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There was no sense delaying the inevitable any further. Fordham was going to go home and calmly tell Whitty and Dorie that she was about to yank the new foundation they had been building right out from under them. The move was a matter of practicality, and it came with the realization that life had its own schedule, and not everything happened when she would have wished. In this case, Aaron’s proposal was more than a couple of decades late, but at least it had come, and in that spirit, she would accept it.
She said it out loud: “I am going to marry Aaron Karp.” It didn’t sound bad. It just sounded dated.
Fordham pulled up to the house and sighed in relief when she saw the lights off. In all the chaos, she had forgotten to charge her phone. Maybe Dorie had taken Whitty out for ice cream when she couldn’t reach Fordham. Had Fordham been younger, Dorie would have already sent a SWAT team out to track her down.
She was retrieving the book-cover samples from the back seat when the lights flashed on. It must have been one of those stupid brownouts again. Her heart flip-flopped, and she had to remind herself that it was her life and she was in control. Her decision was final, and as long as her resolve remained steady, she would get through this conversation and still have time to pack.
Fordham bounced through the door like Judge Judy entering her courtroom, but when she heard Whitty and Dorie laughing in the kitchen, she couldn’t help but soften. She tossed her things down on a table and debated letting her news wait until the morning. She even considered writing a letter, keeping her explanation short and the goodbye quick. Granted, it would only be delaying the inevitable, but the extra time was tempting. Then she had a flash of Sex and the City, when Berger left Carrie a breakup note on a Post-It. Carrie had been traumatized for the entire season. Granted, the situation was different, but the cowardice would be the same. Fordham couldn’t do that to Whitty or her mother. It would be unfair and unforgivable.
She put on Bon Jovi’s “It’s My Life,” opened a box of Raisinets, and tried to pump herself up again before facing the jury. Whitty and Dorie were almost on cue, greeting her before she got to the kitchen. Whitty was holding a large piece of oaktag, and Dorie was carrying a bowl of cherries.
“Mom, look at this. I’m making it for my family project for school,” Whitty said, handing Fordham the sketch. “Where did you get that,” she continued, pointing at the ring, “the downtown flea market? I hate their junk.”
“I have to tell you... tell you both something,” Fordham said, the words spilling out like a drum roll.
Whitty and Dorie looked at each other, raising their eyebrows in unison, then shifted their attention to Fordham.
“Aaron proposed, and I said yes.”
“Why would you do a dumb thing like that?” Whitty challenged.
“Really?” Dorie’s eyes were about to pop out of their sockets.
“Mother, some support here, please,” Fordham pleaded. “Aaron is a good man, and he’ll give us a nice life. In California.”
“California?” Whitty shrieked. “There is no way I’m going to live in the smoothie capital of America. Do you know there are bars there where you have to pay to breathe?” She picked up her poster, crying, “Go if you want, but I’m staying with Mom-Mom. I’m sure you’ll have lots of fun getting helium shots in your forehead and flirting with pool guys while Aaron is busy getting women pregnant.” Whitty stomped out of the room.
Fordham ran her hand across her forehead and sighed. Whitty’s reaction had been even more intense than she’d expected.
“Sweetheart,” Dorie said, taking the same tone she’d used when Fordham was a child and skinned her knee, “have you really thought this through?”
“Sometimes thinking clouds your judgment.”
“And what are you planning to do about this?” Dorie said, crossing over to a drawer and pulling out a copy of David’s submission.
“Where did you get that?” Fordham snapped the paper from Dorie’s hand.
“It was stashed under the pot holders in the utility drawer. Don’t worry—there’s another one hanging on the wall in your room. I noticed it when I was trying to find my slippers.” Dorie crossed her arms. “I thought someone might have left them there... that night. It was right there, so I read it.”
“Okay... so?” Fordham asked.
“I know it’s David’s.”
“How do you know? The only one I told was... ugh, Evie. She told you!”
“She had to,” Dorie said.
“How many bullets were in the gun?”
“She loves you, Fordham. We all do.”
“I know, and I appreciate it. So the submission is David’s. What does that change?”
