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‘Oh, Michael. Thank you.’ They kissed again and this time there was no interruption.
‘Do you like it?’ he asked.
For a moment, Kate thought of sins of omission again, but even Sister Vincent couldn’t believe they would extend to this. ‘Yes. It’s lovely. Would you fasten it for me?’
Michael leaned forward and fiddled with the tiny clasp. It took a moment, but at last he had it around her wrist. She stretched out her arm. ‘It looks nice,’ she said.
‘It looks great!’ Michael said and tucked her arm in his.
Kate felt better than she had all day.
6 (#ulink_d38feadc-6698-5fda-ba4c-5712e5192a2b)
Brice and Elliot had met three years ago, and had only moved in together in September. Brice’s stylish retro furniture in orange and lime green had taken precedence over Elliot’s collection of thrift shop purchases and off-the-street finds. Their two-bedroom apartment in a Chelsea brownstone near Kate’s had large windows in the living room overlooking a tiny backyard. An old refectory table was set before the windows and, despite their protests, Michael and Kate were given the chairs that faced the garden view.
‘The tulips are just over and the roses haven’t started so it’s not at its best,’ Brice apologized as he seated them, then excused himself to bring dinner in from the kitchen. Kate noticed they were using Brice’s good glassware and Havilland china and she was really touched. Elliot brought in a wine cooler and set it on the oak credenza. ‘A coaster! A coaster,’ Brice exclaimed, and slipped one under the crystal cooler. Kate repressed a smile.
In a few moments dishes were being passed around. Elliot, standing, began to pour wine in the waiting goblets. Michael picked up his glass and almost ostentatiously set it upside down.
‘None for me,’ he said.
Kate winced. She should have seen this one coming. Michael didn’t drink at all. He just said he didn’t like it. Given her father’s bad habits, it seemed a good trait to Kate but she knew it wouldn’t go down well with Elliot. He prided himself on his wine cellar – even though it was actually in the linen closet – and must have taken pains selecting this Pinot Grigio. Elliot raised his eyebrows.
‘Don’t you drink?’ Brice asked, his voice, rather than his eyebrows, slightly raised. Kate could imagine the talk afterward – ‘Is he an alcoholic, is he in AA? No? Then he’s a control freak or a born-again Christian.’ Oh, it would be endless.
‘I prefer to keep a clear head,’ Michael answered.
‘Yeah. You never know when someone might need to see through it,’ Elliot muttered beside Kate’s ear as he filled her glass.
Once they all had their plates and the drinking crisis was past, they began on Brice’s famous appetizer: a beautiful, multicolored vegetable terrine. There was some cursory conversation but the tension seemed thick in the air, especially between Elliot and Michael. Of course Elliot was always very protective of Kate. And he had already made his dislike of this accomplished and nice-looking new boyfriend clear. The fact that Michael was a bit priggish and overly fastidious wasn’t lost on Kate, but he did have other, compensatory traits. He was clever, he was generous in bed, and he seemed very, very stable.
‘There’s a good chance I’m going to get that Sagerman grant,’ Michael said to Kate as they finished the first course. ‘I saw Professor Hopkins and Charles told me that the committee discussions seemed to be very, well, promising.’ Kate saw Elliot and Brice exchange a look. It was rude of Michael to ignore them, even briefly, but he was a single-minded academic.
Kate held back a sigh. Even when she and Michael were alone it was sometimes difficult to remember all the cards in his academic deck. Now, to make the conversation general, it would be necessary to explain to the others about the Sagerman Foundation, Michael’s interest in a postdoctorate appointment, and his complicated relationship with his mentor Charles Hopkins. It was the kind of thing that made a difference to a couple, but didn’t make for good dinner talk.
‘Great,’ Kate said. No one else spoke. Elliot refilled their glasses and Brice passed around the second course. Kate looked at it and knew that her friends had spared no expense to impress Michael. This was Brice’s risotto with truffles and she knew what the price of truffles was. They all took a bite of the steaming rice. As the awkward silence stretched out, Kate turned to Brice in an attempt at light conversation. ‘Brice. This risotto is really delicious.’
‘Very good,’ Michael agreed.
