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day of his father s funeral and seeing the family photographs and, at that point, a man I
never really knew. And yet here, in Sam s and my house, I saw the same man I had seen
at that funeral, the man I slept with that night. He had needed me that night.
Was he really that same man?
Suddenly I found myself stuck between two, perhaps even three worlds. First, the
world of Sam and Andi Vanzant: a world of certainty and comfort and home and self-
assurance and confidence and love. Sam and I were best friends as well as lovers, and I
missed our intimate friendship on a daily basis even more than the sex. Second, the world
of David Santino and Andi Vanzant: two people with undeniable chemistry, knowing
each other from a past life and trying to assimilate into a new one. We loved each other
there was no denying that. But shortly after Sam and I had gotten engaged and ran into
David at the gallery, I remember thinking that it was probably a good thing that David
and I had never gotten together, because I was never really going to know David. He
would always be Devin to me, and I would always want him to be Devin. I worried that
this was still true.
Which brought me to the third world: Devin the Escort and Andi the Aloof. The
alluring man clad in Versace with whom I d gallivanted around Manhattan and learned
about blow jobs and discussed Aristotle and Isocrates; and me: uptight, inhibited, self-
conscious. We were so guarded and unavailable to each other in those days.
Perhaps we were struggling to find the comfort of familiarity. Or perhaps the
payoff that came from something familiar was bigger than the payoff that came from
something unfamiliar. So which was it going to be, especially since it had already been
decided for me that my world with Sam was gone forever?
 Thank you for letting me into your home, Andi, said David.
I began to cry.
He took me into his arms and held me.
 It was a big step, he said.  I m proud of you.
 I just feel so lost, I cried, voice muffled, my face buried in the same blue
Henley he wore that first day in Rome.  Just when everything starts to look familiar
again, I look around and suddenly don t know where I am.
 I know, he said, soothing me and stroking my hair.  You ll find your way. I
promise. Even if it s a new road. It ll be okay.
He let go and lovingly looked into my eyes, which made the corners of my mouth
turn upward in benevolence. He kissed me softly.
I walked him outside to his car.
 I ll call you in a couple of days, okay? he said. I nodded my head in agreement.
After he left I re-entered the house, scooped up Donny Most again, and carried
him into the study, where I sat on the couch and cried, stroking his fur and apologizing to
Sam over and over again.
Chapter Thirty-five
I SPENT THE NEXT THREE DAYS RECOVERING FROM the hangovers of
flying anxiety, jet lag, altitude sickness, hiking, and emotional exhaustion. Worse still, I
had to go back to school and be productive having squandered that allowance in the
weeks leading up to my meltdown, I couldn t afford to slack for even a minute. On the
Friday following my return, I sat in Melody s office telling her all of this. Then I segued
into a new conversation.
 I can t believe it s two years since Sam s been gone, I said.
 You mean, since Sam s death, Melody responded.
Melody always tried to get me to come out and say it, but I never gave her the
satisfaction.  And I m forty-two. Geez, when did that happen?
 It kinda creeps up on you, huh.
 I don t feel forty-two.
 How old do you feel? she asked.
 Some days I feel like I m thirty-two. Other days I feel like I m sixty-two. My
brothers are taking it really hard. Joey s going to be fifty in December and Anthony is
forty-seven. The thought of their  baby sister catching up to them is a little scary, I
guess.
 Are either of them married?
 Both of them are divorced. It s hard to be married to a musician, especially with
the kind of work they do. They re on the road a lot, and around a lot of drinking and
drugs and promiscuity.
 Do they participate in those activities?
 If they do, they never said a word to me. They don t seem to be the type,
although who knows? I managed to put up a good front for a long time.
 What do you mean? Melody asked.
 I mean, on the outside, I made sure my hair and makeup looked nice and that I
wasn t fazed by the extra pounds or upset when Andrew or anyone else dumped me. And
anyone would ve thought I had a healthy, active sex life.
 Until Devin?
 Yeah. Devin totally had my number.
 You hid nothing from Sam?
 Well, I never told him that Devin was an escort. All Sam knew was that I had
been sort of  involved with someone in New York, I said, gesturing quote marks with
my fingers at the word involved.  I never really specified with whom or the extent to how
involved we really were.
The memory flashed before me:
 What does  involved mean? asks Sam.
 It wasn t exactly dating. We were just sort of hanging out together.
 How is that not dating?
 Well, we weren t sleeping together.
Sam grows quiet.  But you liked him. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]