The Ex

They were well away from the trail now. Deirdre slowed her pace. Darlene’s breathing was perfectly normal now, and the glisten of perspiration was gone from her long, tanned legs.

A man who’d been feeding pigeons rose from a bench in the shade and wandered off. Deirdre walked toward the unoccupied bench, scattering the pigeons as she approached, and the two women sat down. They were in the shade, out of sight of Molly if she happened to jog past on the trail.

Deirdre remembered when she’d first seen Darlene in New York, sitting on a suitcase in the bus terminal, looking at the rack of magazines in a nearby kiosk. She didn’t look lonely, but she seemed vulnerable. Deirdre had found herself drifting toward the magazine rack, knowing it wasn’t magazines that drew her. But it was Darlene who struck up a conversation, asking Deirdre if she was new to the city. As if Darlene couldn’t tell.

“Molly yelled something at me when I started to pull away from her,” Darlene said, bringing Deirdre back to the present.

“Was it my name?”

“I don’t think so.” Darlene gave her that funny look again. “I thought you two hadn’t met. Why would she think I was you?”

“She saw me once. She knows what I look like, more or less, wearing the cap and sunglasses I asked you to put on.”

“Then that’s why she was trying so hard to catch up with me. You didn’t explain that part of the joke.”

Deirdre watched a pigeon peck persistently at the hard earth, somehow knowing there was something beneath the surface worth getting at. “It wasn’t exactly a joke that we played on Molly.”

“No, I guess not.” Darlene, too, was studying the pigeon. “I think what we did to her was cruel, Deirdre.”

“You agreed to it.”

“But I didn’t know then why you wanted to taunt her. Just because she’s married to David, that’s no way for you to behave. No way for you to win David back.”

“David will never know about it.”

“Yes he will. Molly will tell him.”

“He won’t believe her. I can make sure of that.”

“Is that your plan?” Darlene asked. “To drive a wedge between them?”

“I hadn’t thought about it, but that wouldn’t be a bad plan.”

“I disagree,” Darlene said. “Why don’t you face up to the fact that your relationship with David is over and get on with your life?”

“That phrase about people getting on with their lives is the worst kind of psychobabble,” Deirdre said. “Unless we decide to commit suicide, none of us has any choice other than to get on with our life.”

“It’s how we get on with life that’s important, Deirdre. We can accept fate and be content, or we can fight it and be miserable.”

“It isn’t that simple!”

Darlene looked around, embarrassed. “Shh. You’re raising your voice.”

“You’re the one talking too loud,” Deirdre said. “People are staring.”

“They’re staring at you, not me.” Darlene stood up from the bench. “I’m going now.”

Deirdre suddenly felt guilty, unworthy. Darlene was one of those people who could do that to her. It was something she hadn’t counted on. “I suppose you’re mad at me now.”

Darlene looked down at her, smiled, and shook her head. “No, it isn’t that. If I don’t leave, I’ll be late for dance class.”

“You’re always dashing away somewhere so you won’t be late.”

“I lead a busy life.”

“Busier than mine.”

“It doesn’t have to be that way, Deirdre. You’ll meet people, have fun. You’ll see.”

“I’m not even sure that’s what I want.”

“What do you want?” Darlene suddenly raised a forefinger to her lips. “No! Never mind, don’t tell me. There’s no time.” She began walking backward, grinning at Deirdre. “We’ll get together soon.”

“When?”

Without answering, Darlene lifted her arm in a wave, then spun gracefully to face the direction she was going.

Deirdre sat and watched her walk away. After about fifty feet, Darlene began to jog. She ran with beautiful long strides and perfect balance, her head held high and not bouncing at all. All that ballet, Deirdre thought, as Darlene passed from sight.

Deirdre continued staring after her. There was something about Darlene she didn’t like, she decided.

And she knew what it was.

Darlene was beginning to treat her the way other people often did. As if there might be something wrong with her.

Didn’t she know that could be dangerous?

9

Silver’s Gym in midtown Manhattan was crowded that evening. All of the Nautilus equipment was in use, and four exhausted-looking women were riding the stationary bicycles side by side. Two men were waiting for David to finish his bench presses with the free weights so they could use them. Herb Mindle, a psychiatrist whose office was nearby, was spotting for David, as David, on his back on the padded bench, struggled to raise the heavy barbell for the fourth time and set it in its supports. He was doing three sets of four with the weights near his maximum capacity, trying to build bulk.

“You’re there!” Mindle said, staying back but ready to jump in and support the weight if David’s strength failed.

David let out a long whoosh! of air as he let the barbell drop into the cradle of the bench’s vertical supports.

“Want to use this thing?” he asked as he sat up and wiped his face with a towel.

“No thanks,” Mindle said. “I’ll spot for these guys.”

David got up and walked toward the locker room, noticing that the clock over the door read seven-fifteen. Molly was expecting him at eight.

He showered, dressed, packed his workout clothes in his small blue nylon duffle bag, then left the gym. Mindle, just standing up from having done his sets of bench presses, waved to him as he went out the door. The women on the stationary bicycles were still at it.

He was three blocks away from the gym, walking along the crowded sidewalk toward his subway stop, when he heard Deirdre’s voice.

“David! Again! My God, I don’t believe it!”

He couldn’t hold down his pleasure at seeing her, but he knew this seemingly chance meeting had to have been planned. “Listen, Deirdre, this is more than coinci-”

He stopped talking as he noticed the man who was obviously with Deirdre. He was tall, balding, a businessman of some sort, apparently, with his muted checked gray suit and conservative tie. He was slender through the chest and shoulders but had put on weight around the middle so that his stomach bulged noticeably over his belt beneath his unbuttoned suit coat. His face was bland and amiable, and he wore thick glasses without frames that made his eyes look immense and strangely innocent.

“David!” Deirdre almost squealed with pleasure. “I was sure we’d never meet again!”

Before he could move, she’d leaned forward and pecked him on the cheek. Her red hair looked particularly wild and attractive in the summer breeze, and she was wearing a simple but low-cut beige linen dress and matching pumps. When she moved in close to kiss him, a disturbing and not unpleasant scent of perfume and perspiration came to him.