Now He Knows It’s Me.
A short story about getting married—or not.
“When a man opens the car door for his wife, it’s either a new car or a new wife.” Prince Philip
The couple had rented a cottage on a lake for a week, inviting family and friends and a few of Tom’s work associates. Everyone had come and gone since then. Now it was the last night. The trash had been collected, the paddleboards pulled up on the shore, the sheets in a laundry bag. They were too tired to make dinner. The ate what was left of the potato salad and cold cuts. Just as they were turning in, the phone rang. Lucy answered. Tom went in the bedroom and got into bed. He was reading when Lucy hung up the phone.
“That was my sister,” Lucy said, coming and sitting on the edge of the bed. “Samantha can’t find her storybook. I promised we’d bring it down with us.” Samantha was her sister’s six-year-old daughter.
“What’s it called?” Tom said.
“The Moose and the Caboose. I hope we didn’t throw it out.”
“I’m sure we didn’t throw it out.”
“They also can’t find the dog’s collar.”
“Did they try checking the dog?”
“Don’t be snarky.”
“I’m just tired,” Tom yawned.
The evenings were spent with the usual howls. But the next morning, they were out in their bathing suits again, laughing away.
Lucy started putting lotion on her elbows and knees. Her shoulders were red from the sun. She’d gotten a burn the first day being out on the water. Everyone had — the kids, especially. The evenings were spent with the usual howls, but the next morning, they were out in their bathing suits again, laughing away.
“Let’s try for a few less people next year,” Tom said.
“Why?” Lucy replied.
“It gets too crazy.”
“You’re just not used to it.”
“I’m not sure I ever will be.”
“Stop worrying so much. Everything will be fine.”
Tom didn’t have any children. Lucy had a teenaged daughter from a former marriage. Her daughter, Emma, had gone back with her sister the day before. Their eldest daughter, Carrie, and Emma were best friends. They’d spent the last four days on the deck, listening to music, complaining about their new bellybutton rings. They kept putting glasses of ice on their navels, telling their mothers they were in agony.
Lucy got in bed next to Tom and turned out the light on her nightstand. Tom closed his book and did the same. They lay there in the dark, looking at the full moon outside. A slight breeze blew the curtains. They were wide awake. Tom had his hands behind his head.
“It was melted ice. Carrie had it on her bellybutton all morning.”
“I came back from jogging yesterday,” he said. “There was a glass of cold water on the counter. Everyone was down at the dock, so I drank it.”
“What’s wrong with that?” Lucy asked.
“It was melted ice. Carrie had it on her bellybutton all morning.”
Lucy laughed.
“It’s not funny,” he said.
“Of course it is,” she said. “They’re teenagers. You’ve never been around teenagers. Not as a parent, anyway. You’ll get the hang of it.”
“I don’t know.”
“Of course you will,” she said. “Lots of people marry into a family. All of Emma’s friends have stepfathers. I can’t think of any who don’t.”
“Is that supposed to be encouraging?” he asked.
“I forgot to mention something,” she said. “Actually, I didn’t forget. I didn’t want it to ruin our vacation. Promise you won’t get mad?”
“You’ll be fine,” she nudged him. “All you have to do is love us.”
She rolled on her side and then rolled back.
“I forgot to mention something,” she said. “Actually, I didn’t forget. I didn’t want it to ruin our vacation. Something happened when I left your place before coming up here. I was trying to get out of my parking spot, and I couldn’t see behind me.”
“Don’t tell me you backed into someone.”
“Your neighbour’s motorcycle.”
“Christ, Lucy — ”
“I didn’t mean to,” she said. “I had a lot on my mind — ”
“Was there any damage? What did he say?”
“I didn’t exactly tell him.”
“What do you mean you didn’t exactly tell him?”
“I had so much to do getting packed, getting Emma up — ”
“You left?”
“I just wanted to get up here. I just wanted to relax — ”
Tom sat up and turned on the nightstand light.
“Why didn’t you at least leave the guy a note?” Tom said.
“I don’t even know his name,” Lucy said.
Tom didn’t know the neighbour’s name, either. For two years, the guy and his girlfriend were living below Tom. He had the upper floors, they had the ground floor. Their parking spot was next to his in the underground garage.
He was young, mid-twenties, brush cut. He wore a jacket with the name of a pub on the back. They said hello. They’d never had a conversation.
One day, coming home, he’d pulled in and the guy was polishing his motorcycle. He was young, mid-twenties, brush cut. He wore a jacket with the name of a pub on the back. That was probably where he worked. They said hello. They’d never had an actual conversation.
Lucy was talking again, telling him not to get mad.
“I just wanted to get up here and relax,” she kept saying.
Tom flopped back on the pillows. She had her arm over her eyes.
“I don’t want to think about it,” she replied.
“You have to think about it, Lucy. Did the bike fall over?”
“I didn’t stop to look,” she said. “Can we please stop talking about it? I shouldn’t have told you. I knew you’d get upset.”
