by Aria Johnson
Oddly, my liaison with Jeff went unnoticed by Veronica. She was so busy conducting her own love affair with Walter, she wasn’t paying any attention to me. I liked the new Veronica who was too preoccupied with her own life to pry into mine. It was refreshing not to have my parenting skills questioned on a regular basis.
She meant no harm, but she had a tendency to be extremely judgmental, which was why I hadn’t told her about my relationship with Jeff. I didn’t want her prying into my love life and badgering me with questions about a wedding date. Veronica had the antiquated notion that a couple should be engaged after dating six months and married no longer than a year after the engagement was announced.
I wondered if those rules applied to her and Walter’s relationship—or were they exempt because of their advanced ages.
I also wondered if they were sexual. I couldn’t picture it, but with the availability of male enhancement drugs, there was nothing preventing them from being intimate. She and Walter were the cutest couple, especially when they playfully bickered over the best bug sprays, topsoil versus potting soil, or the proper way to plant tomatoes. They were both know-it-alls when it came to horticulture.
Over time, Walter had grown on me and I no longer minded his presence in our department. He didn’t seem to wink as much or maybe I didn’t notice it anymore. Actually, he spent most of his time assisting Veronica in the greenhouse, and I didn’t see him very often.
But what really won me over and warmed my heart toward Walter was the way he willingly pitched in and helped with Zoo-Doo and never once complained.
My life was so fantastic, I’d managed to get Brandon to comply with my desire for us to touch base at least once or twice a week. We didn’t have lengthy phone conversations, nor did he initiate any discussions, but he spoke audibly and no longer mumbled half-
hearted responses to my questions regarding his job and how things were working out at home.
I didn’t feel comfortable visiting Brandon at the apartment with Ava and Muffy, but occasionally, I’d make arrangements to meet him at his job during his lunch break. During those visits, I’d slip him cash—pocket money so he’d be able to purchase the latest video game or other personal items for himself. I had kept him on my phone plan and continued to pay his phone bill. I enjoyed helping him out now that he was proving he could be a productive member of society.
Also, I felt bad for him. He was only making minimum wage and he turned most of his earnings over to Ava for household expenses. With Brandon finally being responsible, the last thing I wanted was for him to become disillusioned and frustrated over limited funds.
Once, when a flyer came in the mail announcing a comic book convention that was being held in the city, I surprised him with two tickets—one for him and one for either Ava or maybe a friend from work. I was working on being accepting, but I still wasn’t so open-minded that I was willing to purchase tickets for him, Ava, and Muffy. Besides, I was sure he and Ava could use some alone time.
“Thanks, Mom,” he had said when I gave him the tickets, beaming as he embraced me. Not one prone to displays of affection, Brandon’s tight hug surprised and delighted me. I was doing everything I could to repair our fractured relationship, and amazingly, Brandon was cooperating.
As much as I disliked her, I had to admit that Ava deserved most of the credit for Brandon’s transformation. In her own warped way, she was helping to make a man out of my son.
• • •
Jeff and I were browsing antique shops. Antiques weren’t my thing, but Jeff had a way of making everything fun. I enjoyed listening to him haggling over the price of a vintage radio. After Jeff got the owner to agree to a price of his liking, we went to celebrate the victory at a sidewalk café.
“Wouldn’t it be great to do this in Paris?” he asked after we’d been served baguettes and coffee.
“This feels like Paris to me,” I said, gesturing at the sidewalk that was jammed with tables and chairs and throngs of merry people.
“This doesn’t begin to compare to the real Paris. It’s awesome, and you’d love it.”
“Maybe I’ll see it one day.”
“I think you should see Paris sooner than later.”
Intrigued, I leaned forward. “How soon?”
“Next week.”
I nearly choked. “You’re not serious,” I said, laughing.
“Oh, but I am,” he said, smiling and nodding and looking even more handsome than ever if that were possible.
“What about Allegra?”
