Trouble Won't Wait (28 page)

There I go, rolling my eyes again.

“Tell her
no
, and I’m going out of town.”

“Where ya goin’?”

“I’m not. I just don’t want her pesterin’ the shit outta me. You either. Get lost!” My arms are crossed in my full pout posture, but I’m swaddled under my comforter so he can’t see.

“Thought I’d hang here and watch TV.”

“
Mark
!” Why does he have to bully me now? I start crying, which I know he hates. Girl tears are too much for him to handle. “Please, I have stomach flu. Just go away. Leave me be!”

Thank God, mention of stomach flu on top of my tears is enough to run him off. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Don’t!”

As the door swings shut, I hear, “I will.” Smug bastard.

I bury my head under the pillow, crying and half hoping the oxygen supply will be too little to sustain me.

Someone is prolonging the hell of my life by pulling the pillow away. I look up to find Mike, my gorgeous, devastated, soon-to-be ex. Sitting on the couch next to my middle, he looks like I feel. His eyes are ringed and puffy, and his skin looks a little green.

I let him wipe my tears away and brush back my hair. Hard to believe he’d still want to comfort me after what I did to him. I’d rather hate him, but he’s making it hard. Why is he being so good to me? That’s simple: because he loves me. If I tell him about loving Adam, will he go away? I’d rather have him angry at me. Then I could reciprocate, and the fury would eclipse my guilt.

I’m going to tell him. I can’t stand this kindness, him feeling like he’s responsible for my hurting. He is, in a way. But he has no inkling what I’m truly distraught over at this point. I’ve grieved for my marriage, moved on to a fresh pain. I’ll swallow my self-righteous pride over not physically cheating on him, even though I’ll be relinquishing my position of higher moral ground above him.

“Mike, I have something to tell–”

But he cuts me off. “I want you to know, I didn’t plan to keep it up with Lana. I really messed up that first night. Then she kept calling me, and you didn’t want me…” He tips his head back and squeezes his eyes shut tight, trying to hold back tears. “I never did anything like that before, I swear it.” He’s still stroking my hair, and in spite of my resolve to never believe him again, I do. “Maybe we should give it a month. Even the score, like Baldwin said. You go out with whoever you want, do whatever you need to. After the month, if you’ll have me again, we’ll patch things up, with a real therapist this time.”

Whoa, Nellie! Is this guy desperate, or madly in love and truly repentant? Isn’t bargaining one of the stages of grieving too?

“Mike, I don’t think we could get past that.” Could we? He looks serious, but he can’t be thinking clearly right now.

“We can if we try, baby. Please, just think about it.” He gathers me up, holding me against him like he’ll never let me go. I’m starting to think maybe he
won’t
, when he lowers me gently back to the sofa. His lips touch mine momentarily before he rises. “Let me know when you decide, okay?” With that, he departs.

* * * *

Why is it when you have something on your mind and can’t sleep, the dark of night lasts twenty or more hours? I’d swear I’ve been on this couch for a good week, but the clock says it’s only been about fifteen hours.

About eleven PM, my cell rings, quite a few times. I don’t want to think about who it is.

Did Adam sneak off to call me? Is he calling to tell me
not
to call him like usual? Or maybe Laura had to go back to wherever she’s been.
Texas
.

So maybe he’s alone now, and wants to pick up where we left off. Cheating bastard. If I hadn’t surprised him, would he have told me?
Rat
bastard.

I haven’t even eaten anything, and I need to throw up. Why bother? There’s nothing left to heave. I’m just staying here and ignoring it.

God, she was beautiful. Even pregnant. I was cute pregnant, but not beautiful. I wonder if the pregnancy is the reason he said no like that when I asked if he had kids? Doesn’t think unborn children count, I guess.

