The Good Enough Husband (5 page)

“Were you planning the ascetic life of a monk?”

“I moved here to give myself time and space to work things out. I don’t want to repeat the same mistake again.”

Neither do I. She pushed up from the small couch. Hannah e
xtended her hand and he grabbed it. She tugged gently and he rose. For a moment, she thought of pulling him to the master bedroom that he’d shown her earlier, but her good sense won out.

“You need to go home, Ben.”

Reluctantly, he walked to the kitchen and grabbed his leather jacket from the back of one of the barstools. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen like it did.”

“Cody’s vet said he needs a break from driving.” She lifted the corners of her lips in a half-smile. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Can I have the keys?” Hannah held her hand out. “No more surprise visits.” He dropped the keys, heavy with a small anchor keychain, into her outstretched palm.

“I’ll be sure to keep the spare keys at home. I promise I won’t come in again without your invitation.” She heard both meanings in his words. As if all this artifice of keys, and locks, and doors would keep them apart.

He grabbed his own keys and headed toward the door. She followed him, ready to lock it in his wake. The kiss he planted on her forehead was unexpected and sweet all at the same time, disarming her.

“Good night, Ben.” She lightly touched his leather clad back.

“This isn’t goodbye, Hannah.”

3

Ben didn’t even bother to pull into his garage. He didn’t have the wherewithal to struggle with the door between the garage and the kitchen, swollen shut in its frame. Instead, he slammed his way from the car through the front door of his house. Sometimes he hated living between the mountains and the rocky pacific shore. He had no place to go when he needed to drive and work out the crap in his head without risking his life if he didn’t keep his full attention on the road.

More doors slammed in his wake. He couldn’t figure out if he was angry, frustrated, or horny. What had he done back there with that woman? He knew better than that. Just because she looked good and smelled good, didn’t mean Hannah would be good for him. How could he trust her not to use him and hurt him when she was done working out whatever was going on in her life? He didn’t
even trust his own judgment when he’d come up the fool more times than not.

Ben couldn’t believe he was on the verge of blue balls. God knew that hadn’t happened since he was a teenager. When he got to the end of the short hallway that connected the open living area with the back of his single-story home, he stalked into his bedroom and threw his jacket down on the mussed duvet. Why on earth did he have this huge king size bed? On nights like this one, its ma
ssive size reminded him how empty it was.

He seesawed between the idea of a cold shower and jerking off. Neither seemed satisfactory. Even thinking of the upcoming m
unicipal election wasn’t enough to ease the tightness in his pants. He thought back to his teenage years when this kind of problem had been constant. Back then, worries of his mother catching him with porno magazines was enough to cool any erection.

Snapping his fingers, he decided to call his parents. Now would be a good time to let them know about Hannah, and Cody. The distant ringing of their old style landline cooled him off quicker than a winter ice storm on the Finger Lakes. His mother answered. Her heavy Brooklyn accent, which hadn’t lessened one iota over the sixty or so years she’d spent outside of New York City, imm
ediately identified her.

“Hello.”

“Ma, it’s me, Ben.”

“You’re the only son I have. How could I not recognize your voice?”

“It’s about the Shelter Cove house.”

“Is something wrong?” She had that worried tone she always got during a phone call. Elaine Cooper was always wringing her hands about something. “Walter!” she cried out. He heard his f
ather’s shout from somewhere else in their house. “You better come here. Ben says there’s something wrong with the house.”

As his father got closer, Ben could hear his dad’s murmurs of regret about not installing a security system.

“Mom,” he called out, trying to get her attention. “There’s nothing wrong with the house. I’m calling to let you know that I’ve rented it out short term.”

“What’s that?” He could never figure out if she was losing her hearing or had never gotten the knack of a cord free phone.

“There was a woman who came into the practice. Her dog was sick, and I thought it would best if the dog recouped there a couple of weeks. Is that going to be okay?”

Ben heard a lot of noise as his father’s glasses hit the earpiece, and the click of the extension hanging up. Why did his parents have to share the phone? He’d seen them do it hundreds of times over the last forty years. They acted like it was 1965 and extension phone lines weren’t popular yet. They’d installed extra phone jacks when his sister was a teenager, but they still shared the hard-wired wall phone in the kitchen for the length of any conversation.

