“Charlie, I just wanted you to like me for me, not because of my father's name.”

“What did you think? That I was after your money? That's ridiculous and you know it. You turned this whole relationship into a farce, and your lying to me about any of it was a complete disrespect to me.”

“I only lied to you about my name, and about where I come from. It's not important. I'm still me. And I apologize. You're right, I shouldn't have done it. But I did. Maybe I was just plain scared. And once you knew me as Carole Parker, it was a lot harder to explain who I really was. I didn't kill anybody, for God's sake, I didn't steal your money.”

“You stole my trust, which is worse.”

“Charlie, I'm sorry. I think I'm falling in love with you.” As she said it, tears rolled down her cheeks. In her own eyes, she had screwed up everything, and she felt terrible about it. She loved everything about him.

“I don't believe you.” He spat the words at her. “If you were falling in love with me, you wouldn't have lied to me.”

“I made a mistake. People do that sometimes. I was scared. I just wanted you to love me for me.”

“I was beginning to. But God only knows who you really are. I was falling in love with Carole Parker, a simple girl from nowhere with no money and nothing to her name. Now you turn out to be someone else. A fucking heiress, for chrissake.”

“Is that so terrible? You can't forgive me for that?”

“Maybe not. What was terrible was lying to me, Carole. That's the terrible part.” As he said it, he turned away from her, and stared out the window at the park. He stood that way, with his back to her, for a long time. They had said enough for one night, and possibly forever.

“Do you want me to leave?” she asked in a choked voice.

He didn't answer at first, and then he nodded, and finally spoke. “Yes, I do. It's over. I could never trust you. You lied to me for nearly two months. That's a hell of a long time.”

“I'm sorry,” she said softly. He still had his back to her. He didn't want to see her face again. It hurt too much. The fatal flaw was hanging in the breeze.

She walked quietly out of the apartment, and closed the door behind her. She was still shaking when she got into the elevator, and when she got downstairs. She told herself that the whole thing was ridiculous. He was angry at her for being rich, when in fact he was richer still. But it wasn't about that, and she knew it. He was furious with her because she had lied to him.

She took a cab back to her house, and hoped that he would call her that night. He didn't. He didn't call her that night or the next day. She checked her voice mail constantly. Weeks later, he still hadn't called her. Finally, she realized that he never would again. What he had said to her that night was true. He had told her it was over for him, that he could no longer trust her. However good her intentions, she had broken the sacred trust between them, which was the essence of a relationship. He didn't want to see her anymore, or talk to her, or be with her. She knew she was in love with him now, but she knew that it wouldn't change anything. Charlie was gone for good.





16


TWO WEEKS BEFORE THANKSGIVING, ADAM AND Maggie were spending a quiet evening at his place, when out of the blue she brought up Thanksgiving. She hadn't thought about it before, but now that they were spending so much time together, she wanted to spend it with him, and wondered if he was going to be with his kids. She hadn't met either of them yet, and they had both agreed it was still too soon. They were together nearly every night, and he loved being with her, but as he told her, this was still the test drive, and they were taking their relationship out for a spin.

“Thanksgiving?” He looked at her blankly. “Why?”

“Are you going to be with your kids?”

“No, Rachel is taking them to her in-laws in Ohio. We alternate holidays. This is my off year.”

She smiled at him then. She hoped that meant good news for her. She hadn't had a real Thanksgiving, with people she cared about, in years. Not since she was a very little kid, if then. She'd cooked a turkey with her mother once, who had been too drunk to eat it and passed out before it was cooked. Maggie had wound up eating it at the kitchen table alone. But at least her mother was there, even if unconscious in the next room.

“Do you suppose we could spend it together?” she asked, cuddling up to him, and looking at him.

“No, we can't,” he said, looking grim.

“Why not?” She took it as an immediate rebuff. Things had been going really well between them, and the brusqueness of his answer took her by surprise and hurt her feelings.

“Because I have to go to my parents'. And I can't take you with me.” With a name like O'Malley, his mother would have a heart attack. Besides, who he was dating was none of her business.

