The next week, Jason asked Sari if she could stay after Zack's session that coming Friday and have dinner at their house. “Denise wants to meet you, and she's free that evening.”
The problem with being as confused as Sari was about everything having to do with the Smith family was that she didn't even know anymore what her normal response would be to something like that. If any other father had said to her that she should stay for dinner to meet the child's mother whom she had never met before and who really should be given a chance to consult with her… would she feel obliged to say yes? Or would she have every right to say no?
When feelings of anger and desire and revenge and attraction didn't get in the way of a decision like that, then what would the decision be?
It was paralyzing, this confusion.
Jason misinterpreted her hesitation. Or, quite possibly, he interpreted it correctly. “You don't have to worry about being alone with me,” he said with a tight smile. “Denise and Maria and Zack will all be there. You won't even have to talk to me if you don't want to.”
“It's not that,” she said. “I was just trying to remember if I had plans that night.”
“Do you?”
“I don't think so.” She made up her mind. “I’ll stay.”
His face lit up, but all he said was, “Denise will be pleased.”
Denise was late. They waited for her from five-thirty until almost seven. She called four times to say she was just about out the door. After the fourth call, Jason offered Sari a drink. Sari declined-as she had the previous two times he'd offered-but he continued to have better luck with himself and filled his own glass for the third time.
So he was definitely a little drunk by the time Denise finally made her appearance at the house with a bang of the front door and an entrance into the living room that included a cheery, “Hello! Here I am!”
Sari rose to her feet, but Jason didn't get up, just raised his glass in a brief salute and said, “Welcome.”
“I’m so sorry I kept you guys waiting,” Denise said.
“No, it was good,” he said. “Gave me time to work on my show pitch. Want to hear it?”
She was still smiling brightly. “Jason-”
“No, no, it's great. Listen. An attractive young therapist moves in with an autistic kid and his family, and hilarity ensues. I mean it just ensues.”
“Ha,” Denise said. “I’ll suggest it to the network.” She strode forward to greet Sari. “Sari Hill. I can't tell you how excited I am to finally meet you. Zack has blossomed since you started working with him. It's beyond incredible.” She took Sari's hand and squeezed it warmly. “I can't ever thank you enough. There are no words.”
She had long blond hair, a perfectly toned body, and cheekbones you could trip over. She was dressed in a sleeveless silk top and a pair of carefully tailored black pants that showed off her tight ass and toned legs.
“So,” she said as she released Sari's hand and looked around.
“Where is my little Zacky, anyway?”
“That's a kind of chicken,” Jason said. He hadn't gotten up from the chair he'd been sitting on when she arrived-had, in fact, slumped even deeper into it.
“Excuse me?” she said.
“Zacky Farms. They make chickens. He's with Maria having dinner in the kitchen.”
“Oh, okay. I’ll go say hi in a sec. Do I get a glass of wine, too?”
“The bottle's over there,” he said, indicating the wet bar.
“Lovely,” she said. Sari couldn't tell if she were being sarcastic or not. “Sari, would you join me in a glass of wine?”
“No, thanks.”
“What about dinner?” Denise walked over to the wet bar, slid a glass out of the hanging rack, and poured wine with the ease of someone who knew where everything was. “I’m starving. What's the plan?”
“Ah,” Jason said. “Here's the thing about dinner. We were waiting for you to order. You were late. Therefore, we have not yet ordered.”
“Have you at least offered our guest something to eat while she's been waiting?”
“No, because you kept saying you'd be here any minute.”
“Oh, you poor thing,” Denise said, swiveling back to Sari.
“You must be starved. I am so sorry. I had just assumed you'd go ahead and start eating without me. If I had known-”
“I’m fine,” Sari said. “Really. I was sharing Zack's M &M’s with him all afternoon and almost made myself sick on them. Job hazard, you know.”
“ ‘Job hazard’?” Denise repeated, raising the wineglass to her lips.
“She uses candy as a reward,” Jason said. “Which you would know if you had ever come to see her work with him.”
“It's not that I’m always shoving candy at him,” Sari said to Denise. “I don't want you to think that he's like a dog, getting a treat with every trick or anything like that. Most things he does, the reinforcement comes naturally, like if he wants to go outside and he says, ‘out,’ and then I take him outside. But the M &M’s come in handy for a lot of games and working on color names and stuff like that. Everyone likes candy!” She was talking too much, the way she always did when she got nervous.
“I see,” Denise said politely.
Sari felt like an idiot.
“Here, Denise,” Jason said. “Let me put it in terms you'll understand. Say your assistant does a really good job of lying for you when you don't want to talk to someone on the phone. You don't scream at him for five whole minutes and he gets the idea that he's been a good boy and should do lots more lying in the future. That's called positive reinforcement.”
“Jason's going to give you the wrong impression of me,” Denise said to Sari with a good-natured laugh. “I’m actually a pretty decent boss.”
“Oh, of course,” Sari said. Then: “I’m really so glad we're getting a chance to meet and talk about Zack's progress.”
“Are you kidding?” Denise said. “I wouldn't have missed this for the world. I’ve been dying to learn more about how you do what you do.”
“Sure, you have,” Jason said. “That explains your constant presence at Zack's sessions.”
Denise pivoted on her heel so she was facing him. “I work in the afternoons.” She smiled at him. “So you don't have to, I might add.”
“You might and you did,” he said. “So what should we order for dinner? I seem to be already eating shit, but I’m open to a change of menu.”
Denise turned back to Sari and took her arm. She lowered her voice. “I’m sure you realize that Jason's just trying to be funny. Sometimes drinking affects his judgment a little bit, and he's not always aware of how he sounds.” Then, in her normal voice: “I just want you to know that we couldn't be more dedicated to pulling together as a team to make things right for Zack. That's priority number one for both of us.”
“Oh, of course,” Sari said. “And I want-” She was interrupted by a few bars of “Fur Elise.”
“Excuse me one moment,” Denise said, dropping Sari's arm so she could slip a tiny cell phone out of the slim Prada handbag she had left on the bar. She put it to her ear as she took another sip of wine. “Denise Cotton,” she said.
Sari drifted a few steps back.
From the depths of his chair, Jason said, “She went back to her maiden name. For a few glorious years she was actually Denise Smith.”
Sari didn't say anything to that.
“Oh, damn,” Denise said. She flipped her phone shut and slid it back into her purse. “You won't believe this. I drove all the way here just to get to spend a few minutes with you, Sari, and I told everyone who works for me that I couldn't be bothered for anything short of an emergency. So of course one came up. There's been a total breakdown on one of the sets-it's a complete mess and they need me there to straighten it out.” She took a sip of wine and set the glass back on the counter. “I can't believe how frustrating this is! To finally get to meet you and then not have time to talk about Zack.”
“It's nice to put a face to the name at least,” Sari said.
Denise shone a brilliant smile in her direction. “Exactly what I was thinking. And I know we'll get together again soon.” She slung her purse on her shoulder. “I hope you don't mind, but I feel like I have to hug you. You're just so wonderful.” She put her arms around Sari and kissed her lightly on each cheek. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. And we're going to reschedule this ASAP.”
