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Although I was dubious in my belief of an afterlife, I sometimes prayed to Davena for relief. In my head, I confessed everything; that I was a sinner, an adulterer and a liar. That I only felt remorse for deceiving Bill, not for the crime itself. Sometimes I believed maybe she heard me. Sometimes I imagined she would make everything right.
“Did you look at the article yet?” Lisa, my least favorite coworker, glared at me from the doorway with crossed arms.
Her words rattled in my head a moment as I shifted back into reality. “Which one?”
She exhaled her annoyance. “The guide to Logan Square.”
“It’s on your desk already.”
“Oh.” She pivoted and stalked away, revealing Serena behind her.
“She’s always super grouchy on Friday morning,” Serena said with a warm smile. “And Monday. And Tuesday. Wednesday, too . . . . You get the idea.”
“Where did your hair go?” I asked.
“I’m taking a cue from Hollywood and embracing the pixie cut. What do you think?”
“Cute,” I remarked, turning back to my computer.
“So, boss lady, are you excited for this weekend?”
I blinked my attention back to her. Serena had taken to calling me ‘boss’ since her promotion from intern to assistant editor.
“The wedding?” she asked uncertainly.
“Yes. Lucy has been planning her wedding for as long as I’ve known her, so it should be impressive.”
“I love weddings, I mean they are just, so romantic, and everyone is just like, so happy to be there. And it’s supposed to be a gorgeous weekend, I mean – ”
“Serena, I’m really swamped here.”
“Oh. Sorry. Actually, I have an idea I want to run by you.”
“Shoot,” I said while tapping out a quick e-mail.
“It’s about the Chicago’s Most Eligible Bachelors and Bachelorettes issue – ”
“What?” I froze mid-keystroke.
“Well, um – I think we should do a follow-up piece on the website. I’m sure the people we featured like, went on dates and stuff. Maybe some even found relationships because of the article. We could even do, like, a teeny-tiny article in the mag next month.”
I shook my head rapidly. “No, that won’t work. Let’s try and come up with some new concepts, not beat the crap out of old ones.”
“Oh, okay, cool. I like that too.”
She lingered a second longer and then scurried away. I hadn’t meant to shut her down, but I couldn’t risk a run-in with David. Bachelor number three, I thought. I didn’t want him anywhere near me.
I had gotten lucky at the launch party for the Most Eligible issue two months earlier. Every bachelor and bachelorette had shown up to the event, the best in the magazine’s history. Except for David Dylan. I’d overheard Lisa say that he accepted a job in New York and absolutely could not attend, even though she’d begged him. Knowing he was out of town was no more painful than knowing he wasn’t right next to me. He was gone forever, and the physical distance wouldn’t change that.
I couldn’t ignore his presence at the party, though. Despite his non-attendance, his smiling photo, which far outshone the other attendees’ pictures, was everywhere. Lisa had gleefully taken over David’s segment for me, and the way she’d styled the photo shoot, it could have been an ad for any top menswear designer. He was all teeth and hard muscles in the three-piece suit Lucy had sold him. Clutching his jacket casually at his side, he was the definition of roguish businessman.
I’d given my boss the issue for final approval without ever proofing David’s spread. The wounds were too fresh. Even now, I still hadn’t had the heart, or the guts, to read about David Dylan: wealthy, charming and handsome Chicago bachelor. Every girl’s dream catch.
I got up and locked my office door, allowing myself a minute to lie down on the couch. I was thankful for my weighty sweater to block the blasting A/C unit above.
I’d told David I was black inside, but I was wrong. I hadn’t known it, but I was empty. And for one stolen moment, he had filled me with himself, physically and emotionally. Now I was black. Now I was poisoned. I was so reprehensible, that instead of the constant regret I should have felt, it only came in fleeting waves.
I recalled his hands in my hair, his breath on my skin, his mouth between my breasts . . . . Just fucking stop, I pleaded with myself. I have to forget, please, I can’t do this anymore.
