I pack slowly, not knowing if I am relieved to be leaving or reluctant to leave Rick. I keep wondering what I should do, move back to New York so I can be with him or stay in California and leave the drama of our relationship behind.
"I thought I'd take you to the airport," he says, "I don't know how long it will be before I see you. Are you ready? Dacy?"
I stand dumbfounded, I say nothing because my mouth won't cooperate. It is a full minute before I can speak. "Yes," comes out, I can't think of anything else to say.
Rick takes my suitcase. "Come on," he tells me, "We've got to get going." I shrug my shoulders, then follow him out the door.
I'm dragging my feet. "Hurry up," he tells me and opens the door for me to get into his Cadillac. I hate the cars he drives. There is something about Lincolns and Cadillacs that make me feel hostile. At least he's not driving a Bentley.
We head down the road, he's driving too fast but after all these years I'm used to it, sort of. We'll get to JFK in one piece—barely.
He's not heading towards the highway. "Where are we going, Rick?" I want to make my plane, we have plenty of time but I know what he has in mind.
"There's a little motel down the road from here, I thought we'd stop there." That's all the explanation I get.
"All right," I mutter and sink down in the seat. I don't mind, but I don't like the fact he sprang it on me. Maybe he meant it as a surprise but it would have been nice to be asked. Damn Capricorns and their need to control everything.
The motel is cute, and surrounded by trees. He leaves the engine running as he goes into the office. He comes back with a red plastic key emblazoned with a gold "9". "I got the room in the back," he informs me, "Nice and private," which is hardly necessary as we seem to be the only ones here.
I follow him into the room. It's not fancy but it's clean and quaint with a handmade quilt on the bed. "Does it meet your satisfaction?" he smirks.
I'm giving in, "Yes," I say and put my arms around him. He leans his head down and kisses me and pulls my jacket off.
"Take off your clothes," his voice is soft but the command is implicit so I obey. "You too," I tell him.
We make love while I keep an eye on the clock. There's something desperate about our lovemaking lately but that doesn't mean I don't feel it. He can make me feel things, take me places, that no one else ever has—not even Bob. I wish we could drag this out, but we can't.
When we finish, he holds me, kissing me on the eyes, my nose, and then my lips. Then he pulls back slightly and asks, "Are you going to move back?"
"Rick, isn't it easier to not have me here? Before that person busted us things were fine, now I'm not so sure. If I'm not around, then you don't have to worry. As for my moving back, that will depend on you. Are you willing to wait for me to finish school? I have less than a year left you know. And then there's the matter of your heroin. You want me, you get clean, I'm tired of worrying about you and your drug habit. If you want me as badly as you say you do, you'll give up the junk."
"Babe, I know, I know. You've put up with me and the drugs for years. I try to go straight, but I can't seem to stay that way. I'll try, I promise, but you know how it is."
Yes, I do. He was a junkie before I met him, I was just too naïve to realize it. I know he's spending a lot, has spent a lot, on heroin but I don't know the exact figure. He doesn't take much time off; I don't know if he needs to be on stage or if because he needs the money—probably both. He told me once that he needs to be on stage, that it was the only place where he felt truly safe but I don't understand. He's never adequately explained to me exactly what that means.
"If you do move back would you try to get back your old job in Kingston?" He's trying to change the subject.
"No, it's too small. There's four hospitals in Albany, I'd try to get a job at Albany Memorial in the cardio-pulmonary unit. I'm tired of emergency medicine, tired of watching patients come in only to lose them. I'd rather deal with heart attacks than car accidents. The money is better at big hospitals. I'd have to find a place to live where it's not too far from work or too far from you."
"There are a lot of little hamlets between Woodstock and Albany. You could find someplace to live with a better commute than you have in Los Angeles." He's smiling, pleased with himself. He knows I'm tempted.
"That would mean more privacy than living in Kingston. No one would know when you're coming and going because they won't care. That would be nice."
"Does that mean you're coming back?" he squeezes me tightly and kisses me, "Please say you are."
"We'll see. I'm making no promises. Can we go to the airport now, please? We can drink in the lounge until it's time for my plane."
"Don't do it, Dacy," Robbie tells me. I called him up and asked him to go out to lunch with me. Dominique's voice was cold when she took the call, but I don't care. She doesn't even know that I slept with him, she just doesn't like other women around Robbie.
"I told him I would if he cleaned up, but you know how long that will last. I don't know, Robbie, I want to be able to keep an eye on him. He doesn't take care of himself, maybe I can get him to go the doctor if he needs to—he respects my medical background. He never listens, though, I don't know why."
Robbie's face was solemn, "He never did."
" You're coming to Hawaii with Jerry and me," Bob looks at me with his beautiful brown eyes, "You need a break, Dacy, you look like hell."
"Gee thanks," I answer, but he's right. I'm pale and I've lost weight again. I shouldn't take time off from school but I'm in need of a "mental health break". Hell, maybe I should take a year off school and get some badly needed rest.
"Yes, I'm coming with you, I need to get away."
