The Cottage

“I'm not seeing her anymore,” he said unhappily, as Valerie paused, while drying her hair with a towel. She could see how much it had upset him to say what he just did.

“I'm so sorry.” She didn't dare ask him what had happened. He had told Taryn, and Taryn had had lunch with Alex, and then told Coop how unhappy Alex was. She felt sorry for both of them, but she thought Coop had made the right decision, especially for Alex. It would take her time to see it. And it had made him feel better when Taryn said that. He needed her full support now.

“I'm sorry too,” Coop told Valerie honestly. “Giving her up was like giving up the last of my illusions. It's better this way.” He didn't explain to her about his debts, or the fact that he didn't marry her for her money. It was enough to know it, and that he hadn't done it. Virtue was its own reward, or something like that. He told himself that often late at night, but he missed her anyway. And he had no desire to run out and find another woman, particularly a young one, which was a first for him.

“It's a bitch being a grown-up, isn't it?” she asked sympathetically. “I just hate it.”

“So do I,” he smiled at her. She was a nice woman. And so was Alex, which was why he'd refused to take advantage of her. Maybe for the first time in his life he really had been in love.

“Do you want to have dinner with us?” Valerie asked generously, and he shook his head. For once in his life, he didn't want to see anyone. He didn't want to talk or play or party. “You and Jimmy can sit and feel sorry for yourselves and growl at each other.”

“I'm almost tempted,” he laughed. “Maybe in a few days.” Or a few years. Or a few centuries. He was surprised by how much he missed her. She had become a delicious habit. Too delicious. In time, he would have choked on her. Or hurt her badly, and he didn't want to do that either.

Valerie didn't say anything to Jimmy for a few days, but when he started fuming about Alex's silence again, she finally relented.

“I think she's got some heartaches of her own right now,” Valerie said gently.

“What does that mean?” Jimmy snarled at her. He was sick of being stuck in a wheelchair and having casts on his legs. And he was angry at Alex. She had completely forgotten about him.

“I think she and Coop stopped seeing each other. In fact, I'm sure of it. I saw Coop at the pool a few days ago and he told me. I think they're probably both very upset about it. I suspect that's why you haven't heard from her.”

Jimmy sat very quietly when he heard it. And after thinking about it for a few days, he called her at the hospital but they told him she was off duty. He didn't have her number at her studio. And when he paged her, she didn't answer. It was another week before he reached her at work.

“What's happening to you? Did you die or something?” he barked at her. He had been snapping at his mother all morning. And he missed talking to Alex. She had been the only one he opened his heart to, and then she disappeared.

“Yeah, I died… sort of I've been busy.” She sounded awful, and near tears. She had been crying for two weeks.

“I know,” his voice softened as he spoke to her. He could hear that she was hurting. “My mother told me what happened.”

“How does she know?” Alex sounded startled.

“I think Coop told her. He saw her at the pool or something. I'm sorry, Alex. I know you must be unhappy about it.” He thought it was a good thing for her, but he didn't want to say that and upset her more.

“I am. It's complicated. He had some sort of crisis of conscience or something.”

“It's nice to know he has one.” Even after what had happened, Jimmy didn't like him. Particularly if he had hurt Alex in the process. But pain was unavoidable in those situations. The peeling away of two lives that had become one, even briefly, was inevitably painful. “They're taking my casts off next week, and giving me smaller ones I can walk on. Can I come and see you when they do?”

“Sure. I'd like that.” She didn't want to come and see him at The Cottage, and risk running into Coop. It would be too painful for her, and maybe even for him.

“Can I call you sometime? I don't know how to reach you. You're always busy at work, and I don't have your home number.”

“I don't have one. I sleep in a laundry basket on a pile of dirty clothes,” she said, feeling and sounding pathetic.

“That sounds attractive.”

“It isn't. Oh shit, Jimmy, I'm miserable. I guess he's right, but I think I really loved him. He says he's too old for me, and he doesn't want kids. And… he has a lot of other problems, and he doesn't want me to take care of them for him. I think he thought he was being noble. What a dumb idea.”

“I think he was being decent,” Jimmy said honestly, “and he was doing the right thing. He's right. He is too old for you, and you should have kids. When you're fifty, he'll be ninety.”

“Maybe that doesn't matter,” she said plaintively. For the moment, she still missed him. She had never known anyone like him.