The reason I didn’t feel was because I didn’t want to, not because I couldn’t. The scorching memory of our one night would destroy me if I let it. Already the guilt constantly dripped into the cracks of my interior.
The ringing of the office phone shredded through my thoughts. I pinched the bridge of my nose and sat upright. Work was the one thing in my life that never let me down, never judged or condemned me. I returned to my desk and hit the speakerphone button.
“What time is the bachelorette party tonight?” Bill’s voice filled the office.
“Seven o’clock,” I said, wiggling my mouse to wake up the computer. “When is Andrew’s?”
“Same. Think you can get off a little early? I have a surprise for you.”
“A surprise?” I repeated cautiously.
“Yeah, can you?”
“I don’t know. I’m sort of backed up here.” I rubbed my eyes and refocused on the screen.
“Please? I’m really excited.”
“All right,” I relented. “I’ll skip lunch.”
“I’ll pick you up downstairs at four, k? Love you.”
~
I waited downstairs for Bill on a street-facing concrete bench, wondering what the surprise could possibly be. When the car arrived at the curb, I could hear Bon Jovi on full volume: that was a good sign.
“Hey,” he said when I climbed in. “Ready for your surprise?”
“Yes.” Because I had promised myself to try harder, I took his hand.
He squeezed it. “It’s a bit of a drive, so sit back and relax.”
As we discussed our impending parties, it became evident that we were leaving the city altogether. I recognized the point when we were entering Oak Park, but I still had no idea what his intentions were. It was when we turned onto a familiar street that I recognized my surroundings.
“Don’t get any grand ideas,” he warned.
Our search for the perfect home had been put on pause after Davena’s death. Now we were on the block of the last house we’d seen over three months before. I recalled the afternoon with our realtor Jeanine; the awkwardness at her suggestion of a nursery and the ensuing argument where he’d tried to convince me that I was ready to have children. That house had sold though, he’d told me bitterly back in June. Unless it had fallen through, and . . . Oh, no. Don’t let the surprise be a house. Would he go that far?
He pulled up to the same spot we had parked with Jeanine months before.
“Bill – ”
“No, no,” he stopped me. “Just wait.” We both climbed out of the car, and he turned around. “I’ve been working on this with Jeanine for a while.” He wasn’t looking at the house we’d visited last time, though. I followed his gaze to the eyesore of a house across the street from it.
It was still as ugly and unkempt as before. Ferns drooped heavily, blocking the front door. Grey stone crumbled in some spots. Paint under the windows peeled. But it had that same draw. The same endearing character that had appealed to me the first time I’d seen it.
“The owners are big shots in Hollywood,” Bill explained, “who don’t even care about the property. They told her they’d be willing to sell it for a good price because of the poor shape. Since they rarely get to Chicago, they granted her access to show it to us.”
I looked from Bill to the house. He had remembered my comments that day. To my surprise, I smiled. “Wow. Honey, this is so thoughtful.”
“It would be a lot of effort, and we’d probably have to stay in the apartment another year or so, but . . . I just can’t stand to see you th
is way anymore. I want you to be happy, and if this is what it takes, then we’ll do it.” His voice was laced with sadness. I’d been punishing both of us for my crime, but it was the first time I realized just how much he was hurting.
I loved what he’d done for me, so I took his hand. “Let’s go see the inside.”
The interior was almost empty with the exception of some covered pieces of furniture and an antique grandfather clock as tall as Bill. The main room’s greatest feature was a toss-up between the expansive, central fireplace and a ribbon of windows that made up the back wall.
The sprawling wood floor creaked with each step, and it was cold inside, but I could tell it must have been very warm once. Dust caked the surfaces and dead insects were scattered on the floor. I stepped into a decent-sized backyard that was overrun with weeds and in dire need of some attention. But it was large enough for outdoor entertaining, and I envisioned strung Chinese paper lanterns, a concrete and rock bar, rose bushes, a small fountain . . . .
