Ghosts of Manhattan: A Novel(39)

I’ve been silent long enough that I want to make sure Sue knows I’m not angry with her. “I’m not ignoring you, Sue. Just thinking.”

“How bad is it with Julia?”

I haven’t directly considered this before. I have never even tried to envision life without her. I always assumed the same laws of physics that make the rivers flow would also hold us together. This is to be our place in the universe even if comets collide around us. “I’m not sure. It’s bad, and what’s worse is I don’t know if I can make it better. Every interaction we’ve had lately widens the gap.”

“Take a few days off and go somewhere. Maybe it’s better to go just by yourself to pull it together. You love Julia. That will take care of itself if you let it. You need to get your head screwed on straight first.”

I have a mental image of myself in a remote hotel room, face down in a bowl of cornflakes next to an empty bottle of scotch tipped on its side. “I could take a few days and drive out to Sag Harbor. Quiet out there this time of year.”

“Just focus on you for a little while. That has to be the first step. You don’t sound good.”

“I know.”

“Are you and Julia coming to the birthday party for Andy?”

“Wouldn’t miss it. Nine years old? How is he?”

“He’s gone from threatening to leave home if we make him play soccer to now loving it. He’s dying to see his uncle Nick.”

“What does he want for his birthday? I could renew his subscription to Penthouse.”

“I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

“See you in a couple weeks.”

The phone hits the cradle. “So what did those rat bastards at UBS say?” I turn around to see Jerry with both arms up over his head like goalposts, one hand wrapped around a bottle of Pepto-Bismol.

I give him the finger and sit back in my chair. I’m still thinking about Sue’s words and the emotion she had behind them. Sue still has the same fondness for Julia that she had when Julia and I first met, and it brings me back to a happier time.

I remember our second date. The first had gone so well that I had flowers delivered to her office before I picked her up to take her out again. The note said, “Looking forward to seeing you tonight.”

At dinner she thanked me for the flowers. I thought I detected something odd in her thank-you. It was tiny but there was something about her that seemed cautious. After denying three times that there was anything to it, she confessed.

“I dated a guy who would send me flowers a lot. I love and appreciate flowers and I know they’re expensive. But every time, they would come with a computer-printed card that said, ‘Thinking of you.’ It felt like it came from his secretary and could be going to girls all over town. And it’s all he would ever do. No letters or notes or surprise drop-bys or even a long email. It got so I came to resent the flowers a little. They’d get dropped to my office, and every time I’d hope for something different from the computer-printed card.”

“So no flowers.”

“No, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I don’t want to sound ungrateful. I love the flowers from you. You’re not that guy. Not at all.”

“So no flowers with one-line notes?”

“Just don’t substitute flowers for everything else. Flowers are great but not intimate.”

“It’s a deal,” I said. Her smile was beautiful. These are the kinds of things people love to learn on early dates, and she’s already saying how much more promising I am than an ex-boyfriend.

“Here’s a deal. Never send me another flower. Just send me a letter once in a while.”

“A no-flower policy. Not another flower ever?”

“Exactly. No temptation.”

“Okay. I accept the deal.” We shake hands and I think, damn, this will be harder. Getting the flowers to her took thirty seconds to dial the phone and read out my credit card number. I also think I really like this girl. She’s different and honest.

Before our next date I sent to her office two dozen roses, a bottle of wine, a box of chocolates, and a singing midget who reads:

Roses are red

Violets are blue

Please forgive me

Breaking my deal with you

I’m using my words

To make sure that you know

I feel very strong

About how far we can go

They’re no substitute

The flowers are real

I hope you accept

I’m changing the deal

It will be a big night

So rest up and get ready

I’m planning to ask you

Can we go steady?

I made sure nobody at Bear ever caught wind of any of this. It would have been humiliating, but sometimes it feels good to humiliate yourself if you can do it only to the person you care most about.

Four months later we’re lying in bed in a suite at the Rock House in Harbour Island. We wanted a quiet vacation that would be just us in a place where we could sit on the beach, read books, eat seafood, and ride around the island in golf carts. The kind of place that requires two planes and a water taxi to get there.

She rolled over in bed so that she was sitting on my stomach and looking me in the eyes. “Nick, I love you.”

I was so happy to hear this. I had felt this and thought about saying it and where, when, and how to say it, but she said it first. It didn’t feel like losing a race because I really did love her. But it has always been a reminder of who is the more courageous of the two of us.