And there was nothing else and hadn’t been in a long time, despite the Botox shots, good haircuts, well- toned body thanks to her trainer, and expensive wardrobe. Old was old, and she was, or so she thought. “I have this psychic I talk to a couple of times a year. He’s been telling me for years now that I’m going to meet a terrific man. I think he says it to give me hope. It never happens, or hasn’t in a hell of a while. I’d been to see him that morning I saw you in the elevator, doubled over with your back.”
“He must have fangs,” Jack teased her, remembering it perfectly, despite the pain he’d been in. She was very striking, and had made an impression on him. “Your face was bleeding.”
She hesitated and then laughed again, not worried about what she said to him. “I had just had Botox shots
“I get them too,” he admitted, equally honest. “So what, if it makes us look good? I don’t usually advertise that, but shit, we both make a living on screen, and with high-definition video now, you need all the help you can get.”
“Isn’t that the truth? You can’t lie to the camera anymore, although God knows I try.” They both laughed at their reciprocal confessions, which didn’t seem so shocking. Even schoolteachers and younger women were getting Botox shots now. It was not just for the very rich or movie stars. “The vanity of it is a little embarrassing, and I think my daughter thinks I’m pretty silly. She doesn’t even wear makeup, probably in reaction to me, but I also make my living, or part of it, based on how I look, and so do you. And it makes me feel better if I look a little younger. It’s not fun or easy getting old.” They both knew that was the truth, and had been wrestling with it for the past two months, each in their own way, since their birthdays.
“You’re not old, Valerie,” he said kindly, and meant it. “We all feel that way past a certain age. It always annoys me that I think I’m falling apart. I hate having my picture taken, and then five years later I see the same picture and think I looked pretty good back then, but like hell now. I don’t know why we’re so obsessed with age in this country, but we are. It’s hard to live up to at any age. I know thirty-year-old women who feel old.
“And I agree with your psychic. I think someone great is going to turn up one of these days. You deserve it. Forget the ninety-year-old guys.
Valerie looked at him and shook her head. “I’d feel stupid. I’ve never seen a boy that age who appealed to me. I like grown-ups, and I think that would just make me feel older. I don’t want to sleep with a man young enough to be my child. Besides, I want to share common life experiences, similar points of view and concerns. What do you have in common with someone that age? That’s really about sex, not love. I may be old-fashioned, but I’d like to have both. And if I were going to sacrifice something, it would be sex, not love.” For the moment, she had neither, but she was true to herself and always had been. Jack could sense that about her. She was a woman who knew who she was and what she wanted, what she was willing to sacrifice and what she wasn’t. But it wasn’t easy finding the right person, for anyone. He hadn’t found it either, so he settled for sex and a lot of fun, and a herniated disk when he had a little too much fun.
“I don’t think it’s easy to find someone at any age. Look at all the people in their twenties and thirties trying to find dates through the internet. That tells you something, that it’s not as easy to find people as it used to be. I don’t know why, but I think it’s true. People are better informed, more particular. They know themselves better through therapy. Women don’t just want a guy to pay the bills, and they’re not willing to put up with anything to get it, they want a partner. That narrows the field considerably. And there are always guys like me out there, who throw the balance off, dating twenty-year-olds, which leaves the fifty-year-old women with no one to go out with, except some Neanderthal who’s watching TV and drinking beer, never had therapy, and doesn’t know who the hell he is or care.”
“So what’s the answer?” she asked, looking puzzled. He seemed to understand the problem perfectly, but had no more solutions to the problem than she did.
He grinned, as he switched the music on the stereo to something more lively. “Sex, drugs, and rock and roll,” he teased. It was five to midnight, almost New Year’s, and the evening had flown by. “I don’t know what the answer is. I suspect you probably find the right person by accident one day. And it’s never who you thought it would be, or what you thought you wanted. Kind of like real estate. I was looking for a brownstone in the East Sixties, and wouldn’t look at anything else. This apartment came on the market, and my realtor dragged me here kicking and screaming. I fell in love with it, and you couldn’t get me out of here now. I think we have to stay open to what comes along. I think
“I think you’re right,” she said, looking hopeful. She liked the way he looked at things, and his philosophy about life. He was fully alive and excited about whatever he did. It was why he wasn’t sitting there clutching his leg and moaning about the trauma he’d been through and the near-death experience. Instead he was ready to move on, and having a good time with her, getting to know a new person, and making a new friend. She liked the way he thought, and it was an inspiration to her.
Jack looked at his watch then, and flipped on the TV to the ball in Times Square where a crowd of thousands was waiting to see the New Year in. He started counting. They were almost on it. Ten … nine … eight … seven … He was smiling and so was she … and when they reached “One!” he put his arms around her and looked into her eyes.
“Happy New Year, Valerie. I hope it’s a great year for you in every way!” He kissed her lightly on the mouth then, and hugged her.
“You too, Jack,” she said, and meant it as they held each other, as they both thought at the same time that it was already a great year. They were both alive!
Chapter 12
Valerie had lunch with April right after the New Year. She had sent a bottle of Cristal and a note to Jack to thank him the next day. The note said, “Best New Year ever! Thank you! Valerie,” and she told April about it over lunch. They both agreed that he was a genuinely nice guy, in spite of the showy twelve-year-olds he went out with, as April put it. Most of them looked like gold-diggers when he brought them to the restaurant, but he didn’t seem to mind.
Valerie told her he’d invited her to come to the Super Bowl, and April was stunned to hear that she was going.
“But you hate sports, Mom, and you know less about football than I do, and that’s not much.”
“You’re right. But he said something on New Year’s Eve that I think is true, about staying open to life, doing new things, meeting new people, opening new doors. I think that’s the antidote to getting old and shriveling up. I may hate it, but I might have fun. Why not try it? He invited me as a friend, not a date, with my own room. Why not do something different for a change? I don’t want to get stuck in a rut.” Her daughter was impressed by her attitude, and Valerie herself had noticed that since surviving the terrorist attack on the network, she had been more open to everything, and more grateful for her life. She could easily have been killed like some of the others, and instead she had gotten another shot at life. As terrifying as it had been, it had freed her in some important ways. The little aggravations seemed less important, and everything seemed like a gift, especially a new friend like Jack, and a chance to go to the Super Bowl with a retired football star. Why not? Maybe that’s what getting older was all
