by Carmen, Roya
“What’s wrong, baby?” He trailed kisses over my breasts, licked a circle around my nipple. “Just enjoy this. You want this. You deserve this, you beautiful woman. Forget about your husband. He doesn’t care about you the way I do.”
I started kicking and throwing my arms with all my might, as much as I could under my restraints. “I’m going to be sick,” I screamed. “My stomach hurts. I’m going to shit on your bed.”
I don’t know why I said those exact words, but they worked. He swiftly untied my restraints, all thumbs, all the while asking. “What is wrong with you? Did you eat something strange?”
As soon as I was free, I sprinted to the small washroom. I locked the door and hugged myself tightly. I was shaking. I noticed a pair of red lace panties, bunched up in the corner, behind the toilet. What was I doing? Thankfully, we hadn't slept together yet. We’d only made out like teenagers. We hadn’t engaged in oral either. All I could think about was how I’d just dodged a bullet — the man was probably riddled with STDs.
I opened the door and called out. “I need my clothes please.”
He was agreeable when he gave me my clothing and waited for me to get dressed and get my stuff together. As I was just about to leave, he offered me a can of iced tea, the kind I like. I accepted.
“Mischa… “ he said, a sad expression plastered on his chiseled face. “I don’t think this is going to work out.”
I nodded. “I know,” and quietly left his apartment. I cried all night that evening, locked in my master ensuite, sitting on the floor.
We never spoke again.
I confessed everything to Brian the following day. We had a tough go at it but he understood where I was coming from. We went to therapy for a few months, and he eventually forgave me. I was so thankful and from then on, I was an exemplary wife and mother. At the time I had no clue why forgiveness came so easily to him. Because he needed to be forgiven too. I realize now that this was the year he found out about Ava.
Brian takes my hand and leads me to the sofa in the living room. “Listen, Mischa. We’ve both made mistakes, but the only thing that counts is us, our family, the fact that we love each other, and always will. So we’re both a little messed up… who isn’t.”
“Well, I am… a little more than you.”
He smiles. “You’re probably right about that.”
I reach up and wrap my arms around him, reveling in the warmth and closeness of him. If there’s one thing I’m certain of, it’s the fact that I love him like crazy.
“I love you,” he says.
“I love you too… so much.”
* * *
I’ve been on edge all day. Brian and Renee are meeting over lunch. He’s telling her that we want to be part of Ava’s life, that Ava knows Joel is not her biological father. I can’t wait to find out how it all goes. The way I see it, there are two possible scenarios. One: she completely freaks out. And two: she’s cool about it. It could go either way.
I haven’t been able to focus on work today, so I’ve decided to just abandon it. Instead I’m organizing my spice rack. Organizing soothes me, eases my nerves. The boys are at school and the house is spotless. I check my watch — one hour until Brian gets back. I’ve checked my phone repeatedly — no messages or texts from Brian.
I’m pouring some paprika into one of my just-cleaned spice jars when Brian finally gets home, a little later than usual. I drop everything and run to the front door.
“Sorry I’m late,” he says. “It’s crazy these days.” Yes, June always is.
“Why didn’t you text me… call me?” I ask him. “I’ve been going insane.”
He drops his briefcase by the door and slips off his shoes. “Sorry, like I said… crazy.”
“So what’s the status? How did lunch go?”
He takes my hand and leads me to the living room. We both take a seat on the sofa. “At first, she was pissed.”
“I can imagine.”
“She said I had no right coming into her life and messing everything up. She never told Joel about Ava. She says it’s because she’s still not sure if Ava is mine.”
“Bullshit… just look at the girl. She’s your spitting image.”
“Exactly. That’s what I told her. I was so pissed off, Mischa. I told her that I’d tell Joel myself if she didn’t.”
My eyes grow wide and I think about poor Joel — he’s a victim in all this. He doesn’t deserve it. “You didn’t say that.”
“I did. I have a right to be part of my daughter’s life. I’ve already been robbed of the first eighteen years.”