“Great,” Sari said, and Denise squeezed her hard again before releasing her.
“Goodbye, Jason,” she said and turned to go.
“Hold on.” He rose to his feet for the first time since her arrival. “You're going to at least say hi to Zack before you leave, aren't you?”
She glanced at her watch and then said, “Better not. I don't want to upset him by saying hi and then having to leave right away.”
“You haven't seen him in days.”
“And I miss him,” she said. “More than you can possibly imagine.”
“It's hard to imagine you miss him at all when you won't bother walking into the next room to see him.”
“You're not getting it,” she said. “It's hard for both of us if I see him and then have to immediately walk out on him again.”
“So don't walk out.”
“I wish it were that simple. Do you think it's easy for me to have to drop in on my own child? But I’ve got to support him-and all this-” She gestured at the house around them. “Believe me, I would love the luxury of being able to sit around the house all day with my kid-”
“You would hate it,” Jason said. “You never wanted that.”
“I’ve wanted it,” she said. “But I’m not the type to sit around whining for something that's not going to happen.”
“What type are you?” he said.
“The type who understands that we need a lot of money to help Zack.” She gestured in Sari's direction. “How long do you think we could hire people like Sari-wonderful, talented people like Sari-if I stopped working? How about Maria and all the freedom she gives you? You ready to give that up, Jason?”
“I’m not asking you to quit your fucking job,” Jason said. He stood there in the middle of the room, his body tense but still. “I just thought you might want to say hi to your son.”
“If I had more time, there's nothing in the world I’d rather do.” She turned to go.
“You never have more time,” he said from behind her back.
She twisted to look at him over her shoulder. “I do what I do because I know it's the best way for me to help Zack.”
“Come on,” he said. “When were you ever going to make any other choice?”
“I’ve never had the chance to find out,” she said. “I’ve always had to support this family since you never could.”
“Ah,” said Jason. “Back to that one.”
Denise turned to Sari. “I’m sorry,” she said. “We're still working things out.”
“It's okay,” Sari said. “I know how hard it can be-”
“I’m sure you do,” Denise said. “Please excuse me now, Sari. I’ll be looking forward to the next time we get together.” She left the room, and, a second later, the front door slammed.
There was a moment of silence, and then Jason forced a little painful laugh. “There she goes,” he said. “The former Mrs. Jason Smith.”
“It's tough on a marriage.” Sari was well aware how lame she sounded. “Having a kid with special needs.”
“Oh, we were doomed long before Zack came along,” Jason said. “I’ve been almost as much of a disappointment to Denise as I’ve been to my father. They've had some fine conversations about what a failure I am.” Sari didn't know what to say to this. After another moment, Jason said, “Of course, she's right about most of it. She does have to support us. And therapy doesn't come cheap.”
“She still should have said hi to Zack,” Sari said.
Jason's head snapped up. “Really?” he said eagerly.
“Of course.” She searched for the right way to put it. “I mean, even if it was frustrating for both of them to say hi and bye quickly-even so, she should have wanted to so badly she couldn't help herself. I think-” She stopped, realizing she was getting into territory that was none of her business.
“I watch you with him sometimes,” Jason said when she didn't go on. “When you're in the backyard, I’ll look out the window, see you with him, and it's hard to stop watching. You're always so in the moment with him. Laughing and playing, like there's nowhere else you'd rather be than with my kid. I was always waiting for Denise to look like that when she was with him. I never saw it. I thought maybe it was because of who Zack is, because he never responded to her the way she wanted him to, but I think it's because of who she is. I’m not convinced it would have been any different if he'd been normal.”
There was a pause. “So you've been spying on me,” Sari said.
He smiled. “Observing you for purely clinical reasons,” he said. “Nothing stalkerish about it. I swear.”
“So I should hold off on the restraining order?”
“At least let me do something to earn it.”
Another pause, and then Sari said, “I should go.”
“No,” he said. “Don't. You were planning on staying for dinner. Stay and have dinner with me.”
She knew she shouldn't. But he stood there, begging her, a handsome guy who had just been beaten up inside. And they both knew she had the evening free.
He was smart enough-or was it calculating enough? She couldn't decide-to tread carefully at dinner, to keep the conversation on things Sari could talk about freely, to sense that she had glimpsed enough of his personal unhappiness to feel sympathetic to him, but that any more would scare her off. So, over sushi and sake-they had decided they would get food faster if they went out than if they ordered in-he asked her about the work she did and about autism in general. His interest pleased her and between the warmth of his regard and the warmth of the sake, she felt herself expand and relax.
“I can see that what you're doing works,” he said after they'd been talking for a while. “I’m a total believer. But what I don't get is why? I mean, if it's really a question of neurological damage, then why do kids get better just from playing games and talking? It seems like they should need operations or a pill or something that would actually fix the damage. Not just, you know… M &M’s and encouragement.”
“Neural plasticity,” Sari said, speaking the syllables very carefully. She had had quite a few cups of sake. They were small and it wasn't that strong a drink, but she had lost track of the number and suspected they were starting to add up. She should stop, she thought, as she lifted the tiny cup to her lips.
“Neural plasticity,” Jason repeated. And then, “I have no idea what that means.”
“I like using the term, because it sounds so scientific, but it basically just means that the brain's flexible.” She put her cup down. “People get brain damage from things like strokes and car accidents and since the brain can't heal, you'd think that whatever function they lose would stay lost, right? But a lot of the time, they get it back. Like if they can't talk right after a stroke, but they do a lot of speech therapy, they'll usually be able to learn to talk again.”
“True for my grandmother. She had a stroke and couldn't talk and then talked again. Happy ending. Until she had another stroke and died.”
“I’m sorry,” Sari said.
“Actually, she was an awful grandmother,” he said. “Really mean. She scared the hell out of me when I was little-every time I saw her, she would tell me I should be ashamed of myself, but she would never tell me why. Maybe she just figured adolescent boys always had something to be ashamed of.” He made a comical face. “Not that she was wrong about that.”
“Well, anyway, she's a perfect example-her brain didn't heal exactly, it's just that other parts of her brain stepped in and took over for the injured part.”
“I believe the term you're looking for is neural plasticity,” he said.
“You catch on fast. So we think-it's still just a theory, but I believe it-that it works the same way for kids with autism. They start off with some real neurological damage, but with enough therapy their brains lay down new pathways, and the undamaged part takes over at least some of what the damaged part was supposed to do.”
“Now that's just cool.”
“I know,” Sari said. “It really is. Here's to the human brain.” They both raised their sake cups and drank.
“Makes you wonder whether it could work for the rest of us,” Jason said as he placed his cup back on the table. “I mean, maybe if I can find a therapist to just keep telling my dad that I’m not the loser he thinks I am, he'd lay down some new pathways and start seeing me in a whole new way. What do you think?”
“I think you'll need forty hours a week to start,” she said. “It won't be cheap.”
“Too bad I really am the loser he thinks I am,” Jason said. “Or I’d be able to afford it.”
“But then you wouldn't need it.”
“I know. It's all so confusing.”
The waitress came and asked if they wanted more sake. They had finished their food a while ago. “I guess we're done,” Jason said. “Unless you want some coffee?” He looked at Sari hopefully.