“Quite possibly your life,” Dorie said, cupping Fordham’s chin in her hand. “I see the way he looks at you and how he shows up where he thinks you might be.” Dorie shelved the cherries and moved out heavier artillery: a box of crumb doughnuts. “He’s falling for you, Fordham, if he hasn’t already fallen. It’s as obvious as one of these”—Dorie held up a doughnut before taking a bite—“at a Weight Watchers convention.”
“Mom, Aaron loves me,” Fordham explained, pulling away to get a bottle of Advil from the end-table drawer. “He’s loved me since we were kids. He helped lay the groundwork for me to become who I am.”
“The cement is still wet. He can leave his footprints, but he doesn’t have to claim the whole block.”
“You don’t understand. Aaron and I have history. He gives me everything I need.”
“Fordham, you’re the one who doesn’t understand. You only think you need to turn back the clock. The truth is that everything Aaron gives you—the memories, the financial security, the love of music, the confidence in your beauty—well, maybe not that one. But most of those are things you’ve already given yourself.”
***
FORDHAM SPENT A RESTLESS night awake, even after downing a guggle muggle—the mixture of warm milk, honey, and butter her grandmother had sworn could cure insomnia. All those calories, and not one dream to show for them. She wondered if Whitty was feeling any better. She’d fallen asleep before Fordham had the chance to talk to her again.
It was 7:15 a.m. Aaron would be picking her up in a couple of hours. Fordham slammed off her alarm and got up to start packing. Fortunately, the crux of the showdown was over. Other than some last-minute sniping, Fordham didn’t anticipate any major setbacks to impede her plans. She went on her computer to check her emails. Abe had sent her a cute e-card of a kitten doing a crossword puzzle to wish her well. The book was pretty much done, and he had no problem with her working remotely to deal with the finishing touches. He said they would Skype, and she was proud that he’d conceded to opening an account.
An email from Margo was more astonishing. “Fordham, darling, I’m thrilled for you and Aaron! Abe told me the good news. I didn’t want to say anything, and I swear Aaron didn’t have a clue, but I was the one who set up the deal that sent him to NY. He and I became friends while I was trying to get pregnant, and when your name came up, I knew I couldn’t depend on fate, so I decided to intervene. I realized I’d left you in the lurch and figured surprising you with a gorgeous rich guy you used to love might help. Let’s face it—a man is only a good catch if he’s netting a profit. All’s well that ends well, and you can thank me when I visit after Brandywine and Slick finally emerge. Meanwhile, I’ve completely lost sight of my toes. Gotta run. We’re having brunch with a snake charmer. From one Cobra plan to another...”
Margo strikes again. Of course, the whole connection had seemed uncanny, but life being a strange string of coincidences was kind of the norm for Fordham. The secrecy, however, was baffling. She wasn’t sure why Margo had held back—unless she’d figured Fordham would be too mired in anger to appreciate the gesture. That did make sense.
It was getting late, and Fordham didn’t have the time to ruminate over how she’d ended up engaged to Aaron. She clicked out of her email and onto the weather in LA. She wasn’t surprised to see that an unusual influx of rain was forecast for most of the time she was going to be there.
Fordham had just gotten out her luggage when Whitty came into her room. “The bus is coming soon,” she said, stoic.
“Monkey, I’m going to miss you sooo much,” Fordham said, hugging her close. “Please be good for Mom-Mom, and try to understand that I’m doing this for us.”
“Sorry, but that’s a lie you’re telling yourself, Mom. I think you just got tired of no one ever seeing the fourth outfit.”
“Whitty, you’re not being fair.”
“I’m not being fair? You want us to live with Mr. Babymaker in a place where a deep conversation is, ‘Like, oh m’God, did you see her highlights? I think she bought them in a box. Like, oh m’God,’” she said, imitating a Valley girl.
Fordham was about to defend her decision but decided against it and let Whitty continue to vent.
“David is right,” Whitty said.
“David?” Fordham asked, confused.
“Yeah. In PW, he says sometimes people make choices to try to make their poems sound true, but for a poem to really mean something, you can’t force the truth.”
Fordham heard honking from outside.
