Uptown Girl (21 page)

‘You didn't give me anything but a headache,' he shot back.

‘Well, we're not really talking about me, are we? We're talking about you. And you find it impossible to date a nice girl with any kind of commitment.'

‘That isn't true,' he told her.

‘I guess that isn't why you have the nickname, then,' she said.

‘I'd have no problem dating Bina. She's a nice enough girl and she knows how to have a good time. Unlike some uptight, word-dropping psychologists I've met. And I don't have a petition…whatever.'

‘Sure you don't,' she said.

‘I don't,' he insisted.

‘Great. Then prove it,' she said. ‘Date her for a couple of months without dumping her and I will be proven totally and utterly wrong. Well, if you can manage a real relationship you might also lose the nickname. But I don't think you can do it.'

‘Done,' he declared. ‘And only because I want to. And because she's a nice girl. Not my type, but nice. And I'll see her as long as I want to. I don't need a shrink to manage it, or to psychoanalyze me later.'

‘I wouldn't dream of it.' Kate smiled, and picked up her purse and headed to the door. She put her hand on the knob, but before she turned it, she looked back at Billy.

‘I can give you Bina's number,' she said.

‘Thanks, but I already have it. Bina Horowitz, 378–143. 1742 Ocean Parkway.' He looked at her with a glint of triumph in his eye. ‘I had thought of looking her up myself. She gave me her number, you know.' And Kate, for some reason she didn't quite understand, was annoyed.

Well, her feelings didn't matter in this ridiculous escapade. She'd accomplished what she'd promised to do. So she simply opened the door, exited and slammed it behind her.

Kate was almost a quarter of an hour early at LaMarca on Wednesday evening because she didn't want to be late. The restaurant, a pleasant if undistinguished bistro in Chelsea, was not the kind of snotty place where you had to ‘wait at the bar until your party has joined you'. Kate was seated at a windowed table and had a chance to freshen her lipstick and twist her hair up into a knot. Then she waited, trying hard not to think. Nestled next to her lipstick in the makeup bag she carried in her purse were a pair of new keys on a silver Tiffany key ring. The ring was actually more like a ‘U' than a circle, with sterling silver balls at each end that unscrewed so that keys could be added and subtracted easily. It also had a small silver dog tag on it. The number engraved on the sterling was registered at Tiffany's and, if the keys were lost and dropped in a mailbox, Tiffany's would return them. Kate felt that perhaps she had gone overboard, and she was afraid that she might
be compensating with the gift for a diminution in her passion for Michael.

She'd tried, over and over, to analyze why she had cooled. Certainly their sex was fulfilling and their relationship sound and based on shared interests, though she had never felt truly passionate about Michael as she once had about Steven. That, however, she had considered a good thing. After Steven, Kate had promised herself she would never allow an obsession with a man to take over her life. And until now she had been more than happy with her union with Michael. Despite Elliot's prejudice against him, Michael was a grown-up – perhaps the first male grown-up in her life – and he respected and liked her. Michael, unlike a lot of guys, wasn't intimidated by her work, her looks or her independence. And he was not the kind of man to run from intimacy. So why, she wondered, did she find herself resisting? Was she afraid of the next step in their relationship? She didn't think so. But, as Anna Freud had pointed out, resistance was an unconscious thing.

‘Would you like something to drink while you're waiting?' the waiter asked, startling her.

‘A glass of Chardonnay, please,' she said, and then felt a bit guilty, which in turn made her feel annoyed.

As she was taking her first sip of the wine, Michael strode in, an unusually wide smile on his face. He was, she reminded herself, very nice-looking. Not dramatically gorgeous like that idiot
in Brooklyn, but handsome in an understated way. His hair was thick, and a little silver was prematurely mixed with the brown. The steel rimmed glasses he wore went well with his hair, and Kate had sometimes wondered if he knew that. If his shoulders were slightly narrow, he made up for it with his height. Now, he bent over her, took her chin in his hand and turned her head so he could kiss her on the mouth. She smiled at him and he slipped into the banquette opposite her.

‘Very nice choice,' he said, looking around. They alternated in choosing restaurants, Michael most often referring to Zagat's on-line while Kate depended on Elliot – her own personal restaurant rating service.

