Legacy

Chapter 1

Brigitte

There was a heavy snowfall that had started the night before as Brigitte Nicholson sat at her desk in the admissions office of Boston University, meticulously going over applications. Other staffers had checked them before her, but she always liked to take a last look at the files herself to make sure that each one was complete. They were in the midst of making their decisions, and in six weeks acceptances and denials would be going out to the applicants. Inevitably, there would be some ecstatic prospective students and more often many broken hearts. It was difficult knowing that they had the lives and futures of earnest young people in their hands. Sifting through the applications was Brigitte’s busiest time of year, and although the ultimate choices were made by committee, her job was vetting applications, and conducting individual interviews when students requested them. In those cases, she would submit her notes and comments with the application. But essentially, grades, test scores, teachers’ recommendations, extracurricular activities, and sports contributed heavily to the final result. A candidate either looked like an asset to the school or not. Brigitte always felt the weight of those decisions heavily on her shoulders. She was meticulous about going over all the materials they submitted. Ultimately, she had to think about what was best for the school, not for the students. She was used to the dozens of calls and e-mails she got from anxious high school counselors, doing all they could to help their candidates. Brigitte was proud to be associated with BU, and much to her own amazement, had worked in the admissions office for ten years. The years had flown by, seemingly in an instant. She was number three in the department and had turned down opportunities for promotion many times. She was content where she was and had never been terribly ambitious.

At twenty-eight, Brigitte had come to BU as a graduate student, to get a master’s in anthropology after assorted minor jobs post-college, followed by two years of working at a women’s shelter in Peru and another one in Guatemala, and a year of traveling in India and Europe. She had a bachelor’s degree in anthropology with a minor in women’s and gender studies from Columbia. The plight of women in underdeveloped countries had always been a primary concern to her. Brigitte had taken a job in the admissions office just until she could complete her degree. She had wanted to go to Afghanistan for a year after that, but like so many other graduate students who took jobs at the university while they were there, she stayed. It was comfortable, safe, and a protected atmosphere she came to love. And as soon as she got her master’s, she started working on her Ph.D. The academic world was addictive and womblike, along with its intellectual challenges and pursuit of knowledge and degrees. And it was easy to hide from the real world and its demands. It was a haven of scholars and youth. She didn’t love her job in admissions, but she really, really liked it. She felt productive and useful, and she was dedicated to helping the right students get into the school.

They had more than sixteen thousand undergraduate students, and over thirty thousand applications every year. Some were eliminated summarily, for inadequate test scores or grades, but as the number of eligible applicants got whittled down, Brigitte became more and more focused on the process. She was meticulous about detail in everything she did. She didn’t have her doctorate yet, but was still working on it, taking a class or two every semester. At thirty-eight, she was satisfied with her life. And for the last seven years, she had been working on a book. She wanted it to be the definitive work on the subject of voting and women’s rights around the world. While getting her master’s, Brigitte had written countless papers about the topic.

Her thesis argued that how countries handled the voting rights of women defined who they were as a nation. She felt that the vote was crucial to women’s rights. Her colleagues who had read what she’d written so far were impressed by her eloquence but not surprised by her thoroughness and diligence. One criticism of her work was that she sometimes got so involved in the minutiae of what she was studying that she neglected the big picture. She tended to get caught up in the details.

She was friendly and kind, trustworthy and responsible. She was a deeply caring person and extremely hardworking, and thorough about everything she did. The only complaint that her best friend, Amy Lewis, made of her, to her face as a rule, was that she lacked passion. She intellectualized everything, and followed her brain more than her heart. Brigitte thought passion, as Amy referred to it, was a flaw, not a quality, a dangerous thing. It made you lose perspective and direction. Brigitte liked staying on course, and keeping her goals in plain view.

She didn’t like rocking the boat or taking chances, on anything. Risk-taking was not her style. She was someone you could count on, not someone who would act impulsively, or without a great deal of thought. And she herself readily admitted that she was slow to make decisions while she weighed all the pros and cons.

Brigitte estimated that she was halfway through her book. She planned to speed up the process and finish it in five years, around the time she got her Ph.D. Twelve years spent on a book covering such an important subject seemed reasonable to her, since she was also working full-time and taking classes toward her doctorate. She was not in any rush. She had decided that if she completed both her doctoral degree and her book by the time she was forty-three, she’d be pleased. Her steady, relentless, unruffled way of dealing with things sometimes drove her friend Amy crazy. Brigitte was not a fast-track kind of person and hated change. Amy thought Brigitte should live life to the fullest, and leap into things more spontaneously. Amy was a trained marriage and family counselor and social worker. She ran the university’s counseling office, and liberally offered Brigitte her advice and opinions. They were total opposites and yet best friends. Amy dealt with everything-emotional, intellectual, and professional-at full speed.

