She called Clemmie at her grandparents’ to say good night, and then she was free.
She’d been to the Rose Bar with her father a few times, one of those old-fashioned places at the heart of New York that Moses thought existed for men like him. Dark wood, plush banquettes, people murmuring worldly secrets. Miles was more a White Horse Tavern guy. What was he trying to prove?
She arrived first and had the liberty to acclimate alone. But not for long. Shortly a pair of hands covered her eyes from behind. “Boo!” Ha ha. Did he think that was cute? Was he trying to be cute?
She spun around and held out her hand for a shake. “Hello, Miles.”
“So formal? You know me.”
“Do I?” Half-flirting, half-warning.
He had on a pink shirt. He knew she loved pink shirts, on men, women, dogs—any living thing. But especially on him. As their relationship deteriorated, he would not wear the pink shirt for her. When she asked, he’d say it was at the dry cleaner’s, or that he threw it out. Now it was back. Hmm.
He asked for a booth and got one. Maud ordered a Manhattan and he gave her a look that said—That’s interesting. She returned with a look that said—I’m full of surprises, your loss. He ordered a Manhattan, too, and he raised his glass to—old friends.
She clinked and looked him in the eye so as not to garner bad luck, but she said, “You were never my friend.”
“No. I guess I wasn’t. I was too attracted to you to feel friendly.” He shrugged and wiggled his eyebrows, pleased with his inverted compliment.
“There’s no conflict that I know of between attraction and friendship. I was friendly to you. For example, I never told your wife about us, not even when I was pregnant.”
She’d never talked like this to him. She’d always gone along with his requirements for controlling the narrative. His eyes widened.
“Oh good, good. No, she wouldn’t like that I got you pregnant.” He blushed. Giggled!
“No, I suppose not. I have two things to say to that. A, good for her, I should hope not. And B, you did not ‘get’ me pregnant. The rubber broke, or so you said, which was unfortunate, and even more so was the fact that your sperm fertilized one of my eggs. That was not a ‘get’ for you. It was an accident.”
“You’re in a mood,” he said. He was surprised and hurt. Did he think time healed all wounds? Or that she’d been waiting patiently and quietly like a girl in a song for just this moment?
“Why would that be, Miles? It couldn’t be because when I told you I was pregnant you immediately said you wanted nothing to do with it, nor could it be because you dumped me for a newer model. How could I be mad at you?”
“Is that why you came tonight, looking as you do? I mean, a red dress? You made an effort.”
Maud nodded. He wasn’t stupid. She had to remember that part. “Honestly? I don’t know why I came, but I’m sure the decision didn’t come from one of my better sides.”
“I know why. You miss me and you want to know if I miss you. I do. In fact, I made a mistake.”
“No shit, Sherlock.”
He wagged his finger at her. “Ha! Maud Silver said shit. I thought you had a policy against swearing, especially the word shit.”
Maud did have that policy, and she found it distasteful to hear the word spoken, but she looked at him steadily. “I’ve changed.”
“Have you? How?”
“Well, most importantly, I’m a mother now. I have a three-year-old daughter named Clemence. Actually, I’m a single mother, which is mothering at a whole different level. Would you like to hear about my child? We have been sitting here for twenty minutes and you haven’t mentioned her. Not once.” She pressed her cold drink to her wrist. Cutlery clinked and ice rattled in glasses. A woman laughed. A waiter bent at the waist.
“I’m not sure I want to know,” he said, “unless we are going to be in each other’s lives again. Is there any chance of that? I’d like it, but you seem incredibly hostile. You were nicer in Souen yesterday. I don’t understand what’s going on now. You’re sending mixed messages looking so pretty but being so mean.” He drummed his fingers on the table, but when he saw her notice, he pulled them into his lap.
Maud slipped her feet out of her flats and rubbed them together, her old habit that Heidi said was like a cricket. She had an embarrassingly Pavlovian response to being told she was pretty and squelched it. She knew better.
“Miles, I have no business being here, so I’m going to leave.”
He wrapped his hand around her wrist. He tipped his head and he looked at her in the way he had of making the rest of the world vanish, the look that won him teaching awards and jobs and women. “Let’s get a room upstairs.”
“What?”
“Isn’t that why you came?”
Dammit, it was. How could she not have been aware of it, and allowed herself to think she was curious or any of the several other excuses she’d made? It was obvious—why else? It was what they’d had. She hadn’t forgotten what it was like to be with him, how the slightest touch had made her shudder. In the beginning she’d been so constantly ablaze she could barely think or breathe. They’d never done anything acrobatic or pornographic—they hadn’t needed any embellishments. It had always and only been about an elemental desire, and the consummation was usually quick. Then they lay in bed and talked until the desire overcame them again. He said it was like being young. She was young.
Not anymore. She was old, careworn, responsible. She pictured how she’d feel tomorrow if she went upstairs now. She had to get on a plane to Maine. Agnes Lee would be waiting for her. All that, with a soreness between her legs and all because… because she missed her mother.
“Miles, this was a mistake. I’m going to go now, and we won’t speak again. If we run into each other, let’s not say hello. And don’t worry about Clemence. To be honest, I’m not even sure you are the biological father.” This was a lie, a complete lie, but she would have to expiate this violation of her moral code in some other part of her life.
He gaped at her and she saw his rage begin to swirl. A visceral panic gripped her in response. She jumped up.
“I’ve already paid for this drink many times over,” she said. “You can pick up the tab.”
She rushed away so she wouldn’t hear his words. The sun had not yet set, but the evening cool was lowering onto the flowers in Gramercy Park, and the windowpanes that had glared at passersby only a few hours earlier were now a burnished dignified topaz. Glorious evening! It gave her strength. For all Maud had hated Miles and worked on herself to believe she’d deserved more, she wasn’t sure she’d really known that until now. Deserved wasn’t quite the right word, however. She was equal to more than what Miles offered. Capable of a real love. She’d wait for that, if it ever came. In the meantime, she’d go see a woman about a book.
* * *
On the way to Fellowship Point from the airport, the M girls—”See like all our names begin with M and we’re sisters, our grandparents call us the M girls, it’s okay if you do, too”—gave Maud a scenic tour, taught her the best way to eat a lobster—“You won’t get a drop of meat at Agnes’s”—and prepared her for what to expect. Agnes sounded fearsome indeed, but at the end of every story came a declaration that she was actually really nice. Which was it? The suffer-no-fools warrior who terrorized every flabby-minded, trumped-up, entitled dumbass east of the Pecos? Or an intelligent, humorous great-aunt type who quietly helped dozens? “It depends if she likes you,” the girls said.