Market Street

by Anita Hughes

  “My mother did behave atrociously yesterday.” Cassie leaned back against the pillow.

  “You’re doing a good deed. You’re showing a midwestern boy the delights of San Francisco.” James circled her breast with his thumb.

  “I’ve always wanted to go to the aquarium on a weekday.” Cassie closed her eyes. “I used to have a mad crush on the penguins.”

  “Call your mother, but first we have a little unfinished business.” He climbed on top of her and covered her mouth with his.

  “I thought we finished it pretty well last night.” Cassie giggled, feeling him hard against her stomach.

  “Last night was the hors d’oeuvres,” he whispered in her ear. “This morning we’re having the main course.”

  * * *

  “I told my mother I had a terrible cold.” Cassie laughed as they walked into the sunlight. The morning was warm and the sky was a bright, cloudless blue. They had written out an itinerary, brainstorming their favorite places and foods. James wanted to climb Lombard Street, “the world’s crookedest street,” and see The Thinker at the Palace Legion of Honor. Cassie wanted to visit the Botanical Garden at Golden Gate Park and eat fried calamari in Chinatown.

  “She said I sounded awful, and I should stay in bed.”

  “We could stay in bed.” James laced his fingers through hers. “Or we could build up an appetite walking the city and go back to bed for dessert.”

  “You are a foodie,” Cassie teased. “I’m going to cure your fast food addiction.”

  “You could show me how to cook dinner.” James pulled her close as they waited to cross the street. “And we could have another sleepover.”

  “We’re having one blowout day of fun.” Cassie shook her head. “Then I have to go back to work and you have to get ready for Chicago.”

  “One day of fun. Ready?” He took her hand.

  “Ready.” Cassie nodded.

  * * *

  They rode the cable car to the top of Lombard Street, leaning out of the car and pulling the bell at each stop. The cable car driver rolled his eyes and muttered something about young people not obeying the rules. James slipped him a ten-dollar bill and stood at the front of the cable car, singing “I Left My Heart in San Francisco” for the tourists.

  “I didn’t know you could sing.” Cassie laughed after they jumped off.

  “No one asked for my autograph, or an encore.” James grinned. “But I’ve always wanted to sing on a cable car. Like Gene Kelly in Singin’ in the Rain.”

  “My mother used to watch old movies at night after I went to bed,” Cassie said. “She was crazy about Jimmy Stewart and Cary Grant. We ate at Ernie’s so she could see the photographs of movie stars on the wall.”

  “My mother took me to Ernie’s every time we visited San Francisco. She made me wear a shirt and tie and taught me how to eat escargots. I fell in love with the little girls who came to dinner with their parents. They had their hair in pigtails and wore white socks and shiny leather shoes. Even as a kid I knew California girls were beautiful, so tan and freckled from the sun.”

  “I thought boys were icky as snails,” Cassie replied as they reached the top of Lombard Street. “I was only interested in Cabbage Patch Kids. I believed they were born in real gardens.”

  “The tourist guide says you have to run all the way down Lombard Street without stopping.” James stood looking out at the bay. The street rolled out crazily below them, small clumps of grass growing between the cobblestones.

  “It’s pretty steep,” Cassie replied nervously.

  “It’s Ferris Bueller Day, we have to take chances.” James grabbed her hand. “Pretend we’re seventeen.”

  “No bad knees, sore ankles, or cheating husbands?” Cassie giggled.

  “You need to laugh more often.” James kissed her on the forehead. “First one to the bottom gets to choose where we have lunch.”

  “I’m going to win.” Cassie tightened her sandal straps. “Because we are not eating at McDonald’s.”

  They ran side by side down the cobblestones. Cassie almost tripped and had to stop and adjust her shoes. She watched carloads of tourists climb the hill. She saw James ahead of her, waving his arms like a schoolboy, and felt almost happy. She started running again and reached the bottom breathing hard, her hair flying behind her.

  “I won.” James grinned.

  “I had a wardrobe malfunction.” Cassie frowned. “It’s impossible to run in Tory Burch sandals.”