“Why are you going there? I thought you had a terrible time on Yom Kippur.” What he was saying made no sense to her.

“I did. That has nothing to do with anything. In my family, you have to turn yourself in for holidays anyway. Like a warrant for your arrest. It's not about having a good time. It's about tradition and obligation. As much as they drive me nuts, I think family is important. Mine stinks, but I still feel I need to go and show respect. God knows why, but I feel I owe it to them. My parents are old, they're not going to change, so I suck it up and go. Don't you have somewhere to go?” He looked miserable when he asked her. He hated the reminder that he had to spend another rotten holiday with them again. He hated the holidays, and always had, because of that. His mother managed to ruin every single one of them for him. The only mercy was that his parents celebrated Chanukah and not Christmas, so he got to spend Christmas with his kids. That was fun at least. Holidays on Long Island never were. “Where are you going to be for Thanksgiving?”

“In my apartment, alone. The others are all going home.” And she, of course, had nowhere to go.

“Stop trying to make me feel guilty,” he nearly shouted at her. “I have enough of that with my mother as it is. Maggie, I'm really sorry you have nowhere to go, but I can't do anything about it. I have to go home.”

“I don't understand that,” she said unhappily. “They treat you like shit. You told me so. So why would you go home?”

“I feel like I should,” he said, looking stressed. He didn't want to defend his decisions to her. It was hard enough as it was. “I have no choice.”

“Yes, you do,” she insisted.

“No, I don't. I don't want to discuss this with you again. That's just the way it is. I'll be home that night. We can do something over the weekend.”

“That's not the point.” She was pushing, and he didn't like it. She was treading on dangerous ground with him. “If this is a relationship,” she pressed on at her own peril, “then I want to spend holidays with you. We've been together for two months.”

“Maggie, don't push me,” he warned her. “This isn't a relationship. We're dating. That's different.”

“Well, pardon me,” she said sarcastically. “Who died and made you king?”

“You knew the rules when we started. You lead your life. I lead mine. We meet in between when it works for both of us. Well, Thanksgiving doesn't work for me. I wish it did. Believe me, I wish it did. And I'd be happy to spend it with you if I could. But I can't. Thanksgiving with my parents is a command performance for me. I'll come home with a migraine, a stomachache, and a giant pain in the ass, but come hell or high water, they expect me to be there.”

“That sucks,” she said, pouting.

“Yes, it does,” he agreed. “For both of us.”

“And what was that bullshit about this not being a relationship? And all that meeting-in-the-middle crap?”

“That's what we've been doing. Not to mention the fact that I've been seeing you every weekend, which is a big deal.”

“Then that makes it a relationship, doesn't it?” She continued to push, missing all the danger signals from him, which was rare for her. But she was upset about Thanksgiving and not being with him. It made her braver about challenging him and his “rules.”

“A relationship is for people who eventually want to get married. I don't. I told you that. This is dating. It works for me.” She didn't say a word after that, and the next morning, she went back to her own place. He felt guilty all afternoon about what he'd said. It was a relationship. It had become one. He wasn't seeing anyone else, and as far as he knew, neither was she. He just didn't like admitting it, but he also didn't like hurting her feelings. And he hated not being with her on Thanksgiving. He hated all of it. And he felt like a shit. She was at work when he called her, and he left a loving message on her machine.

He never heard from her when she got off work. And she didn't turn up at the apartment. He called her that night, and she was out. After that, he called her every hour on the hour, until midnight. He thought she was playing games with him, until one of her roommates answered, and told him she was really out. The next time he called, they said she was asleep. She had never called him back. And by the following afternoon, he was beginning to steam. He finally decided to call her at work, which he rarely did.

“Where were you last night?” he asked her, trying to sound calmer than he felt.

“I thought this was only dating. Wasn't that the one where neither of us gets to ask questions? I'll have to look it up, but I think those were the rules, since this isn't a relationship.”

“Look, I'm sorry. That was stupid. I was just upset about Thanksgiving. I feel like a shit leaving you alone.”