“There’s the bus.” Whitty gave her a perfunctory hug. “I have to go,” she said, walking out with her head hung low.
Fordham stood motionless, trying to grasp what Whitty had said. She was a wise young girl, but Fordham had to focus on her own truth. The best thing to do to get in a better frame of mind was to move forward and pack.
There was a knock at her door and Dorie appeared, carrying a small package. “This just came for you,” she said, handing Fordham the box.
“I didn’t even hear the doorbell,” Fordham said.
“There’s a lot you’re not hearing,” Dorie said.
Fordham rolled her eyes.
“It’s from Aaron,” Fordham said, opening the box. She had no cause to think David might send her a going-away engagement gift.
“Shocking,” Dorie mocked.
Fordham opened the package unceremoniously. A pair of designer sunglasses in a fancy case was accompanied by a note. She read aloud: “These are for when our days are ‘Sunny,’ but I’m going to love you ‘Come Rain or Come Shine.’ ‘The More I See You,’ the more I want you, and soon the bells are going to chime.”
“Judging from your track record, you won’t hear them,” Dorie teased.
Fordham ignored Dorie’s comment and tried on the glasses.
“Are you sure those lenses are rosy enough?” Dorie wasn’t pulling any punches.
The phone rang, and Fordham picked it up as Dorie sat with her morning coffee in hand.
“Hi, Aaron, thank you for the gift,” Fordham said. “Yes, they’re very cute. Yes, you’re very cute. Uh-huh. And the card is very cute. Yes, Aaron, everything is cute, but if you want me to be ready, you have to let me hang up... you’re right. I’m sorry for snapping at you. I just have a lot to do. Yes. I’ll be ready. Yeah—I know you love me. Me too you.” She hung up. “I need coffee.”
“You’re in luck. I just perked some. And have a muffin. Whitty baked them by herself yesterday, and they’re delicious.”
Fordham remembered David saying how impressed he was with Whitty’s baking. David was impressed with Whitty, period. Fordham followed Dorie into the kitchen.
“Oh no. Whitty left her project,” Dorie said, seeing it on the counter.
“So she’ll take it in tomorrow.”
“She can’t,” Dorie said, admiring the poster. “They’re having the school fair today. Just stop by the school on your way to the airport. I’m sure Aaron won’t mind.”
“Of course he won’t mind.” Fordham thought, He might mind, but she was confident he’d happily concede to her wishes.
“Are you ever going to tell David the truth?” Dorie asked.
“I saw him last night. I wanted to tell him, but I couldn’t... I have to finish packing.”
But instead of packing, Fordham rerouted and went into Whitty’s room. Where pictures of Disney princesses had once hung, there were now Yankees posters, prized artwork, and her recently framed award-winning poem. Fordham picked up a stuffed elephant off of Whitty’s bed. Gil had bought it on his way home from work on Whitty’s first day of kindergarten. It was pink and fuzzy and just plush enough to use as a pillow. Whitty called it Elly-Smelly because a new bottle of Gil’s cologne had been in the same bag and leaked on its head. Whitty would never admit it, but she still cuddled with Elly when she was going to sleep.
That was another reason this move was a good idea. It would give Whitty the chance to build a better relationship with a father figure. It was natural for her to resent Aaron, but in time, they would find a way to appreciate each other and become close. Whitty needed a man in her life, and even though Aaron was clearly inexperienced at fatherhood, Fordham believed he was willing to make the effort. That had to count for something.
Fordham was done packing and left her luggage by the front door. With nervous energy to spare, she decided to straighten up the house. She was in the backyard, shaking out a small area rug, when Dorie stepped out from the side door and interrupted her.
“Gil is on his—oops, I mean, Aaron is on his way. I was on the phone with Abe, and Aaron beeped in.”
“Mom, Aaron is not Gil. Not at all.”
“I know that. I’m getting old. It was an innocent slip.”
“Fine. I’m not going to argue with you,” Fordham said, heading into the kitchen. She laid the rug back in its place. “I know you don’t like my decision. I know Whitty doesn’t like my decision. But I do, and that’s the bottom line.”
