Our Best Friends' Exes

"All too much so," I said.

"So why'd you join, Tom?" she asked. "No offense, but you're...not like Jimmy."

"It's a reminder that I broke into this world whether I really belong there or not," I said.

"Oh, you do!" she said. "Listen, I've met plenty of Ivy Leaguers since I've been here and most of them are nothing like Jimmy." She sighed and took a long sip of her drink. "I'm sorry, Tom, I shouldn't be talking about him like this when I'm here to be with you."

"It's okay," I said. "I should tell you, I've let him know I'm here and he might want to get together for a drink at some point."

"I understand," she said. "But I'll leave you to that. I'm not ready to see him again, and I'm not sure I ever will be."

"So you haven't kept in touch?" I tamped down the temptation to spill the beans about what he'd been telling me all this time.

"No," she said. "You see, we...oh, geez, Tom, I'll tell you everything sometime, but is it okay if we don't talk about it for now?"

"I think I'd prefer that anyway," I said.

We flirted through dinner, talking about everything and everyone except our exes and what we'd been up to on the phone. When we'd finished eating I floated the idea of a drink, but she shook her head with a grin.

In my room, she kicked off her shoes and took a look around. "Oh, this is just lovely, Tom," she said, admiring the blue and white décor. "Did the dorms at Yale look like this?"

"Not even close," I said. I hadn't thought to ask for a room with a view, but then Angela herself was the only view I was interested in right then. After draping her coat on the desk chair, I took her in my arms and we swayed gently to music that wasn't really there. "But enough about the room, huh?"

"Easy, boy," she teased.

"I certainly am that," I said, and I leaned in to kiss her neck.

She let me do it, but didn't make any further move on me. "Eager, aren't we?" she asked.

"Aren't you?" I asked, coming up to look at her now. "All those hot and heavy phone calls..."

"They were fabulous all right," she said. But when I reached up to touch her breast, she swatted my hand away. "Easy, now!" She smiled as she said it, but I couldn't read that smile at all. "Let's not get carried away, huh?"

"Sure," I said. "Yeah, of course." I drew back and sat uncertainly on the edge of the bed. "Sorry."

"Sorry?!" she said. "What did you fly all the way out here for?"

"To see you, of course," I said. "If you don't want to rush things, that's fine."

"If I don't want to..." Angela folded her arms and looked at me like a teacher who was disappointed in her class. "Geez, Tom, Jen told me you were this sensitive feminist type, but this is ridiculous."

"What's ridiculous?" Now I was getting angry.

"Figure it out, will you?!" She looked pleadingly at me, almost like she wanted me to pull her down onto the bed with me. But she'd already said no.

"Angela, come on! You said stop, so I stopped! What more do you want?"

"I can't believe this!" she whined. "Jimmy would've..."

"I'm not Jimmy, am I?!"

"You got that right." She shook her head. "I guess this was a mistake. Good night, Tom." And I watched in bewilderment as she grabbed up her coat from the chair and was gone.

I didn't sleep very well, and I still couldn't make any sense of what had happened when I got up the next morning. But I did my best to put it from my mind. A weekend in New York was a weekend in New York, after all, and I smiled through the pain as I caught a train downtown for breakfast at my favorite diner and then back uptown to browse through my old favorite bookstores. I was just leaving the Strand with a paper sack full of paperbacks when my phone rang.

It was Jimmy. "Hey, man, sorry I couldn't meet you last night. Angela kept me busy at that crazy whiskey tasting."

"I thought it was a wine tasting?"

"Right, yeah, that's what I meant. Shows how much of it I had to drink, huh?"

"You're supposed to spit it out after you taste it, Jimmy."

"Like you'd do that, buddy! Now, listen, when can I take you up on that drink offer? Tonight?"

"Sure. I've got all day if you'd like to meet sooner."

"Can't, Angela won't let me out of her sight that long. She's asleep in the other room now and she'll want some TLC this afternoon, since we were too drunk to go at it last night."

Once again my suspicions arose. "Say, Jimmy, what time was this wine tasting?"

"I guess eight-thirty?" he said.

I felt a stab of outrage. "Eight-thirty?" I repeated, remembering Angela had left just past eight last night -- easily time enough for her to get anywhere else in midtown by eight thirty.

"Things start late here, you know, with everyone at work."

"Yeah, I bet," I said. "I can just imagine what a good mood Angela was in, then."

