Come Alive (The Cityscape 2)

“Because that’s just not plausible,” Lucy said crossly. “You can only love one or the other.”

“Never mind,” I said. I knew better than to point out that maybe her theory had some holes.

“Shit,” Gretchen said. “This is much too philosophical for my state of mind. I think we are getting way, way ahead of ourselves. Marriage is not even in the equation, trust me.”

Lucy pursed her lips to show that she didn’t approve. She looked at me. “I’m not even going to ask what you think.”

“I’m with Gretchen. Anyway, there’s one very important detail that makes this whole discussion pointless: they are breaking up.”

“Wait, back up,” Lucy said. “What?”

Gretchen fidgeted with the fringe of the nearest pillow. “I ditched him for another guy on Saturday night.”

Lucy cocked her head at Gretchen and shook it slowly. “Gretchen, how could you? After all this time you’ve waited for him to come back.”

“Waited? I haven’t waited for shit. I thought I’d never see him again, and I’d made my peace with that. But then he comes waltzing back into my life, in true Greg fashion, and expects things to go back to the way they were. Do you think I want to put myself through that again?”

I slanted my lips at her. “But you should have discussed your feelings with him like a mature adult.”

“You’re one to talk, Olivia.”

My jaw dropped, and my eyes darted over her.

“What does that mean?” Lucy asked.

“Nothing,” Gretchen said with a sigh. “I’m just upset. You’re right, I could have handled it better.”

“She hadn’t even slept with Greg,” I told Lucy.

“You didn’t?”

“No. And I didn’t hook up with the Saturday night guy either. I couldn’t bring myself to do it.”

“So just tell Greg that,” I said.

“It doesn’t matter, what matters is that I left him. I’ve been avoiding him ever since, and I’m sure he’s pissed. I don’t even know if I want to work things out. What if he leaves again?”

If I’d had more faith in Greg, or love for that matter, I would have told her not to be afraid. Even though my marriage had been happy, the disappointment of my parents’ divorce was always fresh in my mind. There was no guarantee that people wouldn’t suddenly change their minds. And to tell Gretchen that Greg wouldn’t leave again was a reassurance I couldn’t give her. I grabbed her hand instead. She tilted her head at me but didn’t say anything.

“If you love him, then you have to try,” Lucy said, her voice an octave above a whisper. “Don’t give up because of fear.”

Gretchen rubbed her temples. “Liv, I don’t think I can go to the ball this weekend.”

“Ball?”

“Um, yes, the animal shelter charity event that you hounded me to buy tickets for.”

“Oh, right. The masquerade ball. I completely forgot that was this weekend. It’s fine, you already paid. They’ll get the money.”

“Dani will be in town, I could give them to her,” Lucy offered. My ears perked at the mention of her name.

“She can have them.”

“So, can we talk about my Parisian honeymoon now?” Lucy asked excitedly.

~

Droplets of turquoise water, the smell of chlorine, skin slick against skin, hovering above the rest of the world, wandering fingers, curious tongues, fistfuls of hair . . . . Heat pooled inside of me, turning me warm and tender. He’d cradled me on his lap and held me close. He’d not only listened but had heard me, and when he watched me, it was with attentive eyes. I tried to forget the feeling of his lips claiming mine or of him swelling inside of me.

I jumped when the front door slammed. I picked up the nearest magazine, hiding my flushed face behind it.

“Hey.”

“Hi, honey,” I said from behind an article on graceful aging. “How was work?”

All week had been that way; on the train, in my office, at the deli – I couldn’t stop the scorching memories from infiltrating my life. Between work and home, I hadn’t even been able to relieve myself, and I was feeling full to the brim with no outlet.

“Liv?” Bill asked.

“Yes?”

“I asked how your day was.”

“Oh, fine. Do you want to see your mask for the masquerade ball this weekend?”

“I don’t really care. Thanks for picking it out. Jeanine has a couple houses she wants us to see. How’s Sunday?”

Shame. It was red and ugly and written all over my face. No, I could not see houses with Bill, because I was gutless and afraid. How could I tell him that things were moving too fast when for him, they weren’t moving fast enough?

He came and sat next to me on the couch. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, why?”

“You look pale,” he said, holding the back of his hand against my forehead. He brushed some hair from my face. “I’m worried that you’re slipping away again. You’ve been quiet this week.”

“Oh,” I said softly. “No, I’m okay.”

“I think . . .” He paused and looked over at the coffee table. “I think it might be time to see someone.”

“Someone?”