“Maybe you’re right. I mean, let’s face it, you’re not getting any younger. You’ve already lived through the marriage from hell, and you’ve spent the last three years serial dating, and no one has suited you. This could be your best shot at the kind of life you’ve imagined for yourself.”
“Reverse psychology, Mother. What do you mean by the life I imagined for myself? I like my life. I just don’t want—”
“To take any chances,” Dorie said, waving the submission, which she’d stashed in her pocket. “I know. And with Aaron, you know exactly what you’re getting.”
“For your information, Mom, David is engaged.”
“That’s ridiculous. Who told you such nonsense?”
“No one.” Fordham hung her head. “After the wedding, when Whitty was with you, I went to David’s house to talk to him. But I didn’t get the chance because while I was standing at his office window, he proposed to Pam.”
“Had you been drinking?”
“My mother taught me never to drink and drive. I had plenty of coffee and was clearheaded before I went.”
“Did you ask him about it?”
“No, I didn’t ask him!” Fordham’s cheeks grew hot. “He didn’t say anything about it, so I certainly wasn’t going to bring it up.”
“Don’t you think it was a little odd for him to not mention it when he saw the ring on your finger?”
Dorie had a point. He’d had the opportunity to tell her he was getting married, too, but he never said a word. If anything, he seemed more into her than ever.
The doorbell rang.
“It must be your limo,” Dorie said. “Are you sure you’re not leaving something important behind?”
Fordham rolled her eyes. The woman was relentless. She went into her room to see if she’d forgotten anything. There was nothing she needed that she hadn’t already packed. She was only going for two weeks. Her eyes were fixated on David’s submission, still hanging on the wall. She considered taking it along or at least taking a shot of it to keep on her phone. She would feel strange not reading it before drifting off to sleep. But she decided to leave the memory safely in its place. She went back inside to find Dorie sitting in the family room, chatting with a limo driver who looked too young to have a permit much less a license.
“So you’re Fordham.” The driver had a Liverpool accent. He gave her a brief once-over and grinned. “Awesome.”
“You had five minutes, Mother. What could you have possibly told him?” Fordham scowled.
“That you’re a brilliant editor,” the driver chimed in.
“Oh,” Fordham said, relieved.
“And a fool in love,” the driver said, walking over to the luggage. “Will these be all, Miss?”
“Yes,” Fordham said, glaring at Dorie.
The driver started to collect her bags.
The doorbell rang, and Aaron walked in, stressed. “Good morning, Dorie,” he said, looking past her as if she weren’t physically present. “Hey, baby.” He kissed Fordham on the cheek.
Fordham wasn’t feeling very responsive with her mother hovering, but Aaron seemed unfazed. “We’ve got to run. I have stops to make before we go to the airport. I was stuck on a conference call that wouldn’t end. I sent the limo here so you’d be ready to roll.” He looked at Fordham accusingly. “I had to take a cab.” He checked the time and turned to the driver. “Is this her stuff?”
The driver nodded.
“Why isn’t it in the car?” Aaron shouted at the driver. “You know what—go out to the cab and transfer my stuff first.” He was texting as he spoke.
The driver exchanged an understanding glance with Dorie and left. Aaron finished what he was doing and followed.
Fordham took a long, loving look around the house. “Bye, Mom,” she said, teary-eyed. “Thank you for everything and then some.” Fordham hugged her and went toward the door.
“Wait a minute,” Dorie said, walking into the kitchen. She came back holding Whitty’s project. “Did you forget? You have to bring this to Whitty.” Dorie handed her the oaktag.
“Oh, you’re right. My head’s not on straight today.”
Fordham held up Whitty’s work. It was a diagram entitled, “A Family through My Eyes,” highlighting a replica of their house done in marker, crayon, glued-on tiles, and stapled wads of crumpled paper. A mother and father were presiding over the outdoor scene while two girls, one a little older than the other, were playing with a cat at the foot of two older relatives who were sitting on chairs in front of the house.
“She did a good job, didn’t she?” Dorie smiled.
“She always does. I’ll make sure she gets it. Bye, Mom.”
“Goodbye, sweetheart. And whatever happens, I love you.”
