Page 60 of Unforgivable
“Making the most of Charlie not being here,” he says, closing the menu with a whack and handing it to the waiter, and I laugh, because I get the joke, which is that there’s no way you could eat a dead rabbit if Charlie was in the room, and it gives me hope, this little joke. It’s aninsidejoke. It conveys intimacy. I cling to that thought like a raft in rough seas and start again.
“Anyway, Jack, about the wedding, please don’t worry about the money. I’m happy to get hitched on the cheap. Did you ask Mike about being DJ for the night? Although we probably should pick our rings!” I laugh. “My friend Ed, the jeweler, remember Ed? We went to art school together, remember? We could get him to do them. He’ll do something simple and…” I was going to say, cheap, but at the last minute opt for “inexpensive.”
“The thing is, Laura…”
“We don’t have to do the rings. There’s a JC Penny at Southcenter Mall, we can get them from there.” I wait, my heart pulsing at the bottom of my throat. He scratches at something on the table. I can hear his fingernail on the timber.
I swallow. “What is it, Jack?”
He searches my face, like he’s thinking about what to say.
“You still want to get married?” he asks, frowning.
I draw an audible intake of air and reach for his hand. “Of course I want to get married! Why?” And I’m about to ask,don’t you?But he has drawn his hand away. He is rearranging the napkin on his lap, and I stop just in time becausedon’t you?could easily be followed by,I don’t know. I’m not sure. Actually, no. I don’t.I flick the question away.
“I’ve been thinking…” he says.
“What?”
He takes a quick breath. “Maybe we should wait. The divorce isn’t final yet, I’m concerned how long it’s going to take—”
“Jack, she’s signing in a few days, that’s it. Why would you be concerned?”
“We don’t have much money…”
“But we haveenoughmoney! We have my salary, you’ll get another job soon! We’ve paid the deposit, and it’s not like it’s going to be an expensive—”
“I just don’t think the timing is right, Laura.”
“The timing?” I try to smile but my lips are trembling.
“For la Signora…” I look up sharply. The waiter puts down our plates, says thing that sound like they’re coming through water. He retreats. I take a breath.
“Jack, honey, we’re getting married in two months. People are invited, remember? Your mom and dad? Your sister Diane? Our friends? We’re going to choose the music next week, remember? And the wines? It’s going to be wonderful, Jack! You’ll see, darling, I promise you.”
He rubs his hand over his face. “It’s just that…”
“Is it wedding nerves? Is that it? Because I think that’s perfectly normal, completely natural. We can talk about that. Maybe we could—”
“Jack!” A man with a bald head and a round face puts his hand on Jack’s shoulder. “I thought it was you! How are you, buddy?”
“Norman!” Jack says, getting up to shake his hand. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m with the guys.” Norman points at a table not far away and it’s like I’m not here, although Jack introduces me, but it’s perfunctory.
Jack puts his napkin down by his plate and says, “Give me a sec, Laura, I’ll be right back.” And I’m thinking, is this really happening?
I watch him talk to his friends, people I’ve never met, when shouldn’t he be talking to me? He stands chatting with one hand on the back of someone’s chair, as someone else laughs. I’d forgotten what Jack is like at his most charming because it’s been so long since he was like that with me, and it hurts to watch. He says he’s starting a new consulting company, gives his spiel, and I’m thinking:God, this is new, is it even real?I thought you were looking for a job?Clearly, I am out of the loop. I lift my knife and check my face in the reflection. I look old and sad. Unwanted. Then Jack’s phone buzzes on the table and I reach for it, which is not something I’d ever do. I am completely trusting of Jack, or I used to be, which possibly explains why my relationship is in such a mess right now, why I have no idea what’s going on or if we’re even getting married.
I lift the flap of the leather cover, just a little, barely an inch, and I’m thinking it’s going to be Bronwyn. Of course it is. She must be pacing at home, wringing her hands, worrying we might be having a nice time and wondering how she could screw that up. Or maybe she knows I’m getting ditched. Maybe she wants to know,have you done it yet? Is she crying?Then I remind myself that I’m back in the love circle and kick myself for thinking unkind thoughts.
But anyway, it’s not Bronwyn. There’s a burst of noise at the next table, a sudden gaggle of laughter. I turn instinctively, my head swirling in a wave of vertigo and I wonder if they’re laughing at me because I’m such a joke, and Jack is still chatting to his friends, and I’m still holding the flap slightly open and slowly I turn to take another look, to make sure, and I catch it just before it disappears.
Summer.
TWENTY-NINE
Jack is still talking to his friends, fake bonhomie oozing out of him like he’s trying too hard. I grab his phone and slip it under the table. The text wasn’t visible, just the name, and I don’t know Jack’s passcode. The screen tries to unlock itself with face recognition and fails. I reach down for my own phone, and with shaking fingers I dislodge his phone from its brown leather case and my own from its basic red case. It’s harder than it looks and I break a fingernail but I get it done. I press my phone into his case and put it back on the table. Then I pick up my bag, walk over to where Jack is standing, put my hand on his shoulder.