Authors: Paul Watkins
“I’ve asked Mary to keep the kids upstairs until we leave. If they come down now we’ll never get out of here,” Sheri offers. “If you want to say good-bye to them, Phil, please go to their room and say it up there.”
I acknowledge her comment with a nod, but I don’t think I’ll do it just yet. Martha has prepared breakfast and, as usual, everyone is having something different. A.J. is having eggs, toast and coffee; Sheri a few pieces of cut-up fruit… they are just about finished when Karen makes her grand entrance.
“Sorry I’m late,” she says in a tired voice. “I’m usually up early. I don’t know what got into me.”
“I bet if you thought about it, you would take back that line,” Sheri says with a mischievous grin on her puss.
Does she really know what happened between us, or is it just a wild, on-the-money guess?
Karen looks puzzled for a moment and then her face glows bright red as she catches the meaning behind Sheri’s remark.
A.J. has his face buried in the sports section, but he observes Karen’s reaction as he turns the page.
“Holy shit! Look at her face. What did you say to her, Sheri? She looks like Rudy Reindeer’s fucking nose!”
“Mind your own business and watch your mouth, A.J.,” Sheri admonishes, making it clear she’s the only one allowed to make fun of Karen. “Just go back and look at the pictures. If you like, I’ll get your crayons so you can color for a while before we go.”
She turns to Karen with a professional air. “Working with his crayons always calms him before a long trip.”
A.J. makes a face at her back and then dives behind his paper before he can be caught. Karen hasn’t looked directly at me yet, but sooner or later she will have to. It will be equally damning to ignore me, I think. Finally she steals a glance and I do my best to give her my most indiscriminate smirk. Martha finally comes to her rescue with some toast and coffee. Thistrip is beginning to look like it has possibilities.
***
The ride to the airport and subsequent flight to Toronto are uneventful. After landing we limo into the city where we have reservations at the King Edward hotel, a grand old establishment from another era. The management has kept it as modern as possible without losing its old-world charm in the process. High ceilings and massive walls bespeak a construction process used today only in government buildings because of the excessive costs involved. Governments are the only buyers left who can afford such costs. People who pay taxes have to balance their budgets.
I check us in and walk across the foyer to the ladies and A.J., handing each a room key as I join the group.
“I told them who you were, A.J., and we were able to get a rate.”
“Jesus, Phil,” A.J. exclaims with concern as he pockets his key, “I hope you didn’t give them the idea I would perform or anything. This is supposed to be a vacation.”
“No problem,” I reply in the most solemn tone I can muster for the occasion, “in order to get the rate, the only condition they imposed was that you would promise not to perform. I get the impression they’re not real big on rap music here at the King Edward.”
There’s a moment’s hesitation before Sheri shrieks with laughter. Then Karen joins in while A.J. stands silently watching the merriment.
“You know,” he says with a degree of hauteur, “for people who are living off the income derived from my considerable talent, you all have a very strange sense of what’s funny.” He continues to look indignant for as long as he can before a slight smile breaks into fullblown laughter.
Sheri suddenly stops laughing and assumes a chastened look on her pretty face.
“A.J. is right,” she says, “it’s not funny when you think about it.” She has A.J. nodding in agreement as she pauses for effect. “It’s actually pretty damned awful when you get right down to it.”
Certain now where she’s headed… not that there was much doubt… A.J. reacts quickly.
“All right, all right, enough of this shit at my expense. If we can’t find someone else to ridicule, then I would rather have lunch. You guys ready?”
“How about thirty minutes?” Sheri counters. “I want to go to our room first.”
Everyone agrees and we head for the elevators. We have adjoining rooms on the same floor. Karen and I are about to enter our room when it dawns on
A.J. that we are staying together. Never one to miss an opportunity, he jumps right in.
“Hey, hey, hey! What’s going on here, Philip, my man? Sheri, did you know about this?”
I decide an explanation is in order.
“I’m just trying to economize, A.J. I checked at the desk and these rooms are horrendously expensive. Otherwise I would never dream of sharing accommodations. But I want you to know that no sacrifice is too great.”