"Hoo, boy, yeah, what a grouch," Jimmy said to my disgust. "But I'm used to it. So, how's six tonight sound?"

It sounded crummy. Suddenly I desperately wanted to be on the first plane back to California. But I figured if this was some sort of game, maybe it was best that I play along. I'd show them both I wasn't hurt, even if I was a bit.

So that evening found me looking rested and ready when Jimmy turned up in the lobby. "Hey, dude!" he exclaimed as he strolled in like he owned the club. "Man, the memories of this place, my dad dragged me here so many times." He didn't even offer to shake my hand, but that was fine with me. "So, California soften you much yet?"

"Does it look like it has?" I asked.

"You ever want to start making some real money, you know I can still talk to my dad," he said as we stepped into the elevator.

"Yeah, so glad he came back from the dead," I quipped.

"Oh, God Angela still won't let me live that one down!" he said. "Every time she gets pissed off at me, it's 'Don't you remember I forgave you for lying to me about that?!' To be fair, Tom, I'm not sure I'd have forgiven me for that. But I think she's flattered I was that shameless just to get laid, you know?"

"So she still lets it work, does she?" I asked, unsure if I ought to laugh or cry. I didn't do either one, of course, as I let him lead the way to the grill room.

"God, the memories this place brings back!" he said, ignoring my comment, which was just as well. "I remember when I couldn't wait to be old enough to order a beer here." Turning his attention to the barmaid, he said, "Two pints on my buddy's account here."

"Please," I agreed, and I told her my member number. As I watched him rack up the balls on the pool table, I asked him, "How come you never joined?"

"God, you sound like Angela! Just last night she was telling me how she'd like to see this place and couldn't I join already?"

I wasn't surprised. "So why don't you?"

"I just want to be my own man, you know? This is my dad's scene. No offense, but I know it's not your dad's scene, so it's okay for you, you know? Say, what's up with your dad, anyway?"

"Remarried to a woman about a year and a half older than me," I said. "I have a baby half-sister somewhere."

"Harsh, man," he said, taking the first sip of his pint as I took the first shot. "So, Jen. Finally had enough of the mousy one, did you?"

"Please tell me you don't call her that with Angela," I said, choosing not to answer beyond that.

"You kidding, Tom? She calls her that too. Says she's glad the kid isn't hanging on her skirt-tails anymore, and that's when she talks about her at all."

"Guess I'd better not ask what you say about Scott or me, then," I said.

"You kidding, Tom? We're all best buds from prep school, aren't we? She loves my stories about how you and Scott used to do my bidding on all the pranks we did, how you almost got expelled once but I stepped in and got off with just a few demerits because of my dad."

All at once I didn't care in the least if he really was still with Angela. "You think that reflects well on you, Jimmy? Really?!"

"It's not Jimmy, it's Jim, all right? I'm a big boy now. And no, it makes me look like the spoiled schlub I am, but hey, that's who Angela fell in love with, isn't it?"

I couldn't argue with that.

I let him talk me into a second pint and a second round of pool -- he killed me both times, but I was only too happy to have something else to focus on -- and then tried to coax me out for another round at his favorite Irish pub. "No thanks, I've got an early flight back tomorrow," I lied. "I don't want to be hung over on the plane."

"Just as well," he said. "Angela wouldn't want me staying out too late anyway. Shall I give her your regards?"

"Please," I said. "Tell her Jen says hello as well."

"Does she really though?"

"What do you care, Jim?"

"I don't."

As soon as there'd been time for Jimmy to get lost, I got my coat from my room and went out to grab a slice of pizza for dinner. Feeling a little bit better after I'd eaten, I wandered around midtown for half an hour or so. Back in my room, I checked my e-mail and found no word from Angela or anyone else I cared to talk to. A glance at my watch and I figured if Jimmy really was going home to her, he'd be there by now. I called Angela, not sure if I was afraid she would answer or afraid she wouldn't. She didn't, and I envisioned Jimmy in her arms and the two of them laughing their asses off at me while her phone buzzed away in her jeans pocket on the floor.

Putting her out of my mind, I ordered a cosmopolitan from room service and spent the rest of the evening watching a movie on TV. My phone rang about an hour into the movie, and I looked at the number. It was Angela. I didn't answer.

My flight home wasn't really until early the next afternoon. Thanks to the time difference, I got home at a decent hour. It wasn't quite as chilly in San Francisco, but it was raining hard and I was feeling utterly empty as the taxi drove me home through the slick, steep hills.