“She’s leaving tomorrow.”
“What! I thought she was staying until after Labor Day.”
“Yeah, that was the original plan, but she had a breakup with her boyfriend who lives in Middletown, and then she made up with her ex who lives in L.A., and now she can’t wait to get out of here and refuses to stay another day.” He gave a shrug. “She’s a fickle kid. I can’t lock her in her room and force her to stay.”
“Wow, I never got to know her. I figured there was plenty of time,” I said sadly.
“Hey, don’t look so glum. She’ll be back during Christmas break, and hopefully by then, I’ll have established a relationship with Brandon, and we’ll all be ready to become a happy blended family.”
“Family? What exactly are you saying?”
“I’m saying you make me happy. I want to be with you all the time . . .and I love you.”
Stunned, I covered my mouth with my hand. After getting my bearings, I mouthed the words, “I love you, too,” as I looked around embarrassedly, wondering if anyone had overheard our intimate conversation.
“Paris is for lovers, you know. So, how about it? We’ll explore the most romantic city in the world for seven whole days.” He flashed me another charming smile.
I hadn’t had a real vacation since the days when Brandon was a teen and we would go to our cabin in the mountains. The past few years, I’d always gone to the cabin alone and typically only stayed two or three days at the most.
“Well?” Jeff asked insistently.
“I don’t have a passport,” I admitted, holding up my hands in defeat.
“That’s not a problem. We can get your application expedited for a small additional fee.”
“It’s all so sudden. I’m not sure.”
“You only live once, Claire. What do you say?”
“Okay, let’s do it,” I said with false bravado. As I spoke I could picture my boss at work balking loudly at my bad timing and then grunting in disapproval as he reluctantly granted my request for a spur-of-the-moment vacation.
Jeff leaned across the table and kissed me. “We’re going to have the time of our lives. When we return, I want to meet Brandon and spend time with him. I know you said he’s only interested in video games and comics, but I bet I could get him interested in golfing. Real golf, not the putt-putt stuff you and I fool around with,” he said, referring to miniature golf.
I doubted if Brandon would agree to play golf with Jeff. Not even virtual golf, his preferred format for all sports. It wasn’t likely that Brandon would be interested in the least in becoming acquainted with Jeff. I feared that forcing Brandon to interact with his mother’s love interest might be so unexpected and jolting, he might lapse back into his old reclusive and hostile personality.
It was time to tell Jeff about Brandon—time to explain that my son was different. And that he was very fragile. It was also time to divulge to Jeff that Brandon didn’t live at home and was determined to conceive a child that he planned to raise with a pair of lesbians. Brandon’s situation was so embarrassing, I had no idea how to broach the subject.
Procrastinating, I decided to wait and tell him after we returned from Paris. I had a nagging fear that Jeff might have a change of heart about our relationship after he met my antisocial son and learned about his unusual lifestyle.
I couldn’t blame Jeff if he couldn’t picture Ava and Muffy being a part of his vision of a happy, blended family.
Ch
apter 11
With Allegra back in Los Angeles with her mother, I began staying at Jeff’s place several nights during the week. Our lovemaking on the boat had always been sweet and satisfying, but he became an even more intense and adventurous lover within the confines of his own home.
He was insatiable, and the moment I walked in the door, he’d start tearing off my clothes. Most nights we never made it upstairs. We’d end up on the floor of the foyer, the living room, or at the bottom of the staircase, making ferocious love. Our sex life had become almost animalistic in its intensity . . .and I loved every second of it.
This kind of unbridled passion was something I’d never had and at forty-two, I was in my sexual prime and couldn’t get enough. We were addicted to each other. Sex went on for hours at night and resumed in the morning before we left for work.
The days leading up to our trip to Paris went by in a blur. There was so much shopping to do. The luggage I used for business trips simply wasn’t suitable for a romantic getaway of this caliber, and I ended up spending an outrageous amount of money on three pieces of luggage.
