Chapter 13 - THE FIFTY-DOLLAR DATE
Z
Adrian spent four days researching inexpensive restaurants.
Claire discovered this because Ethan told her.
“How do you know?”
“He called me.”
Claire nearly dropped her phone.
“Adrian called you?”
“He asked where normal people eat.”
Claire laughed so hard Nora came into her office.
“What did you tell him?”
“I said Taco Bell.”
“Ethan.”
“I was kidding.”
“Did he know?”
“Eventually.”
Friday night Adrian arrived at Bennett Urban Renewal at 6:58.
On foot.
No driver.
No flowers.
No jewelry.
No designer gift.
He wore jeans.
Claire stared.
“You own jeans?”
“I purchased them.”
“They look new.”
“They are new.”
“That violates the spirit of the budget.”
“The clothing is not part of the date.”
“Convenient.”
He held up two transit cards.
Claire blinked.
“We’re taking the train?”
“I was told this is what ordinary people do.”
“Who told you?”
“Your friend Ethan is deeply unhelpful.”
She laughed.
They took the train north.
Adrian looked deeply suspicious of the ticket machine.
Claire enjoyed every second.
Dinner was at a small family-owned Mexican restaurant.
No reservations.
No private room.
They waited twenty minutes.
Adrian did not complain.
A toddler at the next table threw a tortilla chip onto his shoe.
He stared at it.
Claire covered her mouth.
“What?”
“You look personally betrayed.”
“The child made eye contact first.”
Dinner cost forty-three dollars.
Adrian left a seven-dollar tip.
Claire stared.
“That’s terrible.”
“You said fifty dollars.”
“The budget doesn’t include being a bad person.”
She added cash.
“I’m learning.”
“Slowly.”
After dinner they walked.
Snow had started falling.
For the first time in years, they had nowhere to be.
No gala.
No business dinner.
No schedule.
Adrian bought two hot chocolates from a street stand.
“Five dollars each,” he said proudly.
“You’re adorable when you discover retail pricing.”
He stopped walking.
Claire realized what she had said.
Neither spoke.
Adrian smiled.
“Adorable?”
“Don’t make this unpleasant.”
“Too late.”
They continued.
At a small park, they sat on a bench.
Claire tucked her hands beneath her coat.
Adrian looked at her.
“What did you want when we got married?”
She frowned.
“What do you mean?”
“What life did you imagine?”
No one had asked her that in years.
“A smaller one.”
His eyebrows rose.
“Smaller?”
“I thought we’d have a house with a messy kitchen.”
“We had a kitchen.”
“A kitchen six people cleaned.”
“Fair.”
“I thought we’d host friends.”
“We hosted.”
“Donors. Executives. Politicians.”
“Also fair.”
Claire looked at the snow.
“I thought we’d have children.”
Adrian went still.
They had rarely discussed that after the first few years.
“Claire.”
“I’m thirty-seven.”
“I know.”
“We kept saying later.”
His face tightened.
“I kept saying later.”
“Yes.”
“Do you still want them?”
She looked at him.
“Yes.”
Adrian’s breathing changed.
“With me?”
“That isn’t what you asked.”
“No.”
She smiled sadly.
“I don’t know.”
He nodded.
It hurt.
But he accepted it.
“What did you imagine?” she asked.
“When we married?”
“Yes.”
Adrian thought.
“Exactly what happened.”
Claire blinked.
He continued.
“You in the mansion. Me running the company. Holidays. Galas. Stability.”
“That sounds romantic.”
“I was an idiot.”
She smiled.
“I thought if I gave you everything expensive, you would never feel unsafe.”
Claire looked at him.
“My father spent my childhood worrying about money. I hated watching my mother calculate grocery bills.”
“I know.”
“So I thought money was the opposite of fear.”
“And now?”
Adrian looked down at his paper cup.
“Now I know someone can have a heated pool and still keep an escape suitcase packed.”
Claire’s eyes stung.
He reached toward her.
Stopped.
She moved her hand the final inch.
Their fingers intertwined.
Snow collected on his dark hair.
“Adrian.”
“Yes?”
“I don’t want you to become poor to prove something.”
He laughed.
“That’s fortunate.”
“I mean it.”
“I know.”
“You built something extraordinary.”
“So did you.”
She looked at him.
“Don’t destroy yours because you feel guilty.”
“I’m not.”
“What are you doing?”
“Trying to become someone who can own power without needing to use it every minute.”
Claire squeezed his hand.
They sat there until their hot chocolate went cold.
When he walked her to Rebecca’s building, he kissed her cheek.
Nothing more.
At home, Claire opened the closet.
The old brown suitcase sat on the floor.
She had brought it from the mansion.
For nine years it had remained packed.
She stared at it.
Then slowly knelt.
She unlatched the brass buckles.
Inside were the same things she had packed after their first fight.
Her mother’s photograph.
Two sweaters.
Jeans.
Passport.
Degree.
Running shoes.
Three books.
Claire lifted the photograph.
May you like
Then one sweater.
For the first time in nine years, she began to unpack.
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