“I love you too,” Fordham said, carrying the bulky project in her hand.
Dorie closed the door, but Fordham could see her watching through the window. She walked to the limo, carrying Whitty’s project. Aaron was standing beside the passenger door.
“What’s that?” he asked, perplexed.
“Whitty’s project. She forgot to take it.”
“So why can’t your mother bring it to her?”
“Because I’m not going to ask my mother to do my job.”
“Baby, I don’t have time for this. I still have to go to Feingold’s office to pick up lab coats, and I haven’t even had my oatmeal yet.”
“But this is Whitty’s project, and she needs it now.”
“She’s playing you again, baby. You know that. She probably left it behind deliberately because she doesn’t want you to go. You can’t give in to that kind of behavior. She has to understand that things are going to be different now that I’m in the picture.”
Fordham looked down at Whitty’s project. The man in it clearly resembled David. He had light-brown hair and no mustache or goatee.
Pictures really did say a thousand words. This one wasn’t calla lilies or Warhol. It was Whitty’s way of telling her what she needed to hear.
“But you’re not,” she said with certainty.
“I’m not what?”
“In the picture. It’s right here. In front of me. And it’s not you.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, baby.”
“Aaron, I am so sorry,” she said.
“That’s okay. All’s forgiven. Just tell Dorie to take that thing to Whitty so we can get out of here.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“We’re going to miss our flight,” he said, taking her arm. “We’ll talk on the way.”
“Aaron,” she said, shrugging him off, “this isn’t working.”
“What are you talking about?” Aaron seemed genuinely confused.
“What I’m talking about is that I’m not the same girl I was in high school. I have a daughter now who means more to me than breathing. I watched my father take a nosedive from being the conquering hero to being the man who sold out to a bookie. I have a mother who I thought was shallow until I watched her make lemonade, not from the lemons but from the damn pits. I still love chocolate ice cream with sprinkles, listening to Chicago, and talking to Evie on the phone for hours, but I’m an adult now. And you really don’t know me.”
“That’s ridiculous. Of course I know you. You just have cold feet.”
“It isn’t cold feet,” she said with confidence. “I don’t love you. I did, and then when I saw you again after all these years... I wanted to. But I can’t use the past to build a future.”
“I think you’re scared. And if I go you’re going to realize you’ve made a big mistake unless... unless there’s someone else.” He glared at her, realizing he could answer his own question.
Fordham nodded.
“So, what you’re telling me is I’m not charming enough to be your prince?”
“No, you’re charming, but”—she studied the picture again—“I have another prince in mind. I’m sorry, Aaron. I have to go.”
“Seriously? You’re going? Just like that?” he said, snapping his finger in the air.
“I’m almost as surprised as you are, but yes,” she said, handing him back the ring.
“This is crazy, Fordham. Don’t do this to us.”
“Aaron, there hasn’t been an ‘us’ in years. Good luck in LA,” she said, carefully adjusting Whitty’s project.
“You’ll be back.” He glanced at his watch. “Mark my words. This isn’t over,” he said, getting into the limo.
The driver winked at her in the side mirror. She realized he had never brought her bags out of the house. He raised his hand out the window, giving her a thumbs-up. She doubted Aaron noticed. And she didn’t care. Fordham could see Dorie out of the corner of her eye, dancing by the front door.
As the limo turned the corner, Fordham realized she had turned one too. She was done looking back to agonize over failures, real or imagined. She could never change where she had been or the choices she had made. The past would always be a living lesson that she could return to at any time to fill in the blanks, quell her fears, or carry her to a dream she never allowed herself to have. It would be there to lean on or listen to, to ignore or expose, to argue or reckon with, or to simply enjoy for the clarity it brought. It was hers to own in all its glorious dysfunction if she ever needed the wisdom carved from her tears and triumphs. The past was her medal, and she would honor it in that spirit.
No magic or luck had brought her to this moment, just a willingness to listen to the beats and pauses of her life in an entirely different way. It was time to look ahead and take a terrifying gamble in which she had no inkling of what was at stake. There were no guarantees, but this time, she believed the odds were in her favor. This time, she was betting everything on her heart, to win.