The Juggling Act

by Carol Maloney Scott

  She remains silent for another moment, and she glances towards me with a hint of…I’m not sure what. Longing. Defeat. Confusion.

  She takes my hand and leads me towards…the playground?

  We sit on a bench and marvel at the fact that the snow has already been cleaned off.

  “People in this neighborhood would be livid if their asses got wet while their tots frolic in the snow.”

  I smile at her reference to the neighborhood’s ‘poshness.’ She would die over the level of service in my parents’ neighborhood. There someone will practically carry you so your feet don’t get wet.

  She looks down at her gloved hands and takes a deep breath. “My gut tells me that I need to be careful. I want to trust my husband because that’s what we’re taught to do. All that ‘stand by your man’ crap.”

  I nod and I’m not sure where she’s going with this, or why we had to sit down to continue this discussion.

  “But I also don’t want to be the wife who believes obvious lies and says things like, ‘oh, of course I believe you were using those condoms to make balloon animals for the kids.’ You know, that idiot.”

  I can’t help but laugh at her attempt to lighten the moment. Is this a moment?

  “I understand. So you’re going to hear him out. That’s good.”

  Now I’m nodding like an idiot and wishing I had stayed in my office and minded my own business. What the hell did I hope to accomplish? She has parents and friends and a sister. She doesn’t need my advice or support. I steel myself and sit up straighter.

  No, I do not have any ulterior motives. Shut up, conscience.

  “I am going to hear what he has to say. He’s Aidan’s father. He’s my husband. My second husband.” She rubs her hands on her legs, which could be more for emphasis of her points than to generate warmth. “And I do love him.”

  Although it shouldn’t, that one hurts. Not a giant stabbing blow. More of a deflation. Like if you stuck a pin in one of the balloon animal condoms.

  “Of course you do. As I said before, I hope it all works out. I just came here—”

  “Why did you come here?” Her voice is small and whisper soft.

  “Just to check on you. I was worried.” I close my eyes and hold them like that for a moment as I summon up the courage to say what I really came to say.

  “Okay. Claire, I wanted to make sure that nothing that happened between us on the trip had anything to do with your decision-making regarding your marriage. Nothing happened, at least not physically, right? But I don’t want to be the cause, even a little bit, of your troubles.”

  I push away the images of her smile after the applause at karaoke, the way she looked so vulnerable and small on the boat when she got sick, and her beautiful body running around in an Ambien induced frenzy.

  She nods and her breathing sounds slightly labored. It’s cold but she was breathing just fine before the conversation took this turn.

  “No, nothing happened.” Her eyes are misty and she continues. “We had so much fun together, and even though it is very disloyal to Brandon, I couldn’t help but think what would have happened if I had given us a chance. I wouldn’t have Aidan. But what would I have? And would we have been more compatible? Or is it like Greta said—we just got along because our lives aren’t entwined in the day to day minutiae of living.”

  “Don’t cry. Your eyes are going to freeze like that.”

  She laughs, but her tears are flowing harder now.

  In this moment I don’t care if Claire’s mother is on a golf cart reconnaissance mission. Or Brandon drives by on his way to convince his wife to come home.

  I move closer to her and draw her to my body. We’re both wearing so many heavy clothes that it’s almost like there is no physical contact, until she places her head on my shoulder and sobs. Her hair tickles my neck.

  “This reminds me of another time we sat like this. In my apartment, remember?”

  When I rescued Claire from climbing into the fountain outside the Madison Hotel at the launch party for Brandon’s book. Crying about her boyfriend, Nathan. While he was leaving with another woman, I consoled Claire.

  In the meantime I could see that Brandon was in love with her, and she felt the same way. She was letting her fears of being infertile cloud her judgment with men, and refusing Brandon’s advances because she wouldn’t believe that he would be okay adopting a family, even though he emphatically told her that’s what he wanted.

