Someone Else's Life

by Lacey Ann Carrigan

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Suella had already been through it once. When she’d had to bring Natalie to school (her euphemism for having had her daughter taken away) she spent the following week throwing herself into her work. There was always something to be done and even when there was nothing to be done she could be organizing her networks and files. One day, simply because she had nothing else to do, she inventoried everything in the house and garage.

  Most days, she found herself alone in the house. Nathan had taken up golf again, now that it was summer, and he also frequented Dodger games to see his old friends and attempt to make new ones.

  Since she was not seeing anyone during the day and she rarely went on cam except for meetings and testimonials, she sometimes stayed in lounge pajamas all day long and barely bothered to brush her hair, let alone put on makeup. Jill had even begged off the daily teas they used to share because her art business was getting steadier.

  She realized that she may as well be an old spinster hag, for the kind of life she was leading. Nathan still occasionally made love to her and did other things that reminded her of the young zestful lust they used to share.

  Another weekend went by, and when her big activity included going to the supermarket for stir-fry and margarita mix, she knew something had to give. She used strong, high-end tequila for the margaritas and drank more of them than she’d planned on. As she idly watched one stream after another of mindless forms of television, the screen started to flip flop.

  Nathan burst through the front door of the house noisily and bounded straight for the darkened den. “Hey! I did a seven under par this afternoon!” He gave the smile that made him look like a randy seventeen year old as he leaned in and kissed her. So devoid of energy was she that she barely lifted her head to receive his kiss.

  He’d braced himself against the armrest of the easy chair to lower himself down to kiss her, but after he tasted her and saw her demeanor he stopped, hovering over her. “You’re wasted, aren’t you?”

  His words swam in her mind “I’m what?”

  After lifting himself from the chair he waved a hand dismissively at her while he strode off toward the kitchen. Over his shoulder he said “Not a good look for you, doll.”

  His arrival and his words had shocked her enough so that the screen stopped flip-flopping. She could hear him in the kitchen, opening the refrigerator door and twisting the caps off jars, sticking knives inside. Moments later he reappeared in the den with a plate containing a heavily overstuffed sandwich. He sat down on the couch and vacantly watched the television screen along with her.

  She waited for him to fill her in on the details of his golfing success that afternoon, such as how he was able to go directly from the sand trap to the hole or how he did a two on a par five. When she glanced at him still decked out in his golf clothes, she again thanked his good sense for not wearing the traditional “loud” golfing outfits. Instead, he wore khakis and polo shirts, looking like a GQ model.

  For several minutes he chewed his sandwich slowly and gazed at the screen, apparently enraptured by what was going on there. Suella knew from experience that he was not. The shock of his coming home and his silent treatment evaporated her intoxicated haze. Not talking was the worst punishment he could give, and he knew it.

  Finally, Suella could not take it anymore. “How do you suppose Natalie is getting along?”

  He kept his gaze on the screen but his shoulders lifted up and down about a half inch in a non-commital shrug. “She and David are probably testing out that new bed.”

  Did it bother him? Did he miss his little girl? There were so many things she wanted to ask him but she knew that if she did, she might not like the answers he gave in the mood he seemed to be in. He called out a command to change the channel to one of the 24 hour all sports networks.

  Flip-flopping screens and warm fuzziness brought on by tequila gave way to a raging headache. “I’m going to call it a night, hon,” she said after a few minutes, getting up to kiss Nathan on top of his head. “See you in awhile.”

  Her doctor kept her supplied with an analgesic inhaler that she knew would take care of the headache. She called it her “happy snort.” Moments after breathing in the mixture, the pain and tightness in her temple evaporated. Suddenly she felt warm and nostalgic for her husband. His moods could turn on a dime and there had not been much sex in the Worthy household recently.

  She brushed and teased her hair to make it look playfully tousled and sexy, sprayed her best perfume in the air, walked into it, and put on a layer of lip gloss. To top it off, she changed out of the plain, sensible lounging pajamas and slipped into one of her coquettish, satiny, strappy nylon shorty ensembles. She called out for the radio to tune in her favorite all-night talk show, then pulled back the bedspread and sheets and splayed herself coyly atop them.

