Somehow Leigh had made it through the last few weeks without having a complete nervous breakdown , but she was even more of a basket case than usual. With Emmy in Israel and Adriana in Brazil, she hadn’t even had the opportunity to share with her friends what she’d done, although were she to be honest with herself, she was also relieved not to have to say it aloud. She’d even endured a particularly painful New Year’s Eve party at one of Russell’ s colleague’ s apartments—a loft that was almost identical to Russell’ s, only this one was in So Ho—but when it came time to head back to work on January 2, she just couldn’ t do it. She called in sick that day and the next, an event so rare it warranted a suspicious phone call from Henry . “Are you really sick, Eisner, or did something happen I should know about?” he had asked. She’d called to leave him a message on his voice mail at six in the morning, but he’d picked up on the second ring. Henry was a lifelong Sunday-night insomniac, so he’d taken to arriving at the office at four or five in the morning on Mondays, claiming those few isolated hours were his only decent work time the entire week. In her distress Leigh had for gotten this. “What are you talking about?” Leigh asked with passably believable irritation. “Of course I’m actually sick. Why would you think otherwise?” “Oh, I don’t know, maybe because you haven’t taken a sick day in all the years you’ve worked here, coupled with the fact that Jesse Chapman— fresh off the plane from Asia—left me three messages yesterday and another two this morning already . Just call me intuitive like that.” “What did he say?” Leigh asked. She knew in her heart that their professional relationship was essentially over, but she wanted the opportunity to present it to Henry herself, when she was ready . Leigh could hear Henry sipping something and then chuckling. “He didn’t say a goddamn thing. Claims he was just ‘checking in,’ and ‘touching base’ and ‘saying hello,’ which, coming from Mr. Chapman, may as well be skywriting for ‘something is completely fucked and I’m trying to ascertain whether you know what it is or not.’” Leigh inhaled, simultaneously impressed with Henry’s perc eptiveness and angry at Jesse’s transparenc y. “Well, I can’t speak for Jesse, but as far as I’m concerned, there’s nothing to r eport. The manuscript is not yet where I want it to be, but it’s no cause for concern,” she said with a steadiness she didn’t feel.
Henry paused for a moment, started to speak, and then changed his mind. “So that’s your story and you’re sticking to it, huh? All right. I don’t buy it, but I’ll acc ept it—for now. But the moment anything arises that puts our publication date in jeopardy , I want to know about it. I don’t care what time of the day or night, whether it comes by Fed Ex or fucking carrier pigeon, I want to know . Okay?” “Of course! Henry, you don’t need to impress upon me how important this is, I promise . I swear I’m handling it. And I hate to cut this short, but it feels like I’m swallowing shards of glass right now .” “Glass, huh?” Leigh nodded even though no one could see her. “Yeah, I’m guessing it’s str ep, so I probably won’t be in tomorrow , either. But I have my laptop at home, and of course I’m always on my cell.” “Well, feel better . And I’m glad we had this little chat.” A shot of pain in her neck brought her back to the massage she’d scheduled right after hanging up with Henry . She flinched. “Oh, sorry ,” the therapist said. “W as that too hard?” “No, not at all,” Leigh lied. She knew it was acc eptable to provide feedback during a massage, that it was silly to pay a boatload of money and not enjoy it or, worse yet, to endure an hour’s worth of pain, but no matter how often she was reassured of these facts, Leigh could not bring herself to say anything. Each time she swore to herself that she’d speak up, and each time she gritted her teeth through kneading that was too strong, music that was too loud, or a room that was too cold. She wondered if she was worried about hurting the masseuse’ s feelings. That would be ironic. No hesitation whatsoever in cheating on her fiancé, but better not tell the salaried stranger that you’d prefer a softer touch! Leigh shook her head in disgust. “I am hurting you, aren’t I?” the girl asked in response to Leigh’s movement. “Hurting is an understatement, actually . It’s more like getting pummeled by a professional boxer ,” Leigh said without thinking. The girl began to apologize profusely . “Ohmigod, I had no idea. I’m so sorry. I can definitely be much gentler .” “No, no, I’m sorry. I, uh, didn’t mean it like that. It just, um, it came out wrong. Everythi ng’s great,” Leigh rushed to say. Why couldn’ t she control her own mouth?