She hesitated. Then she said, “It's getting late.”
She had left her car at the house, so Jason drove them both back.
“Want to come in?” Jason asked as they got out of the car. “Zack's probably in bed, but you could see how cute he looks when he's asleep.” When she didn't answer right away, he said, “He's like world-class adorable.”
She closed the car door. “I believe you. But I should go.”
“Do you have to?”
She just nodded and headed down the driveway to the street where her car was parked. He followed close behind.
At her car, she said, “Good night. Thanks for-”
He cut her off with an abrupt hand gesture. “So, I’m wondering… how are you going to be when I see you tomorrow? Like this? Friendly and maybe a little interested? Or are you going to be the other Sari? The one who looks at me like I’m some kind of scary nut for just smiling at her?”
“I’ve never looked at you like that,” she said.
“Yeah, you have.” He reached for her hand and she let him take it. He held it lightly, his thumb brushing against the back of her fingers. “I’m not usually the kind of guy who slams his head against a wall over and over again,” he said. “But I was married for a while and I haven't dated anyone in all that time, so maybe the rules are different now. I like you, Sari. A lot. And sometimes it seems like you like me back. But sometimes-”
“I do like you,” she said, trying to sound calm. She didn't feel calm. He was standing too close for her to feel calm, and the way his fingers were playing with hers wasn't helping. “But I think it should stop here.”
“Is there a clinic rule I don't know about? Is this kind of thing frowned on?”
“It's not that,” she said.
“What is it, then?”
“Charlie,” she said.
He dropped her hand. “Who the hell is Charlie? Your boyfriend?”
Sari opened her mouth and heard a strange choking sound that she realized was a laugh. Her laugh. But it seemed wrong to be laughing when Jason was being serious, so she tried to stop, and the effort to suppress it made her shake. She put her hand to her mouth to try to push the laughter back in.
And she realized it wasn't amusement. It was hysteria.
“What's so funny?” he said.
She shook her head, gasping a little. “Nothing.”
“Who's Charlie?” he asked again. Impatient now. Getting annoyed. “Is he your boyfriend?”
“No,” she said, and dropped her hand from her mouth, the hysteria gone as suddenly as it had come. “I don't have a boyfriend.”
“Husband?”
“No.”
“Lesbian lover?”\
She shook her head.
“Now we're getting somewhere,” Jason said and drew closer. “No rules, no other man, no other woman… Is there any good reason I shouldn't do what I want to do? What I’ve been dreaming about doing for weeks?”
The little Lucy devil on her shoulder said, “Lead him on and break him apart.” The responsibly dressed Ellen angel said, “Get out of there while you're still okay, Sari.” And the girl in between them just wanted to feel Jason's mouth on hers and his hands on her body, so she didn't say or do anything, just waited in the cool dark of the night, her face turned up to him.
She had answered his question with her silence and her willingness. He smiled and his arms came around her.
His mouth tasted a little like alcohol, but it didn't change how good it felt. She closed her eyes and let him pull her close, like she had always wanted him to.
His whole body pressed into hers. Sari pressed back, shivering. He was Jason Smith and she had wanted him since she was fifteen years old. She could get lost in him-was getting lost in him-in his strong chest and broad shoulders, in the feel of his hands on her back, pinning her against him so she could feel the length of his body and how he was already hard for her. She was going to get lost in it, she wanted to get lost in it, she was ready to get lost in it…
If this had all happened in a dark, private room, that probably would have been that, and she would have fallen into bed with him and postponed all regrets and confusion to the next day's tab. But they were outside, and the sudden headlights of a car driving by made them both start and pull back and look around, their pupils dilated from more than just the dark.
“Come inside,” he said, tugging on her arm.
But she shook her head. She had been given a chance to stop and think about what she was doing. She would be an idiot not to take it. “I’d better not. It's better to take this slowly.”
“You sure about that?” Jason said, his voice not sounding like itself.
“Yeah.”
“I don't want to scare you off. But-” He took a deep breath, then said, “ ‘Slowly’ isn't another way of saying you're going to pretend you've never seen me before when I walk into the clinic tomorrow, is it?”
She shook her head again. “I’m not that good an actress.”
“Good,” he said. “So you meant all that?”
“Yeah,” she whispered, not quite able to look at him. “But I still have to go.”
His fingers stroked her arm. “Really? You have to?”
She found she was leaning in toward him again. She righted herself with an effort. “I just think it's a good idea.”
“I can think of better ideas,” he said. “I’ve been thinking of better ideas for you and me for a long time, Sari.”
“You do have stalker potential.”
“No,” he said. “All things considered, I think I’ve been pretty restrained.”
“You deserve a medal.”
“A medal isn't what I want.”
Her mouth curved in a smile and they were kissing again-she was pretty certain she started it this time, although it was hard to tell. It went on for a while.
But still somehow, eventually, she managed to stop touching him and get herself into her car. She shut the door, but then he tapped on the window, and she rolled it down. “What?” she said.
“You never told me who Charlie was.”
Euphoria fled. “My brother,” she said flatly, and, as she drove away, she wondered if Jason had any idea what a huge mistake it had been for him to bring up Charlie when, for once, she hadn't already been thinking about him.
Driving home in the dark, Sari suddenly remembered something she hadn't thought of in years-some graffiti in a girls’ bathroom stall in high school. It had stayed up there for months, maybe even years, and the image had eventually seared itself into her brain, to come back now in an abrupt flash.
First someone had written in dark purple marker, “I want to be raped by Jason Smith.”
Underneath that, someone else had written in orange, “Rape is an act of violence not sex you fucking idiot.”
And underneath that, in pink letters: “Even an act of violence by Jason Smith would be sexy.” The i in “violence” was dotted with a heart.
Even back then, Sari had known that there was no use trying to be politically correct at her school, no use trying to save the other girls from their sick wet dreams and perverted sense of romance. You can't save people who don't want to be saved.
But where did that leave her?
She didn't sleep much that night. The bed was empty and cold without him, and as she tossed and shivered, unable to sleep, tortured by confusion and lust, she wondered if he ever felt the same way, like the bed was too big for him without Sari curled up at his side.
Not Jason, of course.
Charlie.
Kathleen and Kevin spent Saturday night at the San Ysidro ranch in Santa Barbara and didn't want to rush back, so the girls moved their Sunday knitting circle to the evening, which meant that Sari could serve wine and guacamole instead of bagels and coffee.
As she poured herself a second glass of wine, Kathleen pointed out that it was almost Thanksgiving.
“You doing the whole family thing?” Sari asked her.
“I’m splitting it down the middle,” Kathleen said. She settled back in her seat. “Kevin invited me to come home with him-”
“Whoa,” Sari said. “That's a big deal.” She was flipping through a new knitting magazine. She had finished the baby blanket and was ready for her next project but was having trouble deciding what to do. Since Friday night, she hadn't been able to focus on much of anything.
“You don't bring a girl home for Thanksgiving dinner unless you're pretty serious about her,” Lucy said, looking up from her knitting.