Brice beamed at the compliments. He was proud of his cooking, his design sense, and his extensive collection of pristine Beanie Babies. Those were arranged meticulously on a series of long floating shelves over the credenza. Kate had watched Michael notice them and avert his eyes. He was not, she had to admit, very playful in his attitude to décor or dining chat.
‘So, what happened at the salon this afternoon?’ Elliot inquired of Kate. She smiled. She knew him so well: he was taking pity on her and trying to make the dinner less painful. And because he figured she’d spill her guts more readily just to keep the conversation going. Nice try, she thought, but it wouldn’t work.
‘Oh, I just had my nails painted,’ she said. She showed ten gleaming fingertips and still managed to hold the fork. ‘Do you think Mr McKay will feel they’re subversive?’ The previous semester the principal had declared toe rings subversive and all the kids had to remove their socks and shoes to have contraband foot jewelry confiscated.
‘That and cock rings,’ Elliot said.
‘Elliot, please!’ Brice reprimanded. ‘Not in front of the Havilland.’ He flashed a smile at Kate and Michael. Their conversation continued in fits and starts but Kate knew Michael was not a hit. Of course Elliot had really liked Steven and that hadn’t worked out, so … perhaps Elliot’s first impression was not as important as she had thought it was.
‘Salad or cheese and fruit before dessert? I have lovely Bosc pears,’ Brice asked.
‘No thanks, Brice,’ said Kate.
‘None for me,’ Michael agreed. Across the table, Elliot stood up and began to clear away the dishes. ‘It was very good,’ Michael added.
Even to Kate it seemed a bland thank you. ‘Wasn’t the terrine terrific?’ Kate prompted. She looked at Michael who in turn looked at the empty serving plates with an expression of confusion.
‘Which was the terrine?’ he asked.
Kate’s face flushed pink. She knew how much effort Brice had put into the dish. ‘The vegetable pâté,’ she explained to Michael.
Elliot, still picking up plates, circled around behind Michael. ‘With your head so clear you probably just call that “thick dip”, huh?’ he asked.
Kate winced. From behind Michael’s back, Elliot held his nose and gave Kate a thumbs-down sign, almost dumping the plates he had gathered.
‘Watch out for the Havilland!’ Brice warned again.
‘Elliot, you don’t have to do that,’ Kate said, referring both to his comment and the clearing.
‘Oh, but I do, I do,’ Elliot replied, his double entendre obvious.
She gave him a look. Clearly they needed some private time in the kitchen. ‘I’ll help you clear,’ she offered, noticing Michael didn’t even attempt to help.
Brice began to protest and rise as well, but Elliot shook his head and looked pointedly at Michael. Brice gave him a pleading look, but Elliot leaned close and whispered, ‘Somebody has to talk to him.’
Brice gave Michael a weak smile. ‘So, what’s new in anthropology?’ he asked Michael in a bright voice. ‘Is the Sugerman grant a sure thing?’
‘Sagerman,’ Michael corrected. ‘From the Sagerman Foundation for the Studies of Primitive Peoples.’
Kate sighed, picked up some glasses and followed Elliot into the kitchen. It was small but efficient, with black and white floor tiles, red walls and cabinets, and the latest stainless steel appliances. Kate tried to steel herself. Elliot was silent as he put the dishes in the sink. Then, as she knew he would, he turned to face Kate, his hands on his hips like an accusatory nun. ‘Where did you dig him up?’ he demanded. ‘This guy’s the worst of the lot.’
‘Oh, Elliot! He is not,’ Kate protested. ‘And keep your voice down.’
‘Come on, Kate. Wake up and smell the primitive peoples. He’s dull, he’s pompous, he lacks humor and, aside from his haircut, I don’t see anything superior about him,’ Elliot said.
Elliot would like that haircut, Kate thought. She whispered, ‘Oh, come on, Elliot. You never like any of my boyfriends.’
‘Neither do you,’ Elliot retorted. ‘Not since Steven. And this one is not only boring, but also self-involved, pompous and a homophobe.’
‘Oh, Elliot! He is not!’ Kate exclaimed. ‘You blame everything on that.’
‘Kate, the guy didn’t address a single word to either of us through the whole meal.’
‘That doesn’t make him a homophobe. Maybe he’s just shy. Or doesn’t like you personally,’ she added. ‘It could happen.’ She put the wine goblets – one of them clean, on the counter.