The massage had seemed like a good idea that morning—if ever she’d needed to relax, it was now, and one of her authors had sent her a gift certificate for Christmas, so she didn’t have to feel guilty about spending the money—but so far it had only served to provide a solitary , quiet chunk of time during which Leigh could do nothing but think. She and Russell had plans to discuss the wedding over dinner that night, and Leigh could think of nothing she dreaded more. “Your whole neck is knotted up pretty tight. Are you feeling a lot of stress lately?” the girl asked, working a muscle with her flattened palm in the same painful circular motion. “Mmm,” Leigh murmured noncommittally , praying the girl would intuit her disinterest in chatting. “Yeah, I can tell. People always wonder how we know where they’re carrying their tension, and I’m always like, ‘C’mon, guys, that’s what we’re trained for,’ you know? Sure, anyone can rub your back and make it feel good, but it definitely takes a professional to locate those specific pressure points and smooth them out. So, what is it?” she asked. Her voice was low and not particularly grating, but the speed with which she talked made her sound anxious herself. “What’s what?” Leigh asked, annoyed that she was being forced to participate in this exchange. “What’s all your stress related to?” For someone who had stopped seeing a shrink because she found it too revealing, Leigh was not thrilled with this line of questioning. Or any questioning, on anything, from anyone. And yet she was entirely unable to utter a few simple words, something along the lines of “I have a bit of a headache; would you mind if I just lie here quietly?” Instead, Leigh made up some inane story about tough deadlines at work and the pressure of planning the perfect Greenwich wedding. The girl clucked sympathetically . Leigh wondered what sort of reaction she might elicit were she to describe the real source of her tension, i. e., the fact that she had sl ept with one of her authors (and by “sl ept with,” she really meant “had the best sex of her life in every imaginable position and variation over the course of ten mind- blowing hours”) while still acting the part of loving and excited partner to her sweet, supportive, and totally clueless fiancé. By the time the massage ended, Leigh felt slightly more anxious and significantly less relaxed. She pulled on her clothes—not even bothering to
shower off the scented oils—and mentally tried to pr epare herself to deal with the mess she had created. All she really wanted to do was return to her childhood home, curl up under the blankets, and lose herself in some Ti Vo. She wanted it so bad she could feel it, and she was just about to drive Russell’ s car to her parents’ when another image flashed into her mind. It, too, had a soft comforter and her favorite novels, but it included a panorama of both parents arriving home and attacking her with questions. Why are you here in the middle of the week? Where’s Russell? How’s work going? When are we going to choose the menu for the rec eption? What’s happening with Jesse’s book? Where are you going to register? Why do you look so miserable? Why? Where? When? Tell us, Leigh, tell us! Her dull headache now had that special ice-pick quality to it, and she suddenly felt particularly gross with a layer of clammy leftover massage oil between her skin and her clothes. She paid quickly and managed to stand her ground when asked to fill out a survey on her experience with the spa. “You sure?” the rec eptionist asked, snapping her gum in quick, irritating bursts. “Y ou get a fifteen-percent-of f coupon for your next treatment.” “Thanks, but I’m in a rush,” Leigh lied, almost smiling to herself (almost) when she calculated that probably half of what she said these days was completely untrue. She scrawled an unrecognizable signature on the gift certificate, handed over a twenty-five-percent tip in cash out of guilt for not being chattier with the therapist, and ducked out the front door before one more gum crack could drive her to murderous action. Even with a heavy load of rush-hour traffic, the cab ride from the Upper East Side spa to Tri Be Ca felt like it took only thirty seconds. The cabbie was just dropping her off in front of Russell’ s building when her phone rang. “Hey,” Russell said when she clicked it open. He sounded different somehow , more distant, but Leigh told herself she was just imagining that. “Hi! I’m just pulling up to your building right now. Are you home?” Her own voice sounded forced and faux-cheery , but Russell didn’t seem to notice. “No, I’ll be at least another hour, but I was hoping you’d wait for me. Just let yourself in and maybe order us some food? I can’t wait to see you tonight.”
