Chapter Ten
Her head rested on his chest. He ran his fingers through her hair, which made her body relax further against his. He was thinking of absolutely nothing, which was not such a bad thing for a change. He had no idea what time it was, and looking at the digital clock on his bedside meant shifting, which was something he didn't really want to do. He didn't know where his cell phone was; probably in the pocket of the pants he had discarded a while ago. He glanced at the window, but the curtains made it difficult to see outside. It was so quiet he could almost hear her heart beat. He thought she fell asleep, and felt himself slowly drifting as well.
"Will you marry me?"
His eyes snapped open as she uttered those four words. His hand froze against the back of her neck. His heart quickened its pace. "What?" Maybe it was only in his imagination. Maybe he had fallen asleep without realizing it, and this was a dream.
She raised her head, supporting herself on her elbow so she could meet his gaze. Her eyes were earnest, intent, and he knew it was real. "Will you marry me?"
"I… I don't…" he stammered, then stopped before he would further humiliate himself. She was proposing, and he was making a complete fool out of himself. Wait a second… She was proposing? "Are you serious?"
She nodded without looking away. There was a spark of something in her stare; fear, perhaps, that he would reject her? Silence stretched between them, but it wasn't deliberation that was holding him back, but shock. He didn't need to consider it, not really. He already knew his answer. He had known it for days, maybe even years. And now he was just staring at her speechless for being the first to ask it. "You just can't stand to be ordinary, can you?" he teased her eventually, chuckling nervously, in a hopeless attempt to break the tension. He couldn't believe he wasn't the one proposing.
"Don't be so old-fashioned, Mark," she said pouting.
"This is one thing people should be old-fashioned about," he countered.
She chuckling softly, laying one hand on his chest. "How has this turned into an argument? I thought I had it in the bag."
Her hesitation was endearing. He had no idea this was what she had in mind when she had lured him in there earlier. How long had she been planning this? He wasn't even sure what made her ask it now, when they still had no idea how to make this relationship work, when they still hadn't told Libby anything, but he didn't care. He just wanted her. He looked deeply into her eyes. "Ask me again," he pleaded with her.
Her lips curled in a slow, beautiful smile as she crawled up a bit, until her face was just above his. "Mark Cohen, will you marry me?"
He returned her smile. "Yes. I will."
"Good answer," she murmured, leaning down to kiss him.
"Why now?" he asked as they pulled away.
"Because it felt right," she replied, cuddling against him like a satisfied kitten.
He knew better than doubting her instincts, but he had a feeling there was more to it than just that. And she arrived at the gallery straight from work. Something was definitely up. "And…?"
She looked up at him again. "And… what?"
"And what is it you're not telling me?"
"Why do you think I'm not telling you something?" But she couldn't keep up with the act for too long. He gave her a look and she relented. "I was offered a job here. Senior costume manager for two theaters, for a start, possibly more if I do well. It's Broadway, Mark, the real deal." There was a glimmer in her eyes. It appeared she couldn't stop smiling. "I accepted it right before I came to see you. This is why I was at work so late."
"Maureen," he said, overwhelmed with pride for her. He touched her chin affectionately. "That's incredible. Congratulations."
"Thank you."
"Are you sure about this?" He felt more comfortable being the one asking the question. It was much harder being the one having to answer it.
"About working on Broadway? Umm, duh, Mark," she said rolling her eyes a little.
"You know this isn't what I meant," he chided her. "About moving back here. I mean, what about Libby?"
"It turns out Libby fell for you just as hard as I did," she said softly. The words still made his heart skip a beat. The concept of her falling for him, after everything they had been through, was utterly inconceivable. "She wants to stay. It's her choice as much as it is mine."
He shook his head. It was too easy. "When?"
"I still need to finalize everything with my San Francisco colleagues, but around March I think. April at the very latest."
"Will they freak out?"
"They already know, thankfully." She hesitated, then peeked at him sort of shyly. "So shall I start apartment hunting?"
"Have you looked around this apartment? You're more than welcome to move in." He didn't even need to stop and think about it. There was nothing he wanted more.
"I was hoping you'd say that."
"Well, you ruined the fun of proposing, so I'm holding on to what I can," he joked.
