Affairytale : A Memoir

by C. J. English

  “Calling you from the Target parking lot.” I barked.

  I heard him talking to someone in the background. Yes, I ordered it, all right, sounds good, see you later. Bye. “Sorry about that, I can talk now. How are you?” He said, his tone softer now, the way it was when we were alone.

  “Well, I’m definitely not having the most productive week,” I said.

  “Me neither. If I get any more distracted, my business will go under.” He laughed. There was a small awkward pause as we each searched for something to say. Then to my delight he said exactly what I needed to hear: “C.J., I can’t stop thinking about you.”

  I was awestruck.

  “I can’t stop thinking about you either. I knew I was attracted to you. I knew we had something. But I didn’t expect to feel like this. I can’t think, I can’t eat, I can’t even work.” I was so nervous my lips trembled as I spoke.

  “I didn’t expect this either,” he said. “I feel the same way. I need to see you again.”

  My heart felt like it was about to explode from excitement. “I want to see you too,” I said. “You’re all I can think about. But if…if he finds out,” I checked to see if Levi was lurking outside my car, then I whispered into the phone as if someone was listening. “He’ll freak.”

  “I know,” Grant agreed.

  “Grant, I need you to know that I’ve never done this before. And I never would have but—but it’s just…you.”

  “I’ve never done this either,” he said. “I tried not to think about you, I tried to stay away. I tried not to let this happen, but—” I could hear a quiver in his voice as he spoke. “I’ve thought about you and wanted you for so long…I can’t stay away any more.” There was shyness when he spoke and I felt his reluctance to bare his soul to a married woman. I didn’t blame him.

  “I don’t want you to stay away,” I said. “I was so happy when I got your e-mail. I was scared you’d never contact me.”

  “You know I could never do that.”

  I wanted to trust him, but disbelief loomed inside of me. Grant had left me before. He sensed my reluctance, and from it, he opened his heart to me in a way he had never done before.

  “I was scared to send that e-mail,” he said, “I hoped Levi didn’t check your e-mails, but I had to get ahold of you. I thought about showing up at your work, or waiting by your car, or leaving you a message using an alias.”

  “I thought about doing all of those things too.” We laughed out loud at our similar neurotic compulsions. “Levi doesn’t check my email,” I said. “He doesn’t even know how to use my computer. You can e-mail anytime, it’s safe. I thought about contacting you too, but I didn’t know if I should…”

  “Of course you should,” he said. “I wished you would have, I was waiting for you.”

  “So what do we do now?” I asked.

  “When can I see you?”

  “Come to the yoga studio after my class tonight. No one will be there.”

  I heard his rapid breathing, he was still on the line, but he was silent and contemplating my suggestion, analyzing the risks of the proposed rendezvous.

  “Are you sure it’s safe?”

  “Yes. Levi never comes there. Besides, Dani will be in bed and he can’t leave her home alone.”

  “What about your coworkers? Isn’t there anyone else who has a key?”

  “Yes, but it’ll be late, they won’t be there. And we’d hear if someone came in anyway. I would just tell them you’re one of my clients.”

  They would know he’s not just one of my clients. I don’t take clients that late at night, nor do any of my clients even remotely exist in his caliber of man-hot.

  “I’ll be there. What time?” he said with an enthusiasm that delighted me.

  “Eight-thirty. Text me when you’re close, and I’ll open the door for you.”

  “I don’t know about texting…” he said sheepishly.

  “I know. They can be traced right? Like on Dateline when the husband kills his wife and gets busted because of a text message he sent to his mistress after the deed was done?”

  He laughed and confirmed my suspicions. “Everything can be traced.”

  “I pay my cell bill every month, I don’t get paper statements and his name is not on my account so he’ll never see it anyway. I’ll change my passwords too.”

  “That’s a good idea. Do that,” Grant said.

  “He won’t see them. Trust me. He doesn’t even text. He’s still got a flip phone.”

  “If he suspects something, he’ll figure out how to text.”