He repeated the whole spiel, waiting for their consent. They gave it, of course. He was their only son, and they found it hard to say no to him.

Ben knew, when his father got off the phone claiming a need for ice cream, and his mother paused a minute too long, that he was in for it. He should have claimed a pet emergency, and set off
his own pager. Age did not equal wisdom, at least where one’s parents were concerned.

“So, how well do you know this woman?”

“Ma, she’s a client in need.”

“Is she single? Do you plan to get to know her better?”

“Ma!” What was it about parents of children of a certain age? Why did they feel the need to pair them up?

“Are you going to ask her out on a date?” A date. His parents truly were a throwback to another era. If he explained the world of hook-ups, one-night stands, and online dating to them— they’d be rightly horrified. They still expected him to call a woman up, pick her up in his car, and pay for dinner
and
some form of entertainment, be it a movie or local theater.

No matter that they lived in a college town with free Wi-Fi ev
erywhere. In some ways, it would always be the 1950s for them.

“Ma, you know that I’m not looking to date right now.” He broke the news the same way he had dozens of times in the last two years. “I’m not getting married again, Mom.” Abbe, his older sister by eighteen months was the fecund one in his little family of four. She’d married right out of graduate school, and quit her job as a therapist as soon as she had her first child. As far as he could tell, she was a happy stay-at-home mother of three. “You have Abbe and the kids to dote on.”

“And there’s Marty, too. You haven’t met their new little one. He’s a real cutie.”

Static broke the minute long silence. He didn’t talk about Ma
rty. Ever. His mother heaved a deep sigh. In it, he heard her disappointment, but on the issue of Marty, he wasn’t going to budge.

“You know, we never did think Samara was your type. You should have married someone more like you, more down to earth. Whatever happened to that girl you dated in Ithaca? What was her name?”

For ten more minutes, he trudged down his dating memory lane with his mother, reminding her that she didn’t like the ones who were now perfect, and how they’d loved Samara until the divorce. His father asked his mother something and her response was muffled by her hand over the mouthpiece.

“Ben, I have to go. Don’t worry about charging this woman anything. I wouldn’t want money to come between you two. It’s not every day a single woman wanders into your life.”

“Ma, her being single is not her only redeemable characteristic. She’s pretty, too.” He could have slapped himself for falling right into that trap.

“Well, Benji honey, I’m glad you’re taking a look at her other traits.”

He flushed, glad she couldn’t see the embarrassment now emblazoned high on his cheeks.

“Is she Jewish?”

“Samara’s Jewish.”

“
Touché
.” Mercifully, she let him off the hook. “Maybe she could leave a check for a few dollars for the utilities and housekeeper? But please keep an eye on the dog. We’ve had a no pet policy and there are quite a few breakables there. She doesn’t have a lab, does she?”

“It’s a Shepherd mix, Ma,” he answered, purposefully leaving out the Labrador part of Cody’s genetic equation. Labs had busy
tails. They were legendary about knocking things over. He’d be sure to stop by in the morning and move anything precious Cody could unintentionally destroy.

“I’m glad you’ll be there to keep an eye on things. She ended calls as she always did, quickly and without ceremony. “Okay, bye-bye, Benji, honey. We have to go now.”

He looked at the silent receiver in his hand. For a moment there, he suspected his mother was doing anything she could to push him and
single
Hannah together. When had a woman’s availability become the only thing parents needed to know before shoving their son in her direction? Either way, he had an excuse to see Hannah tomorrow.

***

Ben probably felt even more lost than Cody did as he sat on Hannah’s single front step the next morning. He’d knocked, but there’d been no answer. He’d peered through the garage’s tiny windows. The black SUV was still there. He stretched out his long legs on the tiny strip of pavement between the front door and the street, feeling ridiculous.