  And she waited, and waited.

  She sighed, slumping down against the stacked pillows. He would have to see her, she realized. She lifted herself off the bed and ventured out into the kitchen. From where Nathan sat, he had his back fully to her. Had he even heard her walk into the kitchen? Was he asleep? No, his head tilted slightly as he watched the images of men in suits discussing this or that baseball teams’ decline due to stingy ownership.

  How could she get his attention? Clearing her throat would be too obvious, she decided. Instead, she opened one of the cabinets, reached for a plastic tumbler and flicked it off the shelf, watching it crash to the floor, with a series “clook-clook” sounds.

  Nathan turned around and glared at her for a moment. When he saw how she was dressed he smiled slightly, but it was a smile of warm recognition rather than excited lust. “I don’t think we have any more booze right now, hon,” he said. “If you want any more you’re going to have to put some clothes on and go out for it.”

  She picked up the dropped tumbler, closed the cabinet and took a few steps toward him, concentrating on doing the most seductive walk possible, drawing heavily on her modeling training from several decades ago. Speaking in the lowest, most smoldering tone possible, she said “Do I look like I want to get drunk?”

  Nathan giggled like a high schooler. The familiar glint glistened in his eyes but just for a moment. “No.”

  “All right then.” She knew she could have gone to the couch, jumped on his lap and started kissing him madly, rubbing him the way he liked through the crotch in his khaki golf pants. He would give in, let her tantalizingly strip him and they would make love right there on the couch, with her on top.

  But that was not what she needed.

  She returned to the bedroom, re-positioned herself on the bed and called on the radio program again, keeping the volume low. In the meantime she tried to send out “come hither” vibes to her husband, creating a sexually charged atmosphere for him. When several more minutes passed, her headache returned. Another snort on the inhaler wouldn’t hurt, she reasoned.

  But she forgot that two snorts made her drowsy.

  When she returned to the bed, she listened to a woman on the radio talk about how warrior angels caused an Iranian nuclear missile to misfire in 2013. Soon she fell into a deep sleep.

  Several hours later she woke up, still alone on the bed. Disgusted, she marched off to the den and found Nathan asleep on the couch, snoring lightly. His hand dangled off the side of the seat cushion, and for a moment she wondered if there was any truth to the age-old sleepover trick about putting a hand in warm water.

  When she returned to bed, she could not sleep. She tossed and turned between the sheets while listening to the radio program host talk about the “new age of enlightenment” that was dawning on the world, the same crap they had been talking about for the past twenty years.

  Was it asking too much for her husband to desire her sexually, even after all these years? Was all the working out, watching what she ate, keeping her hair done and her skin taut a
ll for nothing? Eventually she dozed off and the next time she woke up, bright sunlight streamed through the windows.

  And Nathan was still asleep on the couch.

  She checked in the mirror for new wrinkles, age spots or gray hair. There was nothing, although her eyes had puffed up from the drinks and snorts on the inhaler the night before. She wet a towel with cold water and pressed it onto her face for several minutes. That always did the trick and she instantly felt better.

  Upon returning to the kitchen, she knew that getting breakfast started would wake up Nathan immediately. She started a frying pan full of texturized protein sausage and eggs, which sizzled and sent an aroma to him. While she was busy working the spatula she heard him groan and yawn then take a couple of steps toward the kitchen. She kept busy making breakfast and suddenly he put his arms around her from behind and drew her in close as he nuzzled her neck and ear. “Sorry I was so tired last night, babe. I guess that’s what playing two rounds will do to you.”

  She turned around and kissed him on the lips and gave him a full-on hug. Even while she did it, though, she knew that there was more than one way to be tired. He slipped away to go the bedroom and change his clothes and a few moments after that she heard the shower running.

  It was Sunday. Traditionally it was a day to relax for her and her husband. On warm early summer days like this one they liked to eat breakfast out on the patio. Most times Nathan would check his sports blurbs on tablet feeds. Should she suggest they go see David and Natalie today? She knew that they would be relaxing too, possibly spending the morning in bed, since they were young and in love. While they ate their breakfast quietly together, she resolved that she would go see Natalie the following morning. That left a day to spend with Nathan and icy tension in the air.