Which reminds me, I haven’t taken the flippin’ birth control pill today. I guess I’d better haul my dehydrated butt in the kitchen and take it. Who knows, I might feel up to releasing some sexual tension by New Year’s. Maybe I’ll sleep with Dumb or Dumber just to spite Mark for being happily married. Danny’s the cute one. He’d be my choice.

I could sleep with him, for a whole month if I want, and Mike will take me back. I could have as many flings as I want in that month, and he’ll take me back. Could our marriage ever be the same, though? There are two major things I can’t see myself getting past. First, his physical infidelity. How will I ever trust him to resist temptation again? How will I feel the next time he goes hunting, or anywhere I can’t keep track of him? The other thing is, I’m not sure I’ll ever feel the same again, after falling for Adam.

I’ve made it to one AM. Great, only five more hours to morning proper. And then what, huh? A long
day
of nothing. No purpose, no reason.

I’m not suicidal. My kids are reason to go on, but not much help right this minute. I could write, but my romance would end up a tragedy. I used to do poetry. Morose and depressed always works with poetry.

I dig out a legal pad and pen. Wish I had my voice recorder.

Wonder which hurts more,

A fresh love torn from my heart,

Or losing one I’ve years adored?

How ’bout angry?

You tricked me and you suck.

I wanta make you hurt and cry,

Flat the tires on your truck,

Hit you ’til you tell me why.

That could be about either Adam or Mike. Maybe something silly.

’Manda Lawson shrunk her ass,

Met a guy who made a pass,

When she found out he was hitched,

Impotence on him she wished.

I write until dawn, scribbling and scratching, and listening to the CD I made for Adam, until I can no longer ignore the need to retch. Christmas is all gone now, so I guess it doesn’t matter that he was what I wanted for Christmas. I guess he was just a silly flirtation.

Once I convince my heart of that, I’ll be fine.

Chapter 17

I’m standing in front of the damn treadmill. Ben thinks it has been used a lot because it has five hundred miles on its running odometer. I know Adam ran five or more miles a day on it, so he probably bought it after he moved here in September. I’m going to try it out. I put a check in the mail yesterday after the kids left; Adam should get it today. Wonder if he’ll cash it?

I have my running shoes on, and I’m on the treadmill. It’s so much softer than running on sidewalks and pavement. I love it outside, though. I love ending my walks at Adam’s. I guess that won’t be happening anymore. I’ll change my route, so I don’t end up bawling at the end of every run.

I’m bawling now just thinking of it. I’m stopping. I’ll just lie here on the squishy track and cry some. It smells a little like his basement still. I wish he’d left an old sweaty towel or something on it, with his smell.

God, how pathetic
am
I? I’m going back to the couch, where it’s respectable for a newly separated wife to lie and cry.

I should probably shower, but I’d rather wallow here in my pit of sadness, like a pig in its mud.

* * * *

Somebody is banging on my door. I think it’s afternoon, judging by the sun sneaking through the cord holes of the mini blinds. I’m not answering it. Maybe they’ll think I died and they won’t bother me again.

When they’ve gone, and I’m up taking the dumb birth control pill for Saturday, Mike pulls up in the garage.

He looks about as bad as I feel. He comes to me and asks with sad blue eyes, “Are you sure you want me to go again? I could just stay.”

I shake my head at him and look away.

While he’s digging around in his closet, I decide I might as well shower. Gets me away from seeing his pathetic butt and letting pity creep in.

I’m out and dressed when the doorbell rings. Jesus, can’t people leave me alone?

It’s Brad. Might as well let him in.

“Hey.” I sound more peppy than I feel–or
look
, with big dark bags under my eyes.

“Hey. I came by earlier, but you weren’t home.”

I wasn’t out, Brad, just out of my mind
.

His green eyes look me up and down. He hands me the voice recorder. “Nice little conversation.”

“Brad, I’m sorry about that. I shouldn’t have given it to–”

He holds up his hand to stop me. “No, it was good, because Lana tried to deny it. She said you were lying about it all.”

