Authors: J. Larsen
Ch7
When Jessica woke her hand was between her legs.
She sat up and moved to the edge of the mattress, disgusted by the dream and her reaction to it.
Y
ou’ve got to get a grip, Jess.
She looked in the bathroom mirror and wondered if she could pretend that last night had never happened.
It was just a kiss, right?
I did the right thing in the end, didn’t I?
But Jessica remembered chasing after Martin, and she knew that she had been very close to doing precisely the wrong thing.
She looked at her husband asleep in the bed.
She felt empty, like a slow sickness had begun to eat away at her from the inside.
Joel slept until mid-morning.
Jessica had coffee, orange juice, and slices of watermelon ready for him.
“You need to re-hydrate, Sweetheart.”
She stroked his forehead, and he managed a pitiful crooked smile.
The pair spent the day in their room watching TV.
Joel nursed his hangover while his wife tended to him.
Jessica busied herself cleaning and organizing the room and caring for her husband.
She ironed their clothes and inventoried the kitchen, compulsively counting the plates and cups.
She shooed Joel out of bed onto the sofa then fretted over every wrinkle as she straightened out the sheets then the comforter.
The pillows received a vigorous fluffing before she double-checked the clothes, shaking them out and folding them for a second time.
That evening Jess lay next to her husband and stroked his arm.
She was on her fourth travel-sized bottle of wine and the sharp edge of her anxiety had been filed down to a smooth rounded corner.
“I’ll take care of you today,
hun
.
You just relax and feel better.
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow, I’m going to fuck your brains out.”
Jess squeezed his bicep and smiled wickedly.
“Tomorrow?
During the day?
How about tomorrow night, babe?
Martin invited me to go deep sea fishing tomorrow.
For free.”
Joel looked at her hopefully.
“What?
Listen Joel, we’re going to stay away from Martin Timmons, okay?
That guy is bad news.
Trust me.”
“Oh come on, Jessica.
Really?
A fishing trip like this is expensive.
When am I going to get another chance like this?
Bad news?
Martin’s a good guy.”
Joel rubbed his temples as if the budding argument was further aggravating his headache.
“Joel, I just think we should stay away from him, okay?”
Jessica began rubbing her husband’s shoulder.
“I don’t know what’s going on with you Jess.
It’s just a one day fishing trip.
I promise to take care of you when I get back.
The rest of our trip will be just us.
We’ve got plenty of time left.”
Joel closed his eyes and turned away from her.
“Joel, listen to me.
Martin hit on me the other night.”
She had a nauseous feeling deep in her stomach.
Joel remained quiet for a long time.
“I’m sure you’re mistaken.
Martin wouldn’t do that.
You just misinterpreted him.”
“I didn’t misinterpret anything.”
“Martin’s married, Jessica.
He has a gorgeous wife.
Catherine is a fucking ten.
Why would he hit on you?
You’re mistaken.”
Joel’s mood was suddenly sour.
“It’s just one day Jessica.
It’s just a fishing trip.
We’ll be back early.”
Jessica supposed that she knew what her husband was insinuating.
Why would someone want a girl like you, Jessica, when they can have a Catherine Timmons?
Catherine had never looked up from the filth of a public school hallway at the terrible grinning teeth of a teen mob.
Her mother had never pinched the fat on her midsection or grounded her for sneaking sweets.
Catherine had never been overweight or poor or preyed-upon; she would never know rejection or humiliation.
What man in his right mind would choose Jessica over a woman like her?
Jess looked at the outline of her husband’s back as he turned away from her and hunched under the covers.
Tears streamed down her cheeks.
“You can be a real jerk sometimes.”
She climbed off the
bed, slipped on her shoes, and headed towards the ocean.
The beach was cloudy and grey.
Young island boys worked quickly tearing down the umbrellas and picking up chairs to stow for the night.
Out over the water, lightning flashes illuminated the sky.
A thunderstorm was moving toward the resort and an increasing wind had begun to warn of its impending arrival.
Jessica walked along the beach until her calves burned from trudging through the loose sand.
By the time she turned back to the bungalow the wind had begun to whip the sand and she had to cover her eyes with her forearm like a Bedouin trekking through the desert.
Jessica reached the bungalow just before the rain started.
She washed up quietly and slipped into her nightclothes.
Joel was asleep and Jess listened to the steady rhythm of his breathing.
She crawled under the covers and snaked her arm around his chest.
He was warm and she snuggled closer.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered to herself.
Last night’s illicit kiss hung over her like the thunderclouds outside.
“I’ll never do it again.”
She wiped her tear-stained cheeks using the corner of the clean white bed sheet.