  Cautiously, she decided to start a conversation with him. “So what do you want to do today?”

  He finished chewing a bite of the sausage and, with a mischievous glint in his eye, said “Let’s go be a couple of kids.”

  Suella put on casual capris and her most comfortable hemp shoes to go with her sleeveless top and sweater, while Nathan had already dressed in his jeans shorts with all the buckles and pockets, and a baseball t-shirt straight from his playing days. Together, they lowered down into his sports car. While he switched on the engine and revved the supercharged semiconductors, she asked “So where are we going?”

  He grinned. “It’s a surprise. And you’re not allowed to ask that question for the whole rest of the day.”

  She giggled. “Okay.”

  Nathan punched the accelerator and rocketed them down the driveway and out onto the street.

  They went to the pier first, where Nathan locked the car as they ventured out into the morning salt air with seagulls screeching overhead and waves crashing in the distance. He held out his hand for her and she took it; while they walked along she followed his lead swinging their arms back and forth as they approached the pier and something that looked like a go-cart ramp.

  “You’re serious, aren’t you?” she asked as they entered a line with parents and their kids and awaited their turn on the hover-carts. This go-cart track was eons different from any she’d ever seen from when she was a girl or any time since. During days gone by, a go-cart track was a strip of asphalt that wound around turns and dipped up and down to give the riders a little thrill as they spun around in circles.

  This track had been constructed of a bright, sky blue foamy material and seemed wider than any track she’d ever seen. On either side of the track, high “curbs” walled it in and reminded her of bobsled runs from the Olympics, without the ice. As they waited, they watched parents and kids gleefully buzz through the twists and turns on hover carts.

  They were go-carts without wheels, each of them in neon hues from every color in the rainbow: vivid violets, ravishing reds, knockout blues, and pretty pinks. All of the carts featured wide, soft-appearing bumpers all around them, which allowed the riders to speed forward and nudge past each other.

  Suella assumed that the line would lead to some kind of a dock, where an attendant would guide them to the cars, show them how the safety belt worked, and send them on their way. Instead, the line ahead led to a glass walled building, behind which she could make out groups of people looking up at a video screen.

  When the cars stopped around the bend, the whirring and hissing noises they made ceased, and the cars gradually eased down until they were flush with the track surface. Almost immediately afterward, the line moved quickly ahead and they nearly reached the door of the glass building. Nathan squinted and stood on tiptoe as he tried to see what was going on in there.

  “It’s like at the Disney parks and Universal,” Suella said, “where they have a little video telling you what you can expect on the ride. This one seems a little bit longer.”

  When the group watching the instructional videos beyond the glass was finished, they would be the next ones to jump into the neon hover-karts. After that it was their turn. Nathan started bouncing up and down as he spoke, with his boyish grin showing what he may have looked like as a high-schooler. “I can’t wait!”

  The door opened for them several minutes later and they intently watched the video that told them how to drive the carts. Jets of air streamed upward from tiny holes all along the track and also blasted downward from the carts. The steering wheel of the cart acted as a giant joystick that would thrust the cart forward, shift it from side to side and turn it around the bends.

  The last part of the video showed a schoolmarmish looking lady with tied back hair who exhorted them to “practice good etiquette” on the ride, which meant steering clear of other riders rather than ramming into them. She also showed that if the carts jammed together on one of the turns, it was best to pull back on the wheel, which put the engines in neutral and allowed them to weed themselves through.

  The doors on the other side opened and beyond that point Suella could see people with smiles on their faces emerge from the carts. Nathan skipped ahead to the dock, where an African American wide-bodied young woman kept them behind a rail till all the riders emerged from the vehicles. He lowered himself into a cobalt blue hover cart and called out “Get yourself one of the pink ones.”

  She did as she was told and dropped down into one that was more of a fuchsia color. At first she had to put on the shoulder straps and belt the seat buckle just as the video showed. It reminded her of putting on a scuba tank. The hover cart reminded her of an egg shaped, fiberglass cocoon. Someone spoke to her on a speaker: “Are we all buckled in and ready? Ladies and Gentlemen, start your engines!”