  She had already rejected my advances long before. She apparently thought I was ‘out of her league’ and WAY too young for her. So I brought her home, took care of her, and we sat on my couch just like this, and I did the same thing I am going to do now.

  “Claire, I don’t know what life would have been like if you made a different choice. Maybe we would have dated for a couple of months and broken up. Maybe we’d be blissfully in love. But for sure, we’d have problems. Everyone does.”

  Here goes nothing. Again.

  “Brandon loves you. I can see it in the way he looks at you any time we’ve been in the same room. Even at the airport, when he was pissed at me and marking his territory, I saw the way he looked at you when you were coming out of the ladies’ room. He doesn’t want to lose you. I don’t know if he’s being honest with you about what happened while we were away, but he loves you.”

  I pull back and take off my gloves, wiping away the worst of Claire’s running black makeup with my thumb. “And yes, there was a time when I felt like I was falling for you too, but that’s over now. I did feel a spark on the trip, but I wouldn’t ever act on it. Not just because you’re married, but because you and Brandon love each other. I won’t try to screw that up.”

  She laughs and lays her head on my chest. “We’re doing a great job of that with no help from anyone.” More laughing mixed with sniffling.

  “Well, actually, that’s not true. There are several players in this situation who could be helping to fuck it up. Just listen to him and if you need me, just call. Okay?”

  We get up and begin the walk back to the house. Her mother must be busting an artery right now waiting for our return.

  “Thanks, Justin. You’re a good man. I truly hope some very smart girl scoops you up. A wildly sexy, funny one with lots of spirit and goodness.”

  She beams at me like a little girl now, and the heavy moment between us has passed. Again.

  “Actually, I did meet a girl the other day and took her out to dinner.”

  “Oh yeah, what’s she like?”

  How do I answer that without saying, ‘a lot like you?’

  Claire

  “Mom, would you stop it already? Have you never been friends with a man?”

  “No, dear. Pretty girls are never friends with men. They may think they are, but the men are not on the same page.”

  She peers out the kitchen window at my father, Justin and Aidan playing in the snow. My father suggested they build a snowman. I wonder if he’s just disgusted with Brandon and wants to see if there’s a possible replacement, or he is just being nice. Probably just being nice. Plus he’s old and snow is heavy.

  “Justin isn’t like that. He’s a great guy. I wish I had a younger sister for him.” No I don’t. I would not want him in the family, looking at me with those emerald eyes at Thanksgiving.

  I stuff those inappropriate feelings and continue. “I really hope Brandon doesn’t show up before Justin leaves. I still haven’t gotten an arrival time from him and it’s getting late.”

  I hate to commiserate with my mother about my disappointment in Brandon, but seriously—I told him I would talk to him and I would think he would rush here immediately. If he cared as much as he says he does. On the other hand, Justin came as soon as he found out I was in…STOP THINKING LIKE THIS!

  My mother sips her tea and twists her face into a grimace. “Your father is so passive aggressive. You girls think he’s so sweet because he’s the quiet one, but let me tell you something. He is incensed over
this Brandon situation.”

  She turns back to the window and waves at Aidan, who has just plopped down on his heavily padded butt in the snow. I wince but then relax as I see he’s laughing and Justin is showing him the carrot for the snowman’s nose.

  “So you think he wants Brandon to come and see Justin here having a family moment?”

  She widens her eyes and shakes her head. “You didn’t hear that from me.” She winks and continues. “Should I start dinner? Or wait for your husband to grace us with his presence?

  Brandon

  That asshole Rob. He makes me wait all day to borrow his truck and then doesn’t bother to tell me it has no heat. I won’t even be able to tell Claire the truth now. My tongue will be frozen to the roof of my mouth. Hopefully my other body parts will thaw out by the time I get to use them later.

  Wishful thinking, I know. I am heading into hostile territory and the commander-in-chief is surely at the helm waiting to pounce on the turncoat who allegedly crossed enemy lines.

  In this case, panty lines. And the line on a peed-on stick.