No surprise. “Still, it was a suckass way to find out.” And since I orchestrated it, I feel responsible. Adam’s words echo in my head,
Do you take care of everybody?

Brad shrugs it off. “I wasn’t
serious
about her.”

“I didn’t think so.”

He’s looking at me funny. Well, not funny, so much as different. Kinda serious. Uh-oh. He’s moving closer, and I’m pretty glad I showered and brushed my teeth. I’m about to be kissed.

Like all welcome first kisses, it’s hot. He backs me against the front door, and it seems like he has extra hands–or very fast ones, because I feel him all over me. This isn’t a bad thing. My poor body has been so overstimulated and undersatisfied lately that I’m into it, baby, into it. He’s snaked his right hand inside my sweater and covered a breast. I’m debating going for it with Brad. The pure newness of it would make it hot; we couldn’t go wrong. Except Brad is a
friend
and it would be awkward later. Not just my friend, but Mike’s.

And Mike is, uh, standing behind Brad, coughing loudly. Brad’s lips break contact with mine and he turns to face Mike, but his hand remains in my shirt, and his full warm length is still pressed against me.

“Mike.” He nods in a friendly greeting, as if they just ran into each other at the auto parts store.

“Brad. Mind taking your hands off my wife?”

Brad shakes his head, keeps holding me. This
has
to feel good to Brad, after Mike moving in on his girlfriend. “Said she’s not your wife anymore.”

Is this even about me, or Lana? Or both? Will they fight? God, why isn’t Adam one of them? I want
Adam
.

Mike looks at me, pleading with his eyes for me to make Brad quit touching me. How can I pity him, when I witnessed his actual philandering
penetration
?

“It’s true, Mike,” I tell him. For emphasis, I hold my hand over Brad’s, even though I’m feeling a tad uncomfortable with the heat of the moment cooling to a warm glow.

“I’ll be back tomorrow.”

I’m not sure if that’s a threat, promise, or warning, from Mike. One thing I am sure of is there’s no way Mike could get over me dating other guys for a month.

When Mike leaves, I remove Brad’s hand from me, clearing my throat. “Brad, I appreciate the sentiment, but my head’s really not in that place yet.”
It’s not my head, so much as my heart
.

“Seemed to be a minute ago.”

“Yeah, well, it’s been awhile, but I can’t jump into anything right now, okay? I’ll get back to ya when I’m ready, I promise.”

He looks a little hurt, but a lot hopeful. And very cute. Probably the cutest single guy I know. Well, except Adam. Oh yeah, Adam’s not single. Keep forgetting.

To soften the blow, I kiss my fingers and touch them to Brad’s lips, which reminds me of doing that to Adam.

Brad sees tears and thinks I’m upset over my separation, so he leaves with a very friendly hug and the offer to call if I need “anything. Anything at all.”

* * * *

When my cell rings with
Jingle Bells
, I know it’s Ben.

“Hi, Bean,” I chirp, feeling almost happy, and doing a good job of faking for his sake.

“Hi, Mom, how you doin’?”

“Fine, honey. Are you having fun?”

“We swam and hung out by the pool almost all day. I’m real tired. Momma, what have you been doin’? Are you lonely?”

Oh, baby, am I
.

“No, no, I’ve been busy. Let’s see. I’ve written some poems, and I watched TV, and I used the treadmill. Ben, will you call your dad?”

I hear him sigh deeply. “Yeah, I will. He’s sad now, huh?”

“Yeah, I think he’s really gonna need some company. Can you help him?”

“Uh-huh. You’re a nice lady. You shouldn’t be takin’ care of him anymore.”

“It’s okay, honey. When you love somebody, it doesn’t go away. Remember that.”

“Mom, will you call Adam?”

No
. “We’ll see, honey.”

He takes it as a yes, since my “we’ll see” usually is. “Tell him thanks for giving us our money back, even though the pretty lady laughed at him.”