‘Doubtful. And he’s probably an alcoholic. That’s why he doesn’t drink. Anyway, coming here to dinner is like meeting your family,’ Elliot explained as he rinsed a plate. ‘He should at least pretend to like us, since we’re in loco parentis.’
‘Well, loco, anyway,’ Kate agreed. Elliot made a face. She opened the dishwasher and started to put in the china.
‘Oh, no,’ Elliot sighed. ‘Not the Havilland. It’s a hand-wash job. Brice wants gold leaf Brice washes it.’ He rinsed his hands. ‘We better get back in there. The coffee ought to wake up Brice. Would you fill the creamer?’ Kate nodded. Elliot popped the chocolate sauce for the profiteroles into the microwave to heat.
Kate opened the refrigerator and stuck her head in. ‘Hey, Elliot, I’ve told you before. It isn’t easy to find a good, interesting, educated stable man who doesn’t want to date a supermodel.’
‘You may be right, Kate,’ Elliot agreed. ‘I certainly don’t think you’ll find him in the Sub-Zero. But you could take out the profiteroles.’
‘Very funny.’ Kate pulled a quart of milk and a pint of half-and-half out of the fridge and placed them on the counter. ‘I admit you didn’t see him at his best. Trust me. Michael is much better one on one.’
‘I bet.’ Elliot smirked.
Kate ignored his innuendo. ‘No. Honestly. Evidence. He can be funny. And he’s really smart. He got his doctorate at twenty-one, was teaching at Barnard when he was twenty-four and is considering his post-doc. I think he’s going to get tenure at Columbia.’
‘I didn’t ask for his curriculum vitae,’ Elliot snapped. ‘He’s just dull. Your father was an alcoholic and you never knew what to expect when he came home. Your mother died before you hit puberty. I know you want a responsible male, someone you can depend on. But this guy isn’t just stable, he’s inert. Where’s the magic between you? And he’s not nearly good enough for you. Don’t let your snobbishness over academic achievement blind you.’
‘I don’t,’ she assured him, but a nagging voice in the back of her consciousness wondered about that. Despite all her professional training and the analysis she herself had been required to undergo, she still sometimes felt that much of what she did was a reaction to the desperate childhood she’d had.
Elliot shrugged, turned around quickly in order to pick up the tray of coffee cups, and knocked over Kate’s purse which had been sitting on the counter.
‘There goes my cell phone,’ Kate said.
‘Is it the Havilland?’ Brice called.
‘No. It’s the Melmac,’ Elliot yelled. ‘He’s obsessed with the damn stuff,’ he told her. ‘Be right in, sweetheart.’
Then he knelt down to pick up Kate’s handbag and all the objects that had scattered over the floor. ‘I’m so sorry. I think I broke your makeup mirror.’
‘Uh oh. It was a magnifying one. So do I have fourteen years of bad luck, or just seven years of more intense bad luck?’
‘Stop it, Kate. I’m a statistician, a mathematician, not a superstitious bumpkin.’
‘But you talk about magic …’
‘Not Harry Potter magic. Not superstitious nonsense. I’m talking about magic between two people.’
‘Need any help?’ Brice called. ‘We’re waiting out here.’
‘No, dear,’ Elliot responded. He handed Kate her purse. Kate, kneeling beside him, picked up the remainder of the detritus and threw it in.
‘Hey, what’s this?’ Elliot asked. Kate looked up. He was waving an envelope in the air.
‘It’s an invite to Bunny’s wedding.’ Kate sighed.
‘Bunny of the Bitches of Bushwick is getting married?’ Elliot asked. ‘When did this happen? You never tell me anything.’
‘Hey, I got it today. And you’re on a need-to-know basis.’ Kate stood up. ‘Can you believe it? She was just dumped by a guy a month ago. I don’t know where this came from.’
‘Brooklyn. And on the rebound,’ Elliot said. ‘Can I go? Please, can I go?’
‘No,’ Kate replied. ‘See, this is another valid reason why I shouldn’t break up with Michael. With Bina getting engaged and now this, I have to go with someone viable.’
‘But Michael is so …’ Elliot didn’t get a chance to finish his critique because, suddenly, a loud and frantic pounding came from the front door of the apartment. ‘What in the world?’
