Chapter Six

"Wow, you are so early!"

He lifted his head from the computer screen to face Tammy on the doorway of the office, looking surprised to find him there. "Good morning to you too, Horowitz."

She eyed him suspiciously. "How come you're already here? I know you haven't spent last night here... Wait, have you?"

"No, of course I haven't spent last night here," he replied, rolling his eyes at her.

Tammy shrugged – her version of an apology, it seemed – and showed herself in, sitting across from him. "Still waiting for the reason," she said, waving at him jokingly.

"I didn't sleep well," he said briefly, hoping the answer, pretty much the truth, would satisfy her.

A slow, sly smile curled on her lips. He felt like burying his face between his palms, but resisted and braced himself for her backfire. "Didn't sleep, huh? And what was it you've been doing instead of sleeping, if I may ask?"

Here we go again. "Absolutely not what you have in mind, cut it out," he retorted, frowning.

"How was your date?"

"I don't know how many more times I can stress this, Horowitz, it was not – "

"... a date. I know, I know, because you are just friends."

He ignored the mockery her voice carried. "That's right."

There was some relief he was leaving town for the weekend, even if Scarsdale was his destination. He desperately needed to be alone, away from work, away from Tammy's enquiries, but most importantly, away from Maureen. He needed to think this through.

"When do I get to meet her?"

He stared at her in disbelief. "I beg your pardon?"

"In all the time I've known you, never once have I seen a picture of her, which I have always found ironic given the fact you document pretty much everything that moves. But now that she's here in the flesh, when do I get to meet that mythological ex of yours? The one you're just friends with now?"

He narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously. "Why would you want to meet her?"

"Well, your mom isn't here to approve..."

"My mom will never approve. She's not Jewish, remember?"

Tammy let out a fake gasp, pressing her hand to her forehead dramatically. "Marky, how could you?" He rolled his eyes. "Seriously though, I would just like to give her a fair warning about what she is getting herself into, since you're so obviously not heeding to my warnings."

"Haven't I told you there's nothing to worry about?"

"You say that now, but Mark..."

"Besides, you've already met her."

It shut her up as he'd hoped. She gave him a look. "It's a known fact I have the memory of a goldfish, but don't you think I'll remember that?"

"She told me last night she talked to you the day before she and I met. That you recommended she'd come again to meet the photographer. Nice selling skills, by the way, Horowitz," he added with a grin.

She didn't reply for a moment, just stared at the opposite wall in contemplation. Then she all but jumped out of her seat. "I do remember her! Long dark hair? Hazel eyes? She wore a great trench, ivory colored."

Except for the previous night, she wore that same coat every time he met her. He nodded his affirmation. "That's Maureen."

Tammy's eyes widened with amazement. "Whoa!"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means, Cohen, that she is gorgeous! And completely out of your league, which again begs the question – "

"Just let it go, Horowitz. Look, I've got some work to finish here before I leave for Scarsdale –"

"Yeah, got it, I'll go get us some breakfast. But you'll have to tell me what happened last night sooner or later. You realize that, don't you?"

He thought back about how close she was sitting, the warmth of her hand in his, the anticipation that glimmered in her eyes a second before he leaned in to kiss her. He could feel himself smile in spite of himself. "I'll have to tell that to myself first."

"So something did happen!" Tammy cried victoriously.

"No! Ugh, forget it!"

Tried as she might to get information out of him, he didn't tell Tammy a single thing. He left the gallery right after lunch and headed uptown to catch the train for Scarsdale. He sank into his seat and dropped his overnight bag on the seat next to him. Then he took out a book and his iPod in preparation for the journey ahead. He chose a playlist at random, relieved to be listening to different music than the same old Christmas tunes 24/7. But as soon as the train gained speed, leaving the city behind, his book held no interest to him. He closed his eyes, letting his mind drift. It was inevitable that his thoughts would take him back to the previous night.

Of course, he didn't tell Tammy how the night could have ended if Robin hadn't entered the scene. But would it have ended that way? Maureen might have pulled away, like she had before, but given the way she had reached for his hand, and what he had found in her eyes, he had a feeling that she wouldn't have. What did that mean, though? Everything was happening so fast, and it felt as though it was completely out of his control. These old feelings were rushing back, and while he remembered them well, now they were of a slightly different essence.

