Blank Slate Kate

Chapter 19

My phone rings, interrupting my thoughts.

"Hey, Jake, what's--"

"You're awesome, Kate. I sold one!"

"What? You were just trying to get them to look!"

"Well, they looked. Third gallery took me on as a client, and when the owner saw the last piece in my portfolio he bought it on the spot. He sent a truck over to bring the rest of my pieces into the gallery, and he's going to do a show for me in a few weeks."

"I'm so happy for you. That's wonderful."

"No, you are. I've thought about selling for years and in a few weeks you got me organized and able to do it. I can't thank you enough. Can I take you out for dinner to celebrate?"

I wince. "I wish I could, but I can't tonight. Maybe next week?"

He pauses then says, "Oh, right. You have company this weekend."

"I do. I'm sorry. I'd love to go out with you tonight."

My words surprise me, but as they come out I realize they're true, and it actually goes deeper than that.

I think I would rather be with Jake than with my husband.

*****

Once Ryan and I are seated at the restaurant, though, I remember how concerned he was about me and how honest and open he's been about what went wrong with our marriage, and I find myself happier than I'd have expected to be with him. I wonder how I'll feel about him by the end of this weekend.

Ryan smiles and raises his glass of ginger ale in a toast. Doctor Ferraro said I shouldn't drink because alcohol is a depressant so Ryan's decided not to drink either. "To another great weekend together."

I smile back and we clink glasses, but there's something strange in his tone. He sounds almost nervous, and like he's trying too hard to lighten the mood.

He does ask about my therapy session, and I tell him what the doctor said about memory storage but nothing about what we discussed, and he doesn't push me. We talk for a bit about what we'll do with the weekend, then about some photo albums he brought for my perusal and a bag of clothes he collected from my closet 'at home' and the play he hopes I'd like to attend, but his tone doesn't improve and eventually I have to ask, "Is something wrong?"

He frowns. "Why? Do I seem upset?"

I look into his eyes and see it there too. "You do. And since you didn't deny it, I assume you are upset. What's going on?"

He sips his ginger ale, taking his time, and I sit wondering exactly what he's going to say and how I'm going to handle it. I don't expect, though, what he does say.

"How well do you know Jake?"

I lean back in my chair. "We talked about this last weekend. I didn't sleep with him but--"

He shakes his head. "I meant what you know about his past. Has he told you anything?"

"Sure. Where he grew up, that he doesn't have brothers or sisters, when he started sculpting. Why?"

Ryan sighs. "No reason."

"Yeah, right."

He rubs his forehead. "You're not going to like this."

"Then don't tell me."

He looks up, surprised.

I was kidding but now I realize I meant it. "I've had quite enough of weird situations and things I don't like in the last few months, don't you think? If I don't need to know, keep it to yourself."

He's staring at me but I can tell he's not seeing me. He's deep inside his own head, analyzing what I said and whatever he's considering telling me and figuring out what he should do. Then his eyes focus and he says, "You do need to know. I think."

I sigh. "Fine. Let's hear it."

Before he can speak, though, I think of something else. "How do you know anything about Jake anyhow? You barely met him."

He reaches for his drink again but stops before picking it up. "I had him investigated."

I stare at him. "You did what?"

He raises his chin. "I won't apologize. You've been living with him, and I assume you're still seeing a lot of him?"

I nod. I won't apologize either.

"So I wanted to know what he's like. Whether I need to be worried."

Given that I admitted I nearly had sex with Jake, I'd think any husband would be worried, but Ryan is clearly talking about something else. "And do you?"

He folds his hands on the table, apparently casually, but I can see his knuckles whitening. "Tell me again how you woke up that first morning."

Taken aback, I say, "What's that got to do with anything?"

"Humor me."

I clear my throat. "I woke up in his bed, and freaked out because I didn't know who he was or who I was either."

Ryan's hands tighten on each other even more, until his fingertips are digging into his own skin. "And what were you wearing?"

I'd glossed over this part when telling him and Claire the story, but I can tell Ryan has figured it out. Still, I feel weird admitting I was naked in another man's bed, so I just slowly shake my head.

He closes his eyes as if he can't bear to see me. "Did you... hurt anywhere? Feel weird?"

"My head. I threw up after I got up because I was dizzy. But I was in a fight at his bar, and also had a lot to drink, so that's probably why."

He still doesn't look at me. "Nowhere else?"

"No. Why, where do you think I should have been hurt?"

His eyes open, and the rage and frustration in them make me recoil. "You shouldn't have been hurt anywhere. I'm just afraid..."

When he doesn't finish, I say, "Of what?"

He reaches for his ginger ale with one hand and takes hold of my hand with the other. After a sip, he sets the glass down and takes my other hand, his skin cold against mine. "I don't know how to tell you."

"Just say it." His tension is making me steadily more nervous so I try to make a joke. "You told me you'd cheated. This can't be worse than that."

His hands tighten on mine and he doesn't seem to realize I was trying to be funny. "It is." He takes a deep breath. "Donna, a year ago Jake was charged with rape."