"Fun? It was nerve-wrecking."
But he didn't want to argue. He felt so wonderful. He held her by the waist and gently turned them over. He was hovering over her, her hair spilling against the pillows. "I love you," he told her.
"I love you." He could never get enough of hearing her say it. Smiling, he leaned down to kiss her. "I have to go," she murmured, trying to resist him.
"In a minute," he protested, dropping a kiss on her temple instead. "I can come with you," he added, kissing her nose. "I'll take my fiancée and her daughter out for dinner." He pressed his lips to hers, but only for a moment. "Okay?"
She grinned devilishly at him, then wrapped her arms around his neck and adamantly pulled him towards her. "In a minute."
That evening, after putting Libby to bed, reluctant to say goodbye, they snuggled in front of the Christmas tree Maureen had kept on, and discussed their future plans. Maureen thought he should speak to his mother as soon as possible, much to his dismay. He knew he would have to tell her about Maureen eventually, and that he would have to reveal the fact of their engagement while at it, but he was reluctant to do it so soon. Knowing his mother, though, he knew stalling would be far worse. And so, after two days of moping around about it, he called his mom and invited himself over to dinner. He packed an overnight bag and promised Maureen and Libby he'd be back in time to go to the airport with them. Then, filled with trepidation, he boarded the train for Scarsdale.
He spent the ride thinking of the morning he had spent at his lawyer's office. He had read a bit online about the procedure of adoption, but he wanted more in-depth insight, and so he had set the meeting. Now he was looking through the forms and leaflets his lawyer had given him, terrified and yet happy with the distraction. He didn't tell Maureen about his plans. He wanted it to be a surprise. It made perfect sense to him. Once he was married to her, he'd be Libby's father anyway, so why not make it official?
He willed the train to go slower, but knew it was a childish notion. As much as he was dreading his imminent arrival, Maureen was right. He had to do this. Knowing his mother, he knew exactly what to expect. But maybe, just maybe, she would surprise him. Maybe she would be happy he had finally found someone he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Maybe she would give him her blessing. It would certainly be an interesting conversation starter. Mom, I've got good news and bad news. The good news is that I'm finally getting married. The bad news? Well, remember that girl who once dumped me for another woman...?
And then, there was no stalling it. The train pulled into the station, and he had nowhere to hide. He swallowed his fear and hailed a taxi. Before he had a chance to blink, it came to a halt in front of his mother's house. He was tempted to just tell the driver to make a U-turn and return to the train station, but then decided to man up, paid him and got out before he regretted it.
He strode to the back door with more determination that he actually felt. "Hi, I'm here!" he called in feign cheerfulness, stepping into the warm kitchen.
His mother was there, as he'd expected. She had just taken something out of the oven. His mom was an amazing cook. He remembered missing this when he was living in the East Village, hungry, jobless and frozen. Later on he had learned a few useful tricks from her.
"Mark! Finally!" she exclaimed, rushing towards him, and gave him a huge, crushing hug. "Just in time for dinner. And I told Cindy you were coming, she said she might join us too!" Knowing that Cindy might be there made him feel somewhat relieved. He needed all the support he could get. "Here, try one of these," she said, all but pushing a tray of recently-baked rolls under his nose. They smelt amazing. He took one, suddenly realizing he hardly ate anything all day. He watched his mother as she set the table.
"Do you need any help, Mom?"
"Don't speak with your mouth full, honey."
Like he was five, he thought frowning. "Sorry."
"You don't call anymore," she commented, supposedly matter-of-factly, but he knew that accusing look.
"I'm working, Mom. The holiday season is always crazy, you know that." Every year it was the same old tune. He stopped feeling guilty years ago. He was too distracted to feel guilty at the moment.
"I'll be dead and gone and you won't even know because you never call."
He sighed; not with guilt, but with frustration. "I was just here last week. Besides, when I do you call every day, you tell me off and say it's annoying."
"Of course it is! I can take care of myself just fine! I'm not as old as you think!"
He held back another moan of frustration. He had never said anything right. Or maybe it was because she was changing her mind in the speed of light, he wasn't sure. "Mom, I didn't mean to say you were old… Come on, sit down, I want to talk to you before Cindy gets here," he put aside the half eaten roll so he could take the plates and cutlery from her hands. He was so nervous; his hands were actually shaking. He turned his back on her so she wouldn't notice.