Kathleen grimaced. “Put a little pressure on me, why don't you? Anyway, I said yes, but then Mom started leaving me messages telling me that I’m always too busy for them these days, and it's the holiday season, and don't I care about my family, and so on and so on. So I’ve got to at least swing by there at some point. Maybe even with Kevin, if he'll come.”
“Has he met the twins yet?” Sari asked.
“Once. We had dinner at the McMansion a couple of weeks ago.
“What'dhe think of them?”
“He said they seemed nice. And that I’m prettier than they are.
“Has he had his eyesight checked recently?” Lucy asked.
“Shut up.”
“Mom, Kathleen's telling me to shut up again,” Lucy said. “Punish her.”
“Does that make me ‘Mom’?” Sari looked up, her finger stuck in a page. “Because I don't think I’m emotionally ready to parent two grown women.”
“I knew you'd reject us one day,” Kathleen said. She dipped her finger in the wine and ran it along the edge of the wineglass. “So what are you guys doing for Thanksgiving? You going home, Luce?”
Lucy shook her head. “Too far.”
“What do you mean too far?” Kathleen wiped her finger on her shirt and picked up her knitting. “You grew up right around here.”
“Yes, and my parents moved to Arizona three years ago-which I’ve told you a million times.”
“You'll probably have to tell me again. I’ve already forgotten it. It's the way you drone on about things-I’m so bored I can't stay focused.”
“Mom,” Lucy said. “Kathleen's being a jerk.”
“If you two don't stop fighting, I’m sending you both to your rooms,” Sari said. She turned another page of her magazine. “There, are you satisfied?”
“Not really,” Kathleen said. “She started it.”
“I don't care who started it. Let Mommy get shit-faced in peace.” Sari took a sip of wine. “What about James, Luce? What's he doing?”
“Going to his uncle's in Long Beach. He offered to bring me, but it doesn't sound like much fun-too many old relatives.”
Sari said, “Any way I could talk you into coming with me to my parents’ house?”
“I actually don't mind being alone,” Lucy said. “I figured I’d go see a couple of movies, let myself eat as much popcorn as I want for once-”
“Sounds kind of wonderful,” Sari said. “Believe me, I’m not asking you for your sake. I’m asking you for mine. The last time I went home, it was a pretty bad scene. I had to leave after like ten minutes. But my mom's always liked you, and if you're there, she'll be on her best behavior and maybe we won't get into our usual fight.”
Kathleen said, “You're not exactly selling it, Sari.”
“Okay, wait-let me try this again,” Sari said. She plastered on a fake smile. “It'll be lots of fun! And don't forget about the delicious home-cooked meal!”
“Your mom once made me a bologna and mayonnaise sandwich,” Lucy said. “I almost threw up.”
“Yeah, okay, she's a shitty cook,” Sari said. “But please, Lucy, I’m begging you. For real. I don't want to go home alone. Please. Please please please please please.”
“Oh, fine,” Lucy said. “But this is depressing. I finally get out of having to go to my home for Thanksgiving, and I’m stuck going to yours. You owe me big for this one, Sari.”
“Name it,” Sari said. “It's yours. You want my firstborn son?”
“Kids are too messy,” Lucy said. “I’d take a puppy, though.”
“Yeah, because, dogs aren't messy,” Kathleen said. She swiped a chip through the guacamole. “They never shit on the floor.” She stuck the entire chip in her mouth.
Sari tossed the magazine onto the table with a sigh. “Maybe I had too much wine,” she said. “Everything looks ugly and wrong in there. It all seems like too much work for no good reason.”
“Wine usually makes things look better,” Kathleen said. “You sound more depressed than drunk.”
“Yeah,” Lucy said. “You okay, Sari?”
Sari just shrugged. The other two exchanged a look.
“What ever happened with Cute Asshole Guy?” Kathleen asked casually. “Last we heard, you were kissing him.”
“I don't know,” Sari said. Then, in a rush: “Things just keep getting weirder and weirder. I’m actually thinking maybe I should stop working with his kid.”
“Really?”
“I just can't deal with the situation anymore.”
“Well, maybe it's for the best then,” Lucy said.
“It's not for the best,” Sari said with sudden vehemence. “I like Zack a lot. And he's doing great. So it's not for the best, Lucy-it's all fucked up.”
“Then keep working with him,” Lucy said.
“I can't,” Sari said. “It's not a healthy situation. Not with his dad trying to-” She stopped.
“Just tell him to back off so you can keep seeing his kid,” Kathleen said.
“That won't work,” Sari said. “Because of me.” She put her hands up in the air and then let them drop. “I can't seem to just ignore him. It's like… seeing him made my life that much more interesting.” She stared miserably at the rug. “I don't know whether I like him or hate him, but not knowing kept things from being boring-and I like everything about him except that I hate him.”
“You need a real boyfriend,” Lucy said. “Someone decent who keeps your life interesting because he's kind and attentive and not because he used to shove poor old Charlie around.”
“Brilliant,” Sari said. “Know anyone like that?”
“Thousands,” Lucy said. “I’m just holding out on you.”
On Monday morning, Sari walked into Ellen's office and asked to have someone else take over Zachary Smiths program.
Ellen wanted to know why.
“I love the kid,” Sari said. “He's great. But I can't keep seeing him. For personal reasons.”
“You're going to have to give me more than that,” Ellen said.
“No, I don't.”
Ellen waited, but Sari just tightened her mouth and looked at the floor. After a moment, Ellen sighed and-for once-surrendered. “Is there anything I need to know about the family before I assign someone else? Anything you're not telling me?”
“No.”
“Because if there's something wrong-if the guy's a letch, or anything like that-you'd better tell me now. I’m not about to put one of my clinicians into an ugly situation.”
“He's not a letch,” Sari said. “I promise you, it'll be fine for anyone who's not me.”
“You're not getting out of the hours,” Ellen said. “If I put the Smith kid with someone else, you'll have to take on some new kids.”
“I know. That's fine.”
“All right.” Ellen pulled a pad of paper toward her and picked up a pen. “Let me figure this out.”
“Thanks.” Sari moved toward the door.
Ellen looked up again. “Tell me, should I be pissed at you, Sari? Or worried about you?”
“Neither,” Sari said. “I’m a big girl.”
“Not if I’m cleaning up your mess, you're not.”
Sari blushed with sudden shame.
Ellen was already reaching for the phone to cancel that day's appointment for the Smiths when Sari left her office.
Sari checked her e-mail that afternoon. She had three messages from Jason Smith. She looked at the subject lines.
The first was, “About this weekend.”
The second was, “Dinner tonight?”
And the third was, “What the hell is going on?”
She deleted them all immediately.
The first hint something was up came on Monday evening, when Lucy and David were walking out of the lab together and he asked her if she would be in her apartment the following morning.
“What kind of question is that?” she said.
“A yes-or-no one.”
“I may go to the gym,” she said. “Why?”
“Don't go to the gym,” he said. “Stay home.”
“And again, I say, Why?”
“No reason whatsoever.” And he walked off.
That made her curious. David had never come by her apartment before except to drop off work stuff.
She woke up at seven and was in a really bad mood by nine-she still hadn't heard from him and she could have gone to the gym and been back three times by then.
