Page 15 of Exit Lane
“I just thought...” She shakes her head and stands up. Gives me a good, long, defiant stare before putting on her coat. “I hope someone someday is as obsessed with me as you are with her to throw away something this good.” My shoulders slump. I want to comfort her, and before I get a chance to fumble for words, I realize the most comforting thing I can do right now is shut up.
“I’m glad you were honest. I’m not going to be anyone’s backup plan.” Over her shoulder as she walks to the door: “Might as well go after her at this point.”
Marin
All week, I think about talking to Sloane about what happened, but I can’t bring myself to make the call. I hate being messy, and I have a physical reaction to the idea that Sloane—or Sloane and Carter—might have to clean up after me.
The workweek is a treasured distraction, and I throw myself into it, shoving the incident into the recesses of my mind—mostly successfully—until Sunday morning. I bike thirty minutes through the slushy snow to Vesterbro, seeking punishment from a Pilates reformer. In class, I fixate on what Teddy said about our one and only kiss. I struggleto focus on wrapping my abs or releasing the tension in my poses, thinking instead about the sound he made when he heard me come. During cooldown, I replay how he described jerking off in his hotel room thinking about me.
Our instructor thanks us with a slight bow. I tug on my snow boots. The day stretches out in front of me. The last thing I want to do is be home, pressing rewind on our conversation one more time. It happened. It doesn’t matter. It was a phone call across an ocean, practically a fever dream.
I need a walk. I need cold air. I need other images to replace the ones of Teddy swirling in my head.
I make my way to Copenhagen Contemporary. As I wander through the galleries, my phone rings. My sister, Violet. I stop in my tracks, jolted by a flash of anxiety that hits me whenever I hear from her at odd hours. I answer.
“Mar, I miss you.” Before I can ask why she’s even awake, she jumps in. “Tell me how you’re doing, but this time, try not to mention anything about work.”
I laugh, darting behind a video installation and leaning against a wall to avoid the judgment of being on my phone. “I’m good. Tired, maybe a little homesick.” Not a lie, but not exactly the truth. Since our dad’s passing, protecting Violet became my biggest priority. That means making sure she always has money for flights back to Iowa, someone she can call no matter what, and nothing to worry about when it comes to me.
“I miss Iowa all the time.” Violet is wistful. I can’t relate. She has no idea what that place has come to mean to me, only that I’ve never dreamed of going back.
“You’ll always have Iowa.” I try my best to make that sound like a good thing. “I’m glad you’re in Chicago, though. There’s so much opportunity there for you. And so many frat boys.”
Violet laughs at my running gag about her taste in men. Then she pauses the way she always does before saying something she’s scared to get out. “Are you OK in Copenhagen? Why are you even...” She sighs. “Sometimes you seem like you’re not OK. And I worry about you.”
It’s the thing I dread hearing from her—that I’m a source of anything but comfort. But for the first time, I am tempted to tell her the truth: that I’m lonely. That I keep running farther and farther away. That I think I might be in love with someone who hits way too close to home.
But I can’t. I transform back into the measured older sister she deserves. “I’m settling in here, V, and it’s not forever. You know, I have a few friend coffee dates next week, so things are shaping up. And I can’t wait for you to come. But listen, I’m at an art museum. Let me call you back when I get home.”
After we hang up, I feel relief, like I’ve successfully passed off a white lie. Then the loop of Teddy’s voice kicks back in, and a few blocks from home, I start mentally calculating minus-six time zones. Teddy is probably still asleep, in bed with Caroline. He’ll probably pick up Russ & Daughters for the two of them, even though the Sunday line will be maddening, and go for a run. He’ll call Carter or his mom and reminisce about old times. I tell myself that Teddy’s not thinking about me. And I should try my best not to think about him.
XI
Teddy
From: [email protected]
Subject line: Going forward
Teddy—
Upon reflection, I’d like to apologize for my behavior a few weeks ago. I’ve decided it’s best to limit our interactions as much as possible. It’s better for both of us and everyone else involved.
Thank you for understanding.
Best,
MV
I’ve memorized the email I woke up to on Monday. I hate the way my stomach tightens at “both of us” every single time. How I hold my breath at “everyone else involved” and its invocation of Caroline and Carter and Sloane and I don’t even know who else. Our colleagues? Every temptation I have to call Marin and talk her into reconsidering is met with an equally strong pang of embarrassment.
“God, Teddy, you can be so dumb. And lovable, but verystupid.” Carter and I are on the phone the next day while I walk from the office to the gym. Turns out, my commitment to leaving him in the dark about Marin expired as soon as I broke up with Caroline. There was no way of explaining to my best friend why I ended things with someone I’d described as “wife material” without also telling him about the illicit phone sex with his girlfriend’s best friend. In as little detail as possible.
I’m pacing in front of a bodega now. “Am I really the guy who has a not-even-hookup with someone and then breaks up with his long-term girlfriend? Who could ever take me seriously?”
“You feel something for her, Ted, like enough to end a perfectly solid relationship. Listen, the cheating stuff... is sensitive for you, and maybe you did this with Marin to force yourself into an out with Caroline.” I stop, considering his analysis. He might be right. Carter’s always been better at the emotional conversations that I’d rather sweep under the rug, and he often knows me better than I know myself. “I’m not telling you to do anything brash like fly to Copenhagen and profess your love, but it’s worth paying attention to the way you feel—especially with everything you have going on. It’s a lot.”