Brigitte was tall, thin, almost angular, with jet-black hair, dark eyes, high cheekbones, and olive skin. She looked almost Middle Eastern or Italian, although her heritage was Irish and French. The Irish heritage of her father accounted for her jet-black hair. Amy was small and blond with a tendency to put on weight if she didn’t exercise, and she had all the passion about life that she claimed Brigitte didn’t. Brigitte liked to accuse her friend of being “hyper,” with the attention span of a flea, which they both knew wasn’t true. But Amy took on new projects constantly, and handled multitasking with ease. While Brigitte had struggled with one epic tome, Amy had published three nonfiction books about dealing with kids. She had two children of her own although she wasn’t married. On her fortieth birthday, after years of unsuccessful affairs with graduate students younger than she was or with married professors, she had gone to a sperm bank. And at forty-four, she had two boys, now one and three, who drove her happily crazy. She regularly nagged Brigitte to start having babies of her own. She told Brigitte that at thirty-eight she had no time to waste, her “eggs were getting older by the minute.” Brigitte was far more casual about it, and wasn’t worried. Modern science made it possible to conceive far older than in her mother’s day, and she felt confident about it, despite Amy’s dire warnings that she was putting motherhood off for too long.

Brigitte knew she’d have children one day, and more than likely marry Ted, although they never discussed it. There was something about living in the protected atmosphere of academia that made you feel, or Brigitte anyway, that she was going to be young forever. Amy always snapped her back to reality by saying they were middle-aged. It was impossible to believe by looking at either of them. Neither one looked her age, nor felt it, and Ted Weiss, Brigitte’s boyfriend of six years, was three years younger. At thirty-five, he looked, felt, and acted like a kid. He had studied archaeology at Harvard, got his doctorate at BU, and had worked in the department of archaeology at BU for the last six years. His dream was to have his own dig. BU had many around the world, in Egypt, Turkey, Pakistan, China, Greece, Spain, and Guatemala. He had visited each of them at least once during his time at BU. Brigitte had never gone with him to see them. She used the time he was away to continue doing research on her book. She was a lot less interested in traveling than she had been right after college. Now she was happy at home.

Brigitte’s relationship with Ted was a happy one. They lived in their own apartments quite near to each other, and spent the weekends together, usually at his place because it was bigger. He cooked, she didn’t. They often socialized with his graduate students, particularly those in the doctoral program, like her. They also saw a lot of the other professors in their respective departments. They both loved the academic life, although Brigitte’s work in the admissions office wasn’t scholarly, but the life they led and shared suited them to perfection. It was an atmosphere filled with intense dedication to higher learning, and both of them admitted that most of the time they felt no different from their students. They were thirsty for all they could learn, and loved the intellectual world. Like all universities, there were the usual minor scandals, affairs, and petty jealousies, but on the whole, they both enjoyed the life they led, and had much in common.

Brigitte could see herself married to Ted, although she couldn’t figure out when. And she assumed Ted would ask her one day. They had no reason to get married for the moment, since neither of them was anxious for children. Eventually, but not yet. They both felt too young for any life other than the one they were living. Brigitte’s mother often voiced the same concerns as Amy, and reminded her that she wasn’t getting any younger. Brigitte just laughed at them both and said she had no need to nail Ted to the floor, he wasn’t going anywhere, to which Amy always responded cynically, “You never know.” But her own bad experiences with men colored her view of the situation. She was always somewhat convinced that, given half a chance, most men would disappoint you, although even she had to admit that Ted was a really sweet guy, without a mean bone in his body.

Brigitte said openly that she loved him, but it wasn’t something they talked about much, nor did they talk about the future. They lived in the present. Each one was perfectly content living alone during the work week, and their weekends together were always relaxing and fun. They never argued, and disagreed about few things. It was a totally comfortable arrangement. Everything about Brigitte’s life was steady, her job, her relationship with Ted, and her slow but steady pace on her book, which would eventually be published by the academic press.