“Me too,” Leigh said and was relieved when she realized it wasn’t a complete lie. She’d just paid the driver and st epped out of the taxi when her phone rang again. She flipped it open without looking at it. “I forgot to ask, do you want sushi or Italian?” she said. “I vote Italian,” a female voice said with a laugh. “Emmy! Are you calling from Israel? How are you?” Leigh didn’t particularly feel like talking to anyone just then, but she couldn’ t just hang up on her best friend when they hadn’ t spoken in over a week. “No, I just landed. I’m in a cab on my way back from JFK. What are you up to tonight? I was hoping I could drag you to dinner. I miss my friends!” “I’m breaking up with Russell,” Leigh said quietly, with absolutely no intonation. It took a second before she was even sure she had uttered the words, but Emmy’ s gasp confirmed it. “What did you say? A T&T is shit. I don’ t think I heard—” “Yes, you did. You heard me,” Leigh said with more calmness than she’d felt in seventy-two hours. “I said I’m breaking up with Russell.” “Where are you?” Emmy demanded. “Emmy , I’m fine. I appreciate your—” “Where the fuck are you?” she screeched so loud Leigh had to move the phone away from her ear . “I’m about to walk into his apartment. He’s not home yet, but I’m ordering dinner for us and I’m going to do it then. Emmy, I know this must seem like it’s out of nowhere, but—” Her voice cracked and a sob choked off her breath. “I’ll be right there. Listen to me, Leigh Eisner. I am on my way over there, okay?” Leigh heard the muffled sound of Emmy redirecting the cabbie to Russell’ s cross streets. “Are you still there? We’re already through the tunnel and headed south on the FDR. I’ll be there in ten, twelve minutes. Do you hear me?” Leigh nodded. “Leigh? Say something.” “I hear you,” Leigh squeaked through a sob. “Okay, don’t move. Do. Not. Move. Understand? I’ll be there momentarily .”
Leigh heard Emmy hang up, but she couldn’ t bring herself to close her own phone. Why had she just said she was going to break up with Russell? It wasn’t at all what she’d been thinking for the past couple of days, during her massage, on the ride back to the city. She’d merely reached the conclusion that she must be honest with him—at all costs—about Jesse. That even if it was only to selfishly assuage her own guilt, starting off a marriage based on cheating was probably not a brilliant idea, and Russell deserved to know the whole truth from the beginning. That said, she was also reasonably sure that Russell—with the proper reassurances—could be convinced to give her a second chance. It wouldn’ t have been pretty or enjoyable for either of them, but if she worked hard enough at assuring him that it was a complete fluke with Jesse (which it was) and would never happen again (not a lie), she figured they had a pretty decent chance of getting through this. What she hadn’t even considered was that she might not want to get through this... until she’d blurted out those very words just moments before. Leigh bought a cup of coffee from a tiny corner health-food shop with no proper half-and-half or fake sweeteners—where were all those goddamn Dunkin’ Donuts when she needed one?—and retied her scarf tighter around her neck. She was about to walk into Russell’ s lobby when she heard Emmy’ s voice shouting behind her. She turned to see a cab screeching to a stop, a tan but panicked Emmy hanging out the back window . Leigh stood and waited calmly in the doorway , watching as her friend threw three twenties at the driver, collected a few dollars’ change, and dragged her rolling suitcase from the trunk. “When did it get so fucking freezing?” Emmy hissed as she tried to yank the suitcase’ s handle up from its tucked position. “About two seconds after you left,” Leigh said, aware that she should help her friend but feeling no real inclination to do so. For the moment it felt perfectly fine to stand there and watch her own breath come out in hot streams against the frigid air. She was breaking up with Russell. Breaking up with Russell. Was she really going to up and end it, just like that? Call off the engagement, give back the ring, become un-affianced? Yes. Yes, she was. “My god, this is uncivilized! Uninhabitable! Why do we choose to live like this?” Emmy kissed Leigh on the cheek. “Russell’ s not home, right? So we can go upstairs?”
