Apologies for not posting last week-- life!

Chapter Twenty

On Monday, I walked into work. Feeling good. Knowing that Rachel and I had a lot to do today in particular. Feeling prepared and particularly excited to talk to a new business owner. Not from the neighborhood, but nearby. Glad to present him with some of our work today. I was also pretty sure Zevi might come over in the evening. I was looking forward to a relaxing night. 

Work was good. I could tell Rachel was pleased with our work too. We ate lunch together. Me sitting on the little stool, looking up at her. Both of us laughing. Playing ‘what next’ with the new client, just between the two of us. Splitting our lunches in half to each have a little bit of what we’d made. 

“Hey,” she said, when we’d been quiet for a minute. I was still chewing a bite and raised my eyebrows at her. “I don’t have to start planning your bachelorette, do I?”

“No-o,” I said. Doggishly I wished I could lean forward, rest a hand or a chin on her knee as if I could paw at her for attention. 

“What haven’t you been telling me?” she asked.

“I’m rethinking direction,” I said.

She laughed out loud.

“That’s a diplomatic way to say, ‘I’m running mad the opposite way,’” she said. 

Suddenly, a cool wave broke over me. Knocking me down and dragging me under and freezing everything in me rock-solid.

“Oh, Rach,” I said breathlessly. “He’s going to blacklist me… He’s going to force me out of the neighborhood… If I break up with him… It’s going to be a witch hunt.” 

“Betta, Betta, Betta,” she said, grabbing my shoulders, shaking me. 

I realized then my voice had gotten higher and higher and more breathless. The last few words coming out as a whistling shriek. 

“It would be better to just not say anything… Let him realize that this is bad… And then he just… He just won’t propose!… And then he’ll say to himself, ‘oh no, she actually is demanding and difficult’ and then he’ll break up with me and then it won’t even be–”

She shook me again, halting my ever-widening siren whoop of panic. 

“Betta, listen to me,” she said, very gently. “Firstly… No, you can’t just wait for him to ‘realize it’s bad,’ if he was going to, he already would have. And we’re not high schoolers any more, stop behaving like it. You can’t just hope that he’ll do the work for you. And secondly, and Betta, really listen to me. I might not like him very much as a man. I might not have liked him for you. But he is not like that at all. Have you ever heard of him being vindictive? Ever doing anything remotely vengeful? No. I’ve never known, or heard of him, behaving spitefully. But Betta… Are you scared? Are you scared to leave?” 

“No!” I said. “Or… No, not like the way you mean. No, he’d never hurt me… Like that. But this is bad, Rachel. I’m pretty sure… I’m pretty sure I can’t go through with marrying him.” 

“Because he called you fucking ‘demanding and difficult’?” she asked, her tone acid. 

I laughed helplessly, covering my face with both my hands. I shouldn’t have been surprised that she’d pulled that quote out of the stream of my rattling fear. 

“No,” I said, becoming something close to hysterical. “He said I wasn’t demanding or difficult… Not compared to other women… Past women.” 

She sighed, letting me get a grip on myself. When I settled down to burbling little chuckles every once in a while, she grabbed my shoulders again. 

“This whole episode has been a great big fuck up on your part,” she said. “But you didn’t do anything that can’t be undone. But it’s better to start fixing now. Not trying to backtrack after something more permanent has happened.” 

“No, you’re right,” I agreed. “I just… I’m just panicking.” 

“I know,” she said. 

We went back to work and it was good. Everything in and around me felt like it took a great deep breath. As if for the first time in a while, oxygen reached the bottom of my lungs and into every corner of the office. Whatever had been vacuumed out, left breathless and tensed, was relaxed. 

The problem wasn’t solved. Nothing was over. But now, at least, I was more sure of myself. I wasn’t happy, picturing him with hand outstretched, ring in gigantic palm. The idea of being veiled and standing beside him sparked cool panic instead of joy. I thought I’d been compromising on a few things. When in fact I was compromising on everything. I didn’t know how I’d have that conversation. I didn’t want to have it. I didn’t want to hurt him. But at least I was no longer convincing myself I was wrong about everything. Finally feeling aligned and in agreement. Now it was just a matter of finishing it. 

As I was leaving for the evening, I asked Baron to come by for dinner. He said he would, but that he’d be late. I rolled my eyes at the text but kept moving. 

I waved at Zevi’s building as I went by, but wasn’t planning to stop. I was arrested just as I was about to cross the street when he called my name from the second story, however. He may have seen me going by, or waving, and called me.

I detoured across the lot, watching him duck back his head inside. I went over to his truck, letting down the bed door, so we could hop into the back and sit. He came and sat with me, an apple in his hand, his cap on forward. Flipping open his knife from his back pocket he started peeling it. Slicing off a little and handing it to me. 

“Are you all right?” he asked, while I was still chewing the apple.

I nodded. “Mhm,” I said around the fruit. Swallowing. “Decisions have been made. Action will be taken.”