I was spending so much more than I normally did in an attempt to look like the sophisticated, fashionable woman that a man like Jeff would have on his arm. I hadn’t seen any photos of his ex-wife, but I imagined her being someone with an elegant sense of style.
One day during my lunch break, I went to a med-spa for a little Botox to even out the fine lines that I was beginning to notice on my face. I’d never been a vain person, but being in love influenced me to strive to always look my best.
Since I’d started seeing Jeff, I spent more time at the beauty salon than ever before. I was constantly getting my hair tinted to keep the gray strands at bay. No longer satisfied with my mom panties and bras, I spent a ton of money on expensive lingerie that cost more than I’d spend on a winter coat.
But my efforts didn’t go unnoticed by Jeff. He constantly complimented me. And his approval was worth the extra time I put into my appearance and the extra money I’d spent.
I still dressed the same at work, wearing clothes purchased from T.J. Maxx and Target, but I had slowly begun to accumulate a much more fashionable and costly wardrobe for my numerous dates with Jeff.
Jeff had exquisite taste in everything from food to the high-end designer socks he wore. He enjoyed luxuries. Once, when spotting a credit card receipt tossed on his bureau, I couldn’t resist taking a look. I literally gasped when I realized that he’d spent seven hundred dollars on a haircut at a fancy salon in the city.
Maybe that was why his silver hair had such a rich glimmer to it and always looked stylishly moussed.
And although we never discussed it, money, I assumed, was not a concern of Jeff’s.
I didn’t want us to appear as an ill-matched couple, prompting people to wonder what he saw in me, and so I had started reading Vogue and other fashion magazines, from cover-to-cover, as if adhering to their beauty guidelines was the key to securing my relationship with Jeff.
I’d gotten so attached to him, so quickly that the thought of losing him terrified me. Luckily, our feelings for each other were mutual. We were equally crazy about each other, calling and texting throughout the day, both eager to get home and rip each other’s clothes off.
We didn’t go out after work during the week leading up to Paris. And I didn’t care if we never went on another romantic date again. Merely being in his presence was enough for me. His sweet kisses and passionate lovemaking were the icing on the cake.
Although I doubted that he’d invited me to Paris to propose, I was pretty certain that he was going to ask me to move in with him. And the answer was going to be a resounding yes!
As for Brandon, he still didn’t know about Jeff and me. I told him I had to take a work trip—another horticulture convention. Then I gave him back his house key, just in case something happened while I was away and he needed to come home.
He looked at the key and without any expression or words of thanks, he stuffed it in his pocket. Despite his lack of outward joy, I could tell he liked the security of having it back.
“You look nice, Mom,” Brandon exclaimed, as if noticing for the first time that my appearance had changed from drab to attractive.
“Thanks, hon. I’m going to miss you while I’m gone, but I’m going to call you every day, so don’t duck my calls,” I said teasingly.
“I won’t.” He sounded offended.
“I know you wouldn’t. I was only kidding,” I explained. Brandon had never had a sense of humor, and sadly he wasn’t likely to acquire one. He was missing that gene. But I’d take his lack of humor any day over the hostile, disgruntled person he used to be.
Filled with an overwhelming sense of gratitude, I hugged my boy and rustled his curly hair. I was so proud of him—proud of both of us for putting forth the effort to finally figure out how to heal our badly damaged relationship.
I love you, I said in my mind. Saying the words out loud would have made Brandon uncomfortable, causing him to stare at the ground and shift from foot-to-foot. He’d only recently started allowing me to hug him, so I had to be cautious and not overwhelm him with too much affection.
I was certain that his inability to show me any warmth or affection stemmed from his father’s rejection of him. I wondered how he was with Ava. Did they kiss and cuddle or did she merely use him for stud services?
Catching myself engaging in negative thinking about Ava, I quickly reminded myself that Brandon was happy. Still, as much as I tried to think kinder thoughts about Ava, in the back of my mind, I was hoping and praying that my son would never conceive a child with her. No child deserved to come into the world as a result of such a heinous union.
