Page 13 of We Could Be So Good
Sometimes it’s a bit mortifying, the way Nick sees right through Andy’s attempts to seem normal. He can’t remember exactly when Nick started looking after him like a lost dog, but he isn’t complaining. He sort of does need looking after, at least ifhe wants to keep up the facade of being a functioning member of society. Nick seems to have accepted that Andy’s a mess and not inquired too closely into it. (Emily had done the same, but Andy refuses to think about that right now.)
He’s never been.... competent, he supposes. There’s scatterbrained and then there’s whatever Andy is. He wouldn’t have gotten through school without classmates reminding him about assignments, janitors returning lost notebooks, and a fair amount of money to smooth the way.
The fact that his father thinks he’s going to run theChronicleas soon as next year is, frankly, insane.
“Did you manage to eat anything at lunch?” Nick asks.
Andy tries to remember. There had been a piece of bread, he thinks, and maybe some butter, but after that he was distracted by his world crumbling around him and all that.
“That’s a no,” Nick says. “I’ll have something sent up.”
“You sure you don’t want to tuck me into bed?” Andy grumbles.
Nick mutters something unintelligible before stomping off in the direction of the elevator.
A few minutes later a copyboy arrives with a cup of coffee and one of those black-and-white cookies from the deli downstairs, which is fine, but then he sticks around, lurking between the office door and the elevator bank, trying to look inconspicuous and failing by a mile. “Seriously?” Andy asks when he’s half done with the cookie. “Did Nick tell you to babysit me?”
“No,” says the copyboy. Walter, Andy thinks. “Mr.Russo said I had to stick around until you finished the cookie.”
Andy sighs, shoves the rest of the cookie into his mouth, and shoos the kid away.
He’s fine. Or, he will be. Weddings get called off all the time, don’t they? But whenever people talk about it, they speak aboutembarrassment or inconvenience or even scandal, but all Andy feels is... heartbreak, he supposes, with a side order of loneliness. He loved Emily. He still loves her, although knowing she doesn’t love him back anymore makes him feel awkward and conspicuous about it, like he’s clinging to some embarrassingly passé fashion and hasn’t noticed everybody else moving on.
Abruptly, he realizes that even though he isn’t thinking in terms of inconvenience or scandal, his father will. He gets to his feet, downs the rest of his coffee, tosses the paper cup in the garbage, and hits the elevator call button.
“Mr.Fleming is on a call,” his father’s secretary says when Andy approaches the publisher’s office.
“Could you tell him it’s urgent?” His father has to find out from Andy before he finds out from anyone else.
The secretary’s left eyebrow doesn’t quite rise—she’s paid too well for that—but it flickers. “Of course, Mr.Fleming.” She repeats Andy’s message into the telephone and then gestures him into his father’s office.
“What’s the matter?” his father asks before the door is even shut.
“We’ve called off the wedding.” Andy sits in one of the guest chairs and braces himself.
His father stares. “By that, I assume you mean that MissWarburton called off the wedding, and you’re being too gentlemanly to say so. Because when we spoke a few days ago, you were asking whether to take two weeks off for your honeymoon.”
When Andy doesn’t answer, his father sighs and takes off his glasses. “She went to London to look after her mother when Mrs. Warburton had a heart attack, didn’t she?” his father asks. “That was six weeks ago. I believe you mentioned she was dueto return last night.” Andy can almost see the pieces falling into place in his father’s mind.
Andy isn’t going to give away Emily’s private business. Frankly, there’s no succinct way to tell the story that makes either of them look particularly good. Emily fell for another man, and even after being rejected by that man and returning home heartbroken, she still doesn’t want to be with Andy. Nobody comes out the winner in this story.
His father wordlessly opens a desk drawer and takes out two glasses and a bottle of what Andy knows is top-shelf scotch. He fills both glasses and pushes one across the desk to Andy. “Are you all right?”
Andy tries not to look surprised, but it still comes as a bit of a shock when his father acts like he cares. It’s probably cynical, but Andy doesn’t know what else to think when his father, who was little more than a passing presence in his life until Andy’s mother’s death, suddenly decides to play the part.
He downs about half his glass, buying time to come up with an answer. “About as well as can be expected.”
“Thank God she isn’t working at theChronicleanymore,” his father says.
Andy suppresses a shudder. What would he say if he ran into her in the elevator or the cafeteria? What wouldshesay? But she gave notice when they got engaged, so at least that’s one thing he doesn’t have to worry about.
“Did something happen?” his father asks.
Andy catches himself biting his nails and quickly returns his hand to the arm of his chair. He knows that his father isn’t asking if Andy did something to screw this up, but the truth is that he wishes he had an answer. There must have been something,even though Emily said it wasn’t his fault. But as far as he can remember, things were perfectly normal between them before she went to London. The first couple of letters he got from her seemed normal, too. After that, not so much, but he chalked that up to her anxiety over her mother’s health. It hadn’t occurred to him that spending over a month in a strange city looking after a sick parent was anything out of the ordinary; he would have done the same for his own mother if he had gotten the chance.
Maybe if he had done something as soon as Emily had first seemed distant, maybe if he’d gotten on the first flight to London, maybe if he’d sent more flowers or written more often or donesomething,he could have prevented things from going wrong.
Instead he’s left believing that it’s just him. That he’s in some way insufficient—which is, of course, true. He’s forgetful, absentminded, perpetually late, easily flustered, and lazy. Emily never once acted bothered by any of that, but probably after spending time with a man who doesn’t have any of those deficiencies, she realized how bad she had it.
