Deep Down True

by Juliette Fay

  A sly, appreciative grin. He stepped out of the doorway finally and beckoned her in. “We’ll text Granny and tell her not to wait up.”

  Dana introduced herself. “Our daughters are friends,” she added, offering her hand to shake.

  He accepted it and held it for an extra second. “Darby’s mom?”

  “No, Morgan’s.”

  “Oh . . . Right! Morgan.” It was clear he didn’t know Morgan, but Dana took no offense. The fathers rarely kept up with their kids’ rapidly rotating social worlds. “I’m Carter.” He guided her down a pomegranate-red hallway hung with small charcoal sketches in enormous black frames, toward the jazz music and the loud hum of voices in the thrall of human contact.

  Carter Kinnear made sure her hand was wrapped safely around the stem of a wineglass before releasing her into the uncharted waters of the party. Dana glanced around, noting a vaguely familiar face or two.

  “Dana?” said a voice behind her.

  Dana turned and reached out for a hug. “I am so glad to see you,” she murmured into Polly’s ear. “I barely know anyone!”

  “I didn’t realize you and Nora had hit it off so fast,” said Polly, her grip a little looser than usual. “You should have told me.” Then, as an afterthought, “You could’ve come with us.”

  “‘Us’? Victor’s here, too?”

  Polly gave an eye roll. “Sniffing around the hostess with the mostess.” Dana followed her gaze across the room. Victor was leaning against a granite countertop as Nora Kinnear talked, her long fingers pointing to herself and then away and then back again. His eyes never left her face as he took a swig from his beer. Nora must have sensed Polly’s and Dana’s attention, because she glanced toward them and quickly extricated herself. Victor gave Dana a wave as Nora made her way over.

  “I’m so glad you came!” she said, her hands lighting on Dana’s back as she leaned in for Dana to peck her on the cheek. “Polly always mentions you at book group, and I thought, ‘She sounds interesting, I’ll have to get to know her better.’”

  Dana smiled, grateful for this gesture of acceptance. But as she glanced at Polly, something seemed slightly off. There was a tension behind Polly’s smile, a subtle uneasiness that surprised Dana. Nora chatted blithely about how well Morgan and Kimmi got along, how they must have eaten half the batter of the brownies they made, laughing so hard they dropped the bowl. Dana explained Morgan’s absence and apologized for the change in plans.

  “Oh, Kimmi will understand. We’ve talked about how complicated it gets when parents split. Anyway, she has Devynne up there with her now, so she’s got nothing to mope about.” Her gaze skimming the room, Nora said suddenly, “Dana, you don’t know Beth Getman, do you? You’ve got to meet her. You two have so much in common.” Steering Dana away, Nora said over her shoulder, “Pol, you don’t mind if I steal her for a minute, right?” Then they were weaving through the crowd, stopping for Nora to introduce Dana to various friends. They never did catch up to the elusive Beth Getman, and Dana didn’t talk to Polly again for the rest of the party.

  Occasionally she saw her across the room, and it seemed to Dana as if Polly were watching her, or possibly watching Nora, who was always at her side, bestowing her with the gifts of new acquaintances. Why hadn’t Nora included Polly? Dana kept meaning to circle around to her, but the opportunity never presented itself.

  Hours later, as she made her way back down the driveway, feeling as if she’d gotten a good grade on a test she hadn’t studied for, Dana gave her beaded clutch a little squeeze. She had made new friends—with people who didn’t know her as half of Kenneth-and-Dana, or even as his duped ex-wife. She had soloed, and though it didn’t feel quite as good as arriving on the arm of a man who loved her, it made her feel sharp and audacious and, oddly enough, just a little bit dangerous.

  CHAPTER 19

  JACK GRIPPED HER HAND AND PRESSED FASTER down the sidewalk; her leather-soled mules slapped the cement, sending tremors into her ankles. Propelled toward Rentschler Field, she heard the aggregated buzz of forty thousand voices greeting friends, buying UConn sweatshirts, or excusing themselves as they made their way across the stands. Though she had graduated from UConn twenty-odd years earlier, it was Dana’s first time at “The Rent,” as Jack referred to it. In her day, football was played at Memorial Stadium, and she felt suddenly sentimental for her college days, which had seemed so full of drama at the time but were a cakewalk compared to her life now. Jack towed her along toward their seats, his enormous hand gripping hers, compressing her knuckles uncomfortably against one another. And yet she felt thrilled to be so explicitly claimed. This one’s taken, he seemed to say with that hand. She’s with me.

  Once they were seated, Jack slid closer to Dana, pressing her toward the aisle. “Cold?” he asked as he rubbed her back.

  “A little,” she admitted.

  “Wait till the game starts.” He grinned. “That’ll get your blood flowing.”

  Her feelings toward football could hardly be called passionate, but what was the harm? Dana was used to adjusting her own opinions to make room for others’. She wanted to like what he liked, and that was almost as good as actually liking it.

  From her seat on the aisle, she saw a man and a little boy climbing the stairs hand in hand. “This one?” the boy asked at every row. “Is this our seats?”

  “No, buddy,” the man answered each time. “A little farther up.” Dana found herself studying the man’s face. He seemed familiar somehow. Suddenly he was staring back. “Dana!” he said.

  “Oh, my God!” It was Billy, her college boyfriend. He looked older, of course, and weathered in ways she wouldn’t have expected. But he was clear-eyed, and she noticed a wedding ring glinting on his finger just before he leaned down to hug her.