‘You seem in a good mood,' she said.

‘Better than good!' Michael told her. ‘I've gotten the offer from Austin.' He beamed. ‘It's almost too good to be true.'

‘It's official?' Kate asked. She felt her stomach lurch.

‘Well, as good as. I got a call from Brill at the Sagerman Foundation and he told me, in complete confidence of course, that they had selected me and that I'd hear from Austin soon.'

‘Wow. So you'll chair a department?' Kate was impressed and delighted for Michael, but her feelings were mixed with a tightening of her chest, as if her bra had suddenly become two sizes too small. Austin, Texas was supposed to be a lovely place,
with a great university and very pretty countryside. And to get the chairmanship of a department was almost unheard of for someone as young as Michael. But Kate didn't want to think of the ramifications: if Michael chose to go would he ask her to go as well? And if he did, what would she say? She loved her job and her friends and…

The waiter approached again. ‘Something to drink, sir?' he asked, and Michael nodded.

‘A bottle of champagne, please.' Kate was startled but merely smiled. He was very excited, but perhaps he was more pleased that he had been selected than willing to go.

When the champagne came, Kate toasted him. ‘To the smartest, most deserving man I know,' she said, and she thought Michael blushed. The moment seemed appropriate so she reached into her purse and took out the little blue Tiffany box. ‘I'm not sure these would be useful in Austin,' Kate said and placed the box between them on the table. ‘I would have picked something else, if I had known.'

Then Michael did flush, either with pleasure or embarrassment – some men were awkward with gifts – and Kate felt that he would surely be disappointed. But he opened the box, held up the key chain and grinned. ‘How nice,' he said. ‘How very nice.'

They ordered dinner and Michael actually took a sip or two of champagne. He spent most of the time chatting about the Sagerman Foundation
and the University of Texas and Kate tried not to feel left out or frightened. She was surprised to discover how unprepared she was for this eventuality. Texas! She couldn't think of any place less attractive to her, why, she'd rather move back to Brooklyn. And was he simply giving her this news in what seemed an impersonal way or was he talking about their plans without saying so in so many words? She felt confused and ill prepared for something that a part of her had been expecting for months. But what did it mean? Kate hadn't the slightest clue.

After dinner they walked to her apartment. It was a balmy night and Michael, swinging his briefcase with one hand, held hers with the other. When they got to her door he reached into his pocket and took out the keys. ‘Allow me,' he said and opened the door for her. As they walked up the steps, Kate reached in to her own bag. For some reason she wanted to open her own apartment door, and she managed to beat him to it.

When they entered the living room, Michael threw his briefcase down on the sofa and immediately pulled off his tie. Kate thought he might be a little bit high from the bit of champagne that he had drunk, but she was sober as a judge. In fact, she felt like a judge, busy weighing the pros and cons of the situation before her. When Michael took her hand and led her to her bedroom, she simply followed.

He began unbuttoning his shirt, sitting on the
side of her bed. He took his shoes off, unsheathed his feet from their socks and carefully tucked them into his shoes. When he stood up and undid his belt buckle, his chest bare, he looked over at her and smiled. ‘Do I have to undress you?' he asked.

Kate smiled back, and hoped the smile didn't show her uneasiness. She wasn't sure if she was uneasy because she was afraid Michael would leave her or because she was afraid he might ask her to come with him. His great good humor was certainly inappropriate if he was planning to go without her, and Michael was not an insensitive man.

Yet, like most men, he didn't feel her mood as he began to make love to her. She felt his hands on her waist, then lower and he slipped her panties off. Then he moved his hands upward to cover her breasts. He kissed her, long and deeply, but Kate felt unmoved. When he began to touch her she realized that there was no way she could possibly have an orgasm. Ashamed to reveal herself, she simply climbed onto him and worked to make sure he achieved pleasure, but when they were finished Kate cradled him in her arms and, looking over his head at the dresser and the statue of the Virgin on it, she wondered what was wrong with her.

It had been a few days since Kate had heard from Bina. When she did call she didn't even leave a moment's opening for Kate's news but chattered on. Apparently, she had been kept pretty busy by Billy. Kate supposed it was a good thing, since Kate needed time to figure out her own emotional landscape.

