“Adam? We didn’t do anything so horribly and terribly wrong, really. Did we?”
“Eve? What we did was probably legitimate grounds for a lot of things—murder and divorce, for starters. Let’s talk tomorrow.”
We hung up and I knew that my conversation with her had left her sort of hanging. I had not given her any reassurances. It wasn’t like Friday night at Wild Dunes when I told her I loved her. That had been more like acting out a fantasy. But then reality had hit me, because Eliza was gone. And to make things worse, I couldn’t get it out of my mind that Eve was looking for more than a friend in me. And she wanted it now. This was no time to begin an affair, even if it would be with Eve. I felt pretty rotten over the idea that I’d run Eliza out of the country. I hadn’t meant to hurt anyone. I’d only meant to steal a few hours with Eve. But mainly, I never thought we’d get caught. Jesus, this monogamy thing was hard. It sure didn’t have much leeway.
I don’t know why in the world I said yes to her, but when Eve called me yesterday I agreed to meet her for dinner. She was coming back to Charleston to take Cookie to the doctor. Cookie couldn’t take a taxi? Somehow, I got through the day, checking my e-mail every ten minutes to see if there was anything from Eliza. Not one word. Now I was annoyed again. I mean, it might have been nice if she’d dropped me a line just to say she was there and safe or that she was finding what she went searching for in the first place. I drove home from the job site where I was currently working the biggest crews I’d ever hired, building another two hundred starter houses in Summerville for Carolina One Realty to sell to Boeing employees. Boeing was bringing a renaissance to our local economy. With all the new residents came housing needs, obviously, and a demand for other things like new restaurants, dry cleaners, bank branches, grocery stores, health clubs . . . the list was endless. Every builder in Charleston had all the business they could handle.
I was going to shower and change and meet Eve at Charleston Grill, at the Charleston Place Hotel. She’d made the reservation. Charleston Grill was a little fancy for my taste. I think I took Eliza there once for her birthday, and I remember that I nearly had a heart attack when the bill came. But I gave Eve no objection because it was sort of a momentous occasion, if you could call your wife of twenty-two years dumping you because of one tiny transgression a momentous occasion, and I guess you could.
I realized I wasn’t in the best humor as I went through my closet looking for a clean dress shirt. There were none to be found. Eliza usually picked up the dry cleaning on Saturdays. Well, that was the day she ran out on me, wasn’t it? Big deal. I’d pick them up myself. Wait, I thought, what dry cleaner did we use? Easy to find out. I’d have a look at the checkbook or maybe the Visa bill. I’d do that tomorrow morning. Meanwhile, it was pretty chilly for a February evening, so I pulled out one of the infamous sweaters from that Christmas of abundant knitwear and thought, okay, this doesn’t look too bad. It was just a pale blue lightweight cashmere pullover with a collar and a zipper. It looked pretty good with khaki pants and my navy blazer. I splashed on a little smell-swell and regretted it right away. Eve would take a sniff and think I got myself dolled up for her. I locked the house and left to meet her. But the devil in me would be sure to let her get a good whiff.
Why in the hell was I doing this? I was still playing with fire. What kind of expectations did Eve have of me? Men and women were wired so differently, and that had never been more clear to me than it was at that moment. I had given my marriage a lot of thought and I knew I could outlast Eliza. She would have her Greek adventure and eventually come crawling home. We would resume our respective roles in our life together and never speak of the incident again. But Eve? I didn’t have a clue, really.
I pulled into the circular driveway at Charleston Place and gave my keys to the valet.
“Checking in, sir?”
“No, just having dinner,” I said.
“Enjoy your evening,” he said.
I might have to remortgage the house, but thanks, I thought.
I walked through the lobby of the hotel toward the restaurant and spotted Eve at the bar. She looked more beautiful than ever. My resolve to keep the evening free of titillation started to waver. She was sipping on a glass of white wine. And her long legs were amazing as she perched on the barstool, rare and exquisite, wearing super high heels, making her legs look even sexier. And let me tell you, she was wearing something one would not wear to church.
