Ordinary World (31 page)

“I mean, you’re good, but…” I started before letting out a squeal when I broke off into a dash as he chased me towards the surf. And as he attempted me to wrestle me off my feet and into the waves, one of them crested and broke, soaking us up to our waists. We both shrieked upon contact of the cold splash, and laughed until we embraced, erupting into private tears.

“I’m so sorry, Sam. I love you so much.”

“I never wanna feel like that again, Sweetheart. Promise me neither of us will ever feel like that ever again.”

“Promise.”

We exchanged salty kisses and locked in an embrace while the tide crept in, sand and sea sloshing around our sneakers and ankles. I took deep breaths and let each one out in long sighs. Home. Sam’s arms. Our world.

On the night of our second wedding anniversary, after making love, I lay in my husband’s arms and listened to his light breathing.

“Sam?”

“Yes?”

“Have you had any doubts about marrying me since The Incident?”

“Not a single one.”

“Have you had any doubts about trusting me?”

“None.” He didn’t even pause.

I sat up and looked at him. “Why?”

I was afraid he was going to think I had cause for him to start.

“Because you gave me your word, Sweetheart. And because I know you.”

He kissed me on my nose before I lay back down and rested my head on his shoulder. “I trust you implicitly,” I said in practically a whisper.

***

Melody had once said something about a major loss conjuring up all the other losses in our lives. I had almost lost Sam before he was my husband. After that week, I never again feared losing him, and Devin never came up again, in thought or conversation. But in the present moment, as I lay in bed alone, with neither Sam nor David, I couldn’t help but wonder if I had lost something that week after all.

I heard Melody’s voice again:
Sometimes we see only the things we want to see.

Were we so afraid of feeling betrayed, of betraying each other, that we’d built a bubble around us? We must have. And when that car plowed into him, the bubble burst along with its secrets and doubts and all the things from which we’d tried to protect ourselves and each other. Sam had kept things from me, and I from him. Was that the mistake, or was it that we’d convinced ourselves and each other that we’d had no secrets at all? Wouldn’t it have been better if we’d at least admitted that much?

His death was a betrayal, I realized. Only I didn’t know who the betrayer was. The obvious culprit was the drunk driver, of course. But right then and there, it might as well have been me. And this was my punishment. But what did that make David, then? Was he responsible in any way? And if so, what was his sentence?

I longed to return to Machu Picchu. Somehow, the answers had all been there, and I’d missed them.

Chapter Thirty-six

November

Thanksgiving Weekend

           
D
AVID AND I DROVE TO LONG ISLAND TOGETHER TO spend Thanksgiving with our respective families, apart from each other. He dropped me off at Maggie’s apartment in Brooklyn, and the following morning on Thanksgiving Day, Maggie and I went into the city to catch a glimpse of the Macy’s parade. In sunny, forty-five degree weather, we bundled up and sipped hot chocolate as we waited for the Kermit the Frog balloon to make its way down Broadway.

            Surprisingly, I found myself looking forward to dinner with my family this year, even without Sam or David. Mags, however, wasn’t too keen on her plans: dinner with the family of the guy she’d been seeing since the summer.

“What was I thinking?” she asked as we huddled together in the cold. “It’s too soon to meet the whole family, especially on a national holiday.”

            “I guess he’s serious about you,” I said.

            “More serious than I am, I’m afraid. I’m just not as into him.” She sighed, “Maybe I’m just afraid of getting hurt again. Maybe I never really got over James’s death. Maybe you never get over it.”

            “Gee, thanks Mags. That gives me something to look forward to.”

She laughed. “Sorry, Cupcake. Then again, I’m also at the place where I’ve just grown comfortable with the idea that it’s just me. I like my independence. I like having the option of
not
being in a relationship. I often think that’s the place you have to get to in order for anything really good to happen to you.”

“That’s similar to what Marta told me in Lima,” I remarked.

“Still think that was all bullshit?”

“I’m not sure whether it was bullshit; I just question whether it was an authentic moment.”

“Who cares? You got the message, didn’t you? Isn’t that what really matters? And besides, I think it was
very
real and it just scared the crap out of you because it was exactly what you
didn’t
want to hear.”

“Oh,
come on
, Mags! How could she know anything about me or Sam without Manny telling her or my giving it away somehow?”

“Andi, don’t stop believing in possibilities. Sometimes they’re the only things worth believing in.”

I thought about this as Kermit the Frog hovered above us, wavering in a gust of wind, while a high school marching band played an annoyingly perky rendition of “Can You Tell Me How to Get to

Sesame Street

.”

Later that day at Mom’s house, while Tony and I watched the Dallas Cowboys get their asses kicked by the Philadelphia Eagles (much to my dismay since I had bet David twenty dollars against the Eagles), I called David.

“How’re you holding up?” he asked.