Still, after a few moments, Kate found herself feeling oddly resentful of Bina's harmless chatter. She went on and on about Billy: how funny he was, what a good time they'd had over dinner, how sophisticated he seemed to be and, lastly, ‘What a gentleman he is.' This, Kate knew, was Bina talk for him not jumping her bones when he said goodnight. ‘I can see why he gets all the girls,' Bina said. ‘He just seems to really listen when you talk. You know how guys are so busy talking or else how they kind of glaze over when you start talking?' Kate, thinking of Michael, reluctantly had to admit she knew. ‘Well, he doesn't do that.'

‘How refreshing,' Kate said dryly. ‘So all is going well.' Not that she was coming around to believe in Elliot's ridiculous plan, but this distraction, Kate had to admit, must be a welcome break from the recent drama of Bina's life.

‘Oh, we had the best time,' Bina was saying. ‘He's just so much fun. When we went to this club that he knew he…'

Kate found it hard to listen. Besides, she had her own tribulations to deal with. She hated to admit it, but she was beginning to believe that Elliot's assessment of Michael had been right. Michael, although sweet and caring in some ways, was self-involved and lately she had found him…dull. In the past week, he had called her daily, giving her updates on what Kate was beginning to think of as the Sagerman Situation. Since their dinner, he had spent most of their time together talking about nothing else.

‘So then he goes, “I would if I was crazy” and I go, “You are crazy”.'

Kate had had a half-day at Andrew Country Day today as the school year was winding down, and she had another one tomorrow. She felt like having some company but Michael was going to a lecture and Kate, mercifully, didn't have to accompany him. Suddenly it came to her that tonight would be the perfect evening to take a break from her own relationship and catch up with Bina's. Once she thought of it, the idea burgeoned. She was, she had to admit, morbidly fascinated with the progress
of Bina and Billy's dating. If she was interested in anything else she certainly wasn't going to admit it. And, as a psychologist, she felt an additional interest in seeing if Billy could manage to keep dating Bina for more than fifteen minutes. So far, all seemed well, but she would find out this evening – if Bina had the time and inclination to see her.

‘Hey,' she said, breaking into Bina's monologue, ‘you wanna walk the bridge?'

Since they were teenagers, Kate and Bina had found pleasure in walking from one side of the Brooklyn Bridge to the other. Now, since Kate had moved across it, they occasionally met in the middle and then walked to one side or the other.

‘You're kidding?' Bina said. ‘God, we haven't done that in ages.'

‘Why not?' Kate asked. ‘I'll buy you dinner in Brooklyn Heights. At Isobel's.' They both loved the restaurant, and Kate knew it would be great bait.

‘Same old Kate,' Bina said. ‘I'll go Dutch.'

‘Same old Bina,' Kate laughed and they agreed to meet in the middle of the bridge.

The walk was good for Kate. It felt as if it blew some of the cotton out of her clogged head. She thought about some of the children, and how they might get through the summer, she thought about Michael and his new offer, but mostly she thought about herself. She had to be prepared for either Michael's decision to go to Texas without asking her to come or, alternatively, what she would do
if he did ask her. She felt as if she should be happy. After all, wasn't this possibility what she had been hoping for? Even if it was, though, there was something that nagged her about the way Michael was going about it. It wasn't that he was cold exactly; it was more like self-centered – but then weren't all men? If she was brutally honest with herself she also had to admit that she didn't like the arrogance of his assumption that she'd drop everything and go with him. Still, she had no one to blame but herself for that. And why shouldn't he assume (if he was assuming) that she would be willing to go to Texas with him? Unfortunately there were plenty of dysfunctional families and a need for child psychologists everywhere. She could set up her own practice. She would be the first member of her family not only to become a doctor but also to marry one. The Horowitzes would be so proud! And if there was something, well, something missing in her relationship with Michael, wasn't everything imperfect in some way or other? Relationships were built over time with both people willing to listen and try to understand one another. Michael would certainly listen.