We're lying on the beach near the house Bob rented on Maui. We've been drinking Mai Tais and soon we'll be in the house making love before we join Jerry for dinner. It's been idyllic and I don't want it to end. Maybe I should propose to Bob like he suggested, but I won't do that to either of us.
"Babe, don't tell me you're going to make the same mistake twice," says Bob. "I know he's a great guy but he's not good for you." I've told him I'm thinking of moving back east again and I need to hear all the reasons I shouldn't.
He's not good for himself, I think. "I haven't committed to anything; I'm still not done with school. If I can get a management job at the hospital I want, and the money's right, I'll stay here. If I can't find the job I want, then I may leave, it all depends."
"On what?" he asks.
"On what Fate has planned for me."
I get home from work one night and find Rick sitting on my porch. I didn't expect him but it's a nice surprise.
"What are you doing here? How did you find out where I live?"
"I asked Robbie. He wasn't too pleased but he told me how to find your house." He looks around, "This is a nice little neighborhood, but what is that contraption out back?"
"I don't like to let my cats out, I don't want them to get eaten by coyotes. I have a neighbor who's a carpenter and he built something like it for his cats. There's a cat door so they can go in and out, and it's pretty secure. It's a nice night, do you want to sit out here or come inside?"
He answers by standing up and watches me unlock the door. Inside it's cool, I chose this house for its northern exposure, although I do have to use air conditioning at times, it tends to stay comfortable.
"What do you have to drink?"
"Well, there's no beer but I can make margaritas—it doesn't take long. As a matter of fact, that sounds good." I go to the fridge and pull out limes and ice, then take the tequila and triple sec out of the cupboard.
"You're lucky you found me at home, Rick, I'm leaving in a couple of days. I'm boarding the cats at the vet and flying to Seattle, I'm probably going to be gone for at least month."
"Why?" He sits down, looks at me.
"My parents died. My dad had lung cancer so that's not so unexpected, but the day after he died, my mom died of a heart attack."
"Oh babe, I'm sorry. I know you weren't close to them, but it must be hard."
"Yes, it is, harder than I thought. I'll be there for the funeral, then we have to figure out the estate. It's going to be divided between the four of us—it's all set up. We have to figure out what to do with the house—I'm sure one of us will want it so there's that to deal with."
"Will you be getting some money?" I'm not offended by his asking me this, I think I told him once that my parents weren't rich but we were well off.
"Yes, about $150,000 from the estate, then whatever from the properties. When it's all taken care of, I'm going to Mexico for a month."
"What happened to school?"
"I'm on leave for the rest of the quarter. My mom dying so suddenly was a shock. It's not easy losing both parents at once, even though we didn't get along so well. Look, they were terrible parents but they loved us. Moving away helped me forgive them."
I abandoned the margaritas and sat next to him and started crying. I didn't even know why, was I mourning the loss of a relationship with my parents? Was it because I missed Rick so much? Or because I felt lost?
I felt his arm on my shoulders. "I'm sorry babe, it must be hard for you." I leaned my head on his shoulder and let him hold me. Even if I didn't know what I was feeling, I knew I didn't want him to leave me.
"Why don't you come back east and look around? Find a place where you might want to live. Talk to some hospitals, tell them what you're doing? Just take a break, you're working too hard. You've had a shock, you lost both your parents, you deserve a chance to give yourself some time." He stood up and pulled me to my feet, "Come on, let's go to bed. We can talk in the morning."
Why is it I can never "no" to this man? Why am I so drawn to him? Why do we seem to fit so perfectly? What is the tie that binds us anyway? It's been fifteen years and I still love him, and still put up with the fact that he's married.
I wake up early, he doesn't. He kept me up until late but I still can't sleep past ten o'clock. Since I can't sleep I decide to get up and make coffee—coffee sounds good.
I'm facing the sink as I fill the carafe then almost drop it when I see him sitting in the kitchen, naked. "You scared me," I tell him and he grins.
"Why are you up?" he asks, "Because I can't sleep," I answer, "Want some coffee? Gonna put something on?"
"Nope," he grins and gets up and puts his arm around my waist, pushing himself against me.
I ignore him as much as I can and pour water into the coffee maker. For reasons I don't understand I start to cry—again--and turn and put my arms around him.
"Hey, what's wrong?" he asks and I tell him, "I don't know, I don't know what's wrong with me."
"Poor Dacy, you do too much, working and going to school full time, you take care of everyone but you." He walks me over to the kitchen table and sits down, pulling me onto his lap. "You just lost your parents and it hurts, I know, I've been there. You should be crying, letting it all out, just for once try not to prove you can do everything."
And I cry like I've never cried before. I don't have to hold back when I'm with him and I'm grateful.
"Dacy, let's just have some fun until I have to catch my plane. Let's go to Disneyland, be teenagers for a while. I want to see a smile on your face, okay?"
And that's when I know I'm moving back to New York. Why can I not live without this man? Bob and Robbie are right, he doesn't do me any good but he knows how to work me. He hates Disneyland but he's going because he knows I love it. He's drawing me in and if I could I'd hate him.