“He probably knew it was your car behind him. Did you think of that?”
“No, I didn’t, okay?” she said. “Please stop talking, Tom. I feel bad enough as it is. There’s nothing I can do about his bike now. Just—I don’t know—I’m tired. We’ve had a long week. Just let it go.”
They both went quiet. After a while, they went to sleep.
The next day, they put everything in their cars. Tom had come up separately. He was taking back what food was left, she was taking back the laundry.
“I’m staying at my place tonight,” he said to Lucy. “I’ll come over tomorrow.”
He got in his car and drove away. He thought Lucy was right behind him. She must’ve forgotten something. He almost pulled over to wait for her.
He had a notepad and a pencil, crouching down, examining the scratches on the gas tank and the broken rearview mirror.
Back in the city, he was driving into the underground garage. His neighbour was there, looking at his motorcycle. He had a notepad and a pencil, crouching down, examining the scratches on the gas tank and the broken rearview mirror.
Tom got out of his car and nodded to the guy.
The guy nodded back.
“Everything okay?” Tom asked.
“Not really,” the guy said.
Tom took the cooler upstairs to his unit. He put the food in the fridge, then took the cooler downstairs and put it in his locker. Across the garage, he could see his neighbour still looking at his bike. The girlfriend appeared. They got talking, then they jumped on his bike and roared out of the underground.
That night, Tom was watching television. The phone rang. It was Lucy saying she’d come home to find water all over Emma’s room. “She left her window open again,” Lucy said. “It must’ve rained while we were away. Everything’s drenched.”
There was a pause.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Watching television,” he said.
“You sound tired,”
“I am,” he said.
He didn’t even feel a part of it. But he was in many respects, Lucy being one, living there being another.
The following morning, Tom got up, made breakfast, then went upstairs to his office. He was a freelance writer. He sat at his computer, trying to think what to say. Nothing came to him at first. He didn’t even feel a part of it. But he was in many respects, Lucy being one, living there being another.
He finally started typing, getting down the following:
“I want to start off by saying my fiancé doesn’t know I’m writing this. She wanted to do it herself, but she was too embarrassed. The other week, she backed into your motorcycle. Her mind was elsewhere. We’d rented a cottage up north, and she had to go back home that morning, get packed, then pick up her daughter. The fact is, I didn’t find out about her hitting your bike until last night. We talked, and she agreed, we should pay for any damages. Please let us know the costs. We’re very sorry we didn’t get back to you sooner.”
He typed his and Lucy’s names and phone numbers at the bottom. Going downstairs, he put the note in the guy’s mailbox. When he came back, there was a message on his machine from Lucy. “Call me,” she said. He called and explained the note he’d written. Lucy didn’t say anything at first. She sighed into the phone.
He asked what was the matter.
“Now he knows it was me,” she said.
She sighed again and said she was coming over. Emma was staying over at a girlfriend’s house. “We’ll have a night to ourselves,” she said.
She was walking towards the front steps when she stopped. The neighbour was saying something to her.
Tom was in the kitchen when she pulled up later. The kitchen overlooked the street. His neighbour was out there replacing the mirror on his bike. Tom watched Lucy get out of her car. She was walking towards the front steps when she stopped. The neighbour was saying something to her. They stood talking for a few minutes. Tom wondered if he should go down, but then he heard Lucy laugh. She laughed and the neighbour laughed. Then she came upstairs.
“What was that about?” Tom asked.
“His name’s Brad,” she said. “We introduced ourselves.”
“Did he mention the letter?” Tom asked.
He was chopping carrots. Lucy picked one up and put it in her mouth.
“He thanked me,” she said.
“For what?” he said.
“For being so honest,” she replied. “Most people would’ve taken off, he said. He told me I’m one of the good people. He said I’m a catch.”
She danced around the kitchen a bit.
“I’m a catch,” she repeated.
She grabbed another carrot and went into the living room. She was humming a tune, all happy and bright. Tom put the carrots on the stove. Then he put the leftover ham in the oven. He set the timer. He came into the living room where Lucy was sitting. Her feet were up on the coffee table.
“See how everything works out?” she said.
He sat down next to her and she snuggled up next to him.
“See how everything works out?” she said.
Tom didn’t answer. He picked up the remote and turned on the television. Lucy put her arm around his neck. She was still eating the carrot. He listened to her munching away, wiggling her feet on the coffee table. They watched the news highlights, two dead in a head-on crash, forest fires in the west, a motion to dedicate more money to potholes in the city.
Going back to the kitchen, Tom checked on the carrots and the ham. He started wondering if everything did work out. He was pretty sure it didn’t. You marry, you live together, you say you love each other. Was that how things worked out in a marriage? Again, he was pretty sure it didn’t. Regardless, in the end, you got what you deserved. That’s what he was thinking about when he put the food out on the table and called Lucy for dinner. You got what you deserved.