“I ate half a turkey leg on a dare from Joey,” I said as my stomach gurgled. He laughed hard. “How ‘bout you?” I asked.

“My mother and sisters wanna meet you again. They want you to come over later tonight or sometime tomorrow. Whattya think?”

“How ‘bout tomorrow? I don’t think I can move, much less fit behind the steering wheel of a car.”

“How’re the Cowboys doing?” he asked.

“They suck.”

“Which means your money is going in my pocket tomorrow night.”

“That may not be the only thing that goes in your pocket tomorrow night,” I said with a wink, even though he couldn’t see me. “I don’t know what that means, but it sounds sexual, doesn’t it.”

“I know
exactly
what it means,” he replied. I could swear he winked back. We both laughed and finalized plans. When I snapped my cellphone shut, I looked up to find Tony gawking at me, mouth open, mortified.

“I don’t even wanna know what it means.”

I laughed. “Get over it, Tony. Your little sister has sex.”

Tony covered his ears and yelled. I laughed again. “Great sex!” I teased. “Earth-moving sex! Sex so good you’ll never want to leave the house ever again! Better-than-
jazz
-sex!” He ran out of the room, hands over his ears, yelling to make it stop. I almost fell off the chair, laughing.

            The last time I had met David’s family was on the day of his father’s funeral. From what he told me, they had liked me back then and were thrilled to find out that we were now a couple, albeit under such tragic pretenses. I was surprised that they remembered me at all.

            He picked me up at my mother’s house in the Hamptons at six-thirty. Mom opened the door; it was her first time meeting David.

“Hello,” she greeted him and extended her hand. “I’m Genevieve Cutrone, Andrea’s mother. Nice to finally meet you.”

“Same here, Mrs. Cutrone. I’m David Santino.”

“Italian?” she asked.

“All the way.”

“I heard you speak it, too.”

He replied in fluent Italian, and could have been condemning her to hell for all either of us knew. Yet she and I both swooned at his inflections and lacy enunciation. David’s speaking Italian made me horny the way Sam’s reading to me use to—I could’ve jumped him right there.

His eyes brightened when he saw me, and I practically pushed my mother out of the way and kissed him hello. “
Ciao, bella
,” he said, eyeing me up and down.

“So, David. Would you like to come in and sit down?” asked Mom.

“I’m afraid we can only stay for a moment or two. Holiday weekend traffic and all.”

She eyed him as if to say,
You’d stay if you knew what was good for you.
I raised my eyebrows and concurred. He followed me into the great room.

“Gorgeous house,” said David.

“I got it at a fabulous price, just before the housing market went to hell.”

“Lucky for you.”

Mom took in an eyeful of David before turning to me. “He’s very handsome, Andi. You’ve always managed to attract handsome men.” Then she turned to David. “My husband had your look: tall, dark, and handsome.

Good God, was my mother
flirting
with my lover? And when was the last time she had brought up my father, especially in front of someone she just met?

“Although you’re more…what’s that word everybody uses now… metrosexual?”

I wanted to dissolve into my seat.

“That’s the word,” David said, taking it in stride, easing my embarrassment with a wink in my direction.

“Yes, he wasn’t one of those. Otherwise, you picked someone just like your father, Andi. You know what they say about girls choosing men like their fathers.”

I cringed. “
They
don’t say it, Mom.
Freud
said it. And by today’s standards he’d probably be considered a quack and have his own reality show.”

“Well, I’d like to thank you for sharing your daughter with me this weekend, Mrs. Cutrone.” Ever the charmer.

I stood up. “Well, we gotta go.” Mom and David stood up as well.

“You have keys, yes? I’m locking the door.” She then turned to David and extended her hand again. “Come for dinner the next time you and Andi are in town.”

“It would be a pleasure,” he said, and kissed her hand. Oh, please…

As we walked out to the car, I huddled close to him. “Ok, what’d you say to her before in Italian?s”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“You’re mean.”

“Most metrosexuals are.”

I laughed loud enough for it to echo, and didn’t have to look back to know Mom was at the window, watching us.

David drove us to Port Jefferson, where his sister Joannie lived. Their sister Rosalyn couldn’t be there, but his mother, who had relocated to Florida and was staying with Joannie through the holidays, greeted us at the door. She looked less pale than I remembered. She had also put on a little bit of weight and dyed her hair dark brown, yet looked stylish in black palazzo pants and a red cashmere sweater.

            “Annie?” his mother said, smiling at me.

            “Andi,” I corrected.

            “Andi?”

            “Yes, Ma,” David said quickly.

            “Is that short for Andrea?”

            “Yes,” I said.

            “How nice. So nice to see you again, although David told us the tragic story of your husband’s passing. I am so sorry, dear. What an awful thing to have to experience, especially at such a young age.”