“Hey, Eve. I don’t know if this was such a good idea,” I said, suddenly nervous.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she said and kissed me lightly on my cheek. “You smell delicious. You worry too much!”
“Jesus, Eve. I only have so much willpower.”
The bartender said, “Can I get you something, sir?”
“Um, let’s see . . .”
A lawyer? I thought.
Just then the maître d’ approached.
“Your table is ready,” he said.
“Oh, good,” I said.
“We can take the lady’s drink to the table if you’d like,” the bartender said.
“That’s fine,” I said and watched Eve slide down from her barstool.
It occurred to me then that this might not have been her first glass of wine that day. And Friday night she nearly put away a bottle by herself. What was going on with that? I thought Cookie was the one with the alcohol problem.
I followed her to the table and the maître d’ pulled out her chair for her. They were very heavy chairs. He handed me a wine list and a menu.
“Have you dined with us before?”
“Yes,” I said, “but it’s been a while.”
“I’ve always wanted to come here,” Eve said to him.
The maître d’ said, “Welcome!” to Eve and then, “Welcome back!” to me. He was one chipper fellow, I’d give him that.
“Well,” he continued, “when y’all are ready I can explain how the menu works.”
Our waiter came up to us and placed Eve’s glass of wine in front of her. She flashed him that million-dollar smile and he all but fainted. That smile had some megawatts.
“I think we’re ready,” I said.
“All right then. As you can see, we have four distinctive menus. This one is called the Cosmopolitan, because all of the dishes have exotic flavors from around the world. The next one is the Regional, because it includes updated versions of classic southern favorites. Third is the Pure offering, so named because the dishes are lighter, and the last one is Lush, because all the choices are more lavish. Feel free to mix and match. And, take your time. Sir, may I offer you a cocktail?”
“Sure. I’ll have a glass of red wine. Do you have a nice zinfandel by the glass?”
“Yes, of course. May I suggest the Turley?”
“That sounds fine,” I said, thinking, Who knows what that is?
I didn’t remember this place as being so formal, and then I realized it wasn’t any more formal than Cypress or Peninsula Grill. It was simply very polite and very professional. I began to relax a little.
“What looks good to you, Eve?” I was busy scanning the menu.
“You look good to me, Adam.”
“If you think you’re going to flirt with me like this and nothing will happen, you’re dead wrong.”
She narrowed her eyes and stared at me.
“Oh, Adam! Since when can’t you take a joke?”
“I can take a joke just fine.”
She wasn’t fooling with me. But dang, she was beautiful.
The waiter returned with my glass of zinfandel.
“Cheers!” I said to Eve.
“Cheers!” she said.
I thought about Eliza. If she were here she’d order the seared foie gras and the Thai fish. I’d have the sturgeon salad and the Norwegian ocean trout. We always ordered dishes she didn’t make at home and we’d share them. She would actually feed me with her fork. Let me make you the perfect bite, she’d say, and put a bit of glistening m
eat and a tiny bite of potato or vegetable together and lean across the table to me. Then she’d sit back smiling while I savored it. Eliza had such a healthy curiosity about food. She liked to try everything. Whenever we went to a new restaurant she always came away inspired, determined to re-create whatever crazy thing we had just eaten. There was a Thai restaurant near the Citadel Mall she loved. And a sushi bar downtown. Even the Mexican food in Charleston was an adventure. Eliza would have worshipped this menu.
“What are you thinking about?” Eve said. “Your eyebrows are all knitted together.”
“Hmm, Eliza used to say it was my furry brow.”
“Instead of furrowed?”
“Yeah. I think Luke started that when he was just a little boy.”
“You do know you just referred to her in past tense?”
I just looked at Eve and thought, Oh my god, she’s right. I just referred to Eliza in the past tense. What does that mean?
“Well, just because it’s something she did in the past,” I said. “She’s not dead.”
“No. Thank heaven. But is she in your past?”