Leigh held open the door and waved Emmy through. She used her key to summon the elevator that opened directly into Russell’ s full-floor loft, and both girls helped pull Emmy’ s suitcase on board. The panorama of stainless steel and black lacquer that greeted them when the elevator doors sw ept open was enough to shock Leigh back to the present; immediately upon seeing Russell’ s collectio n of metal sculptures and his decorator - chosen black-and-white prints, she felt the familiar feel of her fingernails digging into the flesh of her palms. “Welcome!” Leigh sang with mock cheeriness. “Something about this place just warms the heart, doesn’ t it?” Emmy left her suitcase by the door, tossed her down puffer coat over a dining room chair, and flopped awkwardly onto Russell’ s impossibly chic, rock-hard sofa. “I could name three dozen women off the top of my head who would kill to spend just one night in this apartment.” Leigh shot her a warning look. “I’m just saying....” “You’re right, of course. Which makes it all the more ironic that I’m not one of them.” Her voice was quiet and serious, and for a moment Leigh wondered why she wasn’ t already crying. Emmy patted a patch of couch next to her, but her hand ended up making a smacking noise. “Christ, that’s hard,” she muttered. “C’mere, sit down and tell me what’ s going on. I feel like this came out of nowhere.” Leigh walked toward Emmy but sat down on the Ligne Roset daybed opposite her. “It must seem that way, I guess. Hell, it sort of feels that way. But not if I’m going to be really honest with myself.” Leigh felt her throat constrict and almost felt relieved that she was finally experiencing something resembling a normal reaction. “What’s going on? Have you two been fighting?” “Fighting? No, of course not. Russell’ s as sweet and supportive as he’s ever been. I don’ t know, I’ve just, well, I don’ t know....” “Ohmigod!” Emmy slapped her head. “How could I not have guessed? He is a man, after all. Russell’ s cheating on you, isn’ t he?” Leigh could feel her eyes open wide, but she couldn’ t get any words out. “ Oh. My. God. That shit! Mr. I’m So Fucking Perfect is cheating on you? Leigh, sweetheart, unfortunately for both of us, I know exactly how you’re feeling right now . Christ, I can’ t believe that he’d actually—”
“He’s not cheating on me, Emmy . I’m cheating on him.” That seemed to quiet everything down for a solid thirty seconds. Emmy looked as though she’d been struck, her face contorted with surprise as she struggled to process what she’d just heard. “You’re cheating on Russell?” “Yes. Well, no. Not currently . But I did.” “With who? Whom. Whatever .” Leigh sighed. “It’s not important. What matters now is that it’s over, but I have to think it happened for a reason. People who are ecstatically happy in their relationships don’ t cheat.” Emmy held up her hand as if to ask for quiet. “It’s not important ?” she asked. “Leigh, darling, you’re one of my two best friends on this planet. Not to make this entirely about me here, but come on! It’s bad enough I had no idea you were sle eping with someone else while it was happening—and I recognize now’s probably not the ideal time to be pissed at you for it—but to even suggest that you aren’t going to tell me after the fact is absolutely ludicrous! I mean, do you really—” “It was Jesse. Jesse Chapman.” Emmy threw up her hands in exasperation. “Jesus Christ, I don’t know how she does it. It’s like she has some sort of sixth sense for these things. Or maybe you just fuck enough people yourself and you can just feel when someone else is doing it, too. Un-fucking-believable. That girl is just unbelievable!” “What are you talking about? Who is unbelievable?” The sound of Leigh’s voice seemed to snap Emmy back to reality. “Oh, sorry. It’s just that Adriana’ s been insisting for weeks now—maybe months —that you were sle eping with Jesse, and I insisted you weren’t. Swore up, down, and sideways that it was the most ridiculous idea imagina ble. I mean, you’re engaged to Russell, for chrissake—” Emmy stopped midsentence and clapped her hand over her mouth. “Sorry. Leigh, I’m so sorry , that came out all wrong.” Leigh shrugged. “W ell, for the record, I’m not ‘sle eping with’ Jesse, and I never was. It happened exactly once, and it will never, ever happen again. So next time you talk to Adriana, you can tell her she was wrong.” Emmy’ s phone rang. The look on her face when she checked the caller ID confirmed it was Adriana.