According to Amy, Brigitte’s life wasn’t exciting, but she liked everything about it, and it worked well for her. She didn’t need or want excitement in her life, and looking far ahead to the future, she could see where it was going. Her life had direction and forward motion, even if not with great speed. Just like her studies for her Ph.D., and her book. That was enough for her. It was a journey. She was in no hurry to reach her destination or make any snap decisions. Despite her mother’s and Amy’s cynicism, concerns, and dire warnings, Brigitte wasn’t worried about it all.

“So whose life are you ruining today?” Amy asked her with an impish grin as she bounced into the doorway of Brigitte’s office.

“That’s a terrible thing to say!” Brigitte said, pretending to look stern. “On the contrary, I’m checking to make sure the applicants sent us all the right stuff.”

“Yeah, so you can turn them down. Poor kids, I still remember getting those awful letters. ‘Although we were very impressed by the work you’ve done during your senior year, we can’t figure out what the hell you were doing all through junior year. Were you drunk or on drugs or just lazy beyond belief? We wish you the best of luck in your future endeavors, but not at our school…’ Shit, I cried every time I got one of those letters, and so did my mother. She figured I’d wind up working at McDonald’s, not a bad job, but she wanted me to be a doctor. It took her years to forgive me for being ‘just’ a social worker.” Amy’s grades for junior year couldn’t have been that bad, Brigitte knew, since she had gone to Brown, and eventually got a master’s of science degree at Stanford before getting her social worker’s degree at the Columbia School of Social Work in New York.

They were all academic snobs at BU. In the academic world, where you got your degrees really mattered, just as how often you published did later. If Brigitte had been teaching at BU, she couldn’t have lingered over her book for the past seven years without publishing it sooner. There would have been a lot more pressure on her, which was why she was happier working in the admissions office. She didn’t have the competitive spirit you needed to survive as a professor. Amy taught an undergraduate psych class and ran the counseling office, and did both well. She left her kids at the campus day care center while she worked. And she had a profound love for young people generally, and her students. She set up the first suicide hotline at BU after losing too many students in her early years of counseling. It was a common occurrence at all universities, and an epidemic that worried them all. Brigitte didn’t like the implication that by turning down applicants to BU she was ruining their lives. She hated to think of it that way. As usual, Amy’s opinions went right to the heart of the matter, and were bluntly expressed. She didn’t mince words, whereas Brigitte was always more careful and more diplomatic about what she said, and how she said it. Amy used a more frontal and confrontational approach, with colleagues or friends.

“So what are you doing tonight?” Amy asked her pointedly, curling up in the chair on the other side of Brigitte’s desk.

“Tonight? Why? Is it something special?” Brigitte looked blank, and Amy rolled her eyes.

“It should be, if you’ve been dating a guy for six years. You’re hopeless. It’s Valentine’s Day, for chrissake! You know, hearts, flowers, candy, engagement rings, marriage proposals, great sex, soft music, candlelight. Aren’t you going out with Ted?” She looked disappointed for Brigitte. Despite her own failed relationships, Amy still loved the notion of romance, and although they were adorable together, she always felt that Brigitte and Ted had far too little of it. They were still like high school kids dating, not like people in their thirties planning their future. And Amy worried about her friend, fearing that the important things in life were sliding past her. Like commitment, marriage, and having kids.

“I think we both forgot,” Brigitte admitted sheepishly about Valentine’s Day. “Ted’s working on a paper, and I’ve been buried in applications. We only have six weeks left to process them. And I have two papers due for my class. Besides, it’s snowing, and a crappy night to go out.”

“So stay home and celebrate it in bed. Maybe he’ll propose to you tonight,” Amy said hopefully, and Brigitte laughed out loud.

“Yeah, right, with a paper due on Friday. He’ll probably call me later and we’ll figure out something. Chinese takeout or sushi. It’s not a big deal.”

“It should be,” Amy scolded her. “I don’t want you to be an old maid like me.”

“I’m not, and neither are you. We’re unmarried women. That’s a highly respected category these days. It’s considered a choice, not an affliction, and people who are older than we are still get married and have kids.”

“Yeah, Sarah in the Bible maybe. How old was she? Ninety-seven, I think, when she had a kid. Generally, these days, that’s considered a little beyond the usual statistics. I think it was then too. And she was married.” Amy looked meaningfully at her friend, and Brigitte laughed.

“You’re obsessed, for me anyway. You’re not running around crazily trying to get married. Why should I? Besides, Ted and I are perfectly happy the way we are. No one rushes to get married anymore. Why is it such a big deal?” Brigitte looked unconcerned.

