Chapter Eleven
The traffic heading up to Fullerton was horrendous. It took Julie nearly an hour to get to Denny’s from her house on the peninsula. Once inside though, she immediately found Tracy, already seated in a corner booth and obviously anticipating their planned rendezvous.
They greeted, ordered coffee, and made small talk for a few minutes. Trace told her that everything had been put to rest with the police. The whole incident was now ancient history. And she hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol since. “Nothing permanent,” she added, “just a little breather until I’m sure I’ve got my head on straight about it. I’m going for moderation from here on out, though. That’s for sure.”
Julie encouraged her, adding that perhaps her episode at the South Coast Club might turn out for good.
“Wouldn’t that be a hoot,” Trace proclaimed.
When the waitress returned with their coffee, they each ordered a grilled chicken salad. Tracy took a sip of her brew and sighed. “This is revolting. It tastes like sewage.”
“You’re surprised?” Julie asked. “Denny’s is not exactly known for gourmet coffee.”
“I should try to get them for an account, help them move their image up a few notches on the scale.”
“You should. One account like Denny’s and you’d be set for life.”
“No kidding. I’d sit home and watch the commission checks roll in.”
“No you wouldn’t either,” Julie protested. “I can’t see you taking it easy; it’s not your style.”
“The hell it isn’t. I’d like nothing more than to have everything handled, financially at least. I’d even consider marriage if the guy was rich enough. Then, I could spend my time decorating some mansion down in Laguna Hills or someplace like that. Or I’d go shopping, or maybe just lounge around my own private beach, reading trashy romance novels — when I wasn’t practicing some of my moves on hubby, that is.”
“And what about kids?” Julie asked. “What if hubby wanted a couple of perfect little heirs, you know, some fruit from the womb, so to speak?”
“I wouldn’t rule that out…with the right guy of course. But he better hurry up, because the old womb ain’t getting any younger.” She laughed. “Come to think of it, maybe I should be freezing some eggs.”
Julie saw Tracy’s eyes flash like quicksilver and remembered how Remy had described her in her youth, “…all blond hair and silvery eyes and smiles.”
“You had some. How’d you like the experience?”
“What’s that?” Julie asked, having been distracted by her thoughts.
“Having kids. What are we talking about here?”
“Oh, yeah. Sorry. I was just remembering something Remy said about when you were a kid.”
“Was he telling you stories? That guy can’t be trusted.”
“It was nothing, really. Just that you were a beautiful little girl, and none of the relatives could stop looking at you, the men anyway.”
“That’s not really a good thing, you know. I mean you don’t exactly want to attract dirty old men who also happen to be close relatives.”
“Don’t sell yourself short, Trace. I’m sure you’ve left quite a few young men smitten in your wake as well. What I’d like to know is why one hasn’t managed to hang on for the lifetime trip.”
“Jul, you should have told me this was going to be true confessions. I would have prepared a script.”
“I’m not trying to pry, Trace. But when I look at you and me, I see two girls who took different journeys to the same destination. Let’s face it; here we both are — single, bottom-of-the-ladder career women, no money, no education, no real prospects, having salads in a cheap chain restaurant when we’d both prefer burgers and fries but we can’t afford the fat on our waistlines.” She said all this not because she actually saw herself in the same boat with Trace — quite the contrary, actually. But she wanted to connect with her friend, to allow Trace to believe she was just like her.
“Yeah, that about sums it up, doesn’t it. It would be funny if it weren’t so damn pitiful.” They both laughed.
Their salads arrived.
After a few silent moments spent sampling their meals, Tracy spoke again. “So, how’d things go with your boss, what’s his name?”
“You mean Mike?”
“Yeah, him.” She shoveled a forkful of iceberg lettuce into her mouth, capped with a small chunk of chicken, drenched in honey-mustard dressing.
“Well, you’re not going to believe this.”
“Try me.”
“He gave me a new job in Marketing Communications and a decent raise.”
“That’s fantastic.” Trace seemed genuinely congratulatory.
“It’s a lot more work, but I think it could definitely lead to something bigger.”
“Something bigger? What kind of something bigger?” She snickered.
“Let’s try and keep our minds on business, Trace. I meant something more significant at SunBurst, maybe even management of the department.”
“Did he promise you that?”
“Well, not exactly.”
“And this is the guy with the fifty dollar haircuts and the baby blue eyes, right?”
“That’s right...So what?”
“Julie, are you sure you know what you’re doing? It’s been a while for you. I mean you haven’t had to handle any of these major league studs before, have you?”
“Come on Trace, what kind of a rube do you take me for?”
“Okay. I won’t press the issue. But if you ever need any advice...You know who to call.”
They both went back to eating, but Julie felt regretful because she’d not been entirely forthcoming with Trace. The truth was complicated, though, so she wasn’t sure she should tell her friend everything. But then, she remembered how she had lectured Danny in her last e-mail with the “What are friends for” theme. She decided to give it a try.
“Trace, what would you think if I told you I just might be interested in Mike.”
“I’d say you’re playing with fire.”
“Okay. Fair enough. But, think about it. He’s single, successful, rich, handsome, and...Did I say rich? He’s like everything you or I are looking for, and I think he might be coming on to me.”
“Oh, puh-leeze. You’re not falling for that, are you?”
“Well, I’m being more cautious than a cat. He has no idea at all I might be interested.”
“Well, if you ask me you should keep it that way. He’s nothing but trouble, Jul. He’ll break your heart.”