For this I get a solid shot in the ribs from Karen.
“Expensive, you say,” A.J. replies with a look of concern. Perhaps we should all stay in one room and really economize.”
The grin on his face would do any wolf proud. I must admit, the man is full of ideas, but this one isn’t going to fly from the look on Sheri’s face. She grabs him by the seat of his pants and drags him towards his room.
“What do you think of Mr. Innocence, here?” He asks Sheri, trying to look indignant and composed at the same time, which is tough to do when you’re being dragged around by your ass.
“Philip’s just going to help her with her luggage,” Sheri observes with a straight face, which doesn’t quite make it.
“Oh he’s going to help her with her luggage all right,” A.J. says as Sheri opens their door. “He’s also going to help her out with the laundry she’s got on… in fact he’s going to pry it loose with the ol’ Johnson bar. He’s going to… “
The slamming door muffles the remainder of his sentence, but one doesn’t need much imagination to guess what he might have said.
Karen’s leaning against the doorjamb, arms folded, her legs crossed at the ankles, “Do you think he knows what’s going on?” she asks.
“Not a clue,” I reply. The door swings shut behind me and I look at my watch. “We have twenty-eight minutes.”
“Plenty of time,” she says with a grin, kicking hershoes across the room.
***
It’s a short walk to the subway and a quick ride to Yorkville. Here many trendy little shops reside as well as a few larger stores. We decide to have lunch at one of the quaint little eateries that seem to be everywhere, and then wander along the streets window-shopping. Eventually we make our way into an area where sex shops abound. There isn’t exactly a line drawn across the sidewalk, the pavement isn’t painted red or anything like that, but the change in the neighborhood is sudden and dramatic. As Karen realizes where we are, she grabs my arm and turns me around in an elaborate swinging motion, sort of like one would maneuver an eighteen-wheeler on a four-lane highway.
“This is the last thing you need help with,” she says with authority. “I’m afraid if we go into one of these stores I’m going to see your nude body on a poster orsomething. For the rest of this trip I want you to take a nice cold shower the minute we get to our room.”
I do my best to ignore her little outburst while A.J. and Sheri laugh.
“What’s the matter, Karen,” A.J. asks, “did you think Phil keeps himself in good shape just for the hell of it? I guess I’m surprised he brought only one woman on this trip. Of course, he could have another one stashed in Ottawa in case you crap out on him.”
When A.J. warms to his subject, as he is obviously about to do, it’s hard to shut him down and I’m not even going to try. He wraps his arm around me and with a look of adoration continues, “I must admit, my man, you are fast becoming my idol. Tell me, is ‘fucked out’ covered under our hospitalization insurance?”
“It’s a rider,” I reply.
“All right,” Sheri interjects, “that’s enough out ofyou two.
***
As the trip wears on, we fall into a predictable routine. We shop until A.J. and I drop. Then the two of us look for a suitable tavern where we hole up until the girls get ready to retire from the field of bargain hunting. Sitting in a tavern is great, comfortable chairs, a warm room, a good drink and peace and quiet, and no more standing around and waiting. ‘Try this on. It looks wonderful, but this is even better. This color is perfect for you. Here, try this on… ‘ and on… and on. No question… taverns are much better.
“Well, Phil,” A.J. begins, “are you in love, or are you in lust? Before you answer I should tell you that my wife thinks you are, madly in love, that is.” He rolls his eyes for emphasis.
“No, I can safely say I am not in love. Of course I’m in lust. Hell, who wouldn’t be? Karen’s a knockout. Look, she’s very nice and I like her a lot, but talking about love at this stage of the game is crazy.”
“Sheri thinks you might be hearing wedding bells before too long,” A.J. persists.
This is startling news and irresponsible to boot.
“Jesus, A.J., talk to her. She might start talking to Karen about that nonsense.”
“What do you have against marriage?”
It’s obvious from his unsuccessful efforts to hide his mirth that this whole affair is quite amusing to my employer. I ignore his antics and continue the conversation as though I were talking to a normal, responsible adult.