  “No excuses.” James grabbed her hand. “Let’s go to Pier 39 and eat candy floss and ride the bumper cars, then we’ll have lunch.”

  They milled around Fisherman’s Wharf, feeding each other cotton candy, buying souvenir key chains with pictures of the Golden Gate Bridge. They took pictures in the photo booth and rammed into each other with bumper cars. They listened to a musician play the guitar and watched a juggler on stilts keep a dozen balls in the air.

  * * *

  “Do you miss Emily?” Cassie asked. They sat on the balcony at McCormick & Kuletto’s, eating bowls of clam chowder and crusts of sourdough bread. The fog crept in and Cassie felt suddenly cold. She was still wearing the thin cotton dress she put on yesterday morning.

  James put his spoon down and looked at her earnestly. “I miss having someone to share things with. I miss the way Emily fixed a daiquiri. But I can’t miss someone who lied to me. Marriage is about two people against the world. I’m lucky I got out early.”

  “I wish I could forget Aidan.” Cassie gulped down the hot soup. She immediately regretted saying his name; it tainted the air like spoiled fish. But he was always hovering before her. She felt like she acted to win his approval, to show him she could survive without him.

  “You don’t need to forget.” James shook his head. “You need to be loved.”

  “That’s why I shouldn’t go out in public.” Cassie wiped her eyes, trying to smile. “I still get emotional, like someone who’s pregnant and sees a kitten.”

  “Excuse me, please.” An old Japanese woman wearing a bright red shirt and wide-brimmed hat approached their table. “Can you take picture, please?” She pointed to the adjoining table. A man wearing a Giants baseball cap put down his spoon and nodded shyly.

  James hopped up and snapped photos of the couple. The old man put his arm around his wife and they showed yellowed teeth for the camera.

  “Anniversary, forty years.” The woman took back her camera. “I take one of you to say thank you.” She motioned for Cassie and James to sit together. James handed her his iPhone and the woman clicked and studied the picture. “Very pretty girlfriend.” She handed the phone back to James. “You ask her and she say yes. You lucky, you get forty years.”

  “I think we should leave,” Cassie said awkwardly when the woman returned to her table. Suddenly she wondered what she was doing, having sex with James, holding hands, and running around the city like a schoolgirl.

  “Cassie.” James reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “You can’t chicken out. It’s Ferris Bueller Day and we have half a day left.”

  “Maybe I should go home. I haven’t even changed my clothes.” Cassie stood up.

  “You pick the next place we go, your favorite spot in the city.” James brushed her hair from her face.

  Cassie turned to leave. The old couple bowed and waved cheerfully. “Okay,” she said. “But first I need to buy a sweatshirt. I’m freezing.”

  * * *

  They caught the bus to Golden Gate Park. Cassie leaned against James, trying to regain her sense of happiness. She closed her eyes and tried to erase the images of Aidan that floated in her head: Aidan wearing socks and an apron in the kitchen; Aidan standing in a towel, shaking his hair after a shower; Aidan sitting by the fireplace sorting through CDs.

  Cassie imagined eating ice cream with Alexis and sharing Chinese takeout with James. She pictured Gregory’s giant murals on the wall of the emporium and Axel’s gorgeous bouquets that greeted her when she went to w
ork. If she could fill her brain with things that made her happy, the pictures of Aidan might fade.

  * * *

  “My mother and I used to come here every Sunday,” Cassie said as they entered the Botanical Garden. It was like walking into a Matisse painting. Flowers and plants created a kaleidoscope of colors. A white pagoda had a line of tourists waiting to get in, and green signs explained the names and origins of flowers.

  “Fenton’s was closed on Sundays and my mother thought outdoor exercise was very important. I think this is where I fell in love with gardens. I was like Alice in Wonderland after she fell down the rabbit hole. I used to talk to the flowers.”

  James took her hand and they walked around the park, trying to pronounce the Latin names of their favorite plants. They bought a box of caramel corn from a street vendor and sat on a wooden bench.

  “It’s hard being an only child,” James said out of the blue. “Your parents’ expectations land squarely on your shoulders.”