  “You’re right.” I felt paranoid that somehow Levi already knew about Grant. I scanned the parking lot to see if he’d followed me. “I’ll keep my phone on me twenty-four seven, I’ll be really careful. You know I will.”

  “I know you will,” Grant said, “We wouldn’t be having this conversation if I didn’t trust you.”

  “See you tonight,” I said in the most seductive way possible.

  “I can’t wait.”

  “Oh hey, I just remembered, did you want me to bring that gift certificate for your mom?”

  We burst out laughing simultaneously, then said goodbye and hung up the phone.

  ***

  I meticulously prepared for the ancient ritual by placing a single drop of sensual jasmine into each candle. Then I mindfully lit each wick while sending up a request to make this night unforgettable.

  Like tiny earth-bound stars, one hundred warm glowing flames reflected off the windows, illuminating the Yoga studio.

  ***

  Let’s kiss? That would

  be great! Missing u, babe.

  Ur always popping into my

  brain. :)

  Chapter 22

  “AS A LOTUS FLOWER IS BORN IN WATER, GROWS IN WATER

  AND RISES OUT OF WATER TO STAND ABOVE IT UNSOILED,

  SO I, BORN IN THE WORLD, RAISED IN THE WORLD

  HAVING OVERCOME THE WORLD, LIVE UNSOILED BY THE WORLD.”

  —BUDDHA

  Warm vanilla candles created a blurry line of twinkling flames in the window sills of the second floor yoga studio. I set out the little silver tins until every last one in the bag was gone.

  Enchanting sounds from an ancient time reverberated through the great room as the Gayatri Mantra hummed on repeat. Heat billowed into the sacred space from the corrugated vents in the ceiling, we stripped away our clothing—allowing our bodies the freedom to undulate and rediscover their natural suppleness.

  My hair was fastened loosely beneath a thick headband while Ganesha sat perched on my earlobes wishing me good fortune. Shiva was ever present to assist me in dissolving that which I no longer needed, to make room for those things that were my true destiny. I folded myself into siddha yoni asana then struck the meditation bowl three times with a worn-out wooden mallet. Like a stone being tossed into still water, the sound of Om rippled through the room, creating a contagious calmness.

  “Good evening yogis, welcome to candlelight yoga.” I said in hushed voice.

  I’d been a yoga devotee since I was nineteen, my practice was traditional. I didn’t just do yoga, or go to yoga. I lived a life inspired by Yogic philosophy. I understood that Yoga was never meant to be a workout for your butt. Rather its ancient pathways are a blueprint for living life to its fullest potential. I understood that the physical movements were only one small spoke on the wheel, and that I would have to practice clean eating and non-stealing and contentment more than I would have to work on my physical strength.

  On this particular night, my enlightened self could hardly remember how to teach the ubiquitous salutations, or speak the Sanskrit words I had spoken a thousand times before. My mind had deserted me. My calm, centered, yogi core had unraveled.

  I cheated my class out of a full savasana, stopping uncharacteristically early to shoo everyone out the door. I expected him at any moment. My phone was stuck to my palm anticipating the quick buzz, but I looked at it every sixty seconds anyw
ay, just in case. When the screen finally lit up the darkness with its bold white lettering, it read…

  Can’t wait 2 see u!

  B there in 5. :)

  I leapt down the stairs when I heard the knock and there he was, standing outside the glass door without a winter jacket, his hands stuffed into his jeans pockets. He turned his face away from the passing cars, and we exchanged muffled laughter through the glass as I fumbled with the keys in the lock.

  “Could you have picked a place with more windows?” He asked as he stepped inside rubbing his cold hands together.

  I shrugged, “Its fine, don’t worry.”

  The fact was that I hadn’t thought that one through. I’d just led him into a house of glass. Windows from the ground to the wooden ceilings covered the entire studio, and where there were no windows, there were mirrors. Mirrors that reflected our images in several locations, making us quadruple visible.