Boy, Eve really had a helluva campaign laid out, didn’t she? I couldn’t remember her being this aggressive. Maybe she couldn’t separate from Carl unless she had someone else in her life. Like me. A lot of people were like that. But I wasn’t going to be her exit ramp.
“No, Eve, she’s not.”
Eve shifted in her seat, uncomfortable with my response.
The waiter returned.
“Have we decided? Ma’am?”
“I’ll have the beet salad and the flounder,” she said, handing him the menu. “Thanks.”
Jeesch. That had to be the most unimaginative thing on the menu.
I said, “And I’ll have the steak tartare and the rack of lamb.”
“Medium rare?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Very good. And would you like to order a bottle of wine?”
“Well, since my friend is having fish and I’m having red meat, maybe we should just order by the glass. How’s that, Eve?”
Her glass was empty.
“Would you care for another glass?” the waiter said.
“Please,” she said. “It’s a sauvignon blanc.”
He disappeared into the throng. The restaurant was filling up. There was jazz music being played on the other side of the dining room. All in all, I knew Eliza would shoot me dead if she could’ve seen me then.
Then the next worst thing that could have happened, happened. In came Cookie, Clarabeth, and Dad, all dressed up for a night on the town. Dad was even wearing a suit. When Cookie saw me she started screaming. She all but ran to our table and began to rant and rave like a crazy person. The other guests in the restaurant became very quiet.
“Are you kidding me? Are you kidding me? Eliza is gone for forty-eight hours and you’re already fooling around with my daughter again? Have you no shame?”
“Mom! Stop! I called Adam and invited him to dinner!”
“You call yourself innocent in that dress?” Then she whispered, “You’re a tramp.”
“That’s not nice. We’re just having dinner, Cookie,” I said.
That shut Cookie up for about five seconds, then she leaned into me and said, “You listen to me. You should’ve said no.” Then she stood back and looked from Eve to me. “Shame on both of you.”
My father came and took Cookie by the arm to lead her away. He looked disgusted.
“Enjoy your dinner, son.”
Gone was the look of approval I was accustomed to seeing in his eyes.
He turned and walked away. I saw them leave the restaurant, abandoning their reservation. I was mortified. Eve, on the other hand, was perfectly sanguine.
“You still hungry?” I said, thinking it was time for the check.
“I’m starving,” she said. “My mother is a lunatic.” Then she turned to the other patrons and said, “Mom’s off her meds. Sorry for the excitement.”
They nodded, and the ladies gave me looks of pity, as they thought I was a recent widower, but on the faces of the men were silent thumbs-ups for having such a gorgeous dinner companion and, may we add, she has the most delightful sense of humor?
“Eve, Eve, Eve. What am I to do with you?”
“Just love me, Adam. That’s all I want. I just want to feel like someone in this world loves me.”
“Carl loves you, Eve.”
“Then why did he walk out on me?”
“Because you and I did something selfish that broke a boundary.” Then I thought, Um, did I really say that?
Our first courses were delivered.
“I’m not happily married and you know it.”
“And we’re doing it again tonight.” I paused for a moment, watching her push her salad from one side of the plate to the other. I took a bite of my steak tartare. It was melt-in-your-mouth good. “Would you like a bite of this?”
“Raw meat? No, thanks.”
I’d never realized she was such a picky eater.
“So, Eve? Do you really think that you want to divorce Carl?”
“Adam, I didn’t tell you this at the beach, but he has pictures of a woman’s breasts on his phone and they’re not mine.”
“Are you serious?”
“He might be a doctor, but he’s no Einstein. He uses the same password on everything. His mother’s birthday. Not mine, not our daughter’s—his mother’s.”
“A good shrink would know what to do with that. I don’t. So, he knows that you know this? About the pictures, I mean.”
“He has to know. I think that maybe he moved out to avoid getting kicked out.”
“Where did he go?”
“I think he’s at a hotel next to the hospital,” Eve said.
“Jesus, Eve, I’m so sorry.” I leaned back in my chair. “What a mess.”