---
The sun streamed through the gap in the curtains.
Jessica rolled over in bed and felt for her husband.
His side of the bed was cool and empty.
Joel had slipped away while she slept.
Jessica remembered; fishing with Martin Timmons.
She cursed herself for sleeping in.
Why hadn’t she stopped her husband?
She found the note taped to the bathroom mirror:
My Jess,
I hope you can forgive me for leaving you this morning.
I made Martin promise that we would be home just after lunch.
I won’t be gone long –it’s only a few hours- and I know you like your alone time.
Remember that book you had been planning to start?
I promise you my undivided attention for the rest of our honeymoon, and for many years to follow.
Wish me luck!
Love, Joel
She kept telling herself he would be back soon, but the time crawled by.
Jessica kept re-reading the first few pages of her book.
She scanned the words but they failed to make an impression.
Her mind was wondering to her husband together with that awful, manipulative man.
She should be with Joel –without Martin.
It was their honeymoon after all, and there is something to be said for comfortable shoes.
Jessica ordered in for lunch, but didn’t touch her food.
She sat staring at the tray and fiddling with the square of paper that had been folded next to her plate.
A real classy place.
Paper, fucking napkins.
She tore off the corner and laid it next to her fork.
Jess picked away bits of the napkin until she had created a small mountain of tiny paper scraps on the corner of the tray.
She tore off a sliver of paper and placed it on top of the pile, surveyed the peak and added another scrap.
Had that man told Joel anything?
They’re late.
She added one last triangle of paper before balling up what was left of the napkin.
It bounced off the side of the trashcan and Jess frowned as it scooted across the floor.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
She dumped the contents of the tray into the trash, then stooped to retrieve and deposit the errant shot with the rest of the garbage.
Why the hell did you kiss him, Jessica?
The afternoon passed with no sign of Joel.
Jess had given up on her novel and had instead found some drinks in the mini-bar.
Three travel-sized bottles of a red dinner wine had gone down easily.
Jess was a little tipsy and more than a little annoyed.
Joel was usually so prompt.
She wiped her bloodshot eyes.
Why the hell are you crying so much, Jessica?
Her next swig was the last of another little bottle of wine, a white.
She grimaced.
This stuff is shit.
I should call for some more red.
She set the empty bottle next to the three others on the coffee table, before grabbing a throw pillow to hug while curling up on the sofa.
It was dark outside when Jessica pulled the curtain closed.
She looked at the glowing red display of the alarm clock on the nightstand; ten-seventeen.
She imagined her husband’s water-bloated body washing up in the surf, killed by his homicidal fishing partner.
She paced in the dark, turned on the television, scanned a few channels, and turned it off again.
In the bathroom she was shocked by the state of her makeup.
Waterproof mascara.
Bullshit.
She scrubbed her face until her skin was a raw pink color.
A survey of the mini fridge revealed that she was low on booze.
There were a few beers left, but Jessica wasn’t much for beer.
Fuck it.
She loosened the cap off the bottle with a pop.
Jess laughed manically, “Best honeymoon, ever.”
She took a great gulp then poured the rest of the foul drink down the drain.
“Jess, I’m sorry.”
It was ten-thirty.
“I really didn’t know we would be so late.
It was a misunderstanding.
There ended up being these other guys.
The guide couldn’t bring the boat in for me.
And it wasn’t like I was paying.
I had to wait it out.”
Joel was all apologies.
“You’ve been crying?
Baby, I’m sorry.
I’ll make it up to you.”
Joel cuddled up to her on the sofa and she buried her face in his shoulder.
“I thought you were dead.”
She started crying again then laughing at the silliness of it all.
He was laughing with her, and rocking her gently.
“Damn it Joel,” she swatted him with her pillow and scrunched her face at him in frustration.
“You smell like fish.”
As she listened to the sound of the shower, Jessica felt the tension seep away.
Her anxiety fled like the pressure seeping out under the cap of a carbonated soda after the seal has been broken. She lay back on the sofa, and breathed, seemingly for the first time in twenty four hours.
How did she let herself get so shaken-up, anyways?
Joel crawled into bed.
“You smell better,” she said.
He laughed and took her in his arms.
She was naked and ready for her husband.
Jessica placed his hand on her breast and he smiled at her as he felt the stiff nipple.
She leaned to kiss him.
His breath tasted clean and cold and she shivered.
It seemed like months since the last time.
Jess pressed into him aggressively, surprising Joel.
Her husband was gentle and patient.
Kiss me harder, she thought.
Kiss me like… Jessica cringed.
No.
I’m not going to think of him.