  I’m losing my mind, and it’s not just because my brain is freezing. I turn up my music, and even though the truck has no heat, it has an amazing sound system. I guess I should be happy music is a priority for my lead guitarist. I guess since they run an air conditioning business, they only know how to make things cold.

  I have my list in my pocket. I feel like such a douchebag now. Or like one of those guys who gets roped into couple’s counseling and is forced to write down his feelings. Oh my God, I hope Claire doesn’t suggest we see a therapist. That will be fucking tort…

  There’s that damn gate. I have been to visit the McDonald’s numerous times now, and I somehow conveniently forget every time that I have to announce myself to be let into the Promised Land. Like playing golf and riding horses makes these people so special. And what idiots! A criminal just has to jump the fence on foot and he’s in. This is just a way to humiliate lesser family members and delivery people.

  “Well hello again, handsome.”

  “Hey, there…Stella.” Whew. Good thing they wear nametags. I always forget the names of the security guard sisters. Once in a while there’s a stern looking older guy with a big belly, but Stella and Ella pretty much run the show here. As if they are going to stop intruders.

  “You’re Claire’s husband, right? She’s lovely and that baby of yours is such a doll. Oh, and I love when she brings those dogs—they’re a hoot.”

  Yeah, they’re a hoot. They are probably ‘hooting’ pee and crap all over the house while I’m gone, and ripping a new hole in a couch cushion.

  “Long time no see, Stella. How have you and Ella been?”

  She frowns and looks off to the side, like she’s suddenly forgot why we’re all here. “Weren’t you just here this morning? I mean, I didn’t see you, but Ella was on the early shift and she told me you were by to see Claire.” She blinks and stares with a sweet smile, but also as if she hopes she’s right, and she and Stella aren’t victims of early dementia.

  “No, I haven’t been here since Christmas time, Stella.”

  She’s a nice old lady, but I am freezing my ass off, and if she doesn’t let me through the gate soon I’m going to have to ask to continue this conversation in the heated guard house.

  Actually, I wish Stella could host my meeting with Claire. She probably can’t hear as well as Claire’s mother, and she wouldn’t try to poison me. Note to self to decline any offers of food or drink. That is…if I can gain entry to this compound.

  “Oh, dear. Okay. I hope Ella’s feeling alright then. Well, on you go, Brian.”

  I wave and thank her, not bothering to correct her mistake. Claire doesn’t know anyone named Brian, does she? I shake my head and stretch out my shoulders. I’ve been clenching my body into a ball, in an effort to stay alive in this frigid clunker, and my muscles are aching. Jeez, I’m only thirty. What’s life going to be like when I’m Stella’s age?

  My stomach tightens again as I approach McDonald Manor. I didn’t grow up in a shack in the woods, but this neighborhood is off-putting to me. They could have moved closer to Claire when they packed up in New York and headed south, but they had to live in this super prestigious gated community. There are many beautiful areas in Richmond where they could have lived, and been closer to their daughter. On second thought, why the hell would I want that?

  I pull up to the house and park on the road, up a little from the mailbox. Closer to the neighbor’s yard. That’s the other thing. These houses are worth a fortune, but they are on tiny lots. Claire’s parents have one of the bigger ones with a pool, but some of them have backyards that are cliffs, and those take up the entire circumference of the property. I guess that’s why a lot of wealthy retirees live here—minimal lawn maintenance.

  Some other truck is parked in front of the McDonald’s house. They probably have some guy here quoting them a price on a fountain in the foyer or an Olympic sized bathtub. Wait, they already have one of those.

  Scratching my stubbly chin, I get out of the truck. I decided not to shave because I know Claire thinks my beard is sexy. Anything I can do to win a point.

  I close the door quietly. I’m still trying to preserve the element of surprise. It’s not like Claire’s mother has set a trap in the yard for me. A body hanging upside down from a tree would be frowned upon by the neighborhood association.

