Kiss the Girls and Make Them Cry(64)

“Please, Dad, hear me out. I like Marian. I think she’s very nice. She’s an attractive woman. I’m delighted that the two of you are having a good time together. But knowing a few facts about somebody is not the same as really knowing that person. That takes time.”

“Gina, I don’t think you’re giving your old man enough credit. A little wisdom usually comes along with a head full of gray hair.”

They pulled to a stop in front of her terminal.

“Dad, remember when you would tell me how much you liked Ronald Reagan when he was president? What he would say when he was dealing with the Russians—”

“Trust but verify,” he said, smiling.

“Excellent advice. I love you.”





70





Gina settled into her aisle seat for the two-and-a-half-hour flight to LaGuardia. The couple in the two seats next to her were about her age. She could not help but hear their conversation. They were planning a wedding. Holding hands as they spoke, he suggested how much easier it would be if they flew to Las Vegas and were married by an Elvis impersonator. She laughed, punched him on the arm, and leaned her head against his shoulder.

It had been a long time since Gina had felt so alone. Most of her friends envied her life as a journalist and the freedom of movement if offered. It certainly had its advantages. But there’s something to be said for the familiarity of an office, seeing the same faces every day. For better or for worse, they know you as well as you know them. The sense of accomplishing as a team. Sharing a joke in the cafeteria. The spontaneous drink after work. She had been freelancing for three years. Most of that time was spent in her apartment or at a Starbucks, her laptop her only constant companion.

She didn’t need a therapist to help understand why she was feeling so gloomy. Ted. If things were different, he would have been the one to help sort out her feelings. She was aching to see him. She wanted to talk to him about Marian Callow. His instincts were so good. His oft-repeated joke: “There are very few problems that can’t be resolved over a bottle of wine at dinner.”

He had called when she was in Naples, but she had let the phone ring. She still couldn’t bring herself to listen to the message he had left. The text he’d sent late Saturday evening had brought her to tears.

Gina, I accept that we’re finished. Not that I have much choice in the matter. You always valued how well we communicated. That makes it harder to understand why, when something went terribly wrong, we can’t even talk about it. Please assure me that you’re okay. I hope you’ve found someone who loves you the way I did. Ted



His use of the past tense to describe his love was not lost on her.

Just before the announcement came to power down electronic devices, Gina opened her phone and tapped a text to Lisa. Counselor, please say you’re free for a drink tonight. In need of your company.

Less than a minute later the phone vibrated announcing the arrival of a text. It’s nice to be needed! DeAngelo’s at 7:30.





71





Lisa was already at the bar when Gina entered. She had thrown her coat over the back of the stool next to her to reserve it for Gina. Lisa had a Help me! look on her face as she was trying to be polite to an older man with the worst hair-dye job Gina had ever seen. He moved off after Gina sat down.

“Who’s your new friend?” she joked.

“Oh please! Anybody who just sold his company for twenty million dollars could find somebody to do a better job on his hair than that. It looks like he used shoe polish!”

They both laughed.

“So girlfriend,” Lisa began, “anything new on the Ted front?”

Lisa was the only person outside of Empire Review that Gina had confided in regarding her REL News investigation. When Gina shared with her the magazine’s lawyer’s insistence that she had to break things off with Ted immediately, Lisa had said, “I hate to tell you this, Gina, but he’s right.”

“I’m still getting calls and text messages,” Gina said. “Of course I feel awful, but there’s nothing I can do.”

“I’m really sorry.”

“I know you are. Thanks. But that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about. Remember when I told you my father had met somebody?” Gina described the weekend in Naples, meeting Marian Callow, and her concern about her father.

“It’s hard at our age, Gina, to think of our parents as sexual beings. My uncle Ken was a widower and he was dating a lot in his early seventies. He once told me, ‘The call of the wild is still sounding at my age. It may not be as loud or my hearing may not be as good, but no question, it’s still there.’?”

They both laughed. Gina again appreciated her good fortune to have Lisa as a friend.

“Look, Lisa, I want him to be happy. I have my life up here. I like what I do. I love New York; I love my apartment. If he wants to share his life and what he has in Naples with her, who am I to object?”

A troubled look came over Lisa’s face. “Gina, I’m going to put on my lawyer hat for a minute. You refer to your place on the Upper West Side as ‘my apartment.’ Did your parents or your father ever legally transfer ownership into your name?”

Gina appeared stunned. “When they went to Florida, they gave me the apartment. I’ve lived there. I’ve paid the maintenance and all the expenses. It’s mine, right?”