“You know I worry about you. Look at you. You have circles under your eyes. You really should wear more night cream.” I back away as she tries to put her hand on my face. She flinches when I pull away.
My mother makes a trip down here once a month to see us, and we always waste so much time with these ridiculous conversations. They always consist of her telling me what she thinks I should do and me resisting.
“I know you worry about me, but I’m a grown woman. I can take care of myself.” My voice is controlled. I grab the salad bowl and walk it outside to the patio table where Gabriel and I set up Gwen’s birthday dinner.
Our backyard is small but well planned out, with a small patio made of limestone and a teak table in the center. Gabriel’s barbeque is set off to the side. Between the two is a chaise lounge Gwen frequents when she visits. The three of us, and sweet-faced Jackson, take a seat at the table for Gwen’s birthday celebration.
Gwen takes a seat between me and Gabriel, repositioning her martini in front of her dinner plate. Gabriel has already set the steaks on the table, and roasted vegetables he prepared on the grill. We each fill our plates and start the meal.
“Kathryn, there was an article in the Times this morning about a classic films exhibit I think you’d be interested in.”
I saw the article too. The Museum of Modern Art is having an exhibition called An Auterist History of Film. Gabriel would tell you it’s a fancy way of saying, “a director’s look at film.” But it’s more than that. It’s the director’s personal creative vision being able to shine through studio interference. I can only imagine what my job would be like if I was able to take my ideas and make them come alive without the Heather’s of the world fighting me on them.
I shake my head and start cutting up Jackson’s food. “I’d like to go, but with the new job and Gabriel’s crazy schedule, I wasn’t planning on attending,”
“That’s a shame. It looked like something you’d enjoy.” Gwen’s bangles dangle as she reaches over to grab a plate. “Did you hear about your cousin Mark?”
I glance up. “No, how are Mark and Nadine?”
“Probably getting a divorce,” Gwen replies indifferently.
Gabriel and I display equal expressions of confusion. Mark and Nadine are the perfect couple. Two kids, a lucrative business, and a love affair that stems from high school.
“What do you mean they’re probably getting divorced?” I’m leaning over the table, hovering in her direction.
Gwen takes a sip of her martini, moving forward to the edge of her chair, loving the audience she has for this exciting piece of gossip. “She was caught in bed with her trainer. The two were spotted at a motel. Can you believe it? It’s so cliché!”
Nadine cheated? I can hardly believe the girl I’ve known for a decade is the type to cheat. I place my hand over my chest, feeling terrible for my cousin. “Poor Mark. What did he say when he found out?”
Gwen leans back, crossing her legs. “He doesn’t know yet. No one has the heart to tell him. Truth is I think Nadine might leave him first.”
Gabriel shrugs his shoulders and takes a bite of his steak. “Maybe he doesn’t want to know,” he says with a mouthful.
“Why wouldn’t he want to know?” I nearly shout in astonishment.
Gabriel swallows and looks at me like I’m overreacting. “Listen, Kat, some people don’t want to know. It’s easier for them to believe a lie than to face the truth. I’ve seen it before.”
I shoot my husband a threatening look. “Do you know a lot of philanderers?”
“I’ve known a few men at my office to have affairs,” Gabe says casually, leaning over and putting his arm over the back of my chair. “And do you know what happens when someone tells the wife? That person gets excommunicated from their lives. The couple stays together and the philandering spouse continues his lifestyle. And the guy who opened his big mouth?” Gabriel makes a slicing motion across his neck. “Excommunicated.”
I cross my arms in disgust. “That is a crock of shit.”
“Gabriel is right, darling.” Gwen dabs her chin with a napkin. “This happened many times with your father on the road. Trust me, as a baseball wife, I often wonder what went on when he was out of town. But I’ll tell you this,” she says, leaning over the table, waving her napkin at us. “If someone else told me your father was having an affair, I would not have believed it. I would have needed to see it with my own eyes.”
“Mom, Dad would never have cheated on you.” My tone comes off very self-righteous.
Gwen leans back in her seat and grabs her glass. “Oh, Kathryn, he had women from all over the country flirting with him, and I know he flirted back. It was in his nature.”
“Flirting is one thing. Attraction is fine as well. It’s natural.” Isn’t that what I’ve been telling myself? “But cheating is another.”
“You’re right. As far as I know, your father was faithful ‘til the day he died. Even still, my point remains the same. A person needs to discover these things on their own. It’s a process.”
The revelation of my cousin Mark’s marriage is beyond comprehension. What drives people to walk away from their marriages just like that? And Gabriel. He seems so cavalier with the whole conversation. Does he think people have the right to cheat on their spouses if the opportunity arises? Is he planning on having an affair himself? Has he had one already? The thoughts are spinning through my head a mile a minute.
Gabriel shifts gears for the group and presents Gwen with her birthday present—a vintage jewelry box made of mirrored glass that can sit on her bedroom dresser. It will only hold about an eighth of her jewelry, but it’s glamorous and I knew she’d love it. And she does.
After dinner, I take the dishes to load the dishwasher. I look over at my husband, who is still seated outside with Gwen, wearing khakis and a light-blue polo. I can see how many women would fall for my husband. I remember how easily I did.
Running across the lawn at Towson University, my tote packed with textbooks and notepads, I had to rush across campus to make it to class in time.
I was walking up the staircase outside Stephens Hall when, of all things, my bag broke, sending books, pens, wallet, keys… everything cascading down the stairs. I crouched down to start picking up the contents. A volley of students ran up and down the stairs, but no one cared to stop and help, except for him.
“Here, let me get that for you.” A soft, warm hand reached over and grabbed a book from a step in front of me.
Mortified, I tried to brush off the kind pedestrian. “Thank you, but it’s okay. I can get it,” I said, grabbing the book out of his hand while noting lean, muscular forearms. I allowed my eyes to travel up and get a good look at the stranger.
He was six feet two with wavy dark hair and navy-blue eyes. With a perfect nose and broad shoulders, he looked like a Kennedy in that All-American kind of way. I had never seen a flawless face before. He was, for lack of better words, beautiful.
A crisp, white three-button Henley outlined his strong arms and lean torso. His jeans hugged his hips and showed a brief hint of boxers as he leaned over. I took a second to wipe the drool from my lower lip.
“Art major?” he asked, looking down at the text he picked up from the staircase. He flashed this jaw-dropping, Robert Redford grin.
“Art history minor.” I clarified, eyeing the textbook on Venetian art in the sixteenth century. “Marketing major.” As if he really cared what my major was. He was just being nice to a girl who completely embarrassed herself in front of her peers.
I glanced down at my watch realizing I was late for my class. “Thank you,” I said, grabbing the book from his hand. I ran up the stairs and spent the next hour thinking about the beautiful boy and his adorable smile.