I uncovered the receiver. “Grace?”
God, I wanted to fucking cry.
“Yeah, I’m here.”
“Can you give me two minutes? I promise I’ll call you right back.” I thought I was going to throw up.
“If it’s a bad time . . .”
“No, no, I’ll call you right back.”
“Okay,” she said, uncertainly.
We hung up. “So, you’re seeing Grace?” Something about her tone smacked of satisfaction, and her eyes said,Of course you are.
I sucked in a deep breath through my nose. “No, I’m not seeing her. That was the first time I’ve talked to her in fifteen years, and you just ruined it.”
“This is your job, Matt. This is a workplace.”
“Is that what you said to Brad before you fucked him in the copy room?” I shot back, flatly. I felt like someone had stabbed me in the chest and I was bleeding out. I felt weaker and weaker by the second. “I don’t feel good. Can you leave me alone please?” My eyes started to water.
She flushed. “I . . . Matt . . .”
“Whatever you’re about to say, I don’t care, Elizabeth. Not at all. Not even one iota.” I shrugged.
She turned and walked away.
I went to my recent calls and hit send on Grace’s number.
“Hello?”
“I’m so sorry about that.”
“That’s okay.”
I took a deep breath. “God, it’s good to hear your voice, Grace.”
“Yeah?”
“How have you been?”
“I’ve been okay. It’s been... a long time, Matt.”
“Yeah. It has, hasn’t it?” She sounded a little apprehensive. I was, too. “So what do you do now? Where do you live? Are you married?”
“I’m not married.” My stomach unclenched.Thank God.“I live in a brownstone on West Broadway in SoHo.”
“You’re kidding. I live on Wooster.”
“Oh, wow. That’s very close. Are you still working for the magazine?”
She knew I worked for the magazine? “Yeah, but I do more for the TV channel now. I’m not traveling as much. How about you? Still playing the cello?” A memory of Grace playing the cello in our dorm room, wearing nothing but her flowery underwear, drifted into my head. The light from the window had silhouetted her so I had pressed the shutter on my camera and snapped away as she played. I still had those pictures somewhere. I remembered that I had set the camera down, gone up to her, and traced the indentations above her cute little ass. She had gotten tripped up on the music and started giggling. I wondered now if I’d ever hear that giggle again.
“Uh-huh. Not professionally, I teach high school music classes now.”
“That sounds great.” I cleared my throat awkwardly. I wanted to tell her that she sounded different, doleful, un-Grace-like, but I kept those thoughts to myself.
Several moments of uncomfortable silence passed by. “So you saw the post, I take it.”
