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I’m on my way out of the three-story open concept brick building on Richmond when my phone buzzes. Eric’s name appears on the screen, and it throws me back in time. He hasn’t called me in over a year and I wonder what he wants. My heart pounds as I slide my finger across the screen to answer it. His voice sounds stiff as he says hello and then asks if I have time to meet him for a drink after work today. “Is everything OK?” I say, but he says he’d rather not get into it on the phone. We agree to meet at the wine bar across the street from the bank where he works. I hang up and try not to worry about why he wants to meet me, but when I can’t shake it, I call Will.
“Hey,” he says, his voice making me feel like I’m wrapped in a cozy blanket. “So, I know we said we’d just be casual,” I say, referring to our not-so-professional “meeting” about what the hell we were going to do about our feelings for each other late last night, while lying naked in bed together. The solution was to be casual. Keep working together. Hookups whenever we wanted, but not be exclusive. With the understanding that I’m never going to be serious about someone who has a child, just like he’s never going to be serious about someone who doesn’t want kids. And Addie can’t know we’re anything more than friends. Will was adamant on that one—explaining he never introduced Addie to anyone he was dating unless it was serious, and until this point, that meant she’d only met one woman, a flight attendant he was dating pretty seriously a year ago. “Addie’s already met you, so it’s not like I can take that back, but I think any non-work stuff should probably happen at your place,” he’d said.
“You mean late-night booty calls,” I tease.
“Exactly.”
“So what’s up?” he says now. “You’re not going back on our casual agreement, are you? Because you signed a contract,” he teases. “I remember it very distinctly. On my back, with your index finger. There’s no reneging now.”
“I’m not reneging,” I laugh. “I was just clarifying that I’m well aware we are just casual, and that, by official dating definition, the term ‘casual’ means that I have absolutely no control over what you do and with whom—”
“And I have no control over what you do, or with whom—but…?”
“But I told Eric I’d meet him for a drink after work. It’s not romantic, I really have no feelings for him anymore and I think he’s pretty serious with someone else anyway and well,” I sigh. “I feel silly right now. I’m not telling you because I think you’d be jealous or anything, more just like, I needed a friend to tell, I guess, and if I told any of my girlfriends they’d chastise me for agreeing. But I figured you’d just listen?”
“OK,” Will says.
“OK,” I say, feeling embarrassed.
“I’m still jealous.”
“I think I like that.”
“Want me to come over after you get home and you’re all tipsy?” His voice is low.
I feel lightheaded. “Maybe.”
Eric is sitting at the bar when I arrive, drinking what I assume is still his go-to—a manhattan. When he sees me, he stands and suggests we move to a table. We used to come here all the time, back when we were first dating, when our romance felt exciting and new. He extends an arm for me to walk ahead of him, which seems formal, and I’m reminded of his manners—the kind that impress parents but feel unnecessary and uncomfortable for people in their thirties. He carries his drink with him.
“The beard is…different,” I say, and I wonder if he’s dating someone who’s convinced him to grow facial hair.
“Yeah, well, I was having a bit of a midlife crisis. You might have heard, my girlfriend left me.”
“Eric,” I sigh.
“I’m kidding. It was a joke. It’s been more than a year—we can’t joke?”
“I think your sense of humor is having a midlife crisis.”
A waiter arrives at the table and places a glass of white wine in front of me. I take a sip and recognize what used to be my go-to—sauvignon blanc. “Thank you,” I say to the waiter, while looking at Eric.
“I figured some things don’t change.” He raises his glass, then takes a sip. “Listen, I wanted to see you because…I’m selling the condo.”
I feel a twinge of sadness. Even if the condo had always been his, it still feels like the last remnant of our relationship that still somehow connects us. The sadness passes quickly, because it’s not like I would want to live in that condo anyway. Skyrise living has never been my long-term plan, and my apartment now is just a pit stop.