  “Come on,” I said, then pulled him by his shirt up the stairs and into the center of the candlelit studio.

  “C.J, this is amazing. I wanna do yoga,” he said, circling around, taking it all in.

  “I would love to teach you yoga, I have a special kind just for you,” I said with an eyebrow raised and naughty intentions.

  “I hope you do,” he stepped toward me, examining my garb and wild haired yogi look.

  “You’re so sexy, baby. I’ve missed you,” he said, pulling me close, procuring me. Like a bodyguard, he enveloped me and made me feel safe when I was with him. I wrapped my arms around him and pressed my ear to his chest. With my eyes closed I listened to the unique rhythmic thumping that belonged only to him; a heartbeat that became etched into my memory forever

  “So, this is what you do.” He said.

  It was his first glimpse into this side of my life. “Partly,” I said. “Mostly I see clients in private sessions for weight loss or I teach people how to cook healthy.”

  “Can I be one of your clients? I want to get healthy.”

  I sucked in a deep hesitant breath, tilted my head and grit my teeth, “I’m sorry, I’m not taking any new clients at this time. I can put you on my waiting list though.”

  He gave me a sly grin, “Show me something,” he said, then stepped back to give me room like I was about to give him a strip tease.

  “What do you want to see?”

  “I want to see that one thing you do on your hands with your legs out to the side. Like in the picture.”

  I furrowed my eyebrows. “What picture?”

  “You know, that one on your website.”

  He went to my website?

  I took a step back, “Are you stalking me?”

  “Yes,” he said playfully, pulling me close. “I’ve looked at your pictures many times.”

  My mouth fell open, “You have?” I was secretly thrilled.

  “Yes. I love that one of your big, beautiful brown eyes. The one where you’re hiding behind a book.” He pulled me in tighter, then swayed us side to side as if we were dancing.

  “Well, I have a confession too,” I said.

  “What’s that?”

  “Two confessions actually. I Googled you.”

  “Find anything good?”

  “No. In fact, I couldn’t find anything.” I pulled my head back and squinted my eyes suspiciously at him. “I’m not sure you are who you say you are.”

  “Quit it,” he laughed. “What’s your second confession?”

  “Remember that day a few years ago when we played super-snipers and bocce ball at the lake?”

  “Yes, of course I remember that day. I remember you looked hot in that little black bikini with your tight little tush.” He slid his hands down my back and caressed my curves, a major distraction, that made it hard to finish my thought.

  “After I developed the pictures we took that day, I had to hide them because we were inseparable and naughty, and it showed in the photos. In every picture we were glued to each other. My confession is that I couldn’t throw them out, I hid them in a book and I secretly look at them.”

  “What about the video you took?” He said like a light bulb had went off. “The one from my birthday.”

  “Let me tell you what I did with that video.: I watched it as soon as I could, so I could see you again. It was torture watching it, seeing us having fun like that and not being able to be with you.”

  “Torture for you,” he said, “this has been torture for me!”

  “Anyways, I destroyed it, immediately after watching. It was way too incriminating. Hey, speaking of incriminating, did you ever find a shirt? I sort of lost mine on that one night I was with you.” My face cringed, we both knew to which night I was referring.

  “Yes.”

  “You did! I always wondered where it went. Where did you find it?”

  “In my bedroom, on the floor. Thank God I found it before my mom did,” he added, “She might have recognized it was yours.”

  “Your Mom?” I said, aghast. “Your parents were in the cabin that night, weren’t they?”

  He flinched, “Yes.”

  My jaw dropped. “Why did you bring me there then?”

  “It’s a family cabin, you know how that is, what else were we supposed to do?” He shrugged, “I can’t believe how gutsy we were,” he added, “so blatantly obvious in public. I thought for sure someone would see us, and that eventually we’d get caught.”

  “Me too.” I said, “I’ve missed you every day since that night.”

  “I’ve missed you too. But I’m here now.”