Taking the high road seemed like the best option.

Dear Angela,

I just want you to know whatever this all means, I wish you and Jim the best. It was nice to see you again, regardless. I bear you both no ill will.

Regards, Tom

I didn't expect any response. But I got one within an hour.

Tom, what on earth are you talking about?! I told you Jim and I broke up, didn't I? I told you we weren't even in touch anymore, right? Is this some kind of joke?

I don't know what you're getting at, but I'm glad you wrote, because I owe you an apology. I said no, and you respected that, and because you're not a crumb like Jim, you didn't assume I was just playing hard to get. But I was. Now I see why it was Jen you ended up with. She always was the smart, sensible one. I guess I blew it with us, Tom, and for that, I'm sorry.

But what are you getting at with Jim? I'm confused. Are you and he playing some kind of practical joke on me?

I must have read that email six times over my lunchbreak, doing my best not to read anything into the lack of a closing. No "xoxo", no "hugs", no nothing. Was she angry? Did she think I was? Both? And was she on the level about Jim?

Hoping for a clue, I wrote to him.

Hey Jim, Here it is almost December. Any word on the proposal? I'm sorry I wasn't able to come a couple of weeks later, you know how I love the decorations there (and yes, they have them in SF too, but it just isn't the same!)

Later, Tom

Dude, didn't I tell you I'd share all the details once it was done? If you must know, I'm thinking about taking her up the Empire State Building, last run of the night, just like in that movie Sleepless in Wherever, and proposing there. But first, because I'm an old fashioned gentleman, I've been angling for a trip to Mississippi for Thanksgiving so I can ask her father's blessing in person. You wouldn't understand, Mister Feminist.

Well, he had that right. I wouldn't understand.

Thanksgiving was that very weekend. I rented a car and drove to Reno, and waited until Friday to e-mail Angela again.

Hi Angela,

Well, thank you for your explanation. I guess I should have given some thought to what you're used to with Jim. But like I said, I'm not him.

As for what I meant about the two of you, to make a long story short, he's been putting me on. He's wanted me to think you were still together, and the story he told me when I saw him the next day in New York fit just well enough to make me wonder. So it's my turn to apologize. Also, I'm really glad you're rid of him. You deserve better than either one of us, Angela. I'm sending my sincere holiday wishes that you find it. Speaking of which, did you get home for Thanksgiving? I didn't, I'm in Reno right now.

Love, Tom

I thought long and hard about using the L word. But I figured all the damage was already done. Before I could second guess myself, I shut down my computer and went off in search of a pricey restaurant to indulge my loneliness.

Hi Tom,

Wow, that's really low even for Jimmy! I guess I really shouldn't be surprised at anything Mister "my father was on the plane that hit the North Tower" pulls at this point. But then, I feel like I was playing you too, Tom. I do hope no bridge has been burned so badly it can never be rebuilt. But with Jimmy, I guess it has.

Yes, I'm in Pascagoula for Turkey Day. And I'm really tempted to stay here, but the job is going too well. I guess.

Xoxo Angela

I got up at the crack of dawn on Sunday, hoping to beat the traffic back to San Francisco. I didn't quite beat it, and there was plenty of time cooling my heels on I-80. Which at least meant I didn't have to ruminate over Jim's next email, as I didn't see it until I finally got home that evening.

Dude:

He said yes! I joined the old man in his study for cigars and brandy, the whole nine yards, and he looked at me like he knew what I was going to ask, which I guess he did, really, but who cares? He said he was delighted to hand off his daughter to a young man with prospects like mine, and be sure to give him a grandson or three. No problem with that, Angela is always keeping me on my toes there!

I'm going to go ahead with the Empire State Building plan. The Saturday a week before Christmas, I guess it's the 15th? That's when I'm going to do it. It'll give us time to plan for a victory tour with our families when she says yes. Wish me luck, dude!

Jim

Then and there I knew, I wouldn't be writing to Jim again. Not to wish him good luck or to call him on his bullshit, or anything else. Eight years and change since I'd first heard his boisterous nonsense in the Silliman dining hall, that unlikely mix of revulsion and fascination and envy was finally gone. All that was left was the revulsion.

That, plus just a shadow of a doubt that Angela was putting me on after all. But I didn't let that stop me from writing one last email.

Dear Angela,

Thank you VERY much for your understanding reply, and I couldn't agree more about Jim. I, too, hope we can rebuild something here. What are you doing December 15?