  A loud hiss caused the hover cart to rise several inches upward, causing an eerie, unstable feeling in the pit of Suella’s stomach. She was really floating! Loud, heavy metal music began to play over the speaker system and she realized that the music could only be heard on the inside of the vehicles. This was why the hover kart complex seemed so quiet and peaceful while she and Nathan had been standing on line. The announcer shouted “Let’s go!” and cars ahead of her thrust forward. She pulled up on the steering wheel just as was shown in the video and her cart thrust forward along with them.

  Riding the hover cart along the troughs and valleys of the track system was the closest she’d ever come to flying under her own power. The joystick steering control was surprisingly light and responsive. She laughed as her slightest movement shifted the car left or right or turned it on the curves. A boy who could barely see above the dashboard and windshield edge nudged her with his neon green car and they both laughed as they careened down a straightaway together.

  . Someone else in a familiar blue car streaked past and she realized it was Nathan, with his need for speed, rocketing ahead of everyone. Along with being a tactile rush and feeling of weightlessness, the ride also brought visual thrills as holographic animated creatures bounced along in computer-generated wonderlands populating the sce
nery surrounding the tracks.

  The scenery and the track swooping pattern repeated: all the go-cart riders sped through the trail twice. On the second go-round Suella felt more confident in her ability to steer and juke right and left and she laughed merrily, like a witch on a supersonic broom.

  The ride ended too soon as the power cut down on her steering wheel thruster mechanism and her cocoon-like vehicle merged in with the others as they slowly coasted toward the central dock. In the next moment, she came to a complete stop and the onboard music and public address system cut out. She unhooked the straps from her shoulders and disconnected the seatbelt and when she looked up she saw Nathan reaching down to offer her a hand.

  He smiled down at her the same way he did so many years earlier, when she came upon him in a baseball bullpen and he welcomed her to New York. Whatever leftover annoyance she’d had with him over the past couple of days quickly evaporated. “That was fun!” she exclaimed as he helped lift her out of the hover cart and onto the dock platform.

  “It was just as cool as I thought it would be!” he said, as giddily as a teenager. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time!”

  Once they walked away from the hover kart complex, it left the whole rest of the day for them to spend whatever way presented itself. “Let’s walk on the beach,” Suella said, taking her husband’s hand.

  At several points along the thin plank-way running alongside the beach, Suella had always seen cubby-hole structures that reminded her of school lockers. She’d always wondered what they were for. That special day she and Nathan used them to store their shoes while they walked toward the surf barefoot.

  The weather was perfect that day, not a cloud in the sky, just a light breeze billowing the briny ocean scent and rendering the air just a touch cool. Other people sunned themselves or walked along the beach as pairs or parts of small crowds. Yet, it was still early in the summer season and Suella noted that the beach that day was comfortably populated in a nice way. When she looked up and down the coast and saw the mountains and cliffs in the distance, she realized that people fell in love with California on such days. Even with all the crime, the government corruption, the ridiculous politics and the outrageous taxes, it was still beautiful.

  Suella and Nathan walked along for a couple of miles and she felt as if she had not a care in the world, as if all of her demanding clients and the myriad details of managing day to day life existed in some other universe somewhere.

  She saw a boy and a girl flying a kite. It surprised her to see the cheerfully colored clear plastic kite flying so high and effortlessly above them as they watched it dip and float on the winds. The breeze they felt at shore level barely tousled her blond bangs. Yet it looked like the children were having so much fun. “Let’s do that!” she said, grasping Nathan’s arm and jumping up and down. “It looks like fun!”

  Nathan grinned. “Okay, little girl.”

  They found a souvenir stand a few yards away and she realized that it might have been the same one where the children found their kite, and had their parents buy it for them. That day, she and Nathan were their own children, giving themselves the kind of happy childhood they always wanted. She immediately found a beautiful clear plastic kite festooned with unicorns and pink streamers and together they bought it.

  Moments later they watched the kite soar and glide gracefully through the breeze above them, laughing gleefully with abandon. Suella realized that she could happily run around holding the string to the kite and watch it dip and glide through the air all day. Nathan seemed to be content watching her, enjoying the cool ocean breeze and the sunny warmth of the early summer day.