The waiter took away our appetizers and another waiter delivered our entrées.
“Yep. I’ve got a nice fat big mess on my hands.”
“I’ve gotta tell you. I’m surprised, and I’ll be really surprised if there’s not a reasonable explanation for this. Make that a believable explanation.”
If I were Carl, I’d have an ironclad alibi for everything on my phone. How could he be so sloppy?
She began to pick at her fish, taking the tiniest of bites. Maybe she’d simply lost her appetite. I could’ve picked up my lamb chops with my hands and gnawed them to the bone like Henry VIII, they were so tender and tasty.
“Something wrong with the fish?” I said.
“No, I was just thinking that I planned to stay with my mother tonight, but now I really don’t feel like going there. And it’s too far to drive out to the beach. Maybe I’ll see if they have a room here.”
“Well, at least you’d be able to sleep in peace,” I said.
chapter 15
eliza
It was dusk when Kiki rolled up to the house, and off we went to her mother’s house, my theia Anna. I wondered if I would recognize anyone there. Or if they would remember me at all. And maybe there would be stories about my mother I’d never heard. I knew that would be asking for a lot. After all, my mother died forty years ago or more.
“Oh, my God, wait till you see! Mother has gone off the deep end! She’s been cooking all day and night and so have her friends. There’s moussaka and lamb and lamb sausages and octopus and breads and oh, you won’t believe. And desserts? There’s enough baklava to feed the entire Greek navy! I don’t think there’s a grape leaf, a block of feta, a pistachio nut, or a teaspoon of honey left on this island!”
“I can’t wait!” I said. “I loved our dinner at your friend’s taverna. I’ve always loved Greek food anyway. There’s only one Greek restaurant in Charleston and they make the juiciest roasted chicken. I can’t wait to see everyone.” I was a nervous wreck.
“We’re going to have a wonderful night.”
“I wish I spoke Greek,” I said. “I apologize in advance for al
l the translating you’ll probably have to do.”
“Don’t be silly,” Kiki said and turned to smile at me. “Nicholas speaks English and the others are somewhat fluent.”
She turned her eyes back to the road and we drove very slowly as we wound our way through the village. The streets were busy. And I suddenly realized I had no gift for my aunt, which would be unforgivable considering all the trouble she went to to prepare this dinner.
“Kiki, I need a small favor. Is there a place I can buy flowers? I can’t see my aunt after all these years and show up empty-handed.”
“Of course! Just ahead is a little bakery that sells flowers too.”
She pulled over and I got out, then realized I didn’t have any euros.
I turned around and Kiki already had her wallet out.
“You can pay me back,” she said, and handed me a twenty-euro note.
“Thanks,” I said and thought, Well, now she knows I left home in a hurry.
Indeed, this tiny shop sold pastries and bread and flowers. I picked out two small bouquets of wildflowers and paid for them. I got back in the car.
“Those are lovely,” she said. “Mother will love them.”
I buried my nose in them and took a deep breath. They reminded me of something, some smell from long ago.
“Why do these flowers smell so familiar?” I asked.
“Maybe because they smell like the hills around us? It’s a fragrance as old as the hills themselves.”
“Like the dirt,” I said, remembering playing with my brother and Kiki in my aunt’s yard, digging holes to China.
People were everywhere, old ladies arm in arm, mothers with youngsters in tow going to the stores for last-minute items for their supper, children kicking a soccer ball in the square by the church, their pet dogs of dubious pedigree scampering all around them. The air was thick with contentment, something you might run through your fingers if you held your hand outside the window. I wished I could grab some, put it in a jar, and keep it with me. Soon we had passed through the tiny business district and with a few more turns, we arrived.
“Yassou! Yassou!”
The tiny old woman who came rushing from the ancient fading pink stucco house with her hands in the air had to be my aunt Anna. It was. Across all the years that had divided us, I could tell her by her eyes. I got out of the car without my purse or the flowers, we threw our arms around each other, and we burst into tears, even Kiki.