“Can I dare hope for a good outcome for dear ol’ Zevi himself?” he asked. And while he said it as a joke, he kept his chin almost in his chest, watching the blade as if he had to be very careful with it. Making sure the bill of his cap was shadowing his face.

I slid my hand across the truck bed until the side of it made contact with his thigh. Feeling denim and the warmth of his flesh on me.

“I think so,” I said. “I hope so. I hope it’s a good outcome for Zevi and Betta.” 

“Me too,” he said. “You know… I know you feel bad about all this. You don’t have to. I think sometimes we just like looking for just the wrong thing. Or not even that so much as… Taking pleasure in the things that are bad for us. Liking the bitter taste of poison, as it were.”

“Did you ever?” I asked. Sort of joking, sort of serious. He seemed so… Happy. And unwilling to be unhappy. He didn’t seem like one to swallow poison, when he liked sweet so much. 

“Of course,” he said. “I know we’ve never talked about it much… But of course there’s a reason I’m here instead of someplace else… Beyond just my usual, self-destructive impulsivity. I was running from my poison.” He shrugged it off, eating another piece of apple off his knife.

“That’s why I came back,” I whispered. He offered me the blade with more fruit. I took it with my teeth. Getting a tart little snap. Good, green apple. “I had poison and decided to come back home. To get away.”

“I had poison at home,” he said. “So I had to get away. I think sometimes, folks like us… Folks who take loving seriously. We try to find the right person. And try to make just some person the right one. I just love trying to sink my teeth into the ones who don’t take it so seriously. Who like it casual. As if… If I can change their course, or change this big part of their personality, they’ll be more inclined to stay forever. Love me as deeply as I love them. I said I didn’t want to chase you, Betta… Because even though you didn’t think so, I’m a chaser, and I don’t want to make that mistake again.” 

It broke my heart, picturing him loping after some woman who didn’t even see him. Didn’t see how impossibly wonderful he was.

“And I was half-sure from that first kiss, Betta,” he said. “But I became fully faithful when you said you loved me. Because she never said it once. You said it simply, and meant it. And I said to myself, ‘I can chase that’– I can chase that ‘love you.’ Because it wouldn’t even be chasing. It would just be following a butterfly through the woods.”

“Thank you,” I said, reaching out for him in the cover of the truck. 

He took my hand. We sat quietly for a while. Although it didn’t seem so quiet. My heart was drumming in my ears. 

“I have to go,” I finally said, seeing the tilt of the sundown.

We hopped out of the truck. He headed back inside. I went to the corner to cross the street.

“Do me a favor, Betta!” he called. “Come by after work tomorrow?”

“Okay!” I yelled back, waving over my shoulder as I headed home. 

I made Baron meatloaf and cried the whole time I was doing it. As though he’d starve to death. Like I was making his last meal on earth. I knew that wasn’t the case. I knew what I was doing for the best. Because it was insane and cruel to tie him to me when I wasn’t in love with him. 

Thinking about Zevi’s ex. Wondering a little about that. Mine had been one of my professors. Ethics, of course. Thinking about the fact that I’d fallen for my ethics professor, pursuing him mercilessly and then becoming his live-in bang maid made me cringe when I thought of it. Because it was just so predictable of me. I clung to him even more after my father died. I was ashamed to say it, but the things he did that struck me as “fatherly”– when he dismissed me, when he told me what to do, when he corrected me– things my father never did to me, that’s when I loved him best. 

And of course, he was the one who left me. He became embarrassed when one too many people asked him brightly if I was his daughter. Becoming irritated by my asking when we’d be married. Insecure that men looked at me, and laughed at him. I’d been heartbroken, and the only thing that seemed like it would solve it was being back home.

And I’d looked for both those things in Baron– another ‘grown up’ and also some ephemeral idea of ‘home’. Someone to tell me what to do. Someone who could teach and direct me. Someone who would take care of me by taking things away from me. As if fewer options made things easier. As if servitude made life simpler.  

Baron came in just as usual. Kissing my cheek. “Good evening, Elsbetta.” Instead of the usual tightening of my spine, the salty bite of blood in my mouth, I was relieved to see him. That one way or another things would be different, and hopefully better after tonight.

He smiled over dinner. He talked about work. I listened to his up and down. Going numb on it, in fact. 

I got up to make coffee. Steeled myself. I was expecting to have to go into the dining room and shut his laptop. Take his phone from him. So that I could give him the bad news. 

But when I went out with his glass of coffee, he was just sitting. Hands folded on the tabletop. Work pushed aside. I cocked my head like an idiot dog, paused halfway to him. In an excited rush wondering wait… Are you actually going to do it for me?

I sat opposite him. Pushed his coffee toward him. Unlike usual, he didn’t take an immediate sip, checking to see if I’d made it right. He swirled it for a moment. Set it back down. Reaching into the pocket of his jacket slung over the back of the chair, he slid his hand across the table to me. Uncovering a small box out from under his big knuckles. Definitely a jewelry box. I pushed it back toward him with my fingertips.