• • •
“I can’t believe you’ve never flown first-class,” Jeff teased as we reclined in our spacious seats on the plane. “Your ex is one of the wealthiest men in Middletown, and I find it hard to believe that you two flew coach when you were together.”
“Howard was building his business back then. He wasn’t the real estate tycoon that he is today. As I told you, all I got out of the divorce was the house, a cabin in the mountains, and child support for Brandon.”
“That sucks,” he said solemnly.
“Here you go,” said the young flight attendant with a toothy smile as she brought us glasses of wine. Being extra solicitous toward Jeff, she arranged his napkin carefully before setting the base of the glass upon it. She was a bit more lax with the service she provided me. I chuckled to myself when I noticed that my napkin was slightly askew.
Jeff thanked her and then returned his attention to me, asking how I liked the Cabernet Franc.
“It’s good,” I said, taking another sip and smiling to myself when I noticed the disappointment on the face of the flight attendant when she realized that she’d been dismissed.
Jeff’s attentiveness to me was one of the many things that I adored about him. From waitresses to art gallery owners, women threw themselves at him everywhere we went, and though always polite and friendly, he never behaved in a manner that would cause me discomfort.
In fact, it was almost as if he was oblivious to the women who shamelessly flaunted themselves in an attempt to get his attention. Consistently, he proved that he only had eyes for me.
I should have been bursting with pride and joy, but instead of basking in his love and fully enjoying the exciting life I was sharing with him, I was constantly worrying and fretting. I was plagued with negative thoughts and the belief that our affair was too good to be true. I secretly harbored the fear that one day Jeff would wake up and wonder what he’d ever seen in such an uninteresting person like me.
To me, Jeff was like an extraordinary birthday gift that I was allowed to admire and enjoy for only a limited time, and then the wonderful present had to be returned to the store.
Sorrow suddenly engulfed me. No matter how good of a time we had in Paris, it was inevitable that sooner or later Jeff was going to grow bor
ed with me.
Howard certainly had, and he wasn’t nearly as handsome, athletic, and charismatic as Jeff.
Jeff leaned over and kissed me on the cheek.
“What was that for?” I inquired, unable to suppress a proud smile.
“For indulging me and agreeing to accompany me to Paris on such short notice.”
“Only a fool would say no to a dream vacation with a hot stud like you,” I replied, my face flushing slightly. Playful banter that included sexual innuendos was not something that I was accustomed to. But ever since Jeff and I had started seeing each other, I’d loosened up considerably. I wasn’t nearly as reserved as I used to be. Especially not in bed.
Thinking about our heated lovemaking sessions made me want to grab a magazine from the pouch in front of me and use it to fan myself. But thoughts of lust quickly turned to deep sorrow. He wanted to meet Brandon when we got back, and Brandon didn’t present well. He was awkward around strangers and often compensated for his shyness by being hostile and rude.
“What’s on your mind?” Jeff asked. “You seem pensive, all of a sudden. Hope you’re not having second thoughts about Paris.”
“Not at all. I’m wondering if I should pinch myself and find out if this has all been a dream.”
“It’s real, Claire. That’s why I want to get acquainted with Brandon and meet your other family members. You’ve never said much about your relatives—not even your parents.”
This wasn’t the conversation I wanted to have on the way to our dream vacation, but I didn’t want to create any tension between us by saying that I’d rather not talk about my family.
Preparing to indulge his curiosity, I took in a deep breath. “Well, my dad died when I was in middle school. He was driving. He was on his way to work when he had a massive heart attack. Eyewitnesses said the car continued moving for quite a while, going through stop signs and red lights, with a dead man behind the wheel.”
“Oh, man. That’s horrible. Sweetheart, I’m so sorry I brought it up.” Jeff put an arm around me consolingly.
