months of work to do in the next four weeks, and Laurie is going to be responsible for a great deal of it. She doesn't mention Nicole or the situation between us, but neither does she whisper sweet nothings into the phone. It's going to be the longest, shortest four weeks of my life.
NICOLE ANDI HAVE DINNER PLANS TONIGHT. I'M still feeling guilty about Laurie, so I exact my revenge on Nicole by taking her to a sports bar that I've never been to. It's a sign of how hard she's trying that she doesn't voice a complaint about the choice.
The only sports Nicole tolerates are sports cars, and occasionally sports shirts. It was a problem in our marriage. One time I planted myself on the couch and watched football for so long that she came over and watered me. Tara licked it off my face and I didn't miss a single play.
This place actually turns out to be pretty cool, with nine large-screen TVs and headphones that plug into the table so you can hear whatever game you want. Unfortunately, the only game on is a hockey game, which doesn't interest me. I have this rule: I'm only a fan of sports in which I can pronounce 30 percent of the players’ names. I don't think Nicole is a big hockey fan either; she glances at the screen and asks me what inning it is.
Nicole doesn't seem terribly impressed by the place. She has this hang-up about wanting edible food when she goes to a restaurant, and her meal doesn't seem to measure up. I make the mistake of inquiring as to how her salad is.
“Actually,” she says, “I've never said this about salad before … but it's too tough.”
I nod with characteristic understanding. “Same thing with the burgers. It's good for your teeth.”
She smiles and takes my hand. “It's just good to be together.”
At this point I'm thinking that she might be right. Things are getting more comfortable, more like old times. Of course, old times led to our separating, but I'm willing to overlook that right now.
I've known Nicole since I was fourteen; my father and Philip Gant were old friends who had gone on to Yale Law School together. They both then went on to work in the District Attorney's office. Though it became my father's life and passion, it was a résumé-builder for Philip, and after four years he left crime fighting behind to fight for votes.
Tevye would have been thrilled with our courtship; it was the closest thing to an arranged marriage as the United States Constitution permits. We were introduced at a charity ball at Nicole's family's country club, an important enough event that my mother bought me a new navy blazer and khaki pants. I went reluctantly, much preferring to waste time hanging out with my friends than to meet this ritzy prep school girl. I was cool, my friends were cool, the ice cream stand we hung out at was cool, and the country club was said to be very definitely uncool.
For an uncool place, it had some of the coolest things in it I had ever seen, and one of the coolest was Nicole. She was gorgeous, five foot eight, with curly black hair, bare shoulders sloping down from a perfect neck, and a smile that brightened up the entire room. But most importantly, most significantly, most amazingly, she had cleavage! Yes, actual cleavage! And she wore a dress that revealed it! In retrospect, there wasn't that much of it, but at that age, on that night, it felt like I was staring into the Lincoln Tunnel.
I almost choked on my tongue when we were introduced, but as the night wore on things became more comfortable. I regaled her with stories of my baseball prowess, and she told me about her trip through the Orient with her family. She had a slightly rebellious air about her, and a smile that said she realized how absurdly ostentatious these surroundings were, but that was tough, because she was damn well going to enjoy them. She was funny, smart—and she touched my arm when she talked.
I think we both knew from that night on that we were going to wind up together. School and family obligations conspired to keep us mostly apart over the next eight years, but we never lost touch. We'd even talk about our respective relationships, as if they were just passing, unthreatening fancies until we got back to the