Wife and Ex-Wife Ch. 04

"Her father? What does he have to do with anything?"

"Oh, Patrick, you're a smart guy—you must see how she feels."

"I'm not following you."

"I don't know how much she's told you about her childhood, but she was a real 'daddy's girl.' I'm not saying she didn't love her mom, but her father utterly spoiled her and basically tried to run interference whenever her mother tried to discipline her. You can imagine how well that went over with her mom."

"Not well, I suppose."

"No. And she lost her father at a critical time in her life—just when she was fifteen."

"What are you saying?"

"Can't you guess?"

Patrick lapsed into an aghast silence. Then: "You're not saying she had impure thoughts about her father?"

"It's been known to happen," Teresa said bluntly. "But I don't mean it quite as crudely as that. Obviously, you haven't been a teenage girl, and you don't know what kind of influence a beloved father has on her at that age. When he died, she simply felt betrayed. Betrayed and abandoned."

"But it was an accident!" Patrick exploded. "Surely you're not saying he wanted to die!"

"No, no, nothing like that. But it was such a shock to her that she couldn't help taking it personally. Maybe if she'd had a brother, it wouldn't have been so bad. But as it was, all she had was a mother who fell into a state of permanent grief. It was almost as if both of them were competing to see who could grieve the most over his death."

"How can you possibly know all this?"

"Trust me—I know. From the things she said after Larry left her, I could sense what was happening. And then, just as she thought her life was back on an even keel with this new man in her life, he bolts. I really thought she was going to have a nervous breakdown."

"It was as bad as that?"

"You bet it was. I only thank heaven Frank was there."

"Frank? How does he fit into the picture?"

"Frank was a godsend. Don't get me wrong—there was nothing improper about how he dealt with her. But he really took Nina under his wing for a while, helped her through the worst of the whole situation. I think Frank has a thing about 'damsels in distress.' He's really quite old-fashioned that way. But in this case, it was a blessing."

"I had no idea."

"Well, I don't think she likes talking about that whole period. It was really pretty rough on her. I think that's why—" Teresa stopped abruptly.

"Why what?" Patrick said, although he had an idea what Teresa was trying to say.

She sighed. "Well, in all honesty, it's why she's latched on to you. I think you feel that too, don't you?"

"Yes."

"It's hard to leave your past behind, you know?"

"Yeah, I know," Patrick said heavily. "I have a past too."

"Yes, I'm sure you do. Well, all I can say is"—and her voice suddenly sank to a whisper, as she heard Nina and Frank coming down the stairs—"best of luck to you! You make a terribly cute couple!"

*

The next trauma in Nina and Patrick's relationship came about as a direct result of the conversation he had had with Teresa. In September, after a vigorous bout of lovemaking (both front and back), Patrick said earnestly:

"I can't believe how lucky I am."

"What do you mean?" Nina said, her whole body covered with sweat.

"I mean that I was so lucky you were available. It just amazes me that someone else didn't snatch you up earlier."

"I told you about that," Nina said. "I just wasn't ready to go out and date people. The whole idea was pretty horrible."

"As bad as that?"

"Yeah, as bad as that."

"You were afraid that, if you gave your heart to someone, he'd do what Larry did?"

"Partly that. But mostly it was the idea that there were all these guys who were desperate to get me into bed, no matter what they actually felt."

"Um, isn't that what I did?"

"No!" Nina said, propping herself up on an elbow and glaring at Patrick. "Of course you didn't! What we did was . . . mutual."

"I hope it was." He shook his head. "You really didn't date anyone for three whole years?"

"That's right."

"Amazing. Well, as I say, I guess I was just lucky that I was around when you were finally ready."

She fell back down on the bed and snuggled next to him. "I'm sure it was something like fate."

"Maybe," he said skeptically.

Then an idea struck her. "Um, how many women did you date in the two years after you were divorced?"

She felt him stiffen. And when he refused to answer, she said, "Patrick, dear, are you going to tell me how many women you dated?"

Between his teeth he said, "A fair number."

Her heart sank at the news. "Really? A lot?"

"I don't know how many you think is 'a lot.'"

The evasiveness of the answer made her get up on her elbow again and stare him right in the face. "How many women did you sleep with?"