“After six years, it would hardly be considered rushing. It would be more like normal. And in about ten minutes you’ll be forty-five or fifty, and it’ll be all over for you. Your eggs will be prehistoric, and he can write an archaeology paper about them.” She was being funny, but she meant it. “Maybe you should propose to him.”

“Don’t be silly. We have lots of time to think about all that. Besides, I want to finish my book first, and my Ph.D. I want to be a doctor when I get married.”

“Then hurry up. You two are the slowest people on the planet. You think you’re going to be young forever. Well, I’ve got bad news for you. Your body knows better. You need to at least think about getting married and having kids.”

“I will, in a few years. What are you doing tonight, by the way?” She knew Amy hadn’t even had a date since she got pregnant with her first child four years before. She was totally involved with them and had had almost no social life since. She was too busy working and having fun with her boys. She wanted Brigitte to experience that kind of fulfillment and happiness too. And Ted would make a great father, they both agreed. His students adored him. He was warm, kind, and smart, everything a woman could want in a man, which was why Brigitte loved him, and so did everyone else. He was a totally nice guy.

“I have a hot date with my sons,” Amy confessed. “We’re going to have pizza for dinner, and they’ll be sound asleep by seven o’clock, so I can watch TV and pass out by ten. Not exactly the perfect Valentine’s Day, but it works for me.” Amy smiled happily as she stood up. She had an appointment in her office with a student who’d been referred by his freshman adviser. He was a foreign student, away from home for the first time, and seriously depressed. Amy suspected she would be referring him to the student health office for meds from what the adviser had said. But Amy wanted to talk to the boy first. She saw kids like him all day and was diligent about her work, just as Brigitte was about hers.

“That sounds like a good plan,” Brigitte commented. “I’ll figure out something with Ted later, and remind him if he forgot. Maybe he just assumed we’d have dinner together.” He did that sometimes, they both did, what they shared was a relationship that worked without any need for definition. After six years, she assumed they would be together forever. They had no reason not to be. It didn’t need to be said or written in stone. They were both happy the way things were, no matter what Amy said, or Brigitte’s mother. This worked for them. Comfortable was the word that defined what they shared, even if Amy thought they needed more romance or passion. Brigitte didn’t, and neither did Ted. They were both laid-back people who had no need to make plans set in stone for the future, or spell everything out.

By sheer coincidence, Ted called her ten minutes after Amy left Brigitte’s office. He sounded harried and in a rush and slightly breathless, which was unusual for him. He was an easygoing guy who rarely got rattled.

“Are you okay?” Brigitte asked him, sounding worried. “Something wrong?”

“No, just a little crazy. There’s a lot going on here today. Can I see you for dinner?” When he said it that way, he meant at home. He wanted to stop by her place after work. Brigitte knew the shorthand of their conversations, and what Ted meant.

“Of course.” She smiled in response to his dinner suggestion. He had remembered. “Amy just reminded me that it’s Valentine’s Day. I had totally forgotten.”

“Oh shit, so did I. I’m sorry, Brig. Do you want to go out?”

“Whatever you want. I’m just as happy staying home, especially in this weather.” The snowfall had increased, and now there was a foot of snow on the ground. Driving wouldn’t be easy.

“There’s something I want to celebrate with you tonight. How about an early dinner at Luigi’s? You can stay at my place tonight if you want.” It was an offer he rarely made during the week, nor did she. They both liked getting an early start to their day in their own familiar settings. They usually only spent weekend nights together.

“What are we celebrating?” Brigitte asked, slightly mystified. She could hear the excitement in his voice, although he was trying to sound calmer than he felt, but she could sense that too.

“I’m not going to spoil the surprise. I want to say it in person. We’ll talk about it over dinner.”

“You got a promotion in the department?” She couldn’t stand the suspense, and he laughed in answer, and sounded like a man with a secret, or a plan. This was all very unlike him, and it made Brigitte a little nervous. What if Amy was right, and he was going to use Valentine’s Day to propose? Suddenly her heart and mind were racing, and she was scared.

“It’s much more important than that. Do you mind taking a cab? I’ll meet you at Luigi’s. I know that’s not a very romantic way to start Valentine’s Day, but I’m going to be stuck in the office till dinner.” He sounded apologetic.

“That’s fine. I’ll meet you there,” she said with a quaver in her voice.

