pulled Mia snugly against him. “I didn’t expect that. I honestly didn’t know how you’d react,” and in her ear he whispered, “I’m so happy right now. You can’t even imagine what hearing you say those words does to me.”

And in her heart, Mia felt good. Knowing that she was making a sweetheart like Michael Portman happy, made her incredibly happy.

Maybe this is what love really is all about, she thought, laying her cheek against the warmth of Michael’s chest. The new millennium was treating her just fine.

Appearing like a beacon in the doorway of her office in his fire engine red cashmere sweater and pink scarf with funky red hearts, Seth announced, “BBC, you’d better get going. You don’t want to keep White Bread waiting.”

“Stop calling him that.” Mia looked up from her computer, clearly annoyed.

Seth rolled his eyes and sat down across from her. “You know I like him. He’s impossible not to like. I just like fucking with you because I know it irritates you.”

“Hello Lois.”

Seth threw his head back in laughter. “I’m channeling Lois. It’s true. So, now put on a little lip gloss before you leave and are you sure you don’t want to take me to Chanterelle with you?”

“Don’t you have a date tonight?”

“I do,” Seth preened, “but I’d gladly blow him off for a dinner at Chanterelle.”

“So, blow him and tell him to take you to Chanterelle.” Mia smirked at Seth.

Standing up, he sneered at her, “Obnoxious BBC,” and as he turned away, “now put on some lip gloss and get out of here or you will be late and White Bread might get stale.”

“God, you’re a bitch.” Mia muttered under her breath.

“Yes, I am,” he proudly retorted.

Packing up her desk, Mia leaned forward to smell the flower arrangement Michael had sent. Mia was never a huge fan of Valentine’s Day, but the bright flowers on a dreary, grey winter’s day had kind of an Oz in Kansas effect on her.

Heading out into the cold, wet dusk, Mia hailed a cab and told the driver Two Harrison Street. Chanterelle was one of the most feel good restaurants in New York City — airy, with ample space between the tables (a rarity in New York City), high ceilings and walls painted a soothing shade of pale yellow and, of course, Chef David Waltuck’s divine tasting menu. Mia’s mouth was starting to water at the thought as the cab driver turned south crawling through the rush hour traffic. Turning west onto Washington Street for an easier run down through the West Village, the cab soared past some of Mia’s favorite brownstone lined blocks. They were hitting the lights just right and the cabbie appeared to be proud of himself and his driving prowess.

Their traffic light good luck run ended two blocks before Harrison Street when they hit a red light at the corner of Washington and N. Moore Street. Mia looked at the sign and thought N. Moore, great — just what I need in my head on Valentine’s Day — that ancient ghost to haunt my heart. She sat back on the squeaky black leather seat and closed her eyes and for the first time in a very long time, she could see him clearly, the way he looked on a mountaintop, the look in his eyes when he looked at her and immediately she felt the pang in her heart. It wasn’t that pang of pain, at least not at first. At first, it was that feeling in her heart — that feeling of overwhelming joy. The need to breathe every breath with and for this man. That elusive something that she yearned to feel again. Yearned to call her own. Yearned to share. Fuck, she thought, as she quickly wiped the tears from her cheek that had immediately made their escape. Just fuck. This haunted heart simply will not let me be.

Startled as the driver gunned the engine when the light turned green, Mia took a deep breath to gather herself and try to shake Schooner away before she entered Chanterelle. Here she was, in downtown Manhattan, meeting her boyfriend on Valentine’s Day at an amazing restaurant in a funky, cool neighborhood. She never could have even envisioned her life today back when she was with Schooner. But that damn street sign. Her therapist would say, “Clearly, one of your triggers, Mia. So, what are your coping strategies here?”

I’m going to eat a five course tasting menu, have some delicious wine, and Valentine’s Day sex with my boyfriend — that is how I’m going to cope, Mia screamed at her therapist in her head. But still, as she got out of the cab and stood on the sidewalk in front of Chanterelle, she needed to take a moment to breathe and to shake off Schooner’s ghost. But he wasn’t leaving and she wondered where he was, what he was doing, what he looked like now and if he was happy. Standing on the sidewalk in the cold night air she spoke to him in her head.

You haven’t been here in a while. A long while. You really show up at the craziest times. Yes, I know I saw that street sign. I’m never down in this neighborhood so I totally forgot about N. Moore Street. I’m sure it being Valentine’s Day doesn’t help. And that means two days ago was your birthday. I hope it was good. Ok, you have to go now. I can’t take you into this restaurant with me. Go back to whatever box it is that I keep you in.

Shaking her shoulders as if to physically disengage from his touch, she closed her eyes again just for a second, overwhelmed by the memory of how much she had loved this man.
Have a great Valentine’s Day, Schooner.
Keep forgiving, she told herself and reached for the door handle to Chanterelle.

Michael was already seated at the table, his smile immediate and contagious, catapulting her ghost from the physical plane. Ever the gentleman, Michael stood and kissed Mia, pulling out her chair for her.

