The Ex

16

Deirdre walked into the office. She looked clean and fresh and was still wearing her tight jeans, but now she had on a gold blouse tucked in around her narrow waist, emphasizing her breasts. Open-toed, high-heeled sandals flashed red enamel that matched her fingernails.

She smiled; there was something possessive in its white glitter. “I told that girl up front I was coming back here, David.”

He tried not to show his annoyance, but he didn’t get up from his desk chair. “What do you want?”

“Oh, I’ve had what I want, David. I only came here to tell you I’m not sorry for what happened. I was weak. We both were. It’s the kind of thing that simply happens, and there shouldn’t be any recriminalizations or guilt.”

He couldn’t believe he was hearing this. And he didn’t want anyone else to hear. “My God, keep your voice down!”

Quickly he stood up and closed the door, then sat back down so Deirdre wouldn’t reach for him.

He hadn’t seen Lisa standing in the hall only a few feet from the door.

It chilled him to think what it might mean if Deirdre decided to make any kind of scene, what it might do to his life.

“And why shouldn’t there be any guilt?” he asked.

“Because love doesn’t take circumstances into account. Love makes us all go round, and we can’t help it.”

He stared at her; she’d meant what she said. “I do feel guilty, Deirdre. I’m in love with Molly, and I feel responsible.”

She shook her head as if in mild frustration at not being able to make him see some simple and obvious truth. “But you shouldn’t feel responsible, either. We think we’re in charge of our lives, but that’s a joke on us. We’re really all like pieces in a game, and destiny moves us when and where it wants. It’s not like we don’t have free will, but it’s up to us to make the most of our destiny, whatever situation it puts us in. Don’t you believe in destiny, David?” She seemed somewhat taken aback, as if she’d just discovered he might not believe in the Bill of Rights.

“To an extent, I suppose. Or maybe it’s just a handy excuse for people to do what they want.” He leaned back in his desk chair, causing it to squeak surprisingly loud in the quiet office. He couldn’t read her eyes. “I take it you believe in destiny?”

She moved toward him as if drawn. Her voice was fervent. “Oh, yes, David! I sincerely believe certain things were meant to be. I think this afternoon proves it.”

“I think we’d better forget this afternoon.”

“But we can’t, and you know it.”

“What about Molly?”

“Molly has her own destiny.”

“It includes me, Deirdre.”

She shrugged, as if resigned but tolerant. “I can accept that for now.”

He wanted to leap up, grab her by the shoulders, and shake understanding into her. But he knew he wouldn’t. He shouldn’t.

“I’m not talking about for now,” he said. “We’re going to have to avoid seeing each other.”

She laughed at him as if he were a bright child who would eventually see things her way “Are you afraid of losing control again? I’m not. I’m a Taurus-I know how to accept and control my destiny. That’s something everyone should learn, David. The world would be so much happier.”

“I don’t like losing control.”

“Of course you don’t. But the only thing we have to fear is being afraid, David.”

“It isn’t fear,” he told her. “Or guilt. At least I don’t think so. What we started today can only lead to trouble.” He looked at his hands, gripping the edge of the table where his computer glowed. “No. I guess, to be honest, I am afraid. I’m afraid of loss. I don’t want to lose what I have.”

She seemed amused. “You won’t lose me. I promise.”

“You know that isn’t what I meant.”

She walked over to the bookshelves and examined a stack of manuscripts. Then she moved near the desk and ran her fingertip lightly over the brass frame of the Molly-and-Michael photo. “What you’re really afraid of, David, is destiny. But maybe you’re right. Either way, surely we can remain friends. Molly shouldn’t object to that.”

“Friends?”

“That’s all I’m asking for now, David.”

He didn’t answer her. He knew it was futile.

She walked to the door, then turned around and smiled at him. “David the Virgo.”

As she went out, she bumped into Lisa.

David watched the two women exchange a look he didn’t understand, even though he could almost see the charged arc of emotion. Without a word, they walked away in different directions, as if nothing had happened.

David wondered if Lisa had overheard any of his and Deirdre’s conversation. It was obvious that Deirdre thought so.

He looked again at his hands gripping the edge of the computer stand, so hard now that his fingertips were white. It was as if he needed something solid to anchor him in the familiar and manageable world. Strong currents were running and he didn’t understand them. But he knew that an undertow was drawing him inexorably toward where he feared to go.

He forced himself to relax his grip and watched his fingers gradually loosen, slide slowly, then release their hold on the firm, hard wood.

David stood that night before the medicine cabinet mirror in the bathroom. He was wearing only Jockey shorts and was holding a white T-shirt. After getting Molly’s hand mirror from the top of the toilet tank, he turned his back to the medicine cabinet.

It took him only a few seconds to find the angle where he could hold up the hand mirror and see his back in the larger mirror.

Deirdre hadn’t scratched his back with her fingernails, she’d gouged it. Four parallel tracks of congealed blood on each shoulder blade ran toward each other, not quite meeting at his spine. They were so uniform there was little doubt she’d deliberately marked him as if to claim him. That would be unmistakable to Molly.

He put down the hand mirror and worked his T-shirt over his head. It was one of his larger ones and draped loosely from his shoulders. Then he picked up the hand mirror and checked again in the medicine cabinet mirror to make sure no fresh blood was seeping through the shirt.

His eyes met the eyes of his reflection. There was something different about the man staring back at him. He hoped Molly wouldn’t see it.

He shook his head hopelessly at his image, parting his lips as if to lecture himself. But neither he nor his reflection had any knowledge to impart.

With a sad smile, he laid the hand mirror back on the toilet tank and left the bathroom.

In the dim light of the bedroom he settled down on the bed beside Molly. The air conditioner was running and he felt cool air pass like liquid over his bare legs.

The sheets rustled as Molly moved close to him. She kissed him on the mouth, and in the tautness of her lips he felt rather than saw her smile.

David kissed her back, then yawned and maneuvered her around so that she was facing away from him and they were lying on their sides molded together spoon-fashion. He reached back and adjusted his T-shirt, then lay with his arm thrown over her and patted her wrist.

“Kinda tired tonight, hon,” he murmured. “Only cuddle, okay?”

He felt her body tense. “Sure,” she said into the darkness, “we’ve got the rest of our lives.”

He knew she was lying there awake, staring at the shadowed wall, and hoped she couldn’t feel the vibration of his quickened heartbeat.

In the morning, he wondered which of them had fallen asleep first.