Now he wished he had a phone. Fiddling with the tiny compu
ter surely made one look more busy and important than they were. His parents’ neighbors were probably wondering if he was locked out, or taking the most uncomfortable break ever. He was saved by Hannah coming around the corner, Cody in tow and plastic bag in hand. Today she wore slim jeans that didn’t taper at the ankle in today’s replication of the unfortunate 80’s trend, and leather boots. He looked up from his low vantage point and took in the form-fitting sweater. It was a mess of uneven tan and white stripes, expanding over her generous breasts. Even though she was covered from neck to toe, his imagination was on fire. It was only when she got closer that Ben realized Hannah was on the phone.

***

Hannah had slid her finger across the screen, accepting Michael’s call when his face lit up the screen. She kept the other hand tight on Cody’s leash.

“You didn’t answer your phone last night,” he said without preamble.

“I was driving. I needed time to work through what you said.”

She could hear pain in his voice. “I wish you were here,” he said. A better wife would be with him now. A year ago she would have been that wife. But for better or worse, their marriage was over.

“I really need this time and space to get my head together.”

“I still don’t understand why you can’t think down here—at home. We have the beach. I wouldn’t have bothered you. You could have had your solitude.”

That wasn’t exactly true. Michael had turned out to be a much needier husband than she anticipated. He’d seemed so self-possessed, so self-assured all those years they’d been friends in New York. Two independent people coming together for companionship, occasional sex, and child rearing had been the tacit understanding. But, he had taken their vows so very seriously. He wanted and expected a wife with a capital ‘W.’ Michael needed the reassurance of a wife who loved him totally. It had exhausted her trying to be all of that. She needed space to acquire the courage to tell him it was over. If she’d stayed within his gravitational pull, she would never escape his orbit.

“I know, Michael,” she lied. “I wanted to get away for a while. I’ll be back soon enough.”

There was long pause. “I still want to create a family with you. We can talk about a sperm donor or maybe even adoption. I did some research on the internet last night…”

“Stop, Michael. Stop. I think we should talk about all of this, about us, when I come back.”

“Where are you, anyway?”

“I’m in some place called Shelter Cove, on the Lost Coast or something like that. Cody was carsick, so I decided to stop here.” She could hear him at his desk, probably searching for her location on his computer.

“It says here that there’s an airport there. I can probably make arrangements to join you for the weekend.”

She turned back on Sea Court and could see Ben’s long legs stretched out on her front walk.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Hannah let Michael talk more. He was probably trying to pe
rsuade her that they’d be better off together, but she couldn’t hear him. She had eyes and ears only for Ben.

Sandwiching the phone between her shoulder and face, her eyes met Ben’s. With one hand, she pitched the plastic bag in the garbage bin his parents had sheltered with a little wooden fence. She handed Cody’s leash to him.

“Good morning. Glad I didn’t wake you,” Ben said.

“Who is that?” Michael asked in her ear.

“It’s Ben.”

“Ben?”

“Dr. Ben Cooper. He helped Cody out yesterday. I have to go.” Hannah ended the call with a tap of her finger.

She stuffed the phone in her back pocket and continued their conversation as if she’d never been on the phone.

“I slept like a rock after all that driving, the wine, the waves.” Hannah gestured to the front door. “Let me wash my hands.”

“Can I come in?” he asked. Though they’d had some intimate moments, he didn’t want to assume he’d be welcome. Being ma
rried and
not
being married had taught him that he liked his space, and he was sure she liked hers. Her car hadn’t been filled with a gaggle of spa-seeking girlfriends, so alone time was probably a premium.

She waved him in, and he trailed in her wake, her light scent beckoning him. “I think we’re beyond formalities.” Hannah e
xcused herself and he heard the taps go on and off upstairs. Cody lay on the third step keeping a keen eye on him. This time, she came only partway down the stairs, sitting on an upper step, rubbing cream into her palms. He could understand her desire to keep some distance between them until they could get a better handle on what was going on between them. Sex, lust, and desire had a way of confusing things.

“So,” she said, gesturing expansively.

“I’m off this morning, so I thought I’d help you get some groceries, coffee—you drink coffee, right?” When she nodded, he continued. “Maybe we could even share a little breakfast.”

“Oh,” she hesitated for a long time, and he thought he’d be out on his ass any minute. “I guess that’s okay.”