"Talk to me? About what?" she asked, sitting down. Her eyes never left his. She looked curious, almost despite herself.
Giving up on setting the table, he placed the plates aside and set across from her. He looked at her seriously. "I'm getting married – " he started, but soon, expected enough, was cut off.
"What? Mark… my precious baby boy… finally married? Mazel Tov!" There were tears of joy in her eyes. Then something seemed to occur to her, and the happiness in her expression shifted into concern. "I thought you weren't seeing this woman for long. You didn't even meet her parents, I didn't meet her, aren't you rushing – "
"Mom, Mom, slow down!" he cut her off, laughing at her enthusiasm; mostly because he knew it would be short-lived. "I'll tell you everything, okay? Just let me talk and please wait until I'm finished. I promise I won't leave things unexplained." He peeked at her. She looked at him intently, but said nothing, as if trying to do as she was asked. Great start, he encouraged himself. Now just get on with it. But then it was as if he had forgotten how to speak. Goddamnit.
As if his distress was evident, she flashed an encouraging smile at him. "You can start by telling me her name."
He nodded, but it was another moment before he managed even that. "Maureen Johnson."
He thought she didn't hear him at first, or that the name from his past didn't ring a bell, for he got absolutely no comment. But then he let his eyes meet hers, and found them wide with astonishment. Her jaw was set. As her face paled, her expression darkened considerably. She obviously hadn't forgotten, or forgiven.
"You mean to tell me that you, my smart, sensible son, is going to marry this… this urban Shiksa?" she exploded. He had expected it, obviously, but he hoped he'd be able to say more before it happened. He braced himself and let her vent. "I thought you understood your father and I were right all along about the likes of her! I thought you finally realized that when she dumped you! Smartest thing she's ever done, I bet. Of what gutter has she resurfaced all of a sudden, I would like to know? And what makes you think a decade made any difference? A slut always stays one!"
He was utterly stunned that such a nasty speech came from someone who had just told him not to speak with his mouth full, but his fury was too great to even dwell on that. "The likes of her? What is that supposed to mean? You know nothing about her!" The rise of his own tone made him cringe. He didn't want to yell. He wanted to have a quiet, civilized conversation. He wanted to make her change her mind about Maureen. Who was he kidding?
"I know enough," she replied coldly, narrowing her eyes. There was no regret in them. "Will you at least tell me how your paths came to cross again? I thought she was out of your life for good."
He tried to ignore the malice in her tone. "She's in town on business. I met her by accident, in my gallery. Mom, you must give her another chance. She's better, she has changed."
"Oh, has she? Has her religion changed too, by any chance?"
"That's what it's all about? That she isn't Jewish?"
"It's a part of it."
"Why is this so damn important? Roger wasn't Jewish, you know, and you never seemed to have a problem with that."
"You didn't marry Roger!" She sighed in desperation, then eyed him suspiciously. "I wonder what she did to convince you to take her back. I'm sure she has matured into an even more manipulative devil than she was before, so it must have been easy. And you just fell into her trap once again."
His patience was waning in light of her cruelness. He could barely stand it. "Look, nothing of what you say will make me change my mind. I'm going to marry Maureen, I'm going to adopt her daughter, and – "
He watched her face drain of all color, and realized his slip. Shit.
"Her daughter?" she echoed, horror clearly reflected in her eyes. He slowly nodded, feeling defeated. He didn't plan on telling her about Libby, at least not until she changed her mind about Maureen. Peeking at her face, it was evident he had just given her a winning card. "You see, it only proves my point. Where is this child's father?"
"This is none of your business!" Yes, he was being rude, but he didn't care anymore. She went out of her way to be rude.
"If you think I'll let this slut and her bastard daughter into this house, into this family, you're sorely mistaken." Her voice was quiet, but her tone resolute and ice cold.
"The mistake was coming here and trying to change your mind," he retorted just as coldly, standing up. He'd had enough. He could barely look at her. His eyes were stinging; it took him a moment to realize they were tears. He turned his back on her, not wishing to give her something else to complain about, blindly looking for his backpack. In his urgency to leave he nearly bumped into Cindy, who was about to knock on the door.