“Have you been waiting long?”

He shook his head no. “You look beautiful tonight.”

“Thank you.” Mia smiled, “And no. Seth did not dress me.”

Mia perused the handwritten menu, “What to do. What to do. Am between the Venison Carpaccio and the Foie Gras appetizer.”

Michael smiled, “Me too. You get one and I’ll get one and we’ll share.”

Mia looked at Michael with a big smile. “You make everything so easy.” Taking her hand, he brought it to his lips. “You are so romantic tonight, Mr. Portman.”

“You ain’t seen nothing yet,” he raised his eyebrows at Mia.

The waiter came over for a drink order. “Cocktail first?” Michael asked.

Mia nodded, “Yes, I’ll have a French 75.”

“Make that two and if you can bring a bottle of Taittinger ‘Comte de Champagnes’ after our appetizers.”

The waiter appeared a few minutes later with their drinks.

She held up her glass to Michael, “Happy Valentine’s Day,” and they clinked glasses. Mia could immediately feel the alcohol slam her bloodstream and the jolt felt good. She knew she needed food and soon.

As they finished their appetizers, Michael nodded to the waiter and he appeared tableside, linen napkin draped over his arm to uncork the bottle of Taittinger’s. He popped the cork and handed it to Michael, who put it in his pocket. Filling the champagne flutes in front of Mia and Michael, he quickly receded from view.

Raising his glass to Mia, Michael smiled, “When I moved back to New York, I really felt adrift. I just didn’t know where I belonged. Was it London? Was it New York? I really felt disenfranchised and when Charles invited me to his New Year’s party, it was the last thing I wanted to do. There was so much hoopla and hype around Y2K and I just wasn’t feeling it. I walked into his brownstone that night and it was like stepping back in time, like I had entered the movie set of Casablanca. And you know what, I was Rick. I really was. This guy who seemingly was doing ok, but in reality was totally detached from the world around him and from his own feelings. And when you walked out into the garden I thought, what is she doing here? I’d seen you throughout the evening working the room.”

Mia nodded and laughed. She had been working the crowd hard that night and it was exhausting.

Michael continued, “You’d been at the center of everything all night and here you were and the look on your face said that you just wanted to escape, and I thought that maybe you wanted to escape from yourself.”

With those last words, Mia could feel the tears welling up in her eyes and she nodded.

“And this woman who had appeared so happy floating around all evening was really but a finely crafted facade. You were not happy and I could feel that as I watched you standing there with your eyes closed, and you looked as if you were pleading to the night for something, anything. And Mia, it broke my heart. And in that moment, I didn’t feel adrift any longer. All I wanted to do was see if there was something I could do to make it better for you. Make the happy person you were pretending to be a reality for you. Or at least I knew I wanted to try.”

Listening to Michael’s words, Mia was speechless. His vast capacity for loving and caring was overwhelming her.

“And I’m glad you’ve let me try, because the last year has been amazing. Every day, just knowing you’re here, that you are a part of my life, that you are my life, has been that anchor and I’m not adrift anymore.”

Mia realized the restaurant was quiet. Dead silence as Michael reached into his jacket pocket. For a moment she thought he was going to pull out the cork from the champagne bottle, but as the adrenaline blasted through her veins, she could feel her face grow hot and it was suddenly hard to breathe. It was as if she were wearing a tight, wool turtleneck on a ninety degree day. And the thought running through her head was, “The exit is behind me.”

There was a box in Michael’s hand and she never actually heard the words, “Will you marry me?” because she was so close to passing out that the sense of sound had already retreated. She could see the apprehensive look on everyone’s face in the restaurant. They were all staring. Waiting. Eager. Breathe, just breathe, Mia reminded herself. Oh God, I want to run, she thought. I don’t want this. Aren’t we happy the way we are? Why does everyone think this is what is needed to be happy?

The thought of embarrassing this sweet man in front of a restaurant full of people made the tears start to stream. She couldn’t humiliate him that way. The thought of hurting him, ever, was agonizing.

His smile had fully reached his eyes as he looked at her with so much love. Mia took a moment to just look into his eyes, calming herself with the anchor and tranquility residing deep within this special, special man. A moment in his eyes brought a true smile to her face and without saying a word, Michael slipped the ring onto Mia’s finger.

Cheers went up throughout Chanterelle. Mia’s hearing began to return as people began to congratulate them. The owners, David and Karen Waltuck, appeared tableside offering their best wishes and plates with a beautiful amuse bouche of prosciutto, foie gras and fig on brioche toast.

Michael pulled Mia to him and they kissed, the taste of champagne and salty tears mingling. And in that moment, the apprehension disappeared as he was saying, “I love you” into her mouth.

“Well, do you like the ring?” Michael was beaming.

Mia hadn’t even looked down at it yet and as she held out her left hand, the diamonds sparkled like a prism through her tears. “It’s beautiful. It’s really beautiful.” And it was. At the center sat a cushion cut diamond surrounded by small round diamonds in an antique platinum setting.