Besides, the circumstances were beyond problematic. She lived too far away now, literally across the country. He had never believed in long distance relationships. And of course, there was Libby. He had grown fond of the little girl, but was he ready to be a father? And then he realized what he was thinking and wanted to kick himself. He was planning way too far ahead. There was no relationship to speak of for one thing, and what if it was all in his head? What if Maureen didn't share those feelings? What if she just enjoyed spending time with him after all those years apart? What if they were just friends as far as she was concerned?

Cindy suggested she would pick him up from the train station so he didn't have to handle taxis on Christmas Eve. She was already waiting outside the station, all but squealing in delight as he waved to draw her attention. She waited for him to approach her before she threw her arms around him.

"Mark! It's so lovely to see you!" she gushed.

"It's great to see you too, sis, thanks for coming."

"Sure, my pleasure. It's so cold, right?"

They chatted about the weather as he dropped his bag in the backseat of her station wagon. They kept the conversation light and neutral throughout the drive to their mother's place, as if Cindy knew he would need every bit of energy to face their mother during dinner. He told her about the gallery; she promised she would stop by after the holidays. He was looking forward to it. His sister had always been his biggest supporter.

Two teenagers were playing basketball one-on-one as they pulled into the driveway of the small two-story house. They stopped playing at once and started waving enthusiastically at him. "Hey, Uncle Mark!"

"Hey, guys, you've grown so tall!" He gave them each a high five, thinking they were too old for hugs.

"Wanna play?"

"Not a chance in hell," he laughed. "I won't have my ass kicked by my nephews."

The twins Josh and Michael were fifteen. Their younger sister Natalie was nine. Although he didn't see them often, it was incredible to watch them grow. It made him think of Libby instantly. Would she, too, grow up so fast before he noticed? And then his thoughts shifted from the daughter to her mother, and he mentally shut her out. Enough. He came to spend the weekend with his family. He refused to be distracted.

"Mark?" He blinked as his sister's voice disrupted his thoughts. "You're coming inside? It's freezing out."

"Yeah, sure," he said, tossing his bag over his shoulder and following Cindy and the boys inside.

For the first half hour or so, he thought it would be a quiet, peaceful dinner. He was thrilled to see his sister and her family again, and for a while they did most of the talking. But then his mother lay her fork aside and looked at him thoughtfully from above the plate of brisket, and he knew it was silly to hope.

"Mark, do you remember Sheila Goldberg?"

He grabbed his fork and glared at Cindy, who was sitting across from him. She just shrugged, as if to say she had nothing to do with it. Yeah, right. "Umm… no, Mom, I don't."

"You went to high school with her, don't you remember? Her father used to work in Dad's clinic." He shook his head, bracing himself for the punch line. "Well, anyway. She is in town, visiting her parents for Chanukah. I thought you could get together; you know, to speak of old times," she finished, winking. She had that annoying, brilliant grin, as if she had just come up with the world's greatest idea.

He groaned softly, struggling to remain calm. "Mom, please, haven't we discussed this before? I asked you to stop with the matchmaking, I can take care of myself." Josh and Michael were grinning. Oh, just until you're not underage, he thought bitterly, shooting them a glare.

"Now, now, Mark, there is no need to get so agitated, I'm only doing it for your own good. Do you remember Jerry? The guy that was in the science club with you in tenth grade? We just got an invitation for the Bris of his third son. Third, Mark."

"Yeah, Mom, I heard you." Man, why wouldn't she just let it go? So what if his childhood friends were all settled? Did that mean he had to be just like them? He was happy with his life the way they were.

"Well, I've already invited the Goldbergs for lunch tomorrow. It would be rude to cancel so last minute."

Shit. He had to think fast. "Mom… I'm sort of seeing someone, in town." He didn't even plan on bringing it up so soon, mostly because there was really nothing to tell. Two dinners were hardly considered as dating. He hated using Maureen as an excuse, but he was desperate.

His mother's demeanor brightened instantly. "Well, you should have brought her here, to meet everyone! Who is she? What does she do? Did you meet her parents? What do they do?"

