“Cheaters always have a reason.”
“Okay, I’ll bite.” Casey wriggled her toes. “Then why did Jay—”
“Because you wouldn’t introduce him to your parents. He was angry with you because you were ashamed of him.”
“An answer for everything. And quick, too.” Casey smiled, appearing unfazed. In fact, she was taken aback by this insight. “How do you know so much about this?”
“Because Isaac cheats on me.”
“That can’t be. He adores you.”
“I know he does. And he’s not leaving me. He can’t live without me.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re not suffering silently from low self-esteem.”
“I can’t prevent it. He is just a cheater. I sensed it when I married him. He thinks I don’t know, but I know. I can’t meet all of his emotional needs, and he can’t fix himself of whatever childhood injuries doled—”
Casey was starting to tune out. It was always this babble with Sabine when it came to sex or love. For Sabine, everything could be boiled down to psychological motivations, as if cake were just flour, milk, sugar, and eggs. Casey found it unattractive and ultimately unpersuasive. Maybe Sabine was not entirely wrong, but it seemed to take the heat out of the recipe—the romance. Unu would’ve found Sabine ridiculous. They’d never met, however.
Sabine closed her art book and leaned her head back against the chair.
Casey hadn’t known about Isaac’s infidelity. That must have hurt.
“Why do you stay with him?” she asked.
“Because we’re very good together. I respect him enormously as a businessman. He’s also very kind. That’s not as common as you’d think. Also, he leaves me alone. So I can do my thing.”
“How about love?”
“Love is respect, Casey. You don’t respect Unu.”
“Yes, I do,” she said. “He’s very smart. Unu is an original thinker. I admire that more than most—”
“How could you respect a man who—”
“You don’t respect Unu. But I do. He’s going through something hard. You’re allowed to make mistakes. I don’t care if he doesn’t make lots of money. That’s not my thing.”
“Yes, it is. How else do you explain Kearn Davis, then?”
“I’m trying to get rid of my debts, Sabine. I have to pay for school—”
“And you have to do it all by yourself?”
“Well, obviously not, since you’re housing me right now, and I owe you—”
“Oh, stop it. Who cares about this? Your pride is simply ridiculous.”
“Thank you.” Casey wanted to smoke. There was a fresh pack in her purse. Isaac didn’t like the smell of cigarette smoke in the house, but she could have one on the terrace by the living room.
“I love you, Casey,” Sabine said, wanting Casey to look at her.
“I love you, too, Sabine,” Casey said, her voice disgruntled and resigned.
“And I respect you,” Sabine said.
“Ditto.”
“But you are ignoring the obvious in your life,” Sabine said.
“Clue, please.”
“Stop ignoring your feelings.”
“Okay, I’ll think about that.”
“You are angry with me right now,” Sabine said. It had taken her a decade of therapy to figure out this invaluable lesson: Your truest feelings led you to greater and greater success in life. She had accomplished nearly impossible goals by recognizing her finest and ugliest feelings and everything in between. “You’re furious.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.”
“No, I’m not.” Casey made her face go blank. “I’m grateful that you are such a good friend.”
“You can be grateful and angry. Such feelings can coexist.”
Casey sighed. “I’m so tired, Sabine. I should go to bed.”
“Okay.” Sabine got up from the chaise. “Unu is a lousy choice. A man is supposed to help you.”
“Thank you. I’ll try to remember that.”
Sabine came by her side and put her hand over Casey’s brow. “My dear Casey. You don’t know who you are. Try to—”
“Sabine. . .” Casey was seething. “I am doing the best I can.”
“No one ever doubts that of you. You should perhaps do less.” Sabine smiled. “I shall let you go to bed now.”