  “You’re a sight,” he murmured in her ear. The embrace went a fraction of a second too long.

  “Jack Roburtin,” said a slightly peevish voice beside her. Jack’s huge hand came out in front of her, momentarily obscuring her view.

  “Bill Waterman, nice to meet you.” He gave Jack’s hand a double pump and stepped back into the aisle, putting a respectable distance between himself and Dana.

  “Bill and I were classmates,” Dana said quickly. “Where’d we meet? Freshman Spanish?”

  “Yeah.” He aimed his response at Jack. “At like eight-thirty in the morning. I wasn’t hablo-ing too much español at that hour, if you know what I mean.”

  “Or any other hour,” Dana teased.

  “She got me through,” he told Jack. “I got a C-minus, but I passed. That class anyway.”

  “Not much of a student, huh?” said Jack. His eyes wandered out onto the field, not waiting for the answer. His fingers slid onto Dana’s and wriggled into an embrace.

  Billy’s gaze turned back to her. “No, not much.” As he studied her face, she had a brief memory of his hands in her hair, his lips grazing her eyebrows.

  Embarrassed, she turned her attention to the boy. “You like football?” she said brightly.

  “Yeah!” he said. “Well, I never seen a game before, but I think so. I got a helmet!”

  “You do? You’re lucky—my son didn’t get a helmet until just this year, and he’s seven.”

  “I’m four and three-quarters! And I’m getting a hot dog, but I don’t have to eat it all. And cotton candy!”

  Billy rubbed the top of his little buzz cut, and the boy wrapped his arms around his father’s thigh. “Okay, Sean-o, we better get to our seats.” He took one last glance at Dana. “Great to see you,” he said.

  “He’s beautiful,” she murmured. Good for you, she wanted to say. Billy steered the boy up the stairs.

  “Oh, COME ON!” Jack suddenly yelled toward the field. “You call that a KICKOFF?”

  At halftime Jack huffed an aggravated sigh. He’d talked almost incessantly, coaching the game from his seat high above the sidelines, punctuated by shouts of, “OH, yeah! THAT’S what I’m talking’bout!” or “It’
s called BLOCKING, for cryin’ out loud! Quit the TAP DANCING!”

  “When you think about the scholarships these jerks are getting,” he now muttered, arms reaching up, stretching the tension out of his spine, “it makes you want to beat ’em with a stick.”

  “Come on, Jack,” she chided playfully. “They’re just kids. They’re trying.”

  “You’re right.” He smiled indulgently. “But there’s a difference between trying and winning. And if you don’t have the mental toughness to kick some butt and win, you shouldn’t be playing the game, is all I’m saying.” He stood up. “Hungry? I’ll run and get us some snacks. I gotta hit the head anyway.” He climbed past her into the aisle and was gone before she realized he hadn’t asked what she wanted. But there was something nice about his choosing things for her. Kenneth always insisted she get the food, so he wouldn’t have to listen to any remarks if he didn’t get just the right thing, he said. Stop thinking about Kenneth, she admonished herself.

  “Hey, Dana.” She turned to see Billy and Sean sitting two rows up. He motioned for her to come sit with them. “My curiosity’s getting the best of me.” He grinned as she squeezed in next to him. “What’ve you been doing the past twenty years?” She told him about Morgan and Grady and the temporary addition of Alder. “You always had a soft spot for the lost and lonely,” he said. “If I were sixteen and mixed up, I’d find my way to your house, too.” His smile faded a little. “And Jack’s your husband?”

  “Oh, he’s . . . well, he’s my date, I guess.”

  “You guess? You’re not sure?” He laughed. “Because I’m pretty sure he’s sure.”

  “Uhh!” she groaned. “I’m not used to this! It’s my first date since the divorce, and I barely remember how to do it.”

  “Oh, you’re a smart girl,” he teased. “You’ll get the hang of it. I felt the same after my divorce. But I finally met the right one and was ready to . . . you know . . . be the guy.”

  “The guy?”

  “I was just hanging out for years . . . Well, you know that. But I finally got my act together and was ready to step up for once.” He put an arm around Sean, who was happily licking at his stick of cotton candy. “I should’ve tried it sooner.”

  She grinned at him. “You’re going to hate me for saying this . . . but I’m proud of you.”

  “Hey, you’re Dana—you’re unhatable.” He gazed at her a moment. “So you like this guy?”

  “Yeah . . .” she said. “He’s Grady’s football coach. You should see him with the boys—he’s wonderful.”

  “Great.” Billy nodded. What are you doing with this loser? is how it sounded in her head. She stiffened and looked out over the crowd. “He’s nice,” she said. “It feels good to be wanted.”

  He patted her knee, drawing her attention to him again. “Isn’t that the truth.” It was an apology, she knew. “You better get back,” he told her. “I think Jack figured out we were more than just study partners.”

  “It’s so good to see you.” She sighed. “And meet your little pal here. Bye, Sean.”

  “Bye,” said Sean, revealing the wad of melting pink fluff in his mouth.

  Billy watched her rise. “Hang in there,” he said. “Stay true.”

  True, she ruminated, waiting for Jack to return. To what, exactly?

  The UConn Huskies did not win. “Spanked,” Jack muttered derisively as they drove home.

  “Where do the boys play tomorrow?” Dana asked.

  “They don’t play again till next Saturday. Coach’ll have them busting their butts this week. Notre Dame is strong on defense, but