“True.”
“Anyway she finally relented. She says that Ava is eighteen now. She’s an adult and she can make her own decisions. It’s up to Ava now… whether she wants me to be part of her life or not. Renee promised me that she would speak to both of them… tonight. She’s also going to set up a paternity test just to make sure. Her husband is in for a big surprise.”
My heart sinks for Joel.
“We’re having lunch again tomorrow,” he tells me. “I think you should come.”
“Oh… I don’t know about that… she hates me.”
He smiles. “You’ll be part of her daughter’s life. She’ll just have to get used to you.”
I bite my lip, already stressed out over the whole situation. The last thing I want to do is have lunch with the goddess.
Looks like another nerve wracking twenty-four hours ahead.
* * *
My nerves are acting up more than usual, which is to say I’m kind of losing my mind. I keep staring down at my skirt and pressing it smooth. I repeat my rituals over and over again, hoping no one notices. Brian and I and Renee have met at a pizzeria near Brian’s school. We’re all picking at our slices, none of us are hungry. Renee tells us she’s spoken to Ava and that she’s open to getting to know her biological father.
“But first… “ she says. “We need to do a paternity test. I haven’t spoken to Joel yet. He knows nothing, and there’s no need for him to know anything until we know for sure.”
“C’mon, Renee,” Brian scoffs. “She looks exactly like me.”
“True… but I just want to make sure.”
“How long will this take?”
“Just a few days. I need a buccal swab from you.”
“How do I know I can trust you? I want to see those results with my own eyes.”
Renee rolls her eyes. “You will.”
We don’t linger long. Unfortunately, there’s not much love lost between Renee and Brian.
“I’ll contact you,” Renee tells him as she steps out of the pizzeria, her heels loud, her presence bigger than ever.
* * *
About a week later, I’m in the bath when Brian tells me the news. Ava’s his. It’s no surprise of course. Apparently we’re all going to lunch the following Thursday. Brian and Ava are finally going to meet.
39
Claudia has something special for us planned today. It’s tea with the girls as usual, but with a twist. High tea. And when I say high tea, I mean it literally. It’s a trend she’s read about in Oprah magazine. Women across the country are having high tea parties — they wear pretty vintage dresses, eat little sandwiches and macarons, and drink cannabis infused tea.
I’ve never touched drugs, but Claudia assures me that the dose is very mild. It’s just going to give you a buzz,” she says. “You drink, don’t you? It’s not any different than alcohol.”
I’ve worn the pretty pink polka-dot dress I bought when I was shopping with Joel. I’m so excited to finally have the opportunity to wear it. I’ve paired it with polka-dot and flower peep-toe platform pumps. I’ve curled my hair and pinned it, retro-style. For the final touch, I’ve dabbed on some bright red lipstick.
I’m giddy as I scurry to the elevator. I don’t take the stairs on account of the heels I can barely walk in. I run into the rich hottie from upstairs. He never says much. I don’t even know his name. But I’m feeling su
per friendly. “How are you?” I ask.
He smiles. “Great. And you?”
I press the 2 button. “Fabulous,” I reply. “Going for tea at my friends.”
Going to get so stoned.
“Sounds fun,” he says. “You’re sure dressed for it.”
“Thank you. You like?” I ask, my words flirty. I haven’t had a sip, but it’s like I’m already high.
He smiles. “Very much.”
We reach Claudia’s floor and I wave bye. I think that might have been the longest conversation any of us have ever had with the man. I can’t wait to tell the girls. I scurry to Claudia’s, excited.
Claudia squeals like a junior high girl when she sees me. “You look fabulous. That dress…”
“You’re not so bad, yourself. Amazing dress.” She’s elegant in a striped quirky sky blue capped sleeve dress. There are bright pink flamingos frolicking all around the skirt. The dress is paired with butter yellow vintage-looking pumps. “Love the shoes.”
She kicks up a leg. “They’re Juicy Couture. I’ve had these forever.”
“Nice.”