Then, a little after nine, she heard the buzzer. “It's me,” David's voice said, distorted by the intercom system.
“This better be good,” she said and buzzed him in.
She waited by the apartment door, her arms crossed, ready to be furious with him. He came up the stairs, holding something-a big white cardboard box with handles-and flashing an enormous self-satisfied grin. “Lucy,” he said, “meet your new best friend.” He put the box on the hallway floor, knelt down next to it and opened up the top, then reached inside and pulled out an extremely small gray ball of fluff. It had two big eyes and a pointy chin. At the sight of Lucy, it opened its miniature mouth, revealing several tiny uneven white teeth, and gave a squeaky little meow.
“Ow,” David said. “It keeps digging its claws into me.” He held the animal out to her. “So what do you think?”
Lucy squatted down next to him and carefully took the kitten. “Oh,” she said. It was incredibly light, like it was made out of fur and not much more. It fit on the palm of her hand, and she could feel its heart beating against her palm. “Let's go in,” she said and stood up slowly, cradling the kitten safe and tight against her body, then led the way back into the apartment.
David carried the box in and shut the door behind them.
“Where did you get it?” Lucy asked. She rubbed the top of the kitten's head. There was hard bone right under the fluff.
“He's cute, isn't he? I got him at the pound. You wouldn't believe what you have to go through to get a kitten there. They found him a couple of weeks ago, but wouldn't release him until this morning and by the time they opened, there was already a crowd of people all wanting him. Someone had actually been waiting there since five. So they held a live auction, with people bidding and screaming at each other and everything. It was pretty intense.”
“But you won?”
“Yeah,” David said. “I was determined.”
She lifted the kitten up high and peered at it from underneath. “It's a boy.”
“I could have told you that if you'd just asked. Or do you get off on looking at little animal penises?”
“I take what I can get,” she said with a laugh. She snuggled the kitten in both hands and put him against her cheek. “He's so soft.”
“Isn't he?” He was watching her, leaning back against the door, looking very pleased with himself.
“Are you just showing him to me?” she said. “Or actually giving him to me? Because-” Because she wanted him more than she'd ever wanted anything before. Why hadn't she ever thought of getting a cat before? She had thought about a dog, but never a cat. A cat made sense.
“He's all yours,” David said. “Although I’d like to retain some visiting rights.”
“Why?” Lucy looked at him, the kitten still caught against her cheek. He had started purring-it was like a tiny motor in her left ear.
“I got attached to him on the ride over.”
“No, I mean, why did you get him for me?”
“I don't know,” he said. Then: “I guess, ever since that night at the bar… you seemed so sad about having to kill animals for work and not having any as pets. I wanted to get you something. A dog seemed way too time-consuming and a fish just isn't all that much fun. Plus, I figured you could really relate to a cat, what with you both being rat-killers and all.”
“And cute,” Lucy said. “Cute little rat-killers, both of us.”
“Exactly. But if you don't want him, I could-”
“I want him,” she said. “He's perfect.”
“That's what I thought when I saw him. I thought about telling you, but I wanted it to be a surprise, and I didn't know for sure if I’d end up getting him or not.”
“Was it very expensive? I mean, if it was an auction-”
“It was a pound, Lucy,” he said. “People get animals at pounds because they can't afford pet stores. Don't worry about it.”
“That's not why people go to pounds,” she said. “It's for moral reasons.”
“Whatever. I could afford it.”
“I’d like to pay you back,” she said. “Tell me how much.”
For the first time since he'd arrived that morning, his grin faded. “Jesus, Lucy, just say thank you, will you? It's a gift.”
“Thank you,” she said. “Oh, David, thank you.”
There was a short awkward pause. She thought she should probably hug him or something, but she was holding the kitten in her hands and couldn't really. She looked around and said, “I’ll have to figure out where he can sleep and eat and everything. And kitten-proof the apartment.”
“Yeah, you might want to cover any live wires,” David said. “And no more inviting coyotes over for a cup of tea. Do you know if you're allowed to have pets in this building?”
“No,” she said. “It was never an issue, so I never bothered to ask.”
“If it's a problem-”
“I’ll move,” Lucy said.
“I was going to say I could take him in, but that works, too.” He leaned forward and touched the kitten's nose. “I knew you'd like him. Oh, and I have some stuff in the car. I’ll go get it. Some food and medicine for his eyes. They're a little gunky.”
She raised the kitten to eye level and peered at him. “Oh, yeah. I hadn't even noticed.”
“They said most of the kittens come in that way, but it clears right up with the drops. I also stopped at the drugstore for some other things-the pet store wasn't open yet. Let me go get it all.” He left the apartment and Lucy could hear him clatter down the stairs.
She sat down with the kitten on her lap. “Hello,” she said and rubbed the top of its bony-fluffy little head with her index finger knuckle. “I’m your new roommate.” The kitten pushed its forehead hard against her hand, then started to climb up her stomach, its long thin claws slipping through the knit of her sweater so she could feel their points prick against her skin. It was a delicious feeling.
She had thought the kitten was all gray, but now, as she studied it more closely, she saw that it had two little black lines between its eyes and two tiny black dots on the top of its nose.
She was still sitting there just looking at the cat when David reappeared at her open front door.
“Hey,” he said, dropping a couple of bags on the floor. “I got some kitten chow, too. By the way, they said to never give him milk or cream, because it could upset his stomach. Who knew?”
“I did,” Lucy said. “Because I had cats when I was a kid. But they weren't ever kittens.”
“Actually,” he said, “I’m fairly certain they must have been at some point. See, the mommy cat and the daddy cat love each other a lot, and he puts a seed in her-”
“You know what I mean. I only ever knew them as adults. I’ve never owned a kitten before.”
David sat down next to her. “Nothing cuter than a kitten.” He extended his index finger, and the kitten sniffed at it, then put his own paw on top. “He's shaking hands,” David said. “The world's most brilliant cat.”
The kitten put his mouth on the end of David's finger and tried to suck at it.
“He thinks you're a nipple,” Lucy said.
“I’m rethinking that whole brilliant thing.” They both watched the kitten mouth David's finger. “What are you going to name him?”
“I hadn't even thought about it yet. You sprang this on me pretty suddenly.”
“How about calling him David?”
“You want me to name my cat after you?” She raised her eyebrows. “That's asking a lot, don't you think?”
“Maybe,” he said. “But think of how much fun we could have with this. You could say things like, ‘David slept all curled up against me last night,’ in front of other people and make them wonder what's going on between us.”
“You'd take way too much pleasure in that.”
“Come on,” he said. “Throw me a bone. It's the only way I’m ever going to get into your bed. Besides, David is a great name. He defeated Goliath, you know.”
“Fine,” Lucy said and raised the kitten into the air. “I dub you David the cat. And if you're anything like the guy you're named after, you'll be an enormous pain in the butt.”
“You like him, don't you?” David poked her with his elbow.
“How many times do I have to tell you?” She put the cat on the sofa next to her so she could give David a hug. “Thank you,” she said. “This may be the best present anyone's ever given me.”
“You're very welcome.” They released each other and he sat back. “Did I mention that I got up at six-thirty in the morning just for you?”