The two of them hurried into the living room where Brice was standing at the door. He looked at Elliot and Elliot shrugged. Brice opened the door. A woman, her hair wild, her face covered by her hands, threw herself into the room, sobbing uncontrollably. Everyone stood in silent amazement and Brice actually took two steps back. It was only after a moment or two that Kate saw the woman’s fingernails and realized, with a horrible shudder, that she had a French manicure.
‘Bina!’ Kate gasped. ‘Oh, Bina! What’s happened to you?’
7 (#ulink_29720ff0-adad-59a5-9572-b9278f69b267)
Bina looked around her wildly. ‘Katie! Ohmigod. Oh, Katie!’ Then she threw herself onto the sofa and heaved with sobs. Kate, paralyzed for a moment, stepped forward and put her hand gently on Bina’s shoulder. Could she have been raped? Had someone mugged her? Her clothes were such a mess and her hair so disheveled that, at first, Kate only thought of physical tragedies.
Elliot stood looking down at the weeping woman on his couch. ‘It’s Bina?’ he whispered. ‘This is the famous Bina?’
Kate ignored him. ‘Bina? Bina dear, what’s happened?’
Bina shook her head violently. Kate actually felt one of Bina’s tears hit her own cheek and put her arms around her sobbing friend. ‘Shhh,’ she crooned and stroked Bina’s hair. Somehow all the times Kate had witnessed Bina’s hysterical outbursts over the years, at sleepovers and parties, flashed in a visceral way through her consciousness. Kneeling, with her arms around Bina, was familiar. Then she looked up and remembered the audience of three men surrounding this drama. And that the drama was happening in Manhattan on a borrowed sofa. She hoped the whole thing wasn’t as bad as it seemed. Then a new thought occurred to her. ‘Bina, how did you find me here?’
‘Max,’ Bina said, struggling with her tears. ‘He heard me crying in the hall and told me where you were.’ She took a gulping breath and burst into tears again. Elliot and Brice drew closer to the couch, like rubberneckers, while Michael had withdrawn to a spot behind the dining table. Kate couldn’t help but think that she was watching the epitomes of men: the straight ones retreating in the face of emotional turmoil and the gay ones jumping right in.
She looked back down at her friend. ‘Bina, what’s happened?’ Kate asked again.
‘Choked,’ Bina wailed as fresh tears poured from her eyes.
‘Are you choking?’ Kate asked, confused.
‘I can do the Heimlich. Does she need the Heimlich?’ Brice asked, a bit too hopefully.
Bina, still sobbing, violently shook her head no.
‘I never get to do the Heimlich,’ Brice sighed. ‘Do you?’ he asked, turning to Michael, who was now folding and unfolding a napkin, obviously completely unnerved by the situation.
It was unnerving to anyone who didn’t know Bina, but Kate had witnessed many a hysterical outburst like this before, once over the dress Bina’s mother had selected for the prom. Now Kate took Bina’s hands in her own and spoke to her firmly but gently. ‘Who choked? Who’s choking, Bina?’ She turned to Elliot. ‘Would you please get her a glass of water?’
Elliot, turning to Brice, repeated the request. ‘Brice, get her a glass of water. This is better than One Life to Live.’
Brice didn’t budge. ‘One Life to Live? This is better than The Young and the Restless.’ He turned to Michael, still in the corner behind the table. ‘Put down the linen,’ Brice told him. ‘You get the water.’
Michael seemed all too happy to leave the scene and disappeared into the kitchen. Bina gave another wail.
‘Bina, you have to calm down,’ Kate said, turning her attention back to her. ‘You have to. And you have to tell us what’s wrong.’ Bina took some trembling breaths and got the sobbing under control. It occurred to Kate that Bina might have had an accident or be sick. ‘Does something hurt?’ she asked.
Bina nodded her head.
‘Do you need a doctor?’ Kate continued.
Bina nodded more vigorously. ‘Yes. Jewish and unmarried. The kind who likes my type and who’s looking for serious commitment.’ She broke out into sobs again.
Elliot and Brice moved even closer to the circle. ‘Uh oh,’ Elliot said. ‘Kate, check out her hand.’ He and Brice exchanged meaningful looks.
Kate, not quite understanding, thought of their manicure that afternoon. Had Bina had some allergic reaction? ‘Bina, have you hurt your hands?’ She looked down at Bina’s hands but didn’t see anything more alarming than the French manicure.