“I love you, Brig,” he breathed into the phone before he hung up, and she looked stunned. He rarely said that, except in bed, and suddenly she wondered if Amy’s wishes for her were coming true. Thinking about it, she felt panicked. She wasn’t at all sure she was ready for a proposal. She was almost sure she wasn’t, but it sounded like a distinct possibility to her, and half an hour later she wandered down to Amy’s office with a worried look. She stood in the doorway and glared at her friend. Amy’s meeting with the homesick freshman had just ended, and she had referred him to see a psychiatrist for meds.

“I think you jinxed me,” Brigitte said with a look of angst as she walked into Amy’s office and sat down.

“About what?” Amy looked confused.

“Ted just called and invited me to dinner. He said he has a surprise, bigger than a promotion, and he sounded as nervous as I feel now. Omigod, I think he’s going to propose. I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Hallelujah, it’s about goddamn time! At least one of you is making some sense here. Listen, six years of practically living together is long enough. You two get along better than any of the married couples I know. This will be great!”

“We don’t live together,” Brigitte corrected her. “We spend weekends together.”

“And how long do you want to do that? Another six years maybe? Ten? If Ted is planning to propose, he has the right idea. Life is short. You can’t spend it in a holding pattern forever.”

“Why not? It works for us.”

“Maybe not. It sounds like he wants more, and he should. So should you.”

“I do. I just don’t know if I want it right now. Why rock the boat? ‘Don’t fix what ain’t broke,’ as the saying goes. Our arrangement is perfect as it is.”

“It’ll be more perfect if you make a real commitment to each other. You can build something, a life, a family. You can’t pretend to be students forever. That’s what too many people in the academic world do. We all delude ourselves that we’re kids too, and we’re not. One day you wake up and realize that you’re old, and life passed you by. Don’t let that happen to you. You both deserve better than that. It may sound scary to you now, but it’ll be great. Trust me. You need to take the next step.” Amy had always thought that Brigitte should do that with her work too. She thought Brigitte should be head of admissions, and could have been, but she didn’t want that. She was content to be number three-she said it gave her more time to work on her book and degree and do more research.

Brigitte had never had a need to lead the pack. She was always content to be in an easy space, not the more stressful one of leader. She had never liked to take risks. Amy was sure it had to do with Brigitte’s childhood. She had said to Amy once that her father had been a risk-taker. He had gambled all their money in the stock market, lost everything, and committed suicide. Her mother had struggled for years afterward, and worked hard to keep them afloat. What Brigitte hated most in life was risk, of any kind. If she was comfortable, she wouldn’t budge. And Ted seemed to be content with that. But at some point, no matter how scary it was for her, Brigitte had to move forward. She couldn’t stay rooted to one spot forever. Without risk, there was no growth. Amy ardently hoped that Ted would propose to her friend that night, no matter how scared she was.

“Try not to worry about it,” Amy reassured her. “You love each other. It will be fine.”

“What if I marry him and he dies?” She was thinking of her father, and her eyes filled with tears as she looked at her friend.

Amy spoke to her gently and could see how frightened she was. “Sooner or later, if you stay together until you’re old, one of you is going to die. I don’t think you need to worry about that for a hell of a long time,” she said to reassure her, but her fears were deeper than that.

“I just think about it sometimes. I know what my mom went through when my dad died.” She had been eleven, and she remembered her mother crying all the time, and then going out to find a job to support them. She had been a book editor in a publishing house for years, and had retired only the year before. She had time now to do things she had wanted to do for years and had never had time for: see her friends, play bridge, exercise, take cooking lessons, play golf. For several years now, she had been working on a history of their family genealogy, which she found fascinating and Brigitte didn’t. But Brigitte never wanted to end up a widow, with a young child, like her mother. She’d rather stay single, just the way she was, forever.

Brigitte had dealt with her father’s suicide in therapy when she was younger. She had forgiven him, but she had never gotten over her fear of change and taking risks. And she was feeling badly shaken at the prospect of Ted’s possible proposal that night. So much so that she called her mother after work, before she went out to dinner, and her mother could hear the worry in her voice, and without explanation, Brigitte started talking about her father. It had been a long time since she’d done that, and her mother was puzzled. Brigitte didn’t explain why.

“Are you sorry you married him, Mom?” Brigitte had never asked her mother that before, although she had often wondered, and her mother sounded startled.

“Of course not. I had you.”

“Aside from that. Was it worth everything you went through?” Her mother was quiet for a long moment before she answered. She had always been honest with her daughter, which was one of the reasons why their relationship was strong. And they had survived tragedy together, which made them even closer. They shared a special bond.