Double shit. "We've only dated a couple of times. I haven't met her parents yet." He knew better than telling her it was Maureen. He knew exactly what his mother thought of her. She would have loathed Maureen even if she was Jewish. They just didn't click. He still cringed as he thought back of the way both his parent treated her in that first and only dinner the two of them ever had in Scarsdale. And now, it was even worse. He didn't even want to think about his mother's reaction to Maureen's being a single mom, not to mention her marital status.

"At least tell us her name," she insisted, looking at him pleadingly.

"Her name? Uh… I'd really rather not talking about this…" he said, looking desperately at Cindy. Thankfully, she noticed his distress, and started talking about the theme of Natalie's birthday party, only two weeks away.

He leaned back in his seat, relieved but still alert. This was a close one. He ignored Cindy's questioning looks and started talking to Josh, who was sitting next to him.

The rest of the evening was peaceful enough thanks to Cindy, who kept their mother distracted. Whenever she would start talking about the Goldbergs or whatnot, Cindy started talking about something else. It could have been amusing, if the goal wasn't to save his sorry ass.

They lit Chanukah candles and sang some Chanukah songs. Since he had his camera with him, he filmed around a bit. At some point, his mother and Cindy disappeared in the kitchen. They insisted they didn't need his help with the dishes, so he wandered back to the living room. Cindy's husband and the kids had just started watching a film he had watched the week before, so he excused himself and entered what used to be his father's study. Ah, peace and quiet at last, he thought as he closed the heavy wooden door behind him.

He switched on the light and looked around with a frown. He had never liked being in this room. It always made him feel as if he had been summoned into the principal's office. When he finally had the chance to unpack and organize his own study, he vowed it would never look anything close to this room. Just like his father, the study was cold and gloomy. The huge red-wine drapes that hung on the window completely blocked the light from the outside, making the space impossibly gloomier. The walls were covered with shelves that contained hundreds of books in expensive leather covers. There was a leather couch along one wall, and two chairs near a huge oak desk, where he spotted what he was looking for. He sat with his back to the closed door and reached for the phone.

"Hello?"

He shivered involuntarily. She'd always had that husky, seductive tone when she answered the phone. Unless… He glanced at his watch. It was 10PM. What were you thinking, you jerk? "Shit, did I wake you?"

She laughed softly. "Mark, hey. No, I'm in bed, but I wasn't sleeping." He wasn't sure whether to believe her or not. She sounded worn out. "How was dinner?"

He sighed warily. "Oh, you know. My mom was doing her Yente the Matchmaker routine again. But other than that it was okay, I guess. It's nice to see Cindy and the kids. How was yours?"

"Fine. We went out, which was kind of unplanned, but it stopped snowing, and Libby was bored. It was fun. I took her to Times Square, I've never seen her so gobsmacked before. And we had the best rainbow cupcakes, they were epic." Then she paused, and chuckled. "Yente the Matchmaker?"

"Also known as The Jewish Mother Syndrome. It bothers her I'm still single at my age, so she tries to set me up with nice, Jewish girls from Scarsdale."

"Then make her stop. Find a nice girl and marry her," she reasoned playfully.

"Do you know any nice girls?" he teased, playing along.

"Most likely. When you come to think of it, I probably dated more girls in Manhattan than you ever did."

He laughed darkly, feeling his distress slowly fading away. "Oooh, that one stung, Mo."

There was a brief pause; then she cleared her throat. "Well, actually I do know this one girl, but she isn't Jewish."

He froze, grabbing the phone tighter. Somehow, he got the feeling that she wasn't playing anymore. She didn't mean what he thought she had meant, did she? "You know, it's just my mom with this ridiculous obsession for religion," he said slowly, choosing his words with extra care. "I don't really mind if she's Jewish or not. I couldn't care less, honestly."

"I know. I just keep thinking that she's not good enough for you."

Playfulness was all gone from her tone. His knuckles were getting numb; he was holding the phone so tight. He could sense his heart pounding. What was he supposed to say?

"Libby really misses you, you know," she said all of a sudden, breaking the awkward silence. Suddenly he was breathing more easily. "She didn't stop talking about you the entire evening. She loves that cow ornament you brought her."

"I'm glad," he smiled. Yeah, shifting the focus from the two of them to Libby was a safe ground. He missed her too. "Any chance she's still awake?"

"She was, half an hour ago."