Kate, her thoughts tumbling about in her head, walked faster than she expected to. When she hit the mid-point of the bridge she was alone and couldn't even see Bina in the distance. She stopped for a moment, turned north and looked up the East River. This afternoon the water looked almost blue, and the Williamsburg Bridge and the blue
Triboro in the distance sandwiched Manhattan which rose on her left like a magical illusion. When she looked to the right, Brooklyn seemed flat and dull in comparison. The huge blocky buildings that housed the Jehovah Witness Complex and the warehouses along the harbor were prosaic. Kate felt something like a little tug on her heart. She looked back at Manhattan. There, small as it was, she had a place of her own, a place she had made and had lived in. Could she leave it? Why would she?

She was so deep in thought that she didn't hear Bina until her friend was beside her and put her hand on Kate's shoulder.

‘A nickel for your thoughts,' Bina said.

‘A nickel? I thought it was a penny.'

‘Inflation. Plus your thoughts are better than other people's.'

Bina took her hand and led her away from Manhattan, just like they used to do.

‘So how's it going?' Kate asked. ‘Have you been proposed to?'

Bina laughed. With the wind catching her hair and the sunlight glancing off the blond streaks she looked almost as good as a shampoo ad.

‘That guy is crazy,' she said. ‘We went to this club where they know him. Well, they know him everywhere. So everyone was saying hello. We didn't even have to wait to get in.' Bina began to ramble on with details that Kate found tedious. She ‘ummmed' and ‘uh-huhed' for a while.
‘…And then they start playing “Flavor of the Week”…you know the song?' Bina asked Kate.

‘Yeah. I know it,' Kate said.

‘Well, it must be like his theme song.' Kate nodded, secretly amused. She was not really sure if Bina understood the lyrics entirely and how they pertained to Billy.

‘Well, everyone in the bar starts shouting: “Billy! Billy!” And at first he's like brushing it off, you know what I mean?' Bina asked.

‘Yeah. I know,' Kate replied. She was feeling odd, as if Bina's simple story was upsetting her on some high school level.

‘Anyway, they won't stop. So he gets on the bar and starts singing at the top of his lungs. It was such a riot.' Bina laughed at the memory.

‘Sounds like one,' Kate said, dryly.

‘He's so not like Jack!' Bina said. ‘Can you imagine Jack…' A look came over her face as if she had just heard her own words.

Kate knew her friend well enough to recognize conflict, though Bina was so rarely in a dilemma. Could Bina be falling for Billy? What a fiasco that would be.

‘Thank God he's not,' Kate said, looking at Bina. ‘Right?' Bina nodded, but she looked slightly dejected.

Max had dropped by several times to inform Kate of Jack's latest bulletins. It was hard to tell if he did it because he was trying to be helpful, if he was horrified, or just gossiping. Certainly he
seemed outraged as he told her about Jack's barhopping and his delight in the beauty and apparent availability of Hong Kong women, both Asian and Caucasian. ‘The guy is going nuts out there.' Kate was grateful he didn't share any more photos or specifics.

She wondered whether Bina had heard anything, but guessed that she still hadn't heard from Jack, who had been gone more than a month now. Kate didn't want to ask, because Bina seemed to be in good spirits and Kate was glad to finally see her smiling.

‘Right.' Bina paused and took a deep breath. She shook her head as if to shake the thought of Jack from the forefront of her mind. They came to the end of the bridge.

‘Do you want to walk on the promenade before we eat?' Kate asked.

‘Sure,' Bina said, and they made a right, crossed Cadman Plaza, passed Isobel's and walked up Cranberry Street. This was the charming part of Brooklyn which looked virtually unchanged since the late 1800s. Brownstones lined the blocks, complete with little gardens in the front, and the trees arched overhead, making a cool but shimmering shade. ‘So how are things with the fruits and nuts?' Bina asked.

Kate raised her eyebrows, taking Bina's remark as a comment on Elliot as well as her little clients. Then she realized that Bina probably didn't know the connotation that ‘fruit' had. ‘They're not nuts,'
she said. ‘Although their parents sometimes are.'

‘Sorry,' Bina said. ‘Didn't mean to hurt your feelers.'

Kate had to smile. She and Bina had replaced the word ‘feelings' with ‘feelers' when they were ten years old and Bina still used the joke. Kate changed the subject. ‘What have you bought Bev for the shower?' she asked.