  At the same time, she felt sad and bittersweet. True, this was a fun getaway, but the high-pressure world of her career as a cyber security specialist always lurked beneath the surface. She also worried about Natalie. Still it was fun to the world she remembered as a seven year old, when she and her friends would ride their bikes for miles, not caring where they went or how fast they got there.

  Unlike her earlier life, when she was running around on the sand holding the string for the kite, she didn’t care what she looked like at all. She imagined that her hair must be billowing out all around her head and that her top must be adhering unattractively to her chest and her armpits, but it did not matter. She just laughingly chased after the kite.

  Sometimes Nathan would take the string himself and control the kite for short periods of time, or he would give her suggestions about how to keep it up in the air better. Mostly, he seemed just content to watch her. After a short while, though, her arms and legs began to drag and she felt tired. She also realized that her mouth and throat felt dry and parched, probably from running around on a warm day and breathing through them.

  She started to reel the string for the kite inward, knowing that with the light breeze, she could keep the kite airborne and bring it all the way to her, the way a peregrine falcon always returns to the leather-covered wrist of its master.

  Nathan saw her reeling the kite in and said “Had enough?”

  She nodded. “Yeah, I’m getting kind of worn out.”

  He hadn’t worn his watch that day, which was unusual because he was so organized and time oriented, trying to pack the most into every day that he could. “Well then it might be good for us to take a break and get something to eat.”

  Back at the car they put the kite away in the trunk and then struck out on Beach Drive to find someplace good to go. Nathan stopped beside an eclectic looking little eatery carved out among a few weathered row house buildings along the street. The bright, yellow and forest green sign above it read “Sconey’s Old Fashioned Hot Dog Emporium.” Suella shrugged. “It seems just as good a place as any.”

  As they walked in, she reflected that sweeping government regulations on nutrition had really changed hot dogs over the years. Once upon a time, they contained massive amounts of sodium nitrate and practically anything could be put into them: offal, floor droppings, and God knew what else. Since new technologies in food manufacturing and distribution had taken place, new hot dog ingredients included high-tech texturized protein and anti-oxidants.

  Hot dogs had gone from being a form of junk food to a good piece of a viable, healthy diet. Still, the inside of Sconey’s looked just like the kind of burger-and-fries restaurants she remembered from when she was growing up.

  “Ooh, Chicago dog,” Nathan murmured while he looked at the LED menu floating above the counter. “Got to have that.”

  “Get me one too, then.”

  Service was quick, since only a handful of other customers sat on the tall stools at the tiny circular tables. Besides, how much cooking and prep time went into making a hot dog, anyway? When she stood on tiptoe she could see how the tall, gangly adolescent boy prepared their lunch. He connected the two hot dogs to both poles of what looked like a miniature version of a life generator in Dr. Frankenstein’s lab and he electrocuted the hot dogs. After that came the mounds of sauerkraut and relish.

  “It’s a Chicago dog,” Nathan said, when he paid for their meal and drinks, “but they really ought to call it a Dagwood dog.”

  He brought them outside to the little circular tables in front, facing the street, with shorter chairs than the high stools inside the hot dog stand. For drinks they had taken plain water. Suella couldn’t remember the last time she’d drunk any kind of a carbonated beverage. Nathan had brought them lots of napkins and she placed several on her lap and the tabletop. She was sure she was going to need them.

  She took her first bite into the hot dog and was pleasantly surprised that the slightly tough skin around the outside of it popped beneath the pressure of her teeth. An explosion of smoky beef flavor, sauerkraut, mustard, relish and ketchup assaulted her taste buds.

  Nathan was looking at her, and he shook his head and grinned.

  “What?” Suella asked.

  He paus
ed for a moment to think before giving his answer. “You. When I saw you out there flying that kite and getting all giggly I was thinking to myself I’ve never seen you more beautiful.”

  Her heart melted.

  After their lunch together, they walked on the beach some more, until he said “What do you say we go home?” And they made love for the rest of that afternoon and on into the evening.

  Yet, Suella felt as if she’d been made love to all through the morning as well.