“Nothing. Marriage is okay. I was married for a long time and it was a wonderful experience. But I think I was lucky and I don’t want to push my luck any farther right now. I’m not even slightly interested in marriage. Haven’t thought about it and don’t plan to.”
“Suppose Karen calls the question. What if she says you guys get married or else it’s over?”
“Then it would be over,” I reply. “It wouldn’t make her a bad person or anything like that. We would just have a different idea of what we want out of life. I can’t imagine a girl hanging around long enough for me toget comfortable with the idea of actually getting married.”
A.J. leans forward and puts his elbows on the table. “What do you mean, get comfortable? Are you talking about time?”
“Right. Time is certainly a part of it. I think too many people rush into marriage without really getting to know the other person. At my age and stage in life I don’t need that kind of problem. As far as Karen is concerned, I think this is a fling. And the truth of the matter is… I’m too old for her anyway… or she’s too young for me… however you want to put it. We get along fine now, but there’s a lot more to a marriage than having a few drinks and going to bed.”
A.J. nods. “You mentioned the age thing to Sheri before and she thinks you’re over-reacting. I guess I do, too. You guys aren’t that far apart in years. It’ll work out… just take it one day at a time.”
“It won’t be a problem if you keep your wife under control.”
A.J. laughs. “Why don’t you ask me to do something easy, like run a sub-four minute mile, bring peace to the Middle-East, or solve the mystery of the Holy Grail? You know how she is when it comes to romance… she has to meddle.” He waves his hand dismissing the subject. “Ah to hell with it. Let her screw it up for you. She’ll do you a favor. That way you won’t be the bad guy and you’ll be one up on Sheri for messing with your love life. It would serve her right.”
I can’t help but smile. “Sounds like a plan.”
We manage to arrive back at the estate around mid-day. Everything seems quiet and serene, but no sooner do we set foot in the foyer than the kids come boiling down the stairs to see their parents, so much for quiet and serenity. Unlike most children their ages, they don’t expect any presents. A.J. and Sheri decided a long time ago to forgo any gifts for the children when returning home from trips. A.J. traveled too often and it would send the wrong message they thought. Karen and I decide to take the kids for a walk after lunch, before she leaves for the city. Cooped up in the house for a few days, they look like they can use some exercise and they waste no time charging on ahead. Kids are far less likely to present problems if their energy is directed and that’s particularly true with these two.
It’s only mid-afternoon, but it’s already growing dark as the late November sun quickly descends in the western sky. The trees are bare, their skeletal outlines standing in sharp profile against the slow moving clouds. The wind is gentle, but there’s a timely, seasonal edge to it, telegraphing its intentions… it’s going to get cold soon. We don’t walk far before Karen breaks the easy silence with a question.
“What are your plans for the holidays?” she asks.
“I haven’t thought about the holidays,” I reply. “I suppose I’ll stay here. I really don’t have anything to do… how about you?”
“Let me ask you something else before I answer your question,” she counters. “What’s going to happen to us? Where do we stand?”
I suppose it’s a fair question, but I’m no more prepared to discuss it with her now than I was with A.J. in Canada. Nothing has changed. I guess I have to tell her that much at least.
“I’m not sure I have a good answer for you,” I begin. “However, first please understand that I want very much for our relationship to continue and have a chance to develop. I want to spend time with you and give us an opportunity to get to know one another. At the same time, I would like things to happen naturally… that is, I don’t want to put pressure on us to do something or not do something by a certain date or within a certain timeframe. I like everything about you… absolutely everything. I just don’t want to rush into anything.”
I don’t know if there’s a better time or place for this, or if it’s going to be difficult and uncomfortable no matter where or when we discuss it. I guess I somehow think of these things as occurring over time without any particular plan or agenda. Maybe our situation is natural, but it just doesn’t feel right. It feels forced, like ‘Relationship’ is a line item on a ‘to-do’ list. From the look on Karen’s face it’s obvious this isn’t going well at all. Anger flashes in her eyes, then evaporates almost as fast as it appears. She looks down and away and now seems to be lost in thought. There’s a lot going on in that pretty head of hers.
“How about my question? Do you have plans for the weekend? Would you like to get together?” I persist against my better judgment.