He looked everywhere but at her. "I—I can't remember."

"You have no idea?" she said incredulously.

"Well, it's not as if I kept count!" he said heatedly. "Why is this an issue for you?"

"I'd just like to know," she said quietly.

"But it can't mean anything to you. This was all before I even knew you. So what difference does it make?"

"You're not going to tell me?"

Patrick suddenly flung himself out of bed and started walking around the room. "Look, I don't know, I tell you."

"Take a guess," Nina said in a whisper.

He closed his eyes and looked at the wall as he said, "Maybe . . . twenty."

It was as if a huge granite ball had been dropped on Nina's stomach. She placed her hands over her belly as if in acute pain and croaked, "So—so many?"

"It's not that many."

"It is! God, Patrick, I haven't slept with twenty men in my whole life! How could there have been so many?"

"I don't know. It just happened."

"Were they all one-night stands?" Nina said desperately. "Most of them?"

"A lot of them were, yes."

"On first dates?"

"Yes, some."

She writhed in pain, rolling back and forth on the bed. Didn't you sleep with me on our first date? Didn't you touch my spot less than an hour after we met? "Oh, God, oh, God," she moaned.

Looking down at her almost with disdain, Patrick suddenly started getting dressed.

"I think it's better if I go somewhere else tonight," he muttered, half to himself. He had still not given up his apartment, even though he had moved most of his things into Nina's house.

She looked at him, aghast. "Don't you dare leave me!" she screamed.

Her reaction took Patrick aback. "Nina, I'm not leaving," he said calmly. "I just think a little separation would be better right now. We can talk about this again, if we really want to, some other time."

"No!" she cried, half getting out of bed herself. "You can't just bolt when things get tough. We have to talk about this now!"

"I don't like arguing," he said in something close to a whine.

"And you think I do?" she flung back. "God! When I first got together with you, I thought this might be a safe and placid relationship, with no drama. But it's been nothing but drama!"

"It doesn't have to be that way," he said quietly.

"No, it doesn't—but when we do have a disagreement, you can't just fly from the scene like a frightened cat. You have to stick it out. That's what couples do."

He heaved an immense sigh and stopped getting dressed.

"Okay, fine," he said, now shedding the clothes he had just put on. "But this is not what you think. Look, I realize I made a lot of mistakes in whom I chose to go out with. A lot of these women were sort of desperate. I don't know if it was their biological clock, or if they were just anxious to get laid, or what. But it became obvious to me that most of them were just—not what I was looking for."

"And so you cast them aside?" she said bitterly.

"That's not what happened. We both decided we weren't right for each other."

"Did you actually have relationships with any of them?"

"Some. Some of them lasted two or three months. But by then, I—we became convinced that it wasn't working. And that was it."

We've been together three months, Nina thought harrowingly. Is it time for you to throw me away?

As she burst into tears, Patrick finally snapped out of his immobility. Rushing back to bed, he took her in his arms. She was resistant at first, but then threw her arms around his neck and clung to him like a baby.

"Nina, dearest," he said softly, "those other women don't matter. They just don't. You can't possibly be jealous of them. They were all out of my life before you ever showed up."

"That's not it," she said through her sobs.

"Then what is it?"

She looked up at his face. "How can I know," she said clearly and distinctly, "that I'm not just one more woman you have a fling with? How can I be sure I'm not going to be your twenty-first?"

Patrick's hold on Nina tightened, and his face became almost purple. She tried to writhe out of his grasp, but he wouldn't let go.

"Patrick, you're—"

"How can you be sure?" he spat. "Because I love you! That's how!"

She gazed at him speechlessly.

"That's how," he said with a suddenly lowered voice. "I never loved any of them. I never said 'I love you' to any of them. Not one. But I've said it to you—many, many times. That's a big difference, isn't it?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"So," he said, finally loosening his hold on her, "can we not talk about this anymore?"

"Okay."

He kissed her—on her mouth, her cheeks, her neck, her temples. He used the bedsheet to wipe away her tears. His hand eventually strayed to her bottom, which he squeezed in a notably proprietary way. But she didn't mind.

I love you and you love me. You can have my body and my soul and my mind and everything else that I am. Just make sure you don't leave me.