“Baron,” I said. “I said no… I said wait–” 

“I know,” he said, smiling. I knew then that he really didn’t know. “I know you said that. But I wanted to show you how serious I am. I figured–”

I cut him off this time– seeing his shock that I’d dared to interrupt him.

“I said I needed time and so you decided to give me less?” I asked, astounded with him. 

He frowned. I watched a ribbon go across his face. Irritation, frustration, and then finally that terrifying lack of assurance I saw in his face at the diner. His frown went deeper. Settling into cool faux-patience. Cracking open the box, he pushed it closer to me. Pretty, simple, silver, diamond. I pushed it back toward him, the lid still opened.

“Grow up, Elsbetta,” he said. 

“That’s exactly the problem,” I said sadly. “I have. And I think I’ve rather grown into something you wouldn’t like much. I don’t want to be the wrong one for you.” 

“You’re not,” he said, low and fierce. “You’re not the wrong one. That’s what this–” he said, tapping hard and impatiently beside the ring, “is for.” 

“You said nothing was sure,” I said. “Now you suddenly are?”

I watched his eyes close. His deep exhale through his nose. Watched him roll his head back the way he did when his neck hurt. I was bracing myself. Sure for a deluge from him. A lecture. Something about the cause and seriousness. But when his eyes opened, fastening on my face, all I saw was that brief and incomprehensible fear. So foreign to him that it shook me as well. He quickly smoothed it away, however. 

“You’re being difficult,” he said, very quietly. 

“Yes,” I said. “I always have been. You just didn’t see it.” 

“I see everything about you,” he said. 

I pulled my cheek between my teeth, beginning to gnaw. My hands in my lap, nails digging into my thighs under the table. Tearing myself apart in front of him. How hadn’t he seen that? I was drinking my blood right in front of him and he didn’t even guess. I relaxed everything all at once.

“We’ve made a mistake,” I said. “I love who you are. And I will always help you. But I can’t be your wife. I can’t even be your woman.” 

His eyes widened. 

“Are you punishing me for buying the ring after you said not to?” he asked.

I could have laughed.

“No,” I said, being gentle instead of giving in to hysteria. “Whether or not you pulled out this… party trick, I was going to have this conversation with you tonight. This has made it easier, if somewhat more dramatic.” 

I watched him snarl in a millisecond and quickly bury it. 

“You’re being impulsive, and rash, which is not at all like you, Elsbetta. Who’s in your head?” he asked. 

I rolled my eyes to the ceiling, looking for patience in the drywall. 

“I’m back in my own head,” I said. “This can’t possibly be a surprise to you… Were you happy? Or were you scared about being tied to me? Be honest– you were never sure. You’d be sure about something else, someone or something that wasn’t me. Were you excited at all about buying that ring? Or did you just do it to outmaneuver me?”

“I haven’t been tactical with you,” he said, using that purposefully flat tone. Trying to betray nothing. But I could feel his feet shuffling under the table. 

“You may not have been tactical… But I noticed you didn’t say you were happy. Honey… Was I right? Or did I just look right?” 

He fell silent and still. Fiddling with the box between us. Spinning it on the table-top. Thousands of points of light caught from the lamp. 

“I do love you,” he said softly. I knew he was being truthful. It wasn’t a ploy. He hesitated in saying it, but he meant what he said. “And that would be enough… Eventually. Things fall into place… Eventually. Wrinkles ironed, holes filled… It would have… Settled.” 

My heart broke for him. Wondering if he thought at all about the choice of words in ‘settled.’ That he’d be ‘settling’ for me. Not even an ‘imperfect miracle’ but simply the best option. 

“We’re no good for each other,” I said sadly. Reaching for his hand. He held on like he was sliding down a cliff. 

“Can you… Can you–?” he began asking, struggling for words. For a moment, I thought he was about to start crying. Instead, he laughed bitterly, but laughter nevertheless. Catching my eye and holding it. “Can you give me some time, Elsbetta? Not an out-and-out no, not tonight. Just a few days of thinking. Just try–”

He pulled the ring out of the box, holding it out to me. I didn’t move. He dropped my right hand, taking up my left. I froze, unable to snatch it back. He slid the ring on gently. Fitting a little tight. I didn’t look at it, just watching his face. 

“Just try wearing it for a few days. It won’t hurt anything. Maybe it will just make things feel more solid. More realistic. Whatever you’ve been feeling insecure about, this will firm up your resolve,” he said.

I knew it was cruel, but I threw his words back at him. “I doubt a massive sea-change in my desires. Brace for disappointment.”

I watched his face, looking for recognition. Seeing none. 

“Just for a few days,” he said. 

“All right,” I sighed.

“All right,” he said. Not sounding confident. He swallowed. Stood up. Kissing my cheek. But lingering over my face tonight. No quick buff and leave. But breathing me in. Bending forward at the waist until it felt like he would tip into me. 

After I heard his car engine rolling northward, I went to my bathroom. Washing my face. Getting naked, falling into bed. Curling my body around my spare pillow and sobbing.