“My god, does she have you wearing a wire?” Leigh said, shaking her head. “That whole Latina intuition, so she claims.” Emmy clicked off the phone and tucked it back in her purse. “So, at the risk of sounding, uh, insensitive here, can I ask why you feel like you have to end everything with Russell? I mean, if Jesse was a onetime thing—and you want it that way—well, am I a completely horrible person for suggesting you just try to put it behind you?” “It’s not that simple.” “Does that mean you have feelings for Jesse?” “No! Well, yes. Sort of. But Jesse actually has nothing to do with this. It’s about Russell and me.” Emmy pulled a bottle of water from her bag, took a swig, and offered it to Leigh. Leigh shook her head no. “I hear that,” Emmy said carefully . “But I’m sure you’ve also considered that whole thing about not telling someone something hurtful just to unburden yourself. Like, if it’s not going to help them to know, they’re better of f not knowing?” Leigh had to remind herself to unclench her hands and try to lower her shoulders away from her ears. She didn’t want to feel so annoyed with Emmy, but it was getting difficult to disguise. Obviousl y she had considered all of this, and obviously the situation was a great deal more complicated than Emmy presum ed. Leigh certainly didn’t feel compelled to —how did Emmy put it?— unburden herself to Russell just because she’d screwed up and wanted forgiveness. If that were the case, she’d make the only rational decision possible and do exactly as Emmy had recommended: feel guilty for betraying her fiancé, swear to herself that it would never happen again, and move along. The problem came when she allowed herself to acknowledge that even though she probably could, she didn’t want to move along. She took a de ep breath. “I’m not in love with Russell,” she said. “Oh, Leigh.” Emmy jumped off the couch and made toward the daybed, but Leigh held up her hand. “No. Please don’ t.” Emmy backed away and settled for resting her hand on Leigh’ s arm. “Here’s where I say something absolutely inane and ridiculously trite, like ‘I love Russell, but I’m not in love with Russell,’ right?” Leigh laughed
and smeared a fat tear from her lower lashes to the side of her forehead. “My god, the whole situation is such a fucking mess. Who would’ve ever thought it was possible? The perfect one—Marcia, Marcia, Marcia!— agrees to marry a guy she doesn’t love because everyone else loves him and she figures that, given enough time, she will, too. Then, rather than deal with her own self-created situation in a reasonably mature manner , she chooses to screw someone she’s working with. A married someone! Thereby wreckin g both career and love life in one tidy swoop. It would be funny if it weren’ t so pathetic.” “It’s not pathetic,” Emmy said automatically . “I’m talking about myself in the third person. What’s not pathetic about that?” “Oh, honey.” Emmy sighed. “I’m so sorry. I really had no idea it was this bad. None of us did. But you can’t beat yourself up over something you don’t feel. Russell’ s a great guy, and yes, he certainly seems like the perfect guy. But none of that matters if he’ s not the perfect guy for you.” Leigh nodded, “It just all happened so quickly! One minute we’re taking romantic strolls in Union Square, and the next thing I know he’s sliding a diamon d onto my finger without ever even imagining the answer could be anything but yes. I just ke ep wondering when we ended up in such different places. I thought we were casually dating, having a good time, the perfect-for -right-now relationship. No end in sight, but not necessarily a great love affair, either. But engaged? To be married ? Emmy, at the risk of sounding like the biggest moron alive—or the least perc eptive one—I just didn’t see it coming. I’ve spent every minute since then waiting to feel sure, to know that it’s right, but I haven’t, Em. I’ve never, ever felt that with Russell, and I think it’ s time to face the fact that I’m never going to.” Both girls froze at the sound of the elevator rising. Before either could say another word, they heard the doors open and Russell’ s footst eps make their way from the foyer to the kitchen, where the fridge quickly opened and shut again, and then he sauntered into the living room. “Oh, hey Emmy. Sorry, I didn’t know you were here,” Russell said with a distracted look. Leigh could tell from the single fleeting glance he’d given her that Russell was not in the mood for company tonight. Well, that made two of them. To her credit, Emmy didn’t need any further hints. She jumped off the couch, and after kissing first Russell and then Leigh, she mumbled