"Mark! You're early! It's good to see you, little brother!" she said cheerfully, pulling him towards her. He didn't hug her back; fury was all-consuming. And as if she felt his body stiff against her, she slowly released her grip and searched his eyes. If she noticed the tears in them, she didn't comment on it. She glanced over her shoulder at their mother, who was still sitting at the table, whimpering and murmuring things under her breath. "What's wrong? Aren't you staying for dinner?" she asked him, looking back at him with utter confusion.
"I lost my appetite," he said curtly, then moved passed her and stormed out of the house.
He didn't feel like waiting for a taxi; he just wanted to get away. And so, he started walking in the general direction of the train station. Night had fallen at some point of his brief visit. The air was crisp, but he embraced it. It cleared his mind considerably. He hoped the brisk walk would help in pulling himself together, but he could still hear her reproach echoing through his head. How could she say all those things? Couldn't she at least pretend she was happy for him?
There was a hiss of a car, then headlights. He glanced at the road and saw his sister wave at him from behind the wheel. He sighed as she stopped next to him and rolled down her window. "What do you want, Cindy?"
"Get in, I'll drop you at the station."
He meant to protest, but didn't feel like arguing with someone else today. Plus, it was rather cold and a thirty minute walk, if not more. He did as she asked, and busied himself in buckling the seatbelt to avoid eye contact. It was warm inside the car; in his hazy state of mind it felt stuffy rather than comforting.
"Mom told me," Cindy started hesitantly, focusing on the road ahead.
"Did she send you after me to put some reason in my head?" he asked sardonically. Nothing would surprise him at this point. "Because if that's the case, you're wasting your time."
"Mark…" his sister sighed. "Even if that were the case, you're an adult. It doesn't matter what I say, you'll end up making your own choices, your own mistakes."
"Marrying her is not a mistake!" he cut her off abruptly, his tone rising again.
"I didn't say that it was." Cindy didn't seem the least intimidated by his outburst. Her tone remained calm; as though she was speaking to one of her kids.
"I wish she would just listen," he said sadly. "She didn't even try to understand."
"You know Mom. You know what she's like when someone tries to hurt us. And Maureen hurt you. Maybe you're too head over heels in love with her right now to remember, but you were a wreck because of her for a really long time."
He remembered how fiercely protective Maureen had turned at the thought of Libby being hurt. There was some irony in the similarity between his mother and the woman she had loathed. "Cindy, I'm not stupid. Of course I remember. But Mom is being unfair. She's judging her according to past mistakes, according to false first impression, according to her religion, for God's sake. Back then she had a point, but people change."
There was a pause, as though his sister needed to take this in. Then she cleared her throat, and he guessed the question before she had even asked it. "She said something about a daughter?"
"Being a single mother is not a crime. And Libby... she's just incredible, Cindy," he ended quietly. At least with Cindy he could reason.
"How old is she?"
"She'll be five in February," he replied, suddenly noticing they had stopped moving. Cindy had pulled into an empty parking space in front of the brightly lit station. She seemed in no hurry to say goodbye. He considered it a positive sign. He took a deep steadying breath, then looked at his older sister. "Look, Cindy, I don't expect you to support me or anything, just… don't judge them before you know them. Don't take Mom's side."
"Mark, I've never intended to take Mom's side. I know you. If you think she's the one, who am I to argue?" she smiled fondly at him. Her gaze wandered from him to her right hand. He watched her as she looked at it thoughtfully, then took off one of her rings. "Here," she said, taking both his hands and placing the ring delicately between them.
He opened his palms to take a closer look. It was a beautiful ring, its gems sparkling as they caught the lights from the station. The ring looked antique, and also kind of familiar. He looked from the ring to Cindy. "What's this?"
"It was grandma Ida's. I am the eldest, so I got it when Dan and I got married. Now I'm giving it to you, for Maureen." She flashed him a grin. "Not your typical engagement ring, I conquer, but nothing about the two of you is typical either."