“You want a cup of coffee?”
“I thought you'd never ask.”
Lucy went into the kitchen and busied herself pouring the water and measuring the coffee. The whole time, her heart sang with joy. She was in love with a pound of gray fur. And his name was David.
Sari walked into Lucy's apartment the next Sunday, greeted her, dropped a bag of bagels on the table, pulled a brand-new skein of yarn, a needle, and her knitting magazine out of her workbag, sat down at the table-and sneezed. And sneezed again. And three more times.
“Man,” she said, blowing her nose in a paper napkin. “Something's really bothering my allergies. Did James give you flowers or something?”
“Are you kidding?” Lucy pulled out some bagels and arranged them on a pretty dark blue plate. “He hates the whole custom of giving flowers-he thinks it's a waste of money and bad for the environment and celebrates death and blah, blah, blah-he'll go on and on about it if the subject comes up.”
“Really? So how does he feel about diamonds?”
“Now that's never come up,” Lucy said.
Sari sneezed again. “Something's bothering me.”
Lucy looked up with a sigh. “You're allergic to cats, aren't you?
“Yeah, of course. You know that. But-” Sari got to her feet and looked around. “Oh, no. Don't tell me-”
Lucy just pointed to the corner of the room, where David was curled up in a brand-new pet bed.
“Oh, shit, Luce,” Sari said. “Why'd you do this to me?”
“I totally forgot you had allergies. I’m sorry.”
Sneezing again, Sari reached for her purse. “Please let me have a Claritin in here.” She rummaged around inside. “We won't be able to do knitting circle here anymore-not unless you want to put me in the hospital.”
“You have to admit he's cute, though,” Lucy said.
“I guess. I’ve never been much of a cat person. Given the fact that they make me totally miserable.”
“Oh, but come on.” Lucy went over and scooped up David. “Look at him.”
“Not too close,” said Sari. “Oh, good, I have one.” She went into the kitchen and took the Claritin with a glass of water.
“Don't you worry,” Lucy said to David, kissing him on the side of his furry little mouth. “She just has allergies. Otherwise, she'd think you were absolutely adorable.”
Sari came back in. “Let's hope that works quickly,” she said and immediately sneezed. She reached for another napkin. “Won't be fast enough for me. So when did you decide to get a cat?”
Lucy lightly touched her index finger to the tip of the kitten's right ear and made it twitch. “You remember my lab partner, David?”
“Why do you always say it like that?” Sari said. She sat back down at the table, pulling the magazine toward her. “Why do you always feel you have to explain who David is? I had lunch with him at the autism walk just a few weeks ago.” She flipped through the magazine.
“Yeah, I know. Anyway, he got the cat for me.”
Sari instantly looked up again. “What do you mean?”
“I mean he went to the pound and picked out the kitten-actually, it was a lot more complicated than that-I guess there was this whole auction thing-but the short story is that he got the kitten and gave him to me as a gift.”
“Why'd he do that? Did you tell him you wanted one?”
“Not really,” Lucy said. “But one night we were talking about all the rats we'd sac'd-killed-and I was kind of depressed about it and said how I had wanted to be a veterinarian when I was younger-”
“Oh, yeah, I remember. You used to make poor old Daisy lie down and let you examine her. Then you'd make pills out of rolled-up pieces of cheese and shove them down her throat.”
“-and I guess he took that to mean that I’d like a pet. And dogs are too much work and you can't cuddle a fish, so…”
“That's an awfully romantic gesture,” Sari said. “Giving someone a pet.”
“Romantic?” Lucy repeated. “No, it's not. It's nice, but it's not romantic. Parents give kids pets all the time. Why would you even say that?”
“Lucy, he surprised you with a baby kitten-”
“Kittens are always babies. That's like saying a baby baby.”
“Come on. Didn't you always use to say he had a crush on you?”
“Yeah, a million years ago. Before he started telling me I had a stick up my ass on a regular basis. Anyway, that's not what this was about. He just knew that I’m sick of killing rats, that's all.”
“So he got you a pet that kills rats.”
“It made sense to me.”
“What'd you name it?” Sari asked
“I’m not sure yet.” Lucy wasn't about to tell Sari the kitten's name was David, after everything Sari had just said. She knew Sari would try to read something into it.
“Well, congratulations,” Sari said. “What does James think of it?”
“I haven't told him yet,” Lucy said. She put David back into his little bed on the floor. “He hates pets even more than cut flowers.”
There was a quick rap on the door, and Kathleen walked in, hand in hand with Kevin Porter. “Hey!” she said. “Kevin wanted to come up and say hi to you guys. He's dropping me off.”
“Hi, Kevin,” Sari said with a wave. “Want a bagel?”
“No, thanks,” he said. “We just went out to breakfast. I’m stuffed.” He stayed by the door and surveyed the room. “So this is the famous Sunday morning knitting circle, huh? Kathleen's always rushing out on me to get here on time.”
“That's funny,” Lucy said. “She's never actually on time.”
“It moves around from place to place,” Sari said. “But we've been doing it for a while-a couple of years now.”
“I think that's great,” he said. “Wish I knew how to knit. It looks like fun.”
“You could learn,” Lucy said.
Kevin laughed. “I don't think so.”
“Why not?” Kathleen didn't seem to be as full as he was; she had gone right to the bagels and was tearing into one with her teeth. “Why wouldn't you learn?”
“You know,” he said. “It would be weird. A guy knitting.”
“Lots of guys knit,” Lucy said.
“Straight guys?”
“Sure.”
“Not that there's anything wrong with not being straight,” he said. He put his hand on the doorknob. “Well, maybe one day you guys can teach me. But right now I’ve got a date to play golf with my father. Kathleen, are you okay for a ride home?”
Kathleen looked at Sari.
“You're covered,” Sari said and sneezed.
“All right, then,” Kevin said. “Bye.” He slipped out, closing the door behind him.
“He couldn't leave fast enough, could he?” Lucy said.
“It's the knitting,” Kathleen said. “Guys like Kevin get freaked when things get too girly. Like it might be contagious.”
“’Guys like Kevin’?” Sari repeated. “What kind of a guy is he exactly?”
“Just your average American male.”
“You're madly in love with him, aren't you?” Lucy said. “Who wants coffee?”
“Do you need to ask?” Kathleen said. “And what the hell is that furry thing moving around over there? You bring one of your rats home?”
While Lucy was introducing her to David, the phone rang, and when Lucy answered it, it was James saying he'd left a book he needed at her place and could he come by now and grab it?
Lucy hung up and said, “It's bring-your-boyfriend-to-work day here at the knitting circle. James is stopping by.”
“Oh, good,” Sari said. “Maybe we can scare him off the way we scared Kevin off. And then we can scare off my boyfriend- oh, wait, I don't have one.” She rubbed her eyes savagely. “God, they're so itchy I could scream.”
Kathleen pointed to her magazine. “Did you find something to knit?”
“Yeah. This.” She showed her the picture. It was a red, yellow, and black striped sweater.
“I like that it's cropped,” Kathleen said. “Very chic.”
“It won't look cropped on me,” Sari said. “Not unless I make it like five inches long.”