“Therapy. I know what you’re thinking, and yes, I still think it’s sort of bullshit. But I’m running out of ideas, and this is getting to be a little much.”

Glossy pages crinkled when I clenched the magazine. “Therapy?” I repeated angrily. “For me or for us?”

“For you,” he said, drawing back. “Why would we need therapy?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Why would I?”

He hesitated. “One minute you’re up, the next you’re down. At this point I’m willing to try anything.”

“I – I . . .”

“I don’t know what else to give you, and it’s fucking with me.”

“I’ll go see Mack,” I blurted. Mack. His wife had died, and I’d been neglecting him out of my own selfish fear of what he’d be like without her. Without the love of his life, Davena. I sighed. “Maybe that would help.”

“That’s a great idea, babe. Really great. I think that would be a good start.” He took my hand and kissed the back of it. “How about Saturday morning? I’ll take you.”

I nodded. “I’d like that.”

“Great,” he said again. “What should I tell Jeanine?”

“Actually,” I said, looking at him over the magazine, “I promised George I’d put in some time at the shelter on Sunday.”

“Okay. Maybe next weekend, then,” he said. He smiled, but his mouth drooped at the corners.

~

Mack had been very gracious over the phone. After four months, I was ready to see him, but a knot sat heavy in my stomach. It had been too long.

I almost didn’t recognize the man who opened the door. He’d lost weight, and his sallow skin drooped, but it was lively eyes that gave Mack away.

“Come in, come in,” he coaxed to us.

I handed him a plateful of brownies I’d baked the night before. “I know these are late, but I wanted you to have them.”

“My favorite, dear, thank you,” he said, setting them down.

“I’m so sorry,” I rasped. I felt my eyes flooding as I stepped into his embrace.

“It’s okay,” he soothed, petting my hair. “It’s okay. It’s been hard for all of us.”

“I’m sorry,” I repeated as tears spilled onto his shoulder. “I miss her so much,” I whispered. “She was so good to me, and I never deserved it.”

He pulled back to look me in the eyes. “How can you say that? Of course you deserve it. She loved you like her own, and there’s no reason she shouldn’t have. You brought her so much happiness.”

I shook my head. “I’ve been terrible,” I said through blurred eyes. “I’m awful.”

Mack raised an eyebrow over my shoulder. “What is she talking about?”

“She’s taking this very hard. It’s been a rough few months, Mack. In fact, this is the first time she’s cried since she found out.”

“Can you give us

a minute?” I choked out. There was a hesitation before Bill agreed, but when he did, his voice pitched with a hint of bitterness.

Mack guided me to the same couch I’d sat on with Davena during our last visit. I fell rather than sat and bawled rather than cried into my hands. He handed me a box of tissues, and when I could, I looked up to face him.

“I think about her every day, Mack, and you too. I hope you know how much you mean to me. There’s no excuse for not coming earlier.”

“I know. People grieve in different ways. You made her happy, and that’s all I could ever ask for.”

I sniffled and looked at my hands.

“Is there something the matter?”

“What kind of person am I for not visiting? You’ve been there for me through everything, and this is how I repay you? I’m terrible,” I said quietly and erupted into tears. “Terrible, terrible,” I ranted, “I’ve done something terrible.”

He scooted closer and wrapped me in his arms, rocking me back and forth. “That’s it, just let it out.”

Mack’s love was overwhelming. I wondered how it could be so strong. It hadn’t diminished in the absence of his wife, even though she’d been, and still was, the center of his world. It was my greatest fear, here in front of me. To love someone the way he had loved Davena and to lose him suddenly to something that was so wildly out of my control.

“How do you get up every morning?” I asked into his shirt.

“Reluctantly, like everyone else,” he kidded. “Really, life is too short to be so unhappy. You have to let go of the past or you’re denying yourself a future. Whatever is holding you back – whatever you’ve done – you must forgive yourself.”

“What if what I’ve done is unforgivable?”

“Olivia . . . Nothing is unforgiveable. But only you can figure out how to move forward. I can’t tell you how.”

“Did you ever doubt your love for Davena?” I asked softly.

He squeezed me closer. “We fought a lot, dear, we were very different people. Did I ever tell you that we separated once?”

I pulled back to look at him. “No.”

“We did, a long, long time ago for a few weeks.”

“So even you had doubts?”

“Doubts?” he repeated. “No. I never doubted that I wanted to be with her. Not since the moment she agreed to have dinner with me. Those few weeks were the worst of my life. I was miserable without her. I know it’s cliché, but I felt incomplete, and not until we got back together did I feel whole again.”