Heart's Desire by Laura Pedersen

state-of-the-art, computer-generated storyboard for a sixty-second television ad. But in my current state of mindless-ness all I can think of are those stupid commercials where a well-meaning neighbor comes to your home for a party, discovers spots on the glasses, and rushes you into the kitchen for a
serious
chat.
    When I finally pull into the driveway it’s almost midnight and all the downstairs lights are still on. Bernard has obviously been waiting by the window, because the front door swings open the second I turn off the engine.
    “Tell me about his appearance,” Bernard demands before I’ve even closed the car door behind me.
    “His wrist is broken,” I say angrily.
    “Oh horrors!” But Bernard appears almost giddy. “I should have sent vichyssoise. Surely he needs someone to come help keep up with the cooking and cleaning.”
    “I can’t believe you set me up like this!” I burst out. “You lied to me!”
    “What?” He is a study in wide-eyed innocence.
    I storm right past Bernard and on into the house. “Women! He said he wants to date women!” Even if Gil didn’t seem altogether convincing on the subject, this appears to be his intention.
    “That’s absolutely ludicrous!” insists Bernard. “Anyway, I told you he had a crisis after his brother died.”
    “Bernard, the man wants to get married and have children. You call that a crisis?”
    “All right then, it’s a phase.”
    “You’d better tell that to Doris.”
    “Doris?” His jaw goes slack and he looks stunned, as if he’s just taken a blow to the head. “
Who
is
Doris
?”
    “His
girlfriend.
” I don’t say this in a mean way, but more like
Hello!
    Bernard crumples into the chair in the hallway as if he would have fallen directly onto the floor without it.
    But by now I’m so exhausted I could cry. Ignoring Bernard’s latest scene I head for the kitchen and pour a glass of water to take with me out to the summerhouse.
    “Wait! Come back here!” He leaps up and chases after me.
    “What?” Now I’m feeling cranky and a little bit mean, too, after being deceived and made to look like a complete idiot in front of Gil. “I’m going to bed!”
    “Oh Hallie, this is terrible! What am I going to
do
?” Bernard isn’t being melodramatic now. I can see the fear and loss in his eyes.
    Only I’m too worn out to be properly sympathetic. Not to mention that I’m currently the
last person on earth
who should be giving relationship advice. “You want my honest opinion? I think you’re going to have to get over him and find a new boyfriend.”
    Bernard props himself up against the kitchen counter, still looking shell-shocked. “Doris?” he hisses, as if the very name is an evil incantation.
    “We’ll talk about it tomorrow. I promise.” But I feel guilty leaving him in such a state. “In fact, we’ll do an Internet search on her and find out about any bad debts or if she’s done time in jail.” My roommate Robin had succeeded in ruining the life of a stepfather she despised by discovering that he was wanted for child support and back taxes in Maryland.
    Bernard doesn’t rise to the bait, though. He stumbles into a chair at the kitchen table and lets his head fall onto his arms.
    “Gil served Pepperidge Farm cookies and instant coffee,” I say, trying to cheer him up. “And the tabletop is tangerine-colored Formica.”
    “Do me a favor and get the aspirin from the bathroom.” Bernard mumbles something about getting a tension headache worse than Bette Davis had in the movie
Dark Victory.
    I retrieve a bottle of Bayer out of the medicine cabinet and hand him the last two capsules. The Stocktons aren’t exactly pill poppers, and so a bottle of anything lasts a long time around here, at least since Olivia’s husband, who everyone simply called
the Judge,
passed away. I fill a glass with water, leave it in on the table, and then kiss Bernard good night on the cheek. His face resembles a great empty fireplace, where all