"Damn. I should have called sooner."

"Oh, so I'm not the reason you called here in the first place, Mr. Cohen, is that it?"

"Well, she is younger," he teased her, hoping it would distract him from the seductiveness of her tone.

"Funny," she said, then added, "You should go spend time with your family. Isn't that the reason you went there?"

"Yeah, you're probably right," he reluctantly agreed.

"Call me when you're back in town, okay?"

"I might not wait until then; I'll need to hear a friendly voice after lunch tomorrow. My mom invited this… Oh, forget it. I don't want to keep you awake."

"Good night."

"Bye, I'll call you tomorrow."

"Okay." There was a pause; for a moment he thought she hung up. But then, "Mark?"

"Yeah?"

It felt as if she wanted to tell him something, but instead there was this long silence. He found himself holding his breath. "Never mind. Merry Christmas," she said eventually.

"Merry Christmas," he replied quietly. It took him ages to put the phone back in its cradle, and he kept staring at it even after he did. What was that about?

"Mark?"

He turned abruptly to find Cindy standing on the threshold. "How long have you been standing there?" he asked, suddenly panicked. How much had she heard?

"Just a second or two," she replied. She entered the room and shut the door. Then she sat in the chair opposite to his and eyed him seriously. "What's going on?"

"What do you mean?"

"Who were you talking to so secretly?"

"No one you know," he said, avoiding eye contact. Please let it go, he pleaded with her wordlessly.

"Was it this woman you're seeing? I thought you were making it up to get away from mom."

"Right. I mean, not exactly. I mean, we're not exactly dating, it's… complicated."

"Complicated how?" she asked, and then a gasp escaped her and she stared at him incredulously. "You didn't do something stupid like getting a girl pregnant, did you?"

She was more like their mom than she realized, he thought bitterly. "No, of course not, I would never!" he assured her. "It's nothing like that, Cindy, don't worry."

He knew she'd understand if he told her the truth, but he couldn't bring himself to do so. He wanted to try and resolve things himself first. He was also kind of scared she'd let it slip next to their mother. And then… he didn't even want to think about it. He stood up. "I'm going to bed. Will you be here for lunch tomorrow?"

"Sure. I'd give anything to see you get embarrassed again," she teased him. She stood up as well and pulled him into a hug before he had a chance to protest. "I just hope you know what you're doing, Mark."

"I'll be fine," he assured her. Then he slowly let go, and left the room.

Once in his old room, he quickly got ready for bed and got under the covers. He knew there was absolutely no way to get away from meeting this Sheila Goldberg the following day. His mother wouldn't let it go, not even after he told her he was seeing someone. Tammy would laugh so hard when she heard about all this, he thought bitterly.

He tossed and turned, but couldn't fall asleep. He heard Cindy and her family when they left. He heard his mother going upstairs. She stopped in front of his door, as if wondering whether or not to check on him, but eventually decided against it as her steps receded down the hall.

Everything went quiet, except for sounds from the street. Every now and again a car would pass by. Two cats were talking to each other in some unfamiliar cat language. God, he hated those nights when he couldn't sleep. He hadn't had one of those in a long while. Usually, it happened when he had too much on his mind. And tonight, it was her voice he couldn't stop thinking about. He couldn't stop trying to interpret what she told him on the phone. Of course, all those confessions and declarations were easier to be made when they weren't facing one another, but did she really mean it? It felt as if she was talking about herself, but what if it was a misunderstanding, and he was making a huge mistake simply because he wanted her back?

Wait a minute… Who said he wanted her back?

Sure, there were millions of times in the past in which he did, when he yearned for her to come back to her senses, for them to get back together, but he thought he was over that time. Especially after she deserted them. Yet somehow now, with her return, it felt as though those years had never existed. Like she had never left, like he had never resented her for leaving. He loved spending time with her. She was her old self, but at the same time she wasn't. And he loved the change she had undergone. And Libby… although he had only known her for several days, he loved that little girl as if she was his own.

I just keep thinking that she's not good enough for you.

How could she possibly think that? Didn't she know how much she meant to him when they were together? And right now? Of course she was good enough for him, no one else was better! Well, he'd simply have to prove her wrong on that one. And with that resolution in mind, he finally let himself drift into a peaceful, dreamless slumber.