Part 10 (1/2)
She had no idea whether he was joking or not.
”Listen,” Meredith said, ”my friend isn't feeling well, so I'd better take her home, but it was really nice to see you. Thanks for inviting us.”
”What?” His features returned to their stern equilibrium. ”You're leaving already?”
”I'd love to stay, but Mish-she's really exhausted. I'm afraid she might have SARS or something and I wouldn't want her spreading it around the party.”
He nodded solemnly. ”That would be bad.”
”Yes. Yes, well.”
He grabbed her by the arm without warning, pulled her toward him and inhaled her hair.
”You look wunderbar.”
”Thanks.”
He bent down and began to kiss her throat. ”You must come to Munich.”
Meredith muttered something about work.
Gunther drew back and looked at her. ”You don't approve of my work, do you.”
Meredith s.h.i.+fted from foot to foot, wis.h.i.+ng she were a better liar.
”I've felt misunderstood for most of my life-don't you see that's what these photographs are about?” he said.
Meredith could barely bring herself to nod. ”But those people...” she said.
Gunther looked exasperated. ”They are not people. They are subjects.”
”I have to go,” she said.
”So go.”
Two hours later Mish and Meredith sat draining a bottle of pinot grigio at a booth in a wine bar around the corner from the flat on Coleville Terrace.
Mish put down her gla.s.s and threw her head back. ”Sitting around, getting tipsy, moaning about men. Isn't it all just so London?”
”I guess so.”
”Oh, I know what we should do! Let's go to Sainsbury's and get a box of those Quality Sweets and go back to your flat and watch Big Brother!”
”My mother doesn't have digital. And, by the way, it's Quality Street, not Sweet.”
”C'mon, Mere, buck up,” Mish said, pinching her friend's chin and wiggling it like a faulty light switch. ”So Gunther wasn't the one. You can't expect to find him at the first party you go to.”
”I know.” Meredith stuck out her tongue and looked toward the ceiling. It was an expression she only ever used around Mish.
”So you didn't tell him what you really thought?”
”No way.” Meredith pushed away her gla.s.s. ”Why would I? I mean, he's essentially a p.o.r.nographer. No-worse than a p.o.r.nographer; he's a s.a.d.i.s.t p.o.r.nographer who's also cruel to animals.”
”I thought he was good-looking.”
”So did I, but that's not enough in this case. I mean, come on. I'm not looking for a one-night stand here; I'm searching for the father of my firstborn child. In all likelihood my only child. It's probably the biggest decision I'll ever make in my whole entire life. Anyway, who knows if it even would have worked. At my age...”
Mish lowered her face into her hands and rocked her head from side to side. ”So much pressure.”
”What do you mean?”
”Why do you always have to make sure everything is perfect? Maybe if you'd just let things unfold...”
Meredith looked at her nails and noticed the pale pink polish she'd applied just yesterday was already starting to gray. Something about the newsprint over here. It rubbed off too easily. Maybe Mish was right. That was what everybody always said, wasn't it? That you only ever find the thing you're looking for when you stop searching altogether and let things happen for themselves. But how to stop trying to control the story? It was the only way she knew.
Meredith's previous relations.h.i.+ps had all been variations on a theme. She started off distant, a little cool, remote. This seemed to spur men on, and it was easy because the chill was something she came by quite naturally-at first. There was a lovely period while they wooed her: phoning half a dozen times in a single night, sending flowers with only the flimsiest excuse, showing up in places where they knew she would be. It was when she was keen on someone that things went wrong. Eventually, if she liked the guy enough, Meredith would submit to the chase. Go to bed with him a few times. Insist on splitting the bill here and there, so he wouldn't think she was cheap. Then the day would come when she realized that now she was calling him more than he called her. She would find herself acting out a kind of reverse courts.h.i.+p-using all the tactics he had used early on, except that now her actions took on a slightly paranoid edge. She sent anxious, mushy e-mails and showed up at his office. She insisted that they talk about us. Finally one day, more often than not in a crowded restaurant over lunch, he would reach across the table and take her hand and mutter something about ”not being ready.” ”Ready for what?” she would always demand-for she had never, ever, not even at her weakest point, brought up the subject of marriage or children. But she knew what these men meant, and that such serious topics had been in the air, uncontainable, ever since the first date.
”What did your doctor say?” Mish asked.
”Him? It doesn't matter-he's taken.”
”Sheesh, Mere, when did you become such a man-eater?” Mish leaned across the table and shoved her. ”I meant, what did he say about your health. Like in terms of your, you know, baby-making capacity.”
”He said I'd better stop messing around. s.h.i.+t or get off the pot. You know, time is of the essence. That kind of thing. He said...” Meredith trailed off, thinking of Joe's voice on the other end of the crackly telephone line. ”I haven't spoken to him in a few days.”
Mish set down her winegla.s.s with a clatter. ”A few days? You mean you've spoken to him since you arrived here?”
”So?”
”Does that not strike you as just a little weird?”
”Not really. I mean, okay, maybe a bit. But it makes sense.”
”How?”
”For one thing, I am a little weird. And besides, is it so strange for a doctor to take interest in his patient's welfare? I mean, is there anything against that in the Hippocratic oath? And for your information, he's not a regular gynecologist; he's also an internationally recognized fertility specialist.”
”Really.” Mish's eyes narrowed, zoning in on Meredith's face. She paused. ”Is he hot?”
Meredith covered a grin with both hands. ”Maybe.”
”I can't believe you're flirting with your gyno.” Mish wrinkled her nose. ”That is so David Cronenberg or something.”
”I never actually...” Meredith began, and then thought better of it. ”This is gross. Can we talk about something else?”
They sat for a few moments listening to Kylie Minogue panting over the stereo backbeat.