She knew Simon from the Yacht Club while she was a member. They ran into each other on Greenwich Avenue and he ended up taking her to dinner. For the next three months, they dated regularly. In the end, though, and hard as they both tried, there was no passion between them. While on the surface neither seemed particularly passionate it burned beneath. They realized it was missing between them in the last of their many moments of intimacy at his place. Sandra said something was missing, and Simon agreed. They each got dressed and, after a kiss, she drove home. She remained, however, his closest friend and his confidant. They met for coffee in town on that Saturday between Simon’s first and second dates with Kate. She told him simply to follow his heart.
“It is quaint, but you are a romantic. It’s why it didn’t work for us, much as I still love you. You need to feel something. If you feel it, go for it and you’re telling me that you feel something towards her. See what happens.”
Which was an endorsement of what Simon already knew. He valued hearing it from Sandra.
Kate was not so sure about him. After what happened with Martin, she still needed to know if Simon was special for her. When she caught the attention of Charlie Evans, recently divorced and living seven blocks south of her and with two children, both in college, she accepted his offer for a date on the Saturday after her picnic with Simon. She and Simon spoke several times during the week, always comfortably. And, of course, during the picnic. She did not mention Charlie, as she had not mentioned Martin.
She met Charlie long before at their church. He was, he knew, a bit overweight and was balding. A lawyer by trade and a partner in a BigLaw firm in midtown, he had a self-deprecating air that was the opposite of William’s, Kate’s ex, a partner in a BigLaw firm in San Francisco. She and Charlie enjoyed going out for drinks on Saturday night on Broadway but it did not extend to dinner and they shared a kiss-goodnight that was nothing but a kiss-goodnight.
When Kate got home at about ten, she called Simon and they chatted about nothing for a half-hour or so before they wished each other goodnight. They both slept soundly.
Sunday
“It’s him.”
“What does that mean?”
“You told me to ask myself whether I enjoyed that night so much because it was Simon or because it was just a man.”
“And?”
“Because it was Simon. It’s not as though I haven’t dated men since I came to New York. Well, two others. I had a nice time last night with someone from Church but it went nowhere and we both knew it.”
“How about I drive down to see you? Tom will understand. Do you have anything planned with him?”
“I didn’t want to sound too eager when I spoke to him last night so—”
“You called him after your date? He must have been thrilled to hear from you.”
“He didn’t know about the date. But I was thrilled to hear him. I’d like you to come down.”
Eileen found a spot about ten minutes after she got to Kate’s neighborhood. She called up and waited for her friend on the stoop and the pair headed into Riverside Park. By then end of their heart-to-heart, Kate had Eileen’s endorsement.
A Hand-Written Letter
Kate and Simon spoke several times during the week. She confessed to having dated a couple of others but that, well, they did not work out. Simon was unsure how to take this bit of intel but figured that she would not be on the phone with him and would not be so anxious about getting together with him if those dates had gone anywhere. Thus he was more than happy to go into the City on Saturday. Fall had arrived. They would have lunch and play things by ear.
Plans changed, though, on Wednesday. Kate’s roots were getting more established in New York, and she feared, or at least was concerned, that California was no longer part of her. She regretted being in touch with only a few people there. Just her sister Lizzie and Lizzie’s family and three or four friends from Mill Valley and her former Church. She tried to speak with Lizzie once a week and her friends every few weeks.
Her California life was “then” and her New York life was “now” and her New York life was bringing her satisfaction and happiness she never knew out west.
A first crack appeared when she received a letter. It was in her mailbox in the lobby and the return address told her it was from her brother Edward. She had not spoken to or heard from him in over a year. Once in her apartment, she put down the other mail and found a letter opener. She shook.
Kate,
This is a difficult letter for me to write. I was wrong. I acted without regard to the Christian spirit that we all shared. To love and honor God’s creations. It has weighed on me since I first learned of Suzanne’s situation and I now see that you had no choice but to do what you did and support her. I now realize that I too had no choice. Yet I made the wrong one.
I ask that you try to find in your heart the ability to forgive me. And that somehow Suzanne may someday forgive me as well.
I have told no one about this, not even Jennie, except for Lizzie, who encouraged me to write. I asked her not to mention to you our frequent conversations over recent weeks. It is my burden and I must undertake it myself.
I can only hope that you can forgive me and allow me to again be a part, however small, of your family. I love you and I love Suzanne. As the song goes, “I was blind, but now I see.”
Your loving brother who misses you both terribly,