  I shudder and push aside all of my crazy thoughts of the chilly reception that awaits me. After all, at least if I can get inside, they have heat. I can defend myself against two old people if my limbs are properly thawed.

  CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

  Claire

  “Oh, shit.”

  My mother’s uncharacteristic swearing jars me from the gripping book I’m reading. Bella Donna is really signing some talented authors these days.

  “What now?” I put my book down on the coffee table and join my mother at the sliding glass doors, which look out into the back and side yards of the house.

  “Oh, shit is right.” Brandon has arrived and it appears my father is refereeing a shouting match between himself and the two younger men. It serves him right for inviting Justin to stay. Of course, I didn’t want to make him leave after we had such a meaningful heart-to-heart.

  “Alright, we have to go out there. Aidan is just sitting there in the snow watching three grown men act like assholes.” My mother grabs her scarf, puts on her coat and slips into her boots in one swoop. She’ll never admit it, but she loves a good fight.

  I follow, but not quite as hastily. Guilt rises in me as my maternal instinct is slow to kick in. At the very least we need to get Aidan in the house before he gets up and toddles off somewhere, or is scarred for life by witnessing domestic…

  I follow closely behind my mother, who looks comical as she tries to walk through the mounds of snow to get to the side of the house.

  “Hey, what’s going on out here?” She glares at all three.

  My father’s face is beet red and Aidan is reaching for me.

  I scoop up my baby as my father begins, “Brandon just arrived, and I was explaining to him how Justin came by to see if Claire was okay. Well, that’s apparently not okay with him because he called Justin…well I won’t repeat it in front of women and children…and Justin is fed up with Brandon’s…you know…Claire, can you please take that baby in the house?”

  I turn to walk away, and my father yells, “No, not you. This is your problem. Claire, my wife, please take the baby in the house.”

  “Give me that precious child.” She takes Aidan from my arms and kisses his red cheek, addressing Brandon with acrimony. “You should be ashamed of yourself for more reasons than I can count. I wouldn’t go around accusing anyone of anything. Did you find this guy’s underwear—?”

  “Mom, please!”

  “Fine. I’ll go, but if any of you give my husband a heart attack, you’ll have me to answer to. And keep it down, for God’s sake. Nex
t thing you know, that nosy old lady across the street will be calling the police. We don’t live in a trailer park.”

  And with that attack on the lesser socio-economic class, my mother disappears into the warm house with my son, leaving me to face three angry men.

  In some ways I feel weakened by the events of the past few days, but then I think of Aidan, and also how I have handled all of the rapid changes in my life over the past few years.

  For a while there I was off my rocker. Drinking too much, making bad decisions when it came to men and footwear. Becoming too self-absorbed over the loss of my fertility. Even wrongly blaming Ron for everything. I’ve turned a corner and I am not going to stand here and let everyone else sort out my life.

  “Okay, that’s it. This is my fucking problem, too! Stop fighting like I’m not even here.”

  They all stop yelling and turn to look at me.

  My father clears his throat and says, “You’re right, Honey. I’m going in the house with your mother and Aidan.”

  He turns to Brandon and Justin and points back and forth between them. “And as for you two, I don’t know that I trust the motivation of either one of you, but as my wife so eloquently stated—you’d better not fuck with our daughter!”

  “She didn’t actually say that, Dad.”

  “Well, I’m translating!”

  My father squeezes my shoulder as he walks towards the house. “You need us, you come get us. And please try to move this meeting somewhere else.”

  I sigh and regard the two men in front of me. I guess I should be flattered that two young men have such an interest in me, but this has been going on for a few years now, and it’s not as thrilling as one would think.

  “Claire, I need to talk to you. I’m sorry I’m so late getting here…” Brandon runs his fingers through his hair and says, “…but then I get here and this…guy is building a snowman with MY son.”

  He takes a deep breath and tries to control his anger. He knows he will be sent home without his little family if he can’t get a grip on his emotions.