“Yes, it was worth it. I never regretted marrying him, even with everything that happened. I loved him very much. All you can do is your best in life. What happens after that is the luck of the draw. You hope it comes out right, but you just have to take the chance. And I meant what I said before, you were my reward for the hard times. My life would have been nothing without you.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Brigitte said with tears in her eyes. A few minutes later they hung up. Her mother had given Brigitte the answer she needed without knowing it. Even after the disaster her father had created for them, and his suicide, she had no regrets. It was what Brigitte had hoped to hear. She didn’t know if she was ready for marriage at this point in time, and maybe she never would be, but if he asked her that night, she was going to take the chance and say yes. And maybe one day she’d be as sure as her mother had been. Maybe someday she’d have a daughter too. She was willing to believe that it was possible that Amy and her mother were both right. Even though the thought of it unnerved her, she was ready to accept Ted’s proposal, if that’s what he had in mind. She felt very brave as she got into the cab to meet him at Luigi’s.

As Brigitte thought about Ted in the cab on the way to the restaurant, her terror was slowly becoming mixed with excitement. She loved him, and maybe being married to him would be a good thing. It might even be wonderful, she told herself. He was nothing like her father. Ted was solid. She was smiling when she sat down at the table where Ted was waiting for her. He stood up to kiss her before she sat down, and he looked happy and more excited than she had ever seen him. His mood was contagious and she felt more romantic than she had in years. She was ready. It was an important moment. He ordered champagne for her as he smiled into her eyes, and they clinked glasses and each took a sip of the bubbly wine. Despite the wintry weather outside, the atmosphere at the table was decidedly festive.

He said nothing unusual to her all through dinner, and she waited politely without asking questions, trying to calm her mind. She figured he would pop the question when he was ready. There was no doubt in her mind now that he would, given his expansive behavior all evening. Amy was right. Everything about the evening suggested to her that something important was about to happen, and then finally when dessert came, a heart-shaped chocolate cake offered as a gift by the restaurant, he looked at her and smiled broadly. He could hardly contain himself, and she could feel her earlier fears disappearing. Everything about this felt right. She remembered what Amy had said to her, that they needed more romance in their lives. Brigitte realized now that they did, even though neither of them was passionate or overly demonstrative. But they had loved each other for six years. Their relationship was excellent and suited them. They shared the same interests. They both loved the academic life. He had minored in anthropology, and was supportive of her career and her work. She knew he was someone she could rely on. Ted Weiss was a good man, and when she let herself think about it, a lifetime with him felt right. She was feeling very sure tonight, and waited patiently while he beat around the bush for a few minutes and told her how wonderful she was to him, how much he respected and admired her, and that what he was about to tell her was his dream come true. His lifetime dream. It was the most romantic thing he had ever said to her, and she knew she would remember this moment forever.

She was feeling a little giddy from the champagne. But by then, she knew with total certainty what was coming next. It was easy to predict. She had always known it would happen at some point, in the distant future. And suddenly the future was now, sooner than she expected. All he had to do was ask the question, and her answer was going to be yes. She assumed he knew that too, just as she had guessed he was going to propose to her that night. The predictability of their life made her feel safe.

“This is the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to me, Brig,” he said, looking deeply moved, “and I know it won’t be easy, but I hope you’ll be happy about it too.” He looked a little more nervous as he said it, and she was touched.

“Of course I will,” she reassured him, waiting for him to ask her the question.

“I know you will, because you’re such a kind, generous person, and you’ve always supported me in my work.”

“Just the way you support me in mine,” she praised him. “That’s part of the deal.”

“I think it’s what made the relationship work for both of us. I know how important your work is to you too, and your book.” It wasn’t as important to her as archaeology was to him, but she appreciated his respect. He always said good things about her writing, and liked what she had written so far. He agreed with her about women’s rights, and had a profound respect for women. “I’ll always be grateful to you,” Ted said quietly as he looked into her eyes, nostalgic for a moment. It was an important moment for them both. “I can’t believe this is happening,” he said with a shaking voice. “I’ve been waiting all night to tell you.” She could hear a drum roll in her head as he went on. “They gave me my own dig today. My own. I’ll run it. In Egypt. I know this will be rough on you. I leave in three weeks.” He spat it all out at once and sat back in his chair then, smiling at her, and Brigitte felt as though she had been hit in the chest with a club. It took her a full minute to catch her breath and be able to speak again. This was not what she had expected to hear from him that night.

“Your own dig? In Egypt? You’re leaving in three weeks? How the hell did that happen?” She looked stunned.