“Come in,” she urges.
The place looks amazing. Claudia’s apartment has always had a very artsy bohemian vibe; warm colors, textures and patterns abound. It’s like walking into a big warm hug. But today, it’s even more special. The round dining room table is covered with a pretty embroidered white tablecloth. A lovely arrangement of hydrangeas sits at its center, surrounded by tea sandwiches and adorable colorful square desserts. Whimsical floral tea cups and saucers are set on paper doilies.
I’m wide-eyed, tickled pink. “It looks amazing,”
“It’s all about us girls today,” she tells me. “The boys are in Chicago at a ball game. Special boys weekend. I figure I might as well have a girls weekend.”
“Great idea.”
The door swings open and Abigail swoops in — she looks fabulous in a pretty sleeveless checkered yellow dress, paired with simple white pumps. She’s even wearing a little white retro hat and long silk gloves. Her long blonde hair is tucked into a bun.
“You look fantastic,” she tells me.
“You too. Love it.”
She’s carrying a bottle of red wine and sets it on the counter as she takes in the table. “So when do we drink?” she asks. “I can’t wait.”
Claudia fiddles with her iPod. She puts on some Michael Bublé. I stand by the tall windows looking out into the street — her apartment is very similar to mine — all these units have the same views.
“Just waiting for Gretchen,” she tells us. “Her mother-in-law was sitting for her. She’s a little iffy about the whole thing. She doesn’t want the woman to see her stoned.”
I smile. Sounds like Gretchen. I don’t think she’s ever done drugs either. Abigail and Claudia are another story though.
Finally, after what seems like an eternity, Gretchen finally arrives. She’s adorable in a pretty pink dress covered with black roses and a black silk bow. Her hair is curled and up, and she’s wearing her bookworm glasses and ballerina flats. “Sorry, guys. My mother-in-law loves to talk.”
Abigail bends down and gives her a kiss on the cheek. I reach in for a hug. “Twinsies,” she says. Yes, our dresses are very similar — mine has polka-dots, hers has roses and is a little longer.
She turns her gaze to the table. “Wow, that’s so pretty.”
Claudia’s eyes grow wide with excitement. “Okay, we can start!”
We all settle down at the table, full of barely contained excitement. Gretchen taps her red-tipped nails on the table. Abigail slowly removes her elegant gloves, one finger at a time, and I perform my usual ritual.
Claudia is all smiles as she serves us tea from a lovely flower printed teapot. “This is a serenity infusion. It’s meant to make you feel relaxed, light as air,” she explains. “There are all kinds of infusions. One’s actually meant to make you horny.” She smirks. “But I don’t need that one now.”
We all laugh. Yes, I definitely don’t need it either. I’m frisky enough as it is these days. Visions of Joel all over me still assault me on a daily basis. I know they will eventually fade, but for the moment, I’m still enjoying them.
“I could use a little horny tea,” Abigail jokes. “I’m practically a nun these days.”
“Me too,” Gretchen says. Nobody laughs — poor little Gretchen. Sex probably won’t be on her mind for a long while.
I tentatively take my first sip. It’s good. Really good. “I like it.”
“Me too,” Gretchen chimes in.
“It’s also infused with ginger and lemon,” Claudia explains. “I’ve added some organic lavender honey.”
“Delicious,” Abigail adds. And she’s not exactly sipping it, she’s drinking it like she can’t get enough, can’t wait to get stoned.
We help ourselves to sandwiches and treats. We sip our tea, eat and chat. We laugh and share. I tell them all about my encounter with Mr. Dark & Mysterious.
“He actually talks?” Abigail jokes.
“He’s just shy,” Gretchen pipes in.
This feels like the perfect time to tell them all that’s been going on with me these past weeks. They’ve asked me if I was okay, and I’ve replied that I was. “Just a lot going on,” has been a favorite response.