“How can you be so sure? You’ve never even met the guy.”
“From what you’ve told me, I can guarantee he’s not your type.”
“Whose type is he then?”
“Look, Jul, if all you’re looking for is to get it on with a guy, go for it. But he probably won’t even be any good in bed either. His kind never are.”
“Jeez, Trace, I never realized you were so cynical.”
“Hey, I’ve been knocked around by guys like him, screwed until I almost went blind. And look where it got me. It’s just like you said — here we are in loserville. But I’ve learned a thing or two along the way. Like you can’t rise too far above your station. So don’t lie to yourself, Jul. I like you too much to see you get hurt by some rich egomaniac pretty boy. If you want my advice, you better shut him down now, before things get out of hand.”
“Well, I appreciate your concern, but I think you’re overreacting. He’s been extremely polite and gentlemanly. I wish you could see him from where I’m at. And the thing is: What if he is sincere, and I blow him off? I just might be passing up the opportunity of a lifetime.”
“Go for it, then. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Think about it,” Julie said, still trying to sell Trace her point of view. “How many guys like him are going to come my way? I’m not exactly young and stunning, you know.”
Tracy shook her head and smiled. “It’s no use. You’re ass is cooked. He’s already got you roped and skewered and spinning around on his spit. Next thing you know, you’ll be dinner. But I’m not going to say another thing about it. I’ll just hope for the best. Maybe you’re right — he’s Prince Charming.”
Eventually, Tracy asked Julie how things were going with her kids. Julie responded by practically quoting her daughter’s last letter in which Clarrie described her holiday break, spent in northern Michigan skiing with her friends, and how much she loved her life at MSU. Julie acknowledged that Daniel and Clarrie were both adults now. Her job as a mother was pretty much done.
“What about the old man; what’s he up to?” Tracy asked. “Ever hear from him at all?”
“Well, it’s funny you should ask about Danny. He sent me e-mail last Saturday and we’ve exchanged a couple notes since. He wants bygones to be bygones. And since I’m not one to hold grudges, maybe we can keep in touch and be civil to one another — for the kid’s sake if nothing else.”
“Man-oh-man. You have been busy,” Tracy exclaimed. “It’s no wonder you haven’t found the time to call. You’ve got hot and cold running men in your life.”
“Don’t read too much into it, Trace. He just wants to make amends, that’s all.”
“We’ll see about that, won’t we?” She glanced at her watch. “Hey, look at the time. We better save this conversation for another night. I’ll get the check. You leave a tip. Okay?”
“You don’t have to buy my dinner, Trace.”
“Don’t mention it. Besides, you’re worth it. Next one’s on you.”
And off they went to their separate classes, better friends than ever, at least in Julie’s opinion. She was making real progress on her resolution.
After saying good-bye to Valerie in front of the bookstore and promising that he’d be in touch before the end of the week, Danny drove home. He felt renewed.
His spirits were still soaring when he entered the house, so he decided to postpone dinner in favor of a workout. Digging out his old exercise bike from behind some other stored junk in the basement, he removed the plastic sheet he’d placed over it about four years ago, climbed on, and started to pedal. Before long he was sweating like a warthog in heat. But it felt good. He rode and rode — for a full thirty minutes. And when he dismounted, he could barely stand up. That must have done me some good, he thought. Ten more workouts like that, and I’ll drop fifteen pounds.
After showering, Danny warmed up some chicken noodle soup for his dinner and complimented it with a couple raw carrots. It was the healthiest meal he could conjure up from what he had in the house. Then, at almost eight-thirty, he started up his computer, intent on escalating his campaign to win back the affections of his ex-wife.
Dear Julie,
I must admit, at first reading your letter seemed a little bit harsh. But after thinking about what you said and trying to put myself in your shoes, I really think you’re right — we definitely have to be honest with each other from here on out. And you have a right to question my motives, too. You saw me at my worst those last few years. Looking back on it now, I realize how selfish and callous I was. I’m amazed that you put up with me for so long.
There’s just one thing I’d like to clarify though. I didn’t shut you out sexually because of not finding you attractive or desirable. On the contrary, I always wanted you. But deep down I was unhappy with myself and with the way our relationship had gone sour. Of course I didn’t realize all this at the time. Had I recognized then how patient and dedicated you were, how hard you worked to put up with me, raise the kids and keep everything together, I would have behaved differently. Unfortunately, that picture cleared up a little too late.
But you can rest assured that I’d never make that mistake again. So, should we ever find ourselves out on that Caribbean island for a week, I think we’d have a lot of fun together, and I wouldn’t get one bit bored, especially not from looking at you.
Now, I’d also like to say that although love and marriage didn’t work out for us in the past (as you’ve stated), we can’t predict what the future holds either. I agree that we should be friends first. Now’s our chance to do it right. So I’ll agree to keep things platonic. But I’m not willing to throw all potential for love and (dare I say it) SEX totally out the window. All I ask is that you keep an open mind. Let the future be everything it can for both our sakes. And for my part, I’ll respect your feelings.
So, for now, we’ll have a friendship — nothing more.
Sorry I can’t be around to share all your new experiences with you: the coast, your job, your classes, your running (actually, I’m not so sure I could walk at 5:45 in the morning, let alone run). But who knows, maybe someday we’ll be able to get caught up face to face. And I’ll get to see those beautiful eyes again, and your lovely smile. Until then, I’ll keep writing, as I hope you will.
Love, Danny