“You're lucky you're so small-you can knit a sweater for yourself in a couple of minutes. Takes me forever.”
“What are you working on now?”
Kathleen had finished the tube top at their last get-together. She grinned at Sari, and pulled out her own knitting magazine. “This.” She opened it to the marked page and pointed.
Lucy came over to look with Sari and groaned when she saw it was a bikini. A very skimpy hand-knit bikini.
Sari said, “Well, the good news is it can't take much yarn.”
“Knitting a bathing suit in November,” Lucy said. “Someone thinks she's going somewhere tropical this holiday season.”
“Nothing's definite,” Kathleen said, “but Kevin's parents own a house in Hawaii.”
“Of course they do,” Lucy said.
“You'll look great in this, Kath,” Sari said. “I could never pull it off, but you totally can.” She handed her back the magazine. “What color are you going to do it in?”
Kathleen pulled a skein out of her bag and showed them.
Lucy groaned again at the sight of the hot pink yarn. “Don't you ever get tired of being obvious?”
“Hasn't hurt me so far,” Kathleen said.
There was a knock on the door and then James came in. “You didn't tell me you had visitors! Hi, Sari. Hi, Kathleen.” He gave each of them a quick kiss on the cheek, finishing with Lucy. “Hi, babe. Did you know the door is propped open downstairs?”
“Yeah. I did that,” Lucy said.
“Oh. Guess I should have left it then.”
“Doesn't matter. We're all here now.”
Kathleen said, “You're a guy, James. What would you think of this”-she showed him the photo of the bikini-”in hot pink?”
He tilted his head and studied the picture. “Depends on who's wearing it.”
“Me.”
“Then I’m all for it.”
“See?” Kathleen said to Lucy. “He likes it in hot pink.”
“Right,” Lucy said. “A guy likes the idea of a gorgeous girl wearing a skimpy bathing suit-I’m sure it's all about the color.”
“No, it's-” James stopped. “Hold on.” His head turned. “What's that?”
“What?” Lucy looked in the same direction. David was sitting on the floor a few feet away, one leg in the air, his neck curved gracefully downward as he carefully licked his balls-or where his balls would have been if he hadn't been neutered. “Oh, that.”
As they all turned to look at him, David froze in that position. His eyes darted back and forth among all the humans. He slowly lowered his leg.
James said, “Kathleen? Sari? Will one of you please tell me that cat is yours?”
“Sorry,” Kathleen said with a cheerful shrug, and Sari said, “I can't even stand being in the same room with it. Allergies.”
“That would make it-” He looked at Lucy. “Yours.”
“Yeah,” she said. “I got a cat. Surprise!”
“You've got to be kidding me.”
“Why? You know I like animals.”
“And you know I think it's idiotic to spend money and time on something that doesn't contribute anything useful to the world.”
“He's soft,” Lucy said.
“Softer than you, James,” Kathleen said. “I mean, I’m just guessing…”
He didn't even smile. “I’m serious, Lucy. Pets have to be the biggest waste- Do you know that there are children starving in this country? In this city? And you're going to spend money on food for this thing?”
“I’m not taking food out of their mouths,” Lucy said. “I mean, I’m not not giving money to charity because I have a cat. It doesn't work that way.”
“Yeah, Lucy wouldn't care about starving kids even if she didn't have a cat,” Kathleen said.
“Stop helping her,” Sari said. “Stop talking.” She patted the chair next to hers firmly and Kathleen carried her knitting stuff and magazine over, sat down, and joined her in casting on stitches. But they were both listening to every word.
“I just can't believe you would go and get a cat when you know I hate the whole idea of pets,” James said. “Unless that's the point.”
“I realize this may come as a total shock,” Lucy said. “But not everything's about you.”
“You want something cute and cuddly? How about I buy you a stuffed animal? And I give this guy to a friend of mine who uses kittens for his research?”
“You're joking, right?” Lucy said.
“I’m deadly serious.”
“You're sick.”
“Oh, please,” he said. “I thought you were smarter than that.”
“I guess I’m not,” she said. “I guess I’m an idiot like all those other idiots in the world who don't think exactly like James Shields.”
“The world would be a much better place if people thought like me,” he said. “And you know it.”
“Can't you for once put yourself in someone else's shoes? Can't you see that someone might like to have a pet and still not be an idiot?”
“Nope,” he said. His mouth was a flat line. There was a pause.
Lucy shifted abruptly and said, “The book you wanted- where'd you leave it?”
“In the bedroom, I think.”
“Let me check.”
While she was gone, Sari said, “There are bagels, James, if you're hungry.”
“No, thank you,” he said.
Lucy came back into the room. “This it?”
He nodded and she handed it to him. Their fingers didn't touch. “Thanks. Goodbye, everyone. Lucy, I’ll call you later.” He turned and left, closing the door hard behind him-not quite a slam, but almost.
There was a moment of silence. Then: “No one wants to stay with us today,” Kathleen said. “I think it's all your fault, Sari. Offering a man a bagel. What's wrong with you?”
“I’m just a social klutz, I guess.” Sari glanced up at Lucy. “You okay, sweetie?”
“Yeah.” She sank down into a chair. “Slightly pissed, but okay. He's not right, is he? About the cat?”
“Definitely not,” Kathleen said. “It's your apartment and your life. Who the hell gave him the right to say you shouldn't have a pet?”
“I don't like cats,”
Sari said, “but I’ll defend to my death your right to have one.”Lucy stared at the knitting needle that was picking up stitches from the yarn wrapped around Sari's thumb and forefinger, like she was mesmerized by it. Then she said, “I don't know what's going on with me and James. Sometimes he just-” She stopped.
After a moment, Kathleen said, “I still think he's one good-looking dude.”
“And smart and obviously good at what he does,” Sari said.
“Yeah,” Lucy said. “But he can be kind of a dick.”
And by the way her friends didn't say anything, just suddenly got very involved in their knitting, she knew they didn't disagree.
Sari checked her e-mail when she got home from the knitting circle. And there it was-her daily e-mail from Zacksdad@smithysmith.com.
The subject line was, “Worried about Zack.” She went to delete it the way she normally did, but accidentally hit “read” instead.
She was fairly certain it was an accident.
She read the first line.
“I’m beginning to realize you don't actually give a shit about Zack,” it began.
She closed it down immediately and this time had no trouble finding the delete button. She sat at her desk, her head in her hands, for a long time.
By the time James stopped by the lab on Wednesday afternoon to check in on that week's progress, he and Lucy hadn't spoken for three days-not since Sunday morning. They were cordial, though, and kissed each other quickly on the lips in front of David, who politely busied himself changing the rats’ water.
“You look tired, Lucy,” James said, and she said, “I am tired. David wouldn't stop jumping on me in bed last night.” The human David looked up with a laugh.
“So,” James said when the joke was explained to him, “you're to blame for this kitten.”
David went over to the sink. “I guess so.” He turned on the water.
“You disappoint me, Lee,” James said. “I thought better of you.
“Yeah, well, I disappoint a lot of people,” David said cheerfully. “You're in good company.” He washed his hands, dried them, and tossed the towel in the trash. “Shall we knock off now, Lucy? I know it's early, but I have to pack. I’m driving to my folks’ later tonight.” He headed to his desk.