  “What do you mean?” Cassie ate a handful of caramel corn.

  “I only had two career choices that made my parents happy: architect or attorney. You only had one.”

  “I like working at Fenton’s,” Cassie said coldly. “The emporium is important to me.”

  “Your eyes light up when you talk about gardens. You’re like a child on Christmas morning.”

  “My mother has spent her life building Fenton’s,” Cassie mumbled.

  “It doesn’t mean you have to make it your life.”

  “That’s what Aidan used to say.” Cassie pulled away from James.

  “I just think you should give it some thought.” James put his arm around Cassie. “Like your fortune cookie said: plant a small seed of happiness and it will grow.”

  “I can’t live my life based on a fortune cookie,” Cassie retorted, grabbing another handful of caramel corn.

  “You can’t run away from happiness, it will find you,” James replied.

  “More fortune cookies, or the back of Mad magazine?”

  “That’s an original.” James turned and touched her cheek. “It’s my way of saying I’m falling in love with you.”

  “James.” Cassie blushed, spilling the caramel corn on the ground.

  “I’m a sucker for love, but this isn’t new, Cassie.” James tucked her hair behind her ear. “I thought you were gorgeous the night you walked into Boulevard. You’re like a fawn, you just seem untouched.”

  “You’re leaving for Chicago.” Cassie stumbled on her words. “It’s too soon. I’m not even divorced.”

  “I’ve been thinking a lot about this,” James said seriously, lacing his fingers through hers. “Why don’t you come to Chicago with me? I have a nice one bedroom downtown. You could figure out what you want to do. Maybe open an organic food store, nothing over the top, just a corner store with produce from your own garden.”

  “James.” Cassie shook her head.

  “We could stay on my grandparents’ farm for a while. You could plant a vegetable garden. I want to be together, Cassie.”

  “We’ve been together one day!” Cassie objected. “We don’t know each other.”

  “You’re beautiful and smart and care about other people more than yourself. You eat peas with a fork, and you put salt on French fries.” James put his hand under her dress. “And I know how to make you come.”

  Cassie felt his fingers rub against her panties. She closed her eyes and tried to surrender to the luxurious warmth of his touch. She heard tourists walk by; a boy asked his mother for ice cream. She opened her eyes and pushed his hand away.

  “Not here,” she whispered.

  “Let’s go home.” James pulled her up and led her out of the park.

  * * *

  Cassie and James took the bus to James’s apartment and ran upstairs. They took their clothes off standing up and he entered her as they hit the bed. Cassie came so quickly she had to catch her breath. She hung on to him, panting, waiting for the shudders to subside. James pulled her arms over her head and pushed harder, clasping her hands tightly, until they came together and rolled on the bed, soaked in sweat.

  James rose naked and walked to the kitchen to get glasses of ice water. He came back into the bedroom and stood by the window.

  “People in the street can probably see you.” Cassie sat against the pillows. Her cheeks were flushed and her hair was tangled.

  “Cassie.” James sat on the bed and handed Cassie a glass of water. He traced the outline of her nipples with his fingers. “Come with me.”

  Cassie drank her water and watched the sky turn pink outside the window. The fog had gone out past the Golden Gate Bridge and the sunset was a muted palette of colors.

  “I can’t abandon my mother or the emporium.” Cassie shook her head. “I promised I’d watch over Isabel this summer.”

  “I told you I know you.” He placed his glass on the bedside table. “You put others first.”

  “We could try long distance?” Cassie looked at James’s damp hair curling over his forehead. She studied the lean muscles on his arms and the blond hair on his legs.

  “Long distance didn’t work for me.” James shrugged. “I want to grow with someone. I want to design a house in the suburbs and have four kids and a golden retriever.”

  “I should go.” Cassie got up and grabbed her dress from the floor.

  “You could stay the night. Go to work from here in the morning.”

  Cassie slipped on her dress and zipped up the back. Her neck was still damp and she smelled like sex. “It’s street cleaning tonight. I’d have to move my car anyway. It’s better if I leave now.”