“You knew I applied every year. I just kind of gave up hope after a while, but they always said that sooner or later I’d get one. And now I did. They’re having me open up a newly discovered cave site. It’s incredible. It’s my dream come true.” And for a minute, several minutes, she actually had thought she was his dream.

She waited a few more minutes, staring at her untouched chocolate cake before looking up at him again. She was fighting to stay calm, and suddenly wanted to howl in disappointment. After all this time, she had actually been ready to accept his proposal. And there was none. “What does this mean for us?” The possibilities were obvious, but she needed them spelled out. She didn’t want to guess again about something this important, nor assume. This time she wanted to hear his plan for them, if there was one, and what he planned to do about them.

“I guess we always knew that this would happen sooner or later,” Ted said soberly. “I can’t take you along. There’s no job for you on the dig, and I don’t know if you could get a visa just as a hanger-on. Besides, what would you do there, Brig? I know that your work is important to you here. I think the inevitable has happened. We had a good run for six years, Brig. I love you. We’ve had a great time. But with me in Egypt for three to five years, or longer if the dig goes well or they give me another one after this, I won’t be back for a long time, and I don’t expect you to wait around for me. We both have to go on with our lives. Mine will be there, and yours is here. We’re both reasonable people, and we knew this would happen one day.” He sounded perfectly calm about it. He was leaving in three weeks, and that was it. Bye, thanks for a fun six years, see ya.

“I didn’t know this would happen,” she said, still looking shocked. “I thought we’d wind up together,” she objected as tears stung her eyes. She couldn’t hold them back. He had broadsided her so completely, she could hardly think straight.

“We never said that,” Ted reminded her. “We talked about it theoretically, but we never made any plans. You know that. Maybe if I never got a dig. But to be honest with you, in the last year or two, whenever I’ve thought about it, I realize I’m not really a commitment kind of guy. Not in the classical sense. I like what we’ve had, but I don’t need more than that, nor want it. I never thought you really did either. You’re not one of those women desperate to get married and have kids, which is why it worked so well for us.”

“I thought it worked because we love each other,” Brigitte said bleakly. “And I wasn’t ‘desperate’ to get married and have kids, but I thought we would.” She had assumed it, which made her feel incredibly stupid now. It was painfully obvious that he could hardly wait to leave and start his dig. Without her. He clearly didn’t want to take her with him. She could see it in his eyes.

“You still can get married and have kids,” he reassured her quietly. She was a free woman now. “Just not with me. I won’t be here, for a long time. Who knows, if the excavation sites are rich, I could wind up staying there for ten years, or longer. I’ve waited for this all my life. I’m in no rush to come back, and I don’t want to have any obligations here complicating things for me.” Now all she was was a complication. It sliced right through her aching heart to hear it. “I thought we had an unspoken agreement, Brig, that this was great for now, with no future plans.”

“That’s the trouble with unspoken agreements, everyone interprets them the way they want. I thought we had a commitment, apparently you didn’t.” She sounded both angry and sad all at once.

“My primary commitment has always been to my work. You knew that,” he reproached her quietly. He didn’t want to be made to feel guilty. His mother always did that to him and he hated it. Brigitte never had. He wanted to celebrate his dig, and his departure, not feel like a bad guy for leaving, which was more than a little simplistic, since it meant the end of their romance. But that was a price he was prepared to pay, and she had never expected. She realized now that she had been blind. And now he was, to everything but his dig. “I’m sorry, Brig. I know this is sudden. It’s hard for me too, but it’s pretty clean actually. We don’t even share an apartment. In fact, I was going to ask you if you want some of my stuff. I’m going to donate the rest. I don’t have a decent piece of furniture in the place, except the couch.” They had bought it together the year before, and now he was getting rid of that too, as easily as he was getting rid of her. She hadn’t felt this shocked or abandoned since her father’s death, and that came to mind as she sat and stared at Ted.

“What about my eggs?” she asked, as tears rolled down her cheeks. She was slowly losing control of her emotions and feeling panicked. This was not the Valentine’s Day dinner she had planned, nor that Amy had hoped for her.

“What eggs?” Ted looked blank.

“My eggs. The babies we’ll never have, and I may never have at all now. I’m thirty-eight years old, we’ve been together for six years. What am I supposed to do, put a notice on the bulletin board for some guy to marry and have kids with?”

“Is that all I was?” He looked insulted.

