Tom’s wedding was bringing up all kinds of things I hadn’t wanted to think about. Things I’d pushed down for years. And that coating of sadness on my tongue called to mind Cat Sherman, her lively wit and her gorgeous eyes.
She was my employee. It was unethical and off-limits entirely. Not to mention somewhat illegal.
She was also much too young. She’d be too young for Drew, about the right age for Tom. In a few years, she’d be too old for Malcolm, I thought ruefully. If he didn’t stick with this current wife and the hundred thousand dollar baby, he’d probably skew even younger next time. He was tenacious, I’d give him that. He was not a man who gave up on marriage after multiple failures. He just needed a younger model to try again. Model being the operative word. I loved the guy like a brother, but sometimes you have to accept there are things you’re not good at. I tried to read War and Peace in college, but I kept falling asleep so ‘finishing detailed Russian novels’ would be a weakness of mine. At least it didn’t cost me millions in alimony to find that out. Malcolm, however, had paid more in divorce settlements than most men ever earned in a lifetime. I had rueful respect for his optimism, but I also thought it was misguided.
Tom decided to join Malcolm and me in the cigar lounge, while Drew headed home, probably to look for Princess Diana’s socks on eBay. As we selected from the humidor and settled back into ample leather chairs in the quiet lounge, Tom turned to us as if we were his fathers.
“Do you have any advice for me? I mean, as I get married?” he said. “I wanted to ask you privately, so I’m glad Drew left. He’d give me hell about this. But if you have any, I don’t know, wisdom here, lay it on me.”
“Prenup. Make sure she signs one,” I said, inhaling the spiced, fragrant smoke smoothly.
“Same,” Malcolm admitted, “although I’d also advise you to set aside one night a month for a date night. It sounds stupid, but it’s a failsafe to make sure you check in with each other. Otherwise, you can live together, share the same bed, and never know what someone’s thinking or take time to really talk.”
“Huh,” I said sarcastically, “maybe that’s where I went wrong. We didn’t schedule a date night. If I’d only had a standing reservation at Applebee’s, this could all have been avoided.”
“Shut up, Brent,” Malcolm said, “you’re the worst cynic on this subject. To listen to you, you’d think the woman took you for all you were worth and broke your heart in the bargain.”
“Are you suggesting I’m more jaded than I have the right to be?”
“Perhaps,” Malcolm said, drawing on his cigar.
“I love her. I want this to work. If there’s any insight you can give me without being completely sarcastic, I’d appreciate it,” Tom said.
I wanted to help him, but what he asked was practically a foreign language to me.
“Tom, I can tell you how to finance the acquisition of a second small company when you can’t even afford the first one. I can help you decide which charities to patronize or the best ways to reduce your carbon footprint. My qualifications end there. I’m perhaps the least suited man to ask about how to make a relationship last,” I said.
“Thank you for your honesty,” he said soberly and turned to Malcolm.
“Malcolm doesn’t know what he’s talking about either. He just won’t admit it as gracefully as I did,” I said with a half-smile.
“Bastard,” he muttered. “I know enough to ask my wife how her day was and tune in to the details. Paying attention is at least half of the battle. The rest of it is caring how she feels and what she thinks.”
“So staying awake? Damn, I failed there as well,” I joked.
“I’m serious. In my first two marriages, I wasn’t present, not really. My mind was the yacht I wanted to upgrade to, or the company I was looking to buy. I didn’t focus on my wives as people or hold myself accountable for treating their wants and needs as priorities. And yes, the shrink that taught me that has a summer home paid for by my years in therapy after the last divorce, but the lessons I learned about communication and listening were worth every dime.”
“I don’t know. Did the shrink cost more than another divorce settlement? Because your ROI there may be questionable,” I said.
“Don’t mind Brent. He’s an irreverent bastard, always has been. Likes to make a joke of everything.”
“You’re a good kid,” I said to Tom, “and you’ll do well. I have an early meeting, so I’ll say good night.”
“Don’t let him fool you, kid,” Malcolm said wryly, “all this sentiment makes him want to run for the hills.”
“Fair enough,” Tom said, “I can’t thank the two of you enough. My brother and Drew are standing up for me, but if we’d had a larger wedding—”
“You would’ve made us wear matching bow ties?” I said, “I’ll thank you for the thought, but I’ll be going now.”
“I’ll order you a large in the Team Groom t-shirt,” Malcolm laughed.
All the way home, I thought of Tom and the adventure he was beginning. Then my thoughts drifted back to Cat Sherman, to the sexy, hilarious way her mind worked. Something in her spirit and her smile galvanized me, woke me up from what felt like years of sleepwalking. I had opportunities, perhaps I had a future ahead of me yet that could be spent outside the office. It wouldn’t be her. No one so young. No one who worked for me, but I had to give her credit for sparking the idea in me, the longing for more.
5
Cat
Heather’s brother was a dud. Dead boring. Like History Channel boring. Documentary about the making of toothpaste boring. I would literally commit to a two-hour YouTube viewing of paint drying if I could slip out of the restaurant unnoticed.
His name was Andy, although I nicknamed him Blandy in my head about an hour into the date. Blandy was talking about the last election. He had ‘Thoughts with a capital T.’ I had my own political opinions, and I took pains to research the accurate findings of any investigations in the news to avoid obviously. He didn’t have the same ethic. He wanted to quote the hosts on his favorite news network, whom he referred to by their first names.
“Yeah, but isn’t it all fake news?” I joked.
Blandy shook his head solemnly, “No. Not on my network. It’s the only channel with the balls to tell the whole truth.”
He said it totally without irony and I wondered if it was unwise to order another drink. I decided to switch to water because if I amused myself by making a drinking game of listening to him, I’d be wasted in no time. Especially if I took a drink every time he used the phrases ‘seriously’ and ‘you wouldn’t believe.’
I tried to change the subject to something I thought would be neutral.
“What’s your favorite Netflix show?” I said, “Are you a Stranger Things guy? Or are you a comedy fan?”
“I don’t subscribe to streaming services. They’re a waste of money. I have the app on my phone so I can stay up to date with the news from the only source worth listening to. I don’t watch programs or films made for entertainment. We live in troubled times, Cat. I can’t believe you’d waste your brainpower on fluff like that. It’s irresponsible not to devote your screen time to staying informed.”