  James followed her to the front door. They stood on the landing, listening to the sounds of people coming home from work. James brushed her hair behind her ears and kissed her slowly on the mouth.

  “The invitation stands.”

  Cassie ran down the stairs, crossed the street, and got into her car.

  19.

  “Where have you been?” Alexis demanded as Cassie crept into the house. “I got two texts in twenty-four hours. Did you have to sleep with the landlord to get an apartment?” Alexis sat in the living room brushing Poodles with a small wooden brush. She had a pile of magazines beside her and a leather album on the floor. She flipped through the magazines and tore out pages.

  “What are you doing?” Cassie tried to change the subject. She felt like Alexis could see through her cotton dress. Sex hung around her like a curtain. Every nerve in her body was charged with sexual frisson.

  “I’m creating an album for Princess Giselle of her magazine clippings. She’s concerned Victoria Beckham has more Twitter followers than she does.” Alexis put Poodles in his dog basket and looked closely at Cassie. “You did sleep with someone, you’re a walking George Michael song.”

  “I had fun.” Cassie blushed. “I’m going to bed.”

  “I’ve listened to you moaning about Aidan for four months and you’re not going to tell me the good stuff?” Alexis jumped up. She wore a light pink robe and pink satin slippers. Her face was scrubbed clean and her hair lay in a ponytail down her back.

  “Okay, but I need a cup of coffee.” Cassie walked toward the kitchen.

  “You look like you need a cold shower.” Alexis followed her. “I’ll make the coffee. Start from the beginning. No censoring, I want to hear everything.”

  “I slept with James,” Cassie said after Alexis handed her a porcelain coffee cup.

  “James?” Alexis looked up from the peanut butter and jelly sandwich she was making. “You didn’t tell me you were seeing him.”

  “I ran into him by accident.” Cassie stirred sugar into her coffee. “My real estate agent was showing me apartments and she showed me his apartment. It’s in Cow Hollow, with a lovely view of the bay.”

  “You fucked him to get his apartment?” Alexis bit into the sandwich, jelly oozing out of the crusts. “I told you, you could stay here. Carter likes a house full of guests. It makes h
im feel like one of those British lords on a BBC miniseries.”

  “I stayed in the apartment to get a feel for the light and James just walked in.” Cassie grinned, remembering his face when he saw her. “Carrying Chinese takeout and a stack of Mad magazines.”

  “Not exactly caviar and roses.” Alexis poured herself a glass of milk.

  “He didn’t know I was there,” Cassie protested. “He’s a take-out junkie. He can’t cook.”

  “Every guy has an Achilles’ heel, you can live with that. What happened next?”

  “We ate in his kitchen and then we took our fortune cookies and ice cream into the living room. He read mine and I read his.” Cassie sipped her coffee. “I spilled ice cream on the floor and while I was cleaning it up we sort of…”

  “Sort of what? This is better than The Bachelorette.” Alexis spread peanut butter on another slice of bread.

  “Sort of ended up in the bedroom, in bed, making love.”

  “Was he good?”

  “Alexis!” Cassie’s cheeks turned red.

  “You’re thirty-two and you’ve been out of the dating market for ten years. Performance counts,” Alexis said matter-of-factly. “You don’t want to date a dud.”

  “We’re not dating,” Cassie replied.

  “So he was a dud. Pity, I still think he looks like Hugh Grant. If he had a British accent I couldn’t resist him.”

  “He was wonderful. He’s sweet and funny and we had so much fun. We pulled a Ferris Bueller today.”

  Alexis stared at Cassie as if she was brain damaged. “Ferris Bueller as in the movie with Matthew Broderick and Charlie Sheen when they were seventeen?”

  “I called in sick and we spent the day exploring the city. We rode cable cars and walked through Golden Gate Park and ate clam chowder at Fisherman’s Wharf. Then we went back to his apartment and made love again.”

  Alexis put her sandwich on her plate and looked at Cassie carefully. “You have that ‘that was the best sex I ever had and I’m reliving it as I tell you’ look. What’s the problem?”

  “James said he’s falling in love with me. He asked me to move to Chicago with him.”