“Sure,” Lucy said. “Happy Thanksgiving, David.”
David slipped his laptop into its case. “Happy Thanksgiving, Luce. Later, James.”
James raised his hand silently and David left. There was a long pause. Then Lucy said, “Oh, I edited that grant proposal.”
“Great.”
“It's in good shape. I’ll e-mail it to you tonight.”
“Fine.” There was a pause. Lucy sat down at her desk and shut down her computer.
Then James said, “You want to have dinner?”
She closed the laptop lid. “I’m meeting Sari.”
“Oh,” he said.
“You're welcome to join us.”
“No, thanks.” He stuck his hands in his pockets, rattled his change. “You want to come over to my place afterward? Maybe spend the night?”
“I should go home,” she said. “David will have been alone all day.”
“That would be David the cat.”
“Obviously.”
“You know,” he said with a half smile, “women who choose cats over men end up crazy old ladies who live alone with a hundred cats in a smelly old house.”
“I’ll risk it,” Lucy said. “You could come over to my place though. We could rent a movie.”
“I’d hate to come between you and the kitten.”
“Then don't come,” Lucy said. “I don't care.”
“Lovely,” he said. “Thanks for that.” He moved toward the door. “Does this mean we're done?”
“Done with this conversation?” she asked, standing up, holding on to the edge of her desk. “Or done for good?”
“Why don't you tell me which you'd prefer?”
She looked down at her curled-up fingers and said again, “I don't care.”
“There's an answer, right there.” He shook his head. “All because of that stupid cat…”
“No,” she said. “Not really.”
He shrugged and his mouth twisted suddenly. She was touched to see that he was hurt. She let go of the desk and moved toward him but then he shifted abruptly and said, “You're pathetic, you know that? It's easy to love a kitten-all you have to do is stroke it and it'll purr. Forget about being challenged. Forget about being a good person. Just go pet something soft and let the rest of the world go to hell.”
She drew back instantly. “Just because you don't get it-”
“Oh, I get it,” he said. “We live in a world where mediocrity and stupidity are the norm. You're just joining the crowd.”
“God, you're full of yourself,” she said. “And wrong, too.”
“I’m not wrong, and that's what you can't stand.” He reached for the doorknob.
Lucy said suddenly, “I found out who was vandalizing your car, you know. And sending you all those e-mails and everything.”
He wheeled around. “Are you serious? Who?”
“I’ve known for weeks,” she said, “but I wasn't going to tell you.”
“Why the fuck not?”
“Because,” Lucy said, “I couldn't trust you to do the right thing.”
He took a step toward her. “You wouldn't know what the right thing was if it jumped up and bit you in the ass.”
“Maybe not,” she said. “I make a lot of mistakes. But at least I can admit it.”
“Congratulations,” he said. “You're a successful loser. How proud you must be.”
“Sure,” she said. “Whatever you say, James.”
He took a deep breath. “You know what? We're not going to do this. We still have to work together. And I respect you as a scientist. I always have and I always will.”
“Me too you,” she said.
“All right, then. Let's keep things on that level from now on.” A pause. “Will you tell me who it was?”
“No.”
He turned back to the door. “Goodbye, Lucy. Have a nice Thanksgiving.”
“Thank you. You, too.”
He left. Lucy leaned against her desk, feeling shaky and angry and like she wanted to cry. But she fought it and finished getting ready to go out. She was meeting Sari in half an hour at their favorite Thai restaurant. Sari would make her feel better. She always did.
They had to wait for a table, and by the time they were seated, she had already told Sari the whole story.
“I’m so sorry, honey,” Sari said. “Breaking up is always rough.”
“But it was the right thing to do, right?”
“If it felt right to you-”
“Come on, Sari, don't give me that shit. Tell me the truth. You never really liked him, did you?”
“He was a little hard to take sometimes,” Sari said. “But he had a lot going for him. I could totally see the appeal.”
“On paper, he was perfect,” Lucy said. “He was everything I wanted.”
“Are you heartbroken?”
Lucy thought for a moment. “No.”
“Really not?”
“I only have eyes for David.”
Sari's eyebrows soared. “For David?”
“The kitten, not the guy,” Lucy said.
“The kitten? You named your kitten David?”
“Yeah. It was David's idea.” She had forgotten she wasn't going to tell Sari.
“That's cute,” Sari said. Her eyebrows still hadn't come back down. “Really. You named the cat after the guy who gave it to you. That's really adorable.”
“Shut up,” Lucy said.
“I’m sure it's not meaningful at all.”
“Shut up. It's not. He made me do it.”
“After giving you the gift of this pet you're crazy about and sleep with every night and broke up with your boyfriend over.”
“Shut up,” Lucy said.
The waitress came over and they ordered-pad thai for Sari, a shrimp salad for Lucy, with the dressing on the side.
“Anyone else on the horizon?” Sari asked after the waitress had left. “Like, for example, someone named David who's not a cat?”
“It's not like that with him,” Lucy said. “For one thing, he has a girlfriend. And, even if he didn't, I’m not attracted to him.”
“I think he's kind of cute.”
“He's a nerd,” Lucy said. “I dated enough nerds in college to last me a lifetime. I want to look across the pillow in the morning and be turned on.”
“I want to look across the pillow in the morning and not be alone,” Sari said. Then, “Oh, man, Luce, I’m sorry. I hate when people do that-make everything about themselves.”
“Nah, it was your turn anyway,” Lucy said. “You were looking a little sad when you got here. Everything okay?”
“I just got this e-mail from Jason Smith. He's pissed off that I stopped seeing Zack. And I feel guilty enough about it-” She made a face.
“You're too softhearted,” Lucy said. “That's your problem. You don't owe him anything, Sari.”
“I know. It's just-” She stopped. “Nothing. It's just nothing.”
The waitress came up then with their food. Both girls stared at their plates without eating for a moment. Sari slowly brought her water glass to her lips.
“Oh, shit,” Lucy said suddenly and savagely. “Oh, fuck, Sari!”
“What?” Sari said, so startled she almost dropped her glass. “What's wrong?”
“I just remembered-”
“What?”
“That fucking sweater,” she said. “I’ve been working on that fucking sweater forever and now I don't have a boyfriend to give it to anymore. Kathleen was right. I can't believe it, but she was right. Knitting a sweater for a guy curses the relationship.”
Sari laughed. “You scared me. I thought it was something a lot worse than that.”
“Do you know how many hours I’ve spent on that sweater?”
“Well, find a new boyfriend who's the same size,” Sari said. “Or… would it fit your father?”
“My father weighs three hundred pounds,” Lucy said. She poked at a piece of cucumber. “Hey, Sari?”
“What?”
“I think I really want to rip it all apart. Tear it to shreds.” She made fists out of her hands. “And then stomp on the last little bits of it. Come back with me and watch?”
“Throw in a glass of wine and I’m there.”
“I am never knitting anything for anyone ever again,” Lucy said. She cut a shrimp in half with one quick slash of her knife. “But don't tell Kathleen I said she was right.”