something about a mandatory work dinner and bounded out the door. She disappeared so fast Leigh didn’t have a single minute to pr epare what she was going to say . Or when. Or how . “Hi,” Leigh said shyly, studying Russell’ s face for any clue that he had overheard them. It was impossible, of course—they’d heard the elevator in the lobby and hadn’t uttered a word as it had made its way upstairs—but she couldn’t help hoping he’d caught a few slivers. How much easier all this would be if he had even the smallest clue what was coming. “Hey. I hope I didn’t interrupt you guys. She bolted pretty fast.” He loosened his tie (the one her parents had bought him for his birthday last year), and then, as though deciding that it still wasn’t enough breathing space, pulled it over his head and tossed it onto the Lucite cof fee table. “Yeah, well, you know Emmy , always on the run.” “Hmm. Did you order food?” “Sorry, Emmy wanted to say hi on her way home from the airport, and we’ve been talking, just for a few minutes, and, well, I forgot. What do you want?” Leigh asked, grateful for something to do. She pulled out her phone and began scrolling through the numbers. “Sushi? Vietnamese? That place on Greenwich has great spring rolls.” “Leigh.” “Or we could just hit the diner if you want. A cheese omelet and well- done home fries? That could be really good right now .” “Leigh!” His volume stayed the same, but his voice was sharper , more insistent. Her eyes shot up to meet his for the first time since he’d walked in. Russell never got annoyed with her, about anything. What if something happened at work today? Maybe he’d gotten in a fight with that associate producer who was always such a jerk. Or maybe the network had decided to change his time slot again? They’d been talking about tinkering with the schedule, and Russell was terrified he was going to get bumped out of prime time. Come to think of it, he had said earlier that day that he wanted to talk to her about something. What if, god forbid, something even more drastic had happened, and for some unknown, unpredictable, totally bizarre reason Russell had been fired? You couldn’ t very well go and break up with someone the same day they got fired, could you? Not if you had a shred of human decency , you couldn’ t—not even in the same month. Leigh shivered just thinking about it.
“Leigh, what’s going on with you? You’ve been an absolute wreck for weeks on end, and I have absolutely no idea why .” “You didn’ t get fired?” “What? What on earth are you talking about?” “I thought you were going to tell me you got fired.” “Of course I didn’t get fired. And I know we were supposed to go over all the wedding stuff tonight, but I think it’s more important that we talk about you. What is it, Leigh?” Well, it wasn’t going to get any easier than that. He had literally gifted her with the most perfect opening imaginable. She took a de ep breath, dug her fingernails into her palms again, and started talking. “Russell, I know this is hard—i t kills me even to say it—but I want to be straight with you.” She stared at the floor, could feel him watching her. “I think we should take a break.” Well, okay, so that wasn’t entirely truthful—a break implied a desire to work things out eventually—bu t at least she’d managed to get something out. “A what?” Russell asked. Leigh looked up to see the unflappable Russell appearing completely confused, which unnerved her even more. “I, um, I think we need to take some time. T o think things over .” At this, Russell jumped off the couch and enveloped her in his arms. “Leigh, what are you talking about, ‘take some time’? We’re engaged to be married , sweetheart. We’ve got our whole lives ahead of us. Do you really want to wait to start all of that?” Russell’ s hug was very much like what Leigh imagined it would feel like to get run over by a bus. Her lungs refused to fill with oxygen, and it was getting hard to ignore the pressure and flashes of light behind her eyes. But she knew she must persevere. “Russell, I’m not sure I want us to get married,” she said softly, as softly as she could say such cruel words. Russell’ s silence was so comple te that she would have wondered if he’d even heard her had he not pulled away and sat back down. She sat next to him, close enough for intimacy but not so close that they were touching. “Russ, do you love me? Like, really, really love me? Love me so much you want to spend the rest of your life with me and me alone?” He remained stoically silent.
