“I just want everything to be perfect tonight,” I said. “I want her to feel comfortable.”
“Nick, she’ll be comfortable,” Jesse said. “We don’t need to impress her.” He adjusted the centrepiece, an opalescent blue ceramic vase with daffodils spilling out of it. I’d chosen daffodils because of their height and simplicity — I didn’t want some huge, overdone bouquet blocking our view of one another over dinner, obstructing conversation.
I gazed through the cloudy window of the oven at the glass casserole dish, the layers of pasta, sauce and cheese. I always made my lasagne just as my mother had taught me, with loads of ground beef and even ground veal on special occasions. But not tonight. In the layer where the meat should have been, there was a thick spread of spinach in deference to Kim’s vegetarianism. To compensate, I’d had a hamburger for lunch. I thanked God she wasn’t vegan.
Jesse’s arms suddenly encircled me, his head burrowing into my shoulder. “It’s going to be a beautiful evening,” he whispered. “I promise.”
Our image reflected hazily in the glass, his brown head nuzzling against my neck, a complement to the thinning blonde hair that spilled over my own brow. Within a few years, most couples we knew became clones of each other — sharing their clothes and hairstyles so that sometimes you could hardly tell them apart. Perhaps with us the pieces had just fit together better from the start, no need to shave off an edge here and there to squeeze the puzzle into place.
“Well, she’s your friend,” I said, closing my eyes. It was better that way, of course. I couldn’t have gone through with it with someone I knew too well.
“Are the wine glasses on the table?” I asked.
“Knew I forgot something,” he said, his breath rippling my shirt. But he didn’t move until the doorbell rang a few seconds later.
I glanced up at the clock above the oven. “Well, she’s prompt,” I remarked.
“Timing is everything,” Jesse said with a smile, pulling away and heading for the door. “Especially tonight.”
I darted across the room to turn down the Schubert, then busied myself pulling wine glasses out of the cupboard. I was lighting the candles on the table when I heard the voices in the foyer. There were no cries of welcome, just murmured hellos, and Jesse followed Kim into the room. She held a bottle of white wine in front of her and laid it gently into my hands as she leaned in to kiss my cheek.
“Oh, it’s chilled,” I said, my fingers tingling.
She laughed and drew away quickly. “Sorry. I should have warned you.”
“I should have known you wouldn’t show up with a bottle of warm Chardonnay,” I said with a smile.
She had trimmed her hair into a neat bob that drew attention to her face — the slightly upturned nose and high cheekbones. I’d always thought of Kim as pretty, but tonight she looked quite beautiful. Her eyes were bright blue, like Jesse’s.
“Can I help with anything?” Kim asked as I led the way into the kitchen.
Jesse slid past her to pull a serving bowl from the cupboard. “You’re doing quite enough already,” he said.
Kim blushed, a healthy pink in her cheeks. She didn’t look like the other vegetarians I knew — pasty, unnaturally thin. Kim had an athlete’s body — slender but strong. It showed in the way her feet held the ground, the subtle biceps that appeared when she bent her arm to brush a lock of hair behind her ear. She worked out regularly, she ate right, she didn’t smoke. She was a catch. It was a wonder some man hadn’t swooped her up by now.
She had been one of Jesse’s closest friends in college. They’d even dated briefly. And later, she was one of the first people he came out to. After school they had gone their separate ways, Kim bopping around the country in search of herself. It was pure coincidence that she was here at all. She’d come back to town a few years ago, for graduate school, and we’d bumped into her in line at the movies. If it hadn’t been for Woody Allen, this night might never have happened. We might have been standing here with someone else right now, someone neither of us knew very well at all.
While I opened the wine, Jesse made the salad. Salads he could handle — there was nothing to burn.
“So how’s school?” he asked, slicing into a tomato. The seeds spilled on to the cutting board, and he brushed it all into the bowl before moving on to the cucumber.
“It’s great,” Kim said. “As soon as this class is done, I’ll be free to work full-time on the dissertation.”
I handed her a glass of Chardonnay. “That’s wonderful. Congratulations.”
Jesse turned and took the other glass. “To Kim’s dissertation. And other projects.”
“To Kim,” I said, smiling.
Our glasses clinked together, a perfect little triangle.
I checked the lasagne, which still had a while to go. We settled down at the table to start on the salad first. It was past seven, but watery gold sunlight was still falling through the window.
“So what’s your dissertation about again?” I asked.
“Kate Chopin,” she said. “She’s not terribly well known these days, unless you’re an English major.”
“Any relation to Frederic?”
“Not that I know of. But it might be interesting — finding parallels between the writing and the music.”
Jesse laughed. “Wouldn’t that be nice,” he said, “something we could both read.” He leaned towards Kim. “In case you haven’t noticed — all the books in this house are mine, and all the CDs are Nick’s.”
“That’s not strictly true,” I argued.
“I stand corrected,” said Jesse, fork waving in mid-air like a baton. “All the books about music are Nick’s.”
Kim laughed. “I’d say you guys complement each other very nicely,” she said. She looked at us both in turn. “An old friend of mine used to say, differences are gifts; they give us a chance to expand our horizons.’”
“See, sweetie?” Jesse said, patting my hand. “Remember that the next time I leave the cap off the toothpaste.”
Kim caught the gesture and smiled. “Seven years?” she asked. “And no itch yet?” She laughed again, a mischievous, throaty laugh.
“Well,” I said, “we’re not saints. It’s all a question of how often you scratch.”
“But you’re great together. You know that, right?” There was a depth to her eyes, and I realized suddenly that this wasn’t just about Jesse and me. She had a stake in it, too. She needed us to be stable. She needed to know she could rely on us.
“Of course,” I replied, squeezing Jesse’s hand. “We’re very lucky.”
“Is that all there is to it?” she asked, pushing a carrot slice around on her plate. “Luck?”
“It plays a bigger role than you’d think,” I confessed. “It’s not as if I deserve this guy, you know.”
Head still bowed over his plate, Jesse looked up at me — through the chestnut hair that grazed his forehead. I called it his “come hither” look, but I’d never told him that.
“It’s not a question of deserving,” he said softly. “Love comes when you’re ready for it.” He was talking to Kim, but still gazing at me.
“Well,” Kim said through a self-conscious laugh, “then I guess I’m still not ready.”
“You are,” Jesse replied, breaking the connection at last and turning to face her. “But maybe he’s not.”
“Who?”
“The man you’re destined to be with.”
Her laughter morphed into a nervous giggle. “Ooh, destiny. That’s a little scary. So far I’ve just been destined for jerks.”
“That’s not destiny,” I told her. “Most men are jerks.”
“Well, I’ve met them all,” she said. She took a gulp of wine, a period on the remark. “I did get close once or twice — or so I thought. The grand passion that fizzles when reality sets in.”
“Preaching to the choir,” I said, raising a hand to the sky.
She went on, in a sort of reverie now. “It’s amazing how many times you have to learn the same lesson. I keep thinking it’s going to be different this time: This guy means it. This one can open his heart as easily as his pants.” She laughed at her own joke and took another sip. “But even when they do. . they seem to hate it, you know? It’s like their nerves are suddenly stripped of their protective coating. They love the feeling at first, but then it becomes too much and they can’t stand it. They have to close up again — zip their hearts back up and leave.” She smiled delicately, mysteriously. “Men can do that,” she whispered. “How do they do that?”