“I need a fresh start,” he says. Maybe his earlier comment wasn’t as much of a joke as he let on. “I’m thinking of getting a place uptown, closer to the airport. I travel a lot now…” and his voice trails off and then he clears his throat. I study his face, trying to decipher his emotions—but it was always hard to tell what was going on behind his words.
“I’m not going to keep anything,” he says. When we split up, we were supposed to fairly divide the contents, but I didn’t take much—I didn’t want any reminders of our failed relationship. Instead, we agreed that he pay me a reasonable price to keep everything. “So I wondered if you would like anything? You could come by sometime. Remind yourself of what you left behind.” He stares into the distance then looks back at me. “I guess I’ve missed you, Kit.”
His words surprise me. Our breakup was mutual. I was disappointed he had changed his mind about something we had promised to each other years earlier. And he was upset with me for not being willing to give him what he wanted—children.
“I thought you were dating someone.”
“I was,” he says, looking into his drink. “It didn’t work out. She…she wasn’t you. Turns out you’re really hard to get over, Kit.” He reaches out and puts his hand on mine. It’s warm and comforting. Familiar. And yet—my stomach knots. I pull my hand away, and put it under the table.
“Eric, if this is why you asked me here…” I push my chair back.
“Please don’t go.”
I study him for a moment, then pull my chair back in a bit. “I don’t get it, Eric. There’s really nothing between us anymore. Even if the bigger issue of kids wasn’t on the table.” A flash of Will enters my mind. Will—lying naked beside me this morning, in bed. Will, who I’ve now gotten myself entangled with, regardless of the kid issue.
Now Eric’s eyes meet mine, his gaze unwavering. “Really? Are you sure?”
And then I get it. He’s here because of Will. “This is because you saw me with that chef and his daughter, at the ferry docks a few weeks ago…”
He waits for me to say more.
“I don’t owe you an explanation,” I say, but he’s still waiting, and I give in. Knowing Eric, he could sit there for hours, waiting for me to talk. “We work together. And he happens to have a daughter. That’s it.” Will, kissing my neck. Will, running his hands through my hair. Will, checking my cut this morning to make sure it wasn’t getting infected. “I’m as child-free by choice as ever. Maybe even more so. I gave this talk at a Women in Business conference, and it was such a success that they’ve asked me to speak at the international conference next month. Here in town. More than ten thousand women have registered. And they all want to hear me remind them why being child-free is the best decision they could ever make.” I down the rest of my wine.
Eric raises his eyebrows and tilts his head as he looks at me. “I know you, Kit. You’re pretending that I don’t, but I once knew you better than anyone. And that day, at the docks, I saw you before you saw me. The way you were looking at that guy, how you were acting around him.”
I feel annoyed by Eric, because he knows me so well. And he’s right about my feelings for Will, and I hate that. And yet, I shake my head, to convince him he’s wrong.
“You can tell me that you’re still riding this whole child-free bandwagon, but you’re teetering on the edge. I can see it. And if you’re changing your mind, even a little bit, come back to me.”
I’m stunned. Is he really asking me to try again? But instead of feeling any sort of love or nostalgia for him, I feel nothing for him at all.
“Why start with someone else you don’t know, when we could pick up where we left off? We were good together, Kit.” His eyes cloud over, his eyebrows sinking.
“I’m sorry, Eric,” I say, shaking my head, though I’m not sorry at all.
“You know dating someone with a kid is asking for trouble, right?”
“Eric, I—”
“There’s not a single child in history who ever liked their stepmother.” Suddenly I remember that Eric has a stepmother—one he despises. So much so, that he used to insist his father come to visit us in the city without her, rather than us making the trip to their house in the country, just to avoid her. “Why would you even consider going down that path?”
“Are you finished?” I say before pushing back my chair. “Actually, don’t answer that. I don’t care.” I stand and slap down a twenty, then head out the door onto the street, the warm air anything but comforting.