Fools Rush in(84)
“I’m sorry, Millie.”
“I guess…I guess sometimes people aren’t exactly who you think they are, you know?”
“I do.”
Yes, I guess he would. We looked at each other, and he reached out and covered my hand with his own.
“I’m sorry, Millie,” he said again, very softly. My mouth wobbled again.
“Well, Sam,” I said, suddenly feeling as if I had weights tied to my limbs, “I think you can probably go now.”
“You sure? I can stay if you want.”
“No, I think I’m just going to cry it out for a while.”
“Okay, kiddo. I’ll call you tomorrow.” He rose and kissed the top of my head, and that small kindness squeezed another sob out of me.
“You were really great tonight, Sam,” I whispered. Unsurprising, that.
“Take care, honey.”
I looked at him through watery eyes. “Thanks.”
He let the dog back in and then left.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
I HAD INVENTED the Joe Carpenter of my dreams. For sixteen years—more than half of my life!—I’d been in love with an imaginary man. All the effort, all the time, all the love I’d poured into Joe had been like shoveling the tide. There was no payoff, there was no happily-ever-after. There was just nothing. Just a sweet, not-too-bright guy whose looks I had used to construct an impossibly perfect man.
God, I was so stupid.
Self-loathing twisted through me, making me toss and turn in my bed. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Whom might I have met if I hadn’t been so hung up on my imaginary Joe? Would I be married to some imperfect but real man by now? Over the past six months, I’d turned myself inside out to get Joe…for what? For nothing, because there was no Joe, not the way I’d thought, anyway. I was like some poor adolescent girl who was in love with a movie star or singer, assigning all kinds of qualities to a pretty face. “And then, someday, our eyes will meet at a concert, and we’ll just know that we’re right for each other….”
And what about the real Joe? What would I say to him? “Oh, sorry, but I made you up. We’re not really breaking up, because the person I thought you are doesn’t exist outside of my head. Have a good day!”
When morning finally hauled itself to Cape Cod, I sat up. My head still hurt, my eyes were gritty from too many tears, my body ached as if I had the flu. The high heels I’d worn the night before caused my calves to cramp, and my hair was tacky from all the goop I’d slathered in it to make it behave.
I drank some orange juice, threw on my sweats and went for a run, needing to purge my mind of the recriminations screaming there. I turned my iPod up loud and trudged along in my trademark trot, Digger plodding beside me, his joy of the outdoors undimmed by my mood. My shoulders cramped, my stomach ached, my calves burned. I didn’t care. In fact, I welcomed the discomfort. It distracted me from the ache in my heart.
When I got home, I showered and brushed my teeth and sat on the porch for a while, feeling hollow and numb. Digger licked my face, but I barely noticed. After a while, the phone rang. Thinking it was Sam, I answered it.
“Millie, it’s Joe.”
My stomach thudded to my feet. “Oh, hi, Joe.”
“Are you okay?” He actually sounded a little scared.
“Yeah, sure.”
“Are you still mad at me?”
I sighed. “Maybe you should come over, Joe.”
“Now?”
“Now would be good.”
When Joe got to my house, I saw that he’d brought his dog. Tripod leaped out of the truck, and he and Digger went chasing each other merrily through my yard, just as I had always imagined they would. I winced. All my plans seemed so stupid and shallow now.
Joe stared down at my kitchen table and declined a glass of water or cup of coffee. When I sat down across from him, he looked at me directly.
“Can I just say something first?” he asked.
“Uh, sure,” I said.
“Okay, Millie. I know I screwed up last night, and I can see why you’re so mad at me. It was a really dumb thing to do. I was just thinking about when I was in high school and how sneaking a drink seemed like so much fun. I guess I wanted to seem kind of cool, you know? Because I’ve got to tell you, being back at Nauset High, being called Mr. Carpenter, it kind of freaked me out. All of a sudden, I felt wicked old. Do you know what I mean?”
I shook my head.
“Oh. Well, it was stupid, and I’m sorry. Please don’t be mad anymore, Millie.”
I swallowed. “Joe, it’s actually kind of more than just last night.”
“It is?” His eyes were wide and confused.
I traced the design of my tablecloth, grateful for somewhere to look other than at Joe.
“Well, the thing is, Joe,” I said, needing to whisper because my throat was so tight. He leaned forward to hear me better. “The thing is that I guess I’ve been thinking…I think maybe we’re just not right for each other.” I swallowed loudly.
“But Millie…” Joe said, taking my hands across the table.
“No, Joe, I’m sorry.” I pulled my hands free. “This is mostly on me, not you. Last night was just…just an example of what’s been going on.”
“What are you talking about?”