Eden Grows Up

Crushed.  That’s how Eden felt when she read the report on Heidi.  She did perk up about the death in Thailand; but the body was cremated, and it seemed as if the family had divorced itself from Harold Fairfax long before he died.  Especially the wife.  That wife certainly wouldn’t be open to discussing his death with a stranger like Eden.  It seemed no autopsy was performed on Fairfax.  However, one had been done on her father, and Eden knew there were no drugs involved.  It was mystifying.  Eden wasn’t a virgin, but she never felt she was having a heart attack when she climaxed.  Actually, she usually climaxed with her vibrator, if she were being totally honest, which she could be with herself if not the men she had been with.

“Down in the dumps.  Again?” her roommate Sally asked—while cleaning out the cage of that damned, smelly gerbil.

“I got the report on—the woman who married my father.  The one who wasn’t my mother.”

“Oh.  The one you’ve been moaning and groaning about?  The black widow?”

“I was so hoping there was something suspicious in her background, but it seems she’s just serial mistress material, until my father stupidly married her.”

“But aren’t we all serial mistress material?” Sally wondered.  “Look at Jane.”

Jane was a former roommate who had married well.  Very well.  She used her research analyst skills to check out everyone she dated.  “It’s as easy to marry rich as it is to marry poor,” was her mantra.  So, even though she was still sort of in love with her college sweetheart, who was now in medical school, up to his ears in debt, she had chosen to marry a lobbyist for the manufacturing industry, who was already divorced once, but didn’t have to pay alimony and no children were involved.  “It’s a starter marriage,” Jane told them.  “Kal,” the medical student, “will be so wrapped up in debt for ages.  Maybe in the future—unless he goes into something like pediatrics.”

“We all sell ourselves,” Sally concluded.

“But what’s love got to do with it?” Eden wondered.

“Ask Tina Turner.”

Deflated, Eden went about the next couple of days, considering the many ways her life sucked.  Low salary, work problems, no real boyfriends, but thankful for girlfriends.  Plus, she now had an ettiequte issue to deal with.  She really did need to thank Mr. Infinity Tie.  She thought of hitting him up for another dinner, but knew that would be wrong.  So she emailed him, told him she appreciated the report and wondered if he would like to grab a coffee sometime after work; or, since he was probably always on the computer or traveling, at his convenience.

He answered almost immediately that coffee would be “appropriate.”  What the hell does “appropriate” mean in regards to having coffee?  He wondered if they could meet at eight in the morning because of the time difference he was dealing with at the moment.

So two days later here she was at Donati’s Bakery, where it was mostly take out by people rushing to work. She found an empty table overlooking K street.  The waitress brought a menu; Eden told her another person would be joining her and could they have two glasses of water to start.  Then she glanced at the menu while she waited.  How can coffee cost so much and then you add tip?  English muffins?  She could have brought her own and have them toast it.  Why did everything cost money!

Ah, Mr. Steve Applebaum was making his appearance.  Thank god, minus the tie.  Here she was in silk blouse and slim, dressy pants, while he was in jeans and a sweatshirt.  It looked as if he tried to comb his hair at least.  Couldn’t he afford a good barber or was the electric hair part of his persona?

He took the seat across from her.  “Water.  Great.”

“This is my treat, so order whatever you want,” Eden assured him.  Only hoping he didn’t take her seriously.

Both taking time to look over the menu, they were ready when the waitress returned.  “I’ll have green tea and the seafood skillet,” Steve said.

Bankruptcy on the horizon, Eden opted for “Just coffee.”

“She’ll have the three egg omelet with cheese, tomato and mushrooms, bacon on the side.”  He leaned forward.  “I’m paying.”

As the waitress turned away, Eden called, “Oh.  Add the English muffin. Please.”

The waitress nodded and waved her hand in acknowledgement.

“This was supposed to be my treat,” Eden said.

“But it’s a treat to be in your delightful company once again.  Treat for a treat,” Steve replied.

Leaning back into the less than comfortable chair, Eden wondered at the tone of his statement, but she decided to take it at face value.  “You’re sweet.  And thanks for digging into Heidi’s past.”

He shrugged.  “Didn’t take that long.”

“But if I had to pay you for your work, how much would you have charged?  Just curious.”

Steve sighed as he considered it.  “It’s hard to tell.  I just keep the hours. The accountants figure out the billing.  Maybe they’d bump it to 10K.  I’m not into the money part of the firm.”

“But you have money.”

“Well—yeah.”

“You see.  That’s what I’ve learned from the report you sent me.  I mean, I was discussing it with my girlfriend, and she made the point that we all sell ourselves in one way or another.  Like at work, of course, and also in relationships.  So I’ve been reconsidering the whole Heidi issue.  I can never like her.  Or want to be like her.  I still have my Disney dreams.  She probably could have stayed in Erie and married maybe a friend of her brothers’ in construction.  But she wanted more.  Okay, she did it in maybe a less-than-ethical way and without the usual marriage vows.  But perhaps marrying wasn’t her dream as much as money was.  So I’m laying aside the Heidi issue and getting on with my life.  I’m not going to whine anymore.  I’m going to accept what I have and make the best of it.”

With a frown, Steve commented, “You sound like you’re in some sort of purgatory.  But most people would find your job glamorous.”

Huffing, Eden said, “You have to realize something about a person like me, Steve.  My father was wealthy enough to provide me with everything I ever wanted.  And even after I started working, he gave me a two-thousand-dollar-a-month allowance, which stopped when he died.  Also, if I ever needed anything, he never denied me.  So I’m a spoiled brat and need to learn to stand on my own two feet.  As long as the heels aren’t too high.”  She ended her little speech with a smile.

“That sounds like you’re making a transition.”

“To adulthood you mean.”

“Something like.”

“And you?”

“Well—  Being a computer nerd has always paid my way,” he confessed.  “Although my parents insisted I go to college, get a degree, even if I felt I didn’t need it.  And really, I didn’t.”

“What was it in?”

“Philosophy.”

“Oh, Jeez, your parents paid for that?”

He laughed.  “It actually helps with my work, believe it or not.”

“But the reading itself would have killed me.  Except for Socrates, I don’t think I can even pronounce some of those philosopher names.  Give me a Titian or a Munch any day.”

Their food came and it was delicious.  But Eden felt the compulsion to point out to Steve that most likely his seafood skillet contained mainly pollock.  His smile was enigmatic.  Then he asked, “Have you had any lasting relationships?”

Squinting as she consider the question, she finally replied, “No.  Not really.”

“Frankly, I can’t imagine why.”

The way he said it—  Did he think there was something off about her?  Well, screw what he thought.  The blueberry jam was freshly smeared on the perfectly toasted English muffin, and she was in hog heaven.