‘Ohmigod! Ohmigod!' Bina exclaimed, a new level of animation lighting up her face. ‘I went with my mother to the Macy's on Flatbush. We got the most adorable outfit you've ever seen. Little tiny booties, a matching sweater and a bonnet. You should see the stitches, they're tiny. You know, everyone's knitting now. You think Bev would believe me if I told her I knit it myself?' Kate shook her head. ‘I showed them to Billy and you should've seen the look on his face. I don't think he could believe a real person could be that small.'

‘Why in the world would you show baby clothes to Billy?' Kate asked, and was surprised by the irritation in her voice. For heaven's sake, what was it to her? They reached the promenade and Kate looked around appreciatively. Bina didn't pay much attention. She chatted on about the shower and then suggested they walk back to Isobel's to eat.

Brooklyn Heights was not really part of Brooklyn, Kate had always thought. It was Manhattan once removed, and the view of the island from the
promenade was breathtaking. They were quiet for a little while and then Bina broke the silence. ‘All I've been doing is talking about myself. So,' she said with contrived casualness, ‘where did you and Michael go last night?'

‘We went to a movie,' Kate informed her friend and realized she had said it with about as much enthusiasm as if they had gone to a funeral.

‘The new George Clooney?' Bina asked, her eyes lighting up. To Bina, George Clooney was a walking god. Kate often thought that part of Jack's appeal to Bina was the slight dimple in his chin that resembled the star's, although Bev and Barbie and the rest of the crew would agree that no other aspect of Jack's appearance was even the slightest bit Clooney-esque.

‘Not exactly,' Kate began. How could she explain their visit to the Film Forum? ‘We went to a documentary.'

‘Oh…' Bina said. ‘About what?'

‘Afghan women and their struggle for literacy,' Kate said flatly.

Bina looked confused by the very thought. Kate wondered what the last documentary Bina had seen was. Something they had to watch in grade school about agriculture?

‘That sounds…serious,' Bina stammered, apparently unsure how to respond. She paused a moment and looked across the bay at the Empire State Building whose red, white and blue lights had just been lit. The city was settling into the slowly
darkening sky, its lights twinkling from the many buildings. ‘So, are you two getting serious?'

Kate could hear Mrs Horowitz's voice channeled through Bina's lips. ‘I'm not sure,' she said.

‘There's not a serious bone in Billy's body…and what a body,' Bina added.

‘Bina!' Kate exclaimed. She looked over at her friend, whose change since Jack's departure seemed to be a lot more than physical. ‘You didn't…I mean you wouldn't…' The thought of Bina with Billy disturbed Kate deeply. She tried to decide whether it was fear for Bina or envy. She could hardly believe it, but there was some envy in her. Billy was better than George Clooney.

‘Of course not. I still love Jack,' Bina said. Kate breathed a sigh of relief. ‘But I've got eyes. And he's got hands,' Bina added, raising her brows playfully.

Kate was not sure this talk was as light-hearted as Bina was making it out to be. She herself had felt Billy's devastating, if shallow, charm and Bina was nothing if not inexperienced. ‘Bina, remember you are not supposed to be getting attached to this guy. He's only a means to an end – at least according to you and Elliot.'

‘I know. Believe me, I know. This whole plan is going to work. I just have a feeling,' Bina said. She paused. ‘And there's something else. Billy makes me feel…well, it's like I feel prettier when I'm with him.' She looked away for a minute and her face reddened. ‘I mean, I know people are
probably looking at him, not me. But it makes me feel special, too.' She smiled as if remembering something. ‘He always tells me how nice I look and he notices things, like if I wear a barrette.' She paused again. Then she lowered her voice as if what she had to say was fragile and could be broken easily. ‘You know how much I love Jack.' Kate nodded. ‘Well, I saw Max – you know, he's so nice. I don't understand why he isn't hooked up with someone. Anyway, he told me that Jack was sending him e-mails.' Kate managed not to gasp or show any emotion. A single one of those pictures would break Bina's heart. ‘Anyway, I'm certain he misses me. And when he comes back I'm sure he'll ask me to marry him.'