I didn't read anything into the fact that she didn't answer that one right away. I read plenty into the fact that she still hadn't answered as November melted into December, and then as the 15th crept up on us.

Maybe I had called her bluff after all.

With the short days and work keeping me busy as ever, I almost didn't notice as the big day approached. Almost.

The fifteenth was cold but clear, and I walked down to Haight-Ashbury to window shop and drink coffee and think about anything but what just might be happening at the other end of I-80. If it was true, then she deserved him. If it wasn't...I couldn't even finish that sentence in my head.

It was just after dark when I returned home, feeling pleasantly sleepy and almost able to forget about what might be happening in New York. I was in no mood to make dinner, but I placated myself with the prospect of a glass of wine or two while I was cooking.

I was rummaging through my kitchen drawers for my corkscrew when the buzzer rang. I reached it on the third ring. "Yes?"

"Special delivery," came a gruff-sounding female voice. "I need to come get a signature from you."

"Uh...okay." I buzzed her in, trying to recall if I'd ordered anything that needed a signature. I had gone a little crazy on Amazon a couple of times lately.

I hadn't yet figured out what it might be when the knock came on my door a few minutes later. I opened the door, expecting a chilly-looking young woman in a courier's uniform, maybe a college girl, carrying a parcel.

It was Angela, dressed in a fur coat and pulling a trolley suitcase. She did look chilly, but also delighted. "Surprise, Tom," she said. "And merry Christmas."

"Wwwww...hello!" It was all I could think to say in that wonderful moment.

She laughed. "May I come in? I could go get a room somewhere if you'd rather not, but..."

"Come in! Yeah, come in!" I stood aside and welcomed her in, and watched her take her coat off. She was wearing a red velvet dress underneath, the very picture of Christmas there in my plain, undecorated living room. "I didn't -- what happened? I thought when you didn't answer my e-mail..."

"I'm sorry, Tom, I probably should have answered that e-mail," she said. "It's just that I was such a little fool before and I misread you so completely, I wanted to do something really romantic to make up for it. So when you asked what was I doing the fifteenth, I decided I ought to do this."

"What if I hadn't been home?"

"Then that would've been all I deserved, wouldn't it?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Angela, you made one mistake!"

"You're sweet, Tom." She stood up and gingerly offered me a hug, an invitation I eagerly accepted. "But I figured, even if you weren't here, I needed to get out of New York anyway," she continued, resting her head on my shoulder. "All the nonsense with Jimmy that you told me about showed me that. So when I went home for Thanksgiving and told my parents about all that had happened, Dad told me you sounded like a great guy and worth taking a risk for, and hadn't I always wanted to see San Francisco anyway?"

I laughed. "So you get to see it and me."

"Well, I've seen some of the city on the taxi ride in," she agreed, "But I'd like to see some more of you if you don't mind." She kissed me hard on the mouth, then pulled back just as quickly. "Care to unwrap your present, Tom?"

I switched off the light, so the streetlamps and the moon cast a pleasant glow on the walls, and then pulled her down on the couch and kissed her again, with her straddling my lap. For the next couple of minutes there were no words as we kissed passionately and rubbed one another's back.

"I wanted this so much back in New York," I whispered in her ear while nibbling it.

"Let's forget about that," she said, and on that note she reached back and took one of my hands from her back and placed it on her breast. "Let's also forget about being shy, huh?" She looked down expectantly at my hand while I took a moment to appreciate the supple treasure I was holding. "You do know what to do with them, don't you, silly?"

"And how!" At last I began rubbing, and I was delighted to feel her nipple getting hard through the layers of clothing I now wanted to tear away.

"Ohhh, I knew you'd be magical with those hands, Tom," she said.

"Yours are pretty terrific, too," I said, as she was now rubbing my chest and it felt divine.

"Were you on this couch when we had the phone sex?" she asked.

"You mean when I talked about doing this?" I reached under her skirt and, finding her panties damp to the touch, I pulled them aside and stroked her bush. "Yes, I was."

"Ohmygod!" She clutched tightly at my arm. "Feels so good!"

"Mm-hmm." I pulled my fingers out and gathered up her skirt in both hands. Seeing where I was going, she raised her arms and let me pull her dress off, and I was treated to the first hint of shyness in that cheerleader's grin of hers. "Nice bra," I deadpanned, and it was -- lacy and ornate and bright red.