“You’re kidding. I live on Wooster.”
“Oh, wow. That’s very close. Are you still working for the magazine?”
She knew I worked for the magazine? “Yeah, but I do more for the TV channel now. I’m not traveling as much. How about you? Still playing the cello?” A memory of Grace playing the cello in our dorm room, wearing nothing but her flowery underwear, drifted into my head. The light from the window had silhouetted her so I had pressed the shutter on my camera and snapped away as she played. I still had those pictures somewhere. I remembered that I had set the camera down, gone up to her, and traced the indentations above her cute little ass. She had gotten tripped up on the music and started giggling. I wondered now if I’d ever hear that giggle again.
“Uh-huh. Not professionally, I teach high school music classes now.”
“That sounds great.” I cleared my throat awkwardly. I wanted to tell her that she sounded different, doleful, un-Grace-like, but I kept those thoughts to myself.
Several moments of uncomfortable silence passed by. “So you saw the post, I take it.”
“Yes, that was really sweet . . .” She hesitated and took a deep breath. “When I saw you, I didn’t know what to think.”
“Yeah, um . . . the post was a shot in the dark, I guess.”
“You’ve had a great career. I’ve followed you a little.”
“Have you?” My throat hurt, my head began throbbing, and I was suddenly very nervous. Why had she followed my career?
“Is Elizabeth . . .”
“Pregnant?” I blurted out. Why did I say that? And how does she even know about Elizabeth? I wanted to fill her in on everything, but all the wrong words were coming out of my mouth.
“Matt.” Another long, uncomfortable pause. “I feel really confused about seeing you, and the post and . . .”
“Elizabeth isn’t—” I started to say, but she interrupted.
“It was nice talking to you. I think I’d better go.”
“Coffee? Do you want to get a coffee sometime?”
“Um, I’m not sure.”
“Okay.” Another awkward silence. “You’ll call me if you change your mind?”
“Sure.”
“Grace, you’re okay, right? I mean, you’re well? I need to know.”
“I’m well,” she whispered and then hung up.
Fuck!
Elizabeth chose that moment to come back with a stack of photos. She had the worst possible timing. “Can you review these and have them on my desk by tomorrow morning?”
“Yeah, fine, leave it.” I didn’t look up. My heart was hammering in my chest and I was about to cry. I felt Elizabeth’s hand on my shoulder. She squeezed, the way a football couch might do. “You okay?”
“Yep.”
“It’s hard for you to see me like this, isn’t it?”
What? I was so taken aback, I almost laughed. Elizabeth had a way of making everything about her. “You think it’s hard for me to see you pregnant? No, I’m happy for you.”
“I guess that makes sense since you never wanted children.” Her tone was inscrutable.
I always wanted children, just not with you.
I took her hand in mine and did what needed to be done. “Elizabeth, I’m sorry I wasn’t a better husband to you. I’m happy for you and Brad. I wish you both many years of marital and familial bliss. For the sake of all that is good, including our workplace sanity, let’s never, ever talk about our crappy marriage again. Please?” My eyes were pleading.
She nodded in agreement. “I’m sorry, too, Matt. I went about everything the wrong the way.”
I released her hand. She smiled warmly, sympathetically, almost piteously. It was better to let her think I was lonely and pining for her than to fuel the fiery resentment she had always had toward me because I never got over Grace. Her suspicions were right, but I would never admit the truth to her.
Brad had been my friend since I’d first started at National Geographic as an intern. I had met him around the same time I met Elizabeth. He’d always had a thing for her and she’d always had a thing for me. I’d almost felt like an asshole for marrying her, so when she cheated on me with him, I wasn’t shocked. In fact, I’d had a strange urge to high-five him. Isn’t that terrible?
Elizabeth went back to her office and I headed to Brad’s office. It was time to be the bigger man, or at least the equally flawed, human man. I had blown the phone call with Grace, but it had shaken me loose; I didn’t want to stay in this rut of self-pity and hatred forever.
Standing in the doorway of Brad’s office, I cleared my throat.
He looked up at me from the other side of his desk. “Heyyyy, man.” He always stretched the “hey” out, stonerlike.
“Brad, I just came by to say congratulations on the pregnancy. Well done, my friend. We all know I couldn’t have done it better myself.”
“Matt—” He tried to stop me.
“I’m kidding, Brad. I’m happy for you guys. I swear.”
“Yeah?” He quirked an eyebrow.
I nodded. “Yeah.”
“How ’bout a drink after work. Just the two of us?”
Well, I’m sure you fucked my wife on every available surface of the apartment I used to own, and now she’s pregnant with your child, so . . .
I clapped my hands together. “What the hell. Why not?”