These are my best friends. It’s time to share with them, no matter how uncomfortable and embarrassing it might be. It’s my life, after all. No one’s life is perfect. Abigail is divorced. Claudia is smack in the middle of her own separation, and poor Gretchen has lost her husband in a terrible car wreck. I know they’ve always thought my life was perfect, save for my little quirks, but today they’ll realize it isn’t.
“So, listen guys…” I start with a heavy heart. “I know you’ve all been worried about me lately because I’ve been acting kind of weird… weirder than usual.”
They all sit to attention, dainty tea cups in hands, eyes a bit glazed but very curious.
“The thing is… my life is kind of a mess,” I finally confess.
“How so?” Gretchen asks.
“A few weeks ago, I found a photo…” I start and they listen attentively. I tell them all about my initial suspicions about Ava, and none of them can believe it. When I get to the part where I realized that she was actually his daughter, they all exhale breaths of relief. Their eyes and ears are glued to me as I go on, as I tell them all about Renee and Joel, about my budding friendships with Joel and Ava.
“He actually helped me pick out this dress,” I tell them. “He has great taste.”
“Well, he is a hairdresser,” Gretchen points out.
“Are you sure he’s not gay?” Claudia chimes in.
I smile as a sudden memory hits me: his head between my thighs. “No, definitely not gay.” I don’t confess everything. I don’t tell them about my indiscretions with Joel, and my extensive creeping and my obsessions. I do tell them all about how Brian came to have sex with Renee so long ago, how he came to realize he had a daughter, and how we plan to make her part of our lives.
“That’s fantastic,” Gretchen says.
“A little crazy but kind of great,” Claudia adds.
“I need to see this woman,” Abigail pipes in. “I’m going to her store this week.”
“No, No. Don’t do that,” I plead. “She’ll think I’ve sent you to stalk her.”
She laughs. “She doesn’t know who I am. I’ll just quietly slip in and buy a dress or something.”
“I’ve been there,” Claudia chimes in. “It’s a great store. The woman is a knockout.”
I cock a brow.
“Sorry, Mischa. Actually… she’s kind of… too tall, too skinny.”
I laugh. “Nice try.” I finally feel the effects of the tea. I feel so loose, so happy, not a care in the world. I could get used to this.
“I wanna go too,” Gretchen says.
“You would love it,” Claudia tells her. “They have a lot of vintage stuff.”
>
I shake my head. “Be my guest, girls. Check out the other woman. I don’t care,” I tell them. “I just can’t go with you… she kind of hates me.”
Abigail laughs. “That’s crazy. Who in the world could possibly hate you.”
My heart warms at her words. I’m not sure if it’s the tea, or just being in the company of my wonderful friends, but I’m feeling very loved.
* * *
We’re going to meet Ava tomorrow, and I couldn’t be more on edge. Despite the fact that we’ve become friends on Facebook, she still doesn’t know I’m her biological father’s wife. She only knows me as Joel’s friend. She’ll be overwhelmed as it is, meeting Brian for the first time. I definitely do not want to add to her stress.
With trembling fingers, I start to type…
Hi Ava,
Good luck tomorrow! I know you will be meeting your biological dad for the first time. He is extremely excited to meet you. I know this because…
I hesitate for a moment, take a deep breath, and carry on.
I should tell you something… I will be there tomorrow. I’ve enjoyed my friendship with you, but I haven’t been completely honest. I’m not only Joel’s friend, I’m also Brian’s wife. Yes… Brian… your biological dad. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you before, but it was not my place to tell you about Brian. I had to wait until it was all out in the open. I hope you forgive me. I’m hoping you and I can be good friends in the years ahead.
I can be a little uptight sometimes, but I’d make a great stepmom. I make excellent muffins, and I’m a decent cook. And I also love shopping… if that’s your thing. And yoga too.
Your friend, Mischa.
I check my Messenger app obsessively, until about two hours later, I spot the word Seen under my message. Then I proceed to keep checking my phone obsessively for a reply.
Nothing.
I toss and turn in bed as confusion and worry weigh me down. Following countless restless hours, I finally fall into slumber.