“Do you?” she pressed, thinking—knowing—that the answer was surely no. If she’d suspected for so long that something wasn’t right, he must have, too. She just needed to give him the chance to say it. He took a de ep breath and reached for her hand. He smiled. “Of course I love you that much, Leigh. That’s why I asked you to marry me. You’re my partner, my fiancée, my love. And I’m yours. I know it can be frightening sometimes when you realize you’ve found something this good, but Leigh, sweetheart, that’s normal. I can’t believe this is what’s been worrying you all this time. Just a little case of cold feet. Poor baby, I’m sorry you k ept that inside for so long.” He stopped long enough to hug her again, but this time Leigh pushed him away. His refusal to hear—to really listen—to what she was saying angered her: Was it really so impossible to fathom that she might not want to marry him? “Russell, you’re not listening to me. You know I love you, but I can’t stop wondering if things didn’t move so quickly with us because of circumstances, you know? You start dating someone at this age and they fit all the criteria of being smart and successful and attractive and everyone else is getting married and they’re all asking you when you’re going to settle down. And it just chugs right along. What might have been a great, fun, yearlong relationship when you’re twenty-five all of a sudden starts to take on a whole new meaning at thirty, thirty-two. Then, before you know it, you’re getting engaged and committing your life to someone you don’t necessarily know all that well. Because ‘it’s time,’ whatever that means. Christ, I’m not explaining this well....” Russell’ s gaze, just minutes before oozing empathy and kindness, grew steely. “Actually , I think you’re explaining yourself quite clearly .” “So you sort of understand what I’m saying?” “You’re saying that you think this is all wrong and has been for some time but you never had the nerve to tell me.” Now she wanted to tell Russell the whole truth, tell him all about Jesse and how happy and relaxed she felt when she was with him, how that single night of sex stayed more firmly planted in her mind than eighteen months’ worth with Russell. She was seconds away from blurting out the entire story when, thankfully , she stopped herself. What would be the point of telling him about Jesse? Was it really the charitable thing to do? Russell wouldn’ t have
to take the rejection quite so personally if he could channel his energy into hating Leigh for her indiscretion. That didn’t feel right, either. Why hurt him unnecessarily? But was it wrong to ke ep it from him, considering the conventional wisdom that it’s noble to be completely honest and up-front? Confused and exhausted, she decided not to say anything. From the coldness of his last statement and the look in his eye, Russell didn’t appear interested in much more talking. Why make everything harder than it had to be? Suddenly he surprised her by grabbing her face and staring into her eyes. “Look, Leigh, I know what you are feeling is nothing more than normal, natural cold feet. Why don’t you take some time for yourself, you know, alone, like you suggested, and think about everything? Think it through.” Leigh sighed to herself. His pleading look was almost more unbearable than his anger. “Russ, I’m, uh... I’m—” Say it , she willed herself, just pull the Band-Aid off quickly . “I’m worried that will just prolong the inevitable. I think we should end things now .” Obviously this was true. She knew there was no point—no point whatsoever—in dragging this out, no matter how much less terrifying it might be to delay the unpleasantness. She knew beyond any doubt that things were permanently over, but hearing her own words was still downright shocking. Russell stood up and walked toward the door. “Well,” he said quietly, in that controlled voice of his that worked so well on-air. “I suppose there’s nothing more to say. I love you, Leigh, and I always will, but I’d like you to leave.” These were the words that Leigh r epeated to herself as she rode home in the backseat of the first cab she’d ever hailed for herself when leaving his apartment. Almost as quickly as it had begun, her relationship with Russell was over , and gone with it was the anxiety she’d been harboring for months. She took a long, de ep breath, and as the taxi flew up Sixth Avenue toward her building, she finally admitted to herself that, yes, she felt de eply sad about what had just transpired, but mostly she felt relief.
“Emmy , I’ve been telling you this since the very first time you walked into my office. You have plenty of time.” “That’s not what all the magazines out there say!” Emmy said and pointed toward the door. “Isn’t it a mixed message to tell me that I’ve got all the time in the world and then stock your waiting room with a thousand articles that all tell me my ovaries are shriveling up?” Dr. Kim sighed. She was a pretty Asian woman who looked at least fifteen years younger than her forty-two years, but this wasn’t what bothered Emmy. The good doctor—who reassured Emmy at every single visit (and sometimes in between) that Emmy’ s childbearing years were still upon her—had herself birthed three perfect children, two boys and a girl, all before her thirty-first birthday . When Emmy r epeatedly asked Dr. Kim how she’d juggled a husband, med school, residency , and three children under the age of five, all while working four days a week and being on call every third night and every other weekend, the doctor just smiled, shrugged, and said, “You just do it. It seems impossible sometimes, but it always works out one way or another .” Emmy was lying spread-eagle d on the exam table exactly one day before her thirtieth birthday , and she was determined to hear the heartening