Page 52 of That's Not a Thing

“Before it went that far.” He repeats it as a statement, understanding that whatever occurred was far more than a simple kiss. He doesn’t wait for me to elaborate before he lights into me. “How far exactlydidit go? Kind of weird and fetishy of you, no? Molesting a cripple.” He’s nearly spitting at me, and I’m surprised by the cruelty of his words.

“It wasn’t like that,” I argue. “It wasn’t a physical thing, really. It was just about the past, and ... he’s dying ...” As if that answers everything, I pause, waiting for him to understand.

He’s silent for a moment, his eyes darting from side to side like he’s trying to decide what to believe, or how to wrap his mind around this situation. He takes a deep breath and begins again.

“If you have feelings for him, his disease doesn’t make those feelings any less real. And if you have feelings for him, what does that say about your feelings for me?” He leans back in his chair and regards me, taking a deep breath, like he’s trying to intercept his fury. “You have one heart. You can’t give it to two different guys at once. That is not a thing.”

As he says this, I picture myself taking a heart-shaped organ out of my purse and giving part of it to Aaron and the other part to Wesley. I want to argue that you can, in fact, divide your affection like that, but then I realize that the heart in my mind’s eye is already in pieces. Maybe I’ve started this phase of my life with a heart that’s already broken, and that makes it easier to divide, to divvy up.

“Do you want to be with him?” Aaron asks. His tone is almost solicitous, as if he’d like for me to have what I desire.

I look out across the restaurant as I struggle with how to respond. My failure to answer immediately seems to ignite Aaron’s anger all over again, and I realize belatedly that the emotional betrayal is infuriating him as much as the physical disloyalty, maybe more.

“I need a minute,” Aaron says. He stands and reaches into his back pocket for his wallet. He tosses a wad of cash onto the table and looks back at me. “Why don’t you go sleep off the alcohol, and then maybe we can have a real conversation about this?”

I start nodding, as I would, in fact, prefer to be sober to face this discussion.

“Do me a favor, though. Go to Lana’s.”

He walks out of the restaurant without even saying good-bye, and it’s like all the warmth in my limbs has gone with him. I guess he doesn’t want me going back to the apartment, where I will see Wesley. I don’t really want to see Wesley right now, either. Unless Aaron just doesn’t want me living with him anymore. Or with Wesley. My head is beginning to pound with the weight of the confusion I’m feeling. I finish paying the tab and then hail a taxi to Lana’s apartment, extravagance and all. I just don’t have the wherewithal to get myself through the New York City subway system at the moment.

WHEN I GETto Lana’s building, I’m grateful that her doorman knows me and allows me upstairs without even checking the list he keeps on a clipboard behind the desk. The pounding in my head has reached a crescendo, and I just want to lie down.

I keep a spare key to Lana’s apartment among the many others hanging from the key ring that my brother and Shara gave me when I graduated from law school. The ring is decorated with two charms that now feel like an affront as I see them against my fingers. The first is a small rectangle engraved with the words “Trust me, I’m a lawyer,” which was obviously intended as a joke. The other, which is decorated with small green gemstones, is shaped like the scales of justice. I suppose that charm was meant to inspire me toward fairness and integrity as I moved from one phase of my life to the next. Well, so much for that.

As I turn the key and open the door to the glistening apartment, I am greeted by acute silence—another reminder that I am now utterly alone. I drop my bag on the parquet floor and let the door slam shut behind me. I head straight into Lana’s tiny bedroom and lie facedown amid the many gray throw pillows on her pristine sleigh bed, hoping that my makeup won’t smudge off on the cream duvet. Turning my head to the side, I notice absently that the room is much more orderly than is the norm for Lana—no clothes strewn about, no rejected outfits decorating the carpet. It seems even Lana is growing up. Everyone is getting their shit together, except for me. I close my eyes to soak in the warmth of the sunlight streaming through the window, but all I feel is the rhythmic thumping in my head.

THE NEXT THINGI know, voices wake me out of oblivion. I have clearly been asleep for hours, and I can hear Lana walking into her apartment with company.

“I’m here, Lana,” I call out before she has the chance to be startled by me. The bedside clock tells me it’s after 5:00 p.m.

“Meredith!” Lana rounds the corner into the main room of the apartment just as I walk out of the bedroom, wiping at my eyes. “Why aren’t you at work?” She is flawless in her monochromatic gray romper and a long, beaded necklace.

Everything comes rushing back at once. “Oh my God.” I sink down onto the armrest of the tan love seat beside me. “I don’t have a job anymore.” I drop my head into my hand, and the pounding inside my forehead begins again. “I quit this morning, and Aaron and I are a disaster. I’m sorry. I just needed a place to crash for a few hours today.” I lift my eyes again and see that Lana is not alone. Standing behind her is Aaron’s colleague, the handsome Dr. Spencer.

“Oh, hey, Spencer,” I add, wondering what exactly he’s doing here.

“Hey, Meredith. Everything okay?” He’s dressed in a crisp blue button-down and slacks, like he’s on his way somewhere more fun than the hospital.

I don’t want to embarrass Aaron by getting into the details with one of his colleagues, so I nod and try to compose myself.

“Yeah, yeah, just a crazy day, and I didn’t want to bother Aaron while he was resting for his next shift.” Spencer obviously knows I’m full of it, since this is completely inconsistent with what came out of my mouth just a few seconds ago.

“I’m going to get out of your hair.” I stand and turn in a half circle until I see the spot where I left my tote bag. “Lana, can I just borrow you in the hallway for two seconds? Sorry, Spencer.” I glance over at him apologetically and grab Lana’s cool hand.

Once we’re out in the dimly lit hall, I let loose with everything.

“I kissed Wesley. And now maybe I’m going to end up without either one of them.” I can feel the helpless look that has settled on my face, and I know that Lana has no idea what to do with me. This is not our dynamic. She is usually the helpless one and I am the level-headed straight arrow helping her to navigate her complicated life.

“And why is Spencer here?” I add.

“Wow.” Lana answers, her blue eyes wide, like she’s stunned. Or stumped. We’re quiet for a second, staring at each other, perhaps both taking in the enormity of the shit storm in which I have landed.

“Wow,” she repeats. “You know what? Let me cancel. Let me tell Spencer we’ll go out another time. Give me two minutes.” She starts heading into the apartment.

“No, don’t.” I grab her arm. “Don’t give up your night with him. Don’t let this be another thing I’m screwing up. I just need some time to think. Go. We’ll catch up tomorrow. I’ll be wanting details.” I motion toward her apartment door, trying to sound upbeat. As much as I would love to have Lana as my sounding board for the night, it’s true that what I really need is a way to sift through my thoughts, arrange them into some sort of logical order.

“But—”