Promise Me

CHAPTER 27

They were downstairs in the kitchen.

Jessica opened up the refrigerator. “No Yoo-hoo?”

Myron shook his head. Chocolate Yoo-hoo had been his favorite beverage. When they lived together, he’d always had plenty on hand.

“You don’t drink it anymore?”

“Not much.”

“I guess one of us should note that everything changes.”

“How did you get in?” he asked.

“You still keep the key in the gutter. Just like your father did. We used it once. Do you remember?”

He did. They’d sneaked down to the basement, giggling. They’d made love.

Jessica smiled at him. The years showed, he guessed. There were more lines around the eyes. Her hair was shorter and more stylized. But the effect was still the same.

She was knock-you-to-your-knees beautiful.

Jessica said, “You’re staring.”

He said nothing.

“Good to know I still have it.”

“Yeah, that Stone Norman is a lucky man.”

“Right,” she said. “I figured you’d see that.”

Myron said nothing.

“You’d like him,” she said.

“Oh, I bet.”

“Everyone does. He has lots of friends.”

“Do they call him Stoner?”

“Only his old frat buddies.”

“I should have guessed.”

Jessica studied him for a moment. Her gaze made his face warm. “You look like hell, by the way.”

“I took something of a beating today.”

“Some things don’t change then. How’s Win?”

“Speaking of things that don’t change.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

“We going to keep this up,” Myron said, “or are you going to tell me why you’re here?”

“Can we keep this up for a few more minutes?”

Myron shrugged a suit-yourself at her.

“How are your parents?” she asked.

“Fine.”

“They never liked me.”

“No, I don’t suppose they did.”

“And Esperanza? Does she still refer to me as Queen Bitch?”

“She hasn’t so much as mentioned your name in seven years.”

That made her smile. “Like I’m Voldemort. In the Harry Potter books.”

“Yep, you’re She-who-must-not-be-named.”

Myron shifted in his chair. He turned away for a few seconds. She was just so damn beautiful. It was like looking into an eclipse. You need to look away every once in a while.

“You know why I’m here,” she said.

“One last fling before you marry Stoner?”

“Would you be willing?”

“No.”

“Liar.”

He wondered if she was right, so he took the mature route. “Are you aware that ‘Stoner’ rhymes with ‘boner’?”

“Making fun of someone’s name,” Jessica said, “when yours is Myron.”

“Throwing stones, glass houses, yeah, I know.” Her eyes were red. “Are you drunk?”

“Tipsy maybe. I had enough to get my courage up.”

“To break into my house?”

“Yes.”

“So what is it, Jessica?”

“You and I,” she said. “We’re not really through.”

He said nothing.

“I pretend we’re done, you pretend we’re done. But we both know better.” Jessica turned to the side and swallowed. He watched her neck. He saw hurt in her eyes. “What was the first thing that went through your mind when you read I was getting married?”

“I wished you and Stoner nothing but the best.”

She waited.

“I don’t know what I thought,” he said.

“It hurt?”

“What do you want me to say, Jess? We were together a long time. Of course there was a pang.”

“It’s like”—she paused, thought about it—“it’s like, despite the fact I haven’t talked to you in seven years, it was always just a question of time before we got back together. Like this was all part of the process. Do you know what I mean?”

He said nothing, but he felt something deep inside him start to fray.

“And then today, I saw my announcement in print — the announcement I wrote — and suddenly it was like, ‘Wait, this is for real. Myron and I don’t end up together.’ ” She shook her head. “I’m not saying this right.”

“Nothing to say, Jessica.”

“Just like that?”

“You being here,” he said. “It’s just prewedding jitters.”

“Don’t patronize me.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know.”

They sat there for a while. Myron held out his hand. She took it. He felt something course through him.

“I know why you’re here,” Myron said. “I don’t even think I’m surprised.”

“There’s still something between us, isn’t there?”

“I don’t know….”

“I hear a ‘but.’ ”

“You go through what we went through — the love, the breakups, my injuries, all that pain, all that time together, the fact that I wanted to marry you—”

“Let me address that part, okay?”

“In a second. I’m on a roll here.”

Jessica smiled. “Sorry.”

“You go through all that, your lives become so entwined with one another. And then one day, you just end it. You just sever it off like with a machete. But you’re so entwined, stuff is still there.”

“Our lives are enmeshed,” she said.