“No. You were the man I love, you still are. It was just so simple the way it was, I never asked the pertinent questions, I didn’t think I had to. Why can’t I go with you?” She looked at him pointedly, and he looked instantly uncomfortable.

“I can’t think about a wife and kids with a job this important to do. I don’t want the responsibility or the distraction. Besides, I just don’t want that kind of commitment. This is the right time for both of us to move on, and see what life has in store for each of us on our own.” She felt her heart ache as he said it. “I’m not even sure I’ll ever want marriage, or not for a long, long time.” Way too late for her by then, as Amy would have reminded her. Her eggs were of no interest to him, and apparently never had been. She felt stupid now for having assumed so much and understood so little. She never thought she had to ask him. It was all so comfortable for so long, she had just drifted down the river with him, and now he was kicking her out of the boat, and paddling on alone. He had made it clear that he didn’t want her in Egypt, now or later. She couldn’t even blame him for it, she was as responsible as he was for the misunderstanding, and she knew it. He hadn’t misled her. They had just lived from day to day and weekend to weekend for six years. And now she was thirty-eight years old, and he was leaving to live his dream, without her. Hearing him say it was the loneliest feeling she’d ever had.

“How do you want to handle this before I go?” he asked her gently. He felt sorry for her-she looked devastated by what he had told her. There was none of the joy for him that he had hoped for, and he realized now that that had been unrealistic. He had never fully understood how far-reaching her hopes were. She hadn’t shared those hopes with him. And now all her broken dreams and incorrect assumptions were crashing down around her. She looked like she’d just been hit by a semi and run over. She felt even worse than she looked.

“What do you mean?” She blew her nose into a tissue and couldn’t stop crying.

“I don’t want to make this any harder for you than it has to be. I’m leaving in three weeks. Do you want to stay with me till then, or would you rather see less of me before I go?”

“If I’m understanding you correctly, you consider our relationship over when you leave, you want to move on, is that right?” He nodded, and she blew her nose again and looked at him miserably.

“I can’t maintain a relationship with you here and live in Egypt. And your coming with me makes no sense. I think we would have ended it sooner or later.” That was news to her. But she was beyond arguing with him. She had taken too hard a hit.

“Then I think it’s better if we end it now,” she said with dignity. “I’d rather not see you again, Ted. It’ll just make it worse. It was over for us as soon as you got the dig.” Or maybe even before that since he wanted no commitment between them.

“It has nothing to do with you, Brig. It’s just life and how things work out sometimes.” But it was his life, not hers, that he was concerned with. She had never before realized how selfish he was. It was all about him, and now his dig.

“Yeah, I understand,” she said, slipping into her coat and standing up. She looked him straight in the eye. “Congratulations, Ted. I’m happy for you. I’m sad for us, and for me, but I’m happy for you.” She was trying valiantly to be gracious and he was touched, although still disappointed that she hadn’t been more enthusiastic and supportive of him. But he also understood that telling her he wanted to move on was a blow. He had wanted to do that for a while, but hadn’t had the guts. But now that he was leaving for Egypt, it seemed like the perfect time. To him.

“Thank you, Brig. I’ll take you home,” he offered.

She started crying copiously again and shook her head. “No… I’ll take a cab. Thanks for dinner. Goodnight.” And with that, she hurried out of the restaurant, hoping that no one would see her crying. Thanks for dinner, and for six years. Have a nice life. All she could think about as she stumbled out into the snow and hailed a cab was everything she had done wrong for six years. She wondered how she could have been so stupid. He wasn’t a “commitment kind of guy,” he didn’t know if he wanted a wife and kids, now or ever. It had been easy for both of them. Comfortable. That was the operative word and all she ever wanted in life, and now look what she wound up with. A man she had been “comfortable” with for six years, and now on a moment’s notice, he had dumped her and was leaving for Egypt and the dig he had always dreamed of. He had said goodbye to her the way you would to a student or an assistant, not a woman you were in love with. She realized then that he wasn’t in love with her. And maybe she wasn’t with him either. She had settled for easy, and comfortable, instead of commitment and passion. It had seemed like enough for six years, and look where it got her. She sat crying in the cab all the way back to her apartment. It was a terrible feeling knowing she would never see him again and it was over. Even worse since she had thought he would ask her to marry him that night. What a fool she had been, she kept telling herself over and over. Her cell phone rang as she walked into her apartment. She glanced at it and saw that it was Ted. She didn’t answer. What was the point? He wasn’t going to change his mind. It was over. And all that was left now were pity and regret instead of love.