  He looked down at me with eyes the color of Caribbean water. He was sumptuous in the candlelight and everything about him enchanted me. At the same time, everything about him caused a flutter of heartbreak.

  “I wish it didn’t have to be like this,” he said, as he wrapped his arms around me in layers, each time squeezing me a tiny bit tighter. He laid his head on the top of mine. “I wish we could be together under different circumstances.”

  “I can’t lose you again,” I mumbled, my face fused to his torso.

  “I’m right here, baby. I’m right here.” He said, reassuring me.

  “Grant,” I pulled away to look at him. “I don’t want to be with Levi. I don’t love him and I should have left years ago.”

  “You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

  “I want to, it’s terrible living with him and thinking of you. It feels so wrong, I hate it. I just…”

  I couldn’t finish my sentence, I didn’t know what I was going to do, or where I would live, or how someone even files for divorce or what that even means?

  We stood in the flickering shadows holding one another.

  “What do we do now?” I asked, hoping he had a plan, a long-term solution to our conundrum. I hoped he would tell me what to do so I didn’t have to decide on my own.

  He didn’t. “I don’t know,” he said, shaking his head, “I don’t know. I just know I want to be with you.”

  Our web of less-than-desirable circumstances was complex and gut-wrenching to think about. There would be so many things to work through.

  How would Dylan react? What would I tell Dani? My family would not approve of a divorce. Would his family ever accept me if they knew all of this? How could I ever look at his mom again?

  Bam. Bam. Bam. Bam!

  “Shit! Who is that?” Grant whispered. His face was mortified as he grabbed my shoulders and bore holes through me with his eyes.

  “I don’t know. No one is supposed to be here.”

  Chapter 23

  “THE COURSE OF TRUE LOVE NEVER DID RUN SMOOTH.”

  —WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE, A MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S DREAM, 1.1.134

  Bam. Bam. Bam. Bam!

  Whoever it was, pounded on the door so hard it rattled through both floors. My mind swept the building for places to hide Grant.

  Thai room—nope. Bathroom—nope. Out the window? Yes—out the window, onto the roof, he’d have to figure it out from there.


  “You can go out the window,” I said. “It goes to the roof, but I don’t know where from there.”

  “It’s below zero outside!” he said desperately, “Go look out the window, see if you can see who it is first.”

  I peeked out of the second story window looking down on the front door, trying to get a glimpse of the knocker. I pressed my nose against the cool glass and could hear my heart beating loud in my ears.

  I exhaled a massive sigh of relief when I saw her wavy hair, “It’s just my Russian friend, Galina.”

  Galina was a rebellious Russian with muddy red, curly locks and a black belt in Tae Kwon Do. “She’s already walking away,” I said as I clutched my heart and took a step back from the window. “She does stuff like this, holy shit my heart is pounding.”

  “Mine too.” Grant said. “What time do you have to be home?”

  I frowned, “ten-thirty. I told Levi I was going to the grocery store after I was done teaching. What time is it?”

  Grant squeezed the tiny button on his silver, waterproof watch. The watch I’d seen him wear every summer for as long as I could remember; the watch that was somehow a part of him, like a tattoo. It hugged his tan, lean forearm just above his wrist bones. For some inexplicable reason, I felt privileged to be close to it, close to a small piece of his real life. I’d often wondered where he’d gotten that watch, and why he took such care not to lose it and why he wore it everywhere.

  I wanted to learn about all the small details of his life, I wanted to be in all the small details of his life. I wanted to rent movies together and go through the car wash and kiss, I wanted to know if he liked his pillow soft or firm, or if he liked highlander grog or plain Arabica. I imagined what it would be like to be a part of that life, his real life. A life he let very few people into. I knew that if by some miracle it happened, it would be extraordinary.

  “It’s nine forty-five. You’d better go.”

  I whined and burrowed into him, “I don’t want to go. I want to spend the night with you.”

  He pressed his lips to my forehead and took a deep breath, “I wish you could too…in time,” he said, “in time.” He gave me a tender squeeze then let me go.