“Enmeshed,” he repeated. “That sounds so precious.”

“But it’s somewhat accurate.”

He nodded.

“So what do we do?”

“Nothing. That’s just part of life.”

“Do you know why I didn’t marry you?”

“It’s irrelevant, Jess.”

“I don’t think it is. I think we need to play through this.”

Myron let go of her hand and signaled, fine, go ahead.

“Most people hate their parents’ lives. They rebel. But you wanted to be just like them. You wanted the house, the kids—”

“And you didn’t,” he interrupted. “We know all this.”

“That’s not it. I might have wanted that life too.”

“Just not with me.”

“You know that’s not it. I just wasn’t sure….” She tilted her head. “You wanted that life. But I didn’t know if you wanted that life more than me.”

“That,” Myron said, “is the biggest load of crap I’ve ever heard.”

“Maybe, but that’s how I felt.”

“Great, I didn’t love you enough.”

She looked at him, shook her head. “No man has ever loved me like you did.”

Silence. Myron held back the “what-about-Stoner” remark.

“When you blew out your knee—”

“Not that again. Please.”

Jessica pushed ahead. “When you blew out your knee, you changed. You worked so hard to move past it.”

“You’d have preferred the self-pity route,” Myron said.

“That might have worked better. Because what you did instead, what you ended up doing, was running scared. You grabbed so tight to everything you had that it was suffocating. All of a sudden you were mortal. You didn’t want to lose anything else and suddenly—”

“This is all great, Jess. Hey, I forget. At Duke, who taught your Intro to Psychology class? Because he’d be proud as punch right about now.”

Jessica just shook her head at him.

“What?” he said.

“You’re still not married, are you, Myron?’

“Neither,” he said, “are you.”

“Touché. But have you had a lot of serious relationships over the past seven years?”

He shrugged. “I’m involved right now.”

“Really?”

“What, that’s such a surprise?”

“No, but think about it. You, Mr. Commitment, Mr. Long-Term Relationship — why is it taking you so long to find anybody else?”

“Don’t tell me.” He held up a hand. “You spoiled me for all other women?”

“Well, that would be understandable.” Jessica arched an eyebrow. “But no, I don’t think so.”

“Well, I’m all ears. Why? Why aren’t I happily married by now?”

Jessica shrugged. “I’m still working on it.”

“Don’t work on it. It doesn’t involve you anymore.”

She shrugged again.

They both sat there. It was funny how comfortable he was with all this.

“You remember my friend Claire?” Myron said.

“She married that uptight guy, right? We went to their wedding.”

“Erik.” He didn’t want to go into it all, so he started with something else. “He told me tonight that he and Claire are having troubles. He says it’s inevitable, that eventually it all dims and fades and that it becomes something else. He says he misses the passion.”

“Is he messing around?” Jessica asked.

“Why do you ask that?”

“Because it sounds like he’s trying to justify his actions.”

“So you don’t think there’s anything to that dimming passion stuff?”

“Of course there’s something to it. Passion can’t stay at that fevered pitch.”

Myron thought about that. “It did for us.”

“Yes,” she said.

“There was no fade.”

“None. But we were young. And maybe that’s why, in the end, we blew up.”

He considered that. She took his hand again. There was a charge. Then Jessica gave him a look. The look, to be more specific. Myron froze.

Uh-oh.

“You and this new woman,” Jessica said. “Are you exclusive?”

“You and Stoner-Boner,” he countered. “Are you exclusive?”

“Low blow. But it’s not about Stone. It’s not about your new missus. It’s about us.”

“And you think, what, a quick boink will help clarify things?”

“Still a wordsmith with the ladies, I see.”

“Here’s another word from the wordsmith: no.”

Jessica toyed with the top button of her blouse. Myron felt his mouth go a little dry. But she stopped.

“You’re right,” she said.

He wondered if he was disappointed that she hadn’t pushed it further. He wondered what he would have done if she had.

They started talking then, just catching up on the years. Myron told her about Jeremy, about his serving overseas. Jessica told him about her books, her family, her time working out on the West Coast. She didn’t talk about Stoner. He didn’t talk about Ali.

Morning came. They were still in the kitchen. They’d been talking for hours, but it didn’t feel like it. It just felt good. At seven a.m., the phone rang. Myron picked it up.

Win said, “Our favorite schoolteacher is heading to work.”