He felt that sting again; new tears in the corners of his eyes. You're not going to cry, you loser! Weird, for a moment it felt as if Roger was there in the car with them, telling him that. The thought alone brought a smile to his lips.
"I've never met Maureen, but I hope you deserve each other. You've got my blessing."
He stared at Cindy for the longest time, completely at a loss of words. He slid the ring onto one of his fingers so he wouldn't lose it, and pulled her into a hug. "Thank you, Cindy."
"You're welcome." Slowly pulling away, she smiled at him encouragingly. "And Mazel Tov." She kissed his cheek and lovingly messed with his hair. He murmured a quick goodbye before rushing into the station, still overwhelmed with emotion.
He made his way to Maureen's hotel as soon as he arrived back in town. He just didn't feel like going home. Although his conversation with Cindy lifted his spirits somewhat, his mother's last promise, or threat, echoed mercilessly in his mind throughout the ride back into the city. If you think I'll let this slut and her bastard daughter into this house, into this family, you're sorely mistaken.
He was so consumed by his own thoughts that it didn't even occur to him it was rather late, and that he'd better text to make sure Maureen was even awake. He knocked softly on the door, all but holding his breath. Luckily there was a shuffle on feet on the other end. Maureen opened the door. She was wearing a white terry-cloth robe that had the logo of the hotel embroidered on its breast pocket in scarlet and gold. Her hair was damp, streaming down her shoulders. It didn't seem he had woken her up, thankfully. She seemed surprised to find him on her doorstep.
"Mark! What are you doing here?" she pulled him inside and closed the door. When she turned to face him again, she had that naughty glint in her eyes. "If I knew you were coming I wouldn't have packed my black lacy nighty."
He was too distracted to even crack a smile at her suggestive innuendo. She took one step towards him, humor all gone from her eyes. She eyed him with concern. "Hey… is everything okay?"
He didn't have the energy to reply. He felt so drained all of a sudden. He buried his head in her chest, and she instinctively wrapped her arms around his head, soothingly running her fingers through his hair. He breathed in her scent. She smelled of soap and cleanliness. There was something so comforting about it. He just wanted to hold her.
"It didn't go so well, did it?" she asked gently, slowly pulling away, making him face her.
"It was awful, worse than I thought." He looked at her hesitantly. "Is it okay if I spend the night? I really don't feel like being home alone."
She didn't even hesitate like he feared she would. "Sure. I was packing until half an hour ago, so Libby's asleep in the second bedroom. I don't think you'll fit into any of my tee shirts though."
He forced a smile at her attempted joke, not wishing to worry her further. He showed her his overnight bag. "I was supposed to spend the night at Scarsdale, remember?"
"Was it that bad?" she asked, leading the way down the hallway. The door to the second bedroom where Libby was sleeping wasn't shut all the way. He resisted the urge to peek inside. He followed Maureen inside the main bedroom, and watched her as she shut the door, again only halfway.
"It was bad. I don't want to talk about it." He'd die before he told her everything his mother said about her.
"Okay," she nodded, and moved closer. Slowly, gently, she helped him out of his clothes. He just stood there, in the middle of the room, letting her tend to him as if he were a child. His exhaustion was overwhelming. She reached for his backpack and handed him his sweatpants. "Did you eat? I only have some leftover cheesecake here, but..."
"I grabbed a hotdog on the way here. It's fine. Let's just go to bed, okay?"
She looked as if she wanted to say more, but then thought better of it. "Okay," she said, pressing a soothing kiss to his lips.
He found his toothbrush in his bag, and went to brush his teeth. He washed his face, hoping to leave behind any trace of tears. By the time he returned, she had already changed out of the robe into shorts and a long-sleeved tee shirt. Wordlessly, she nodded towards the bed; she'd already thrown back the covers. He lay back, sinking into the pillows with relief. She took off his glasses and placed them on his bedside. Then she turned off the lights and snuggled closer against him. He wrapped his arms around her and closed his eyes. His thoughts drifted back to his grandmother's ring, which was now in his wallet. He'd give it to her tomorrow, he decided. Right before they'd leave.
As he finally drifted into slumber, he felt slightly more reassured. They would be okay. They'd be happy together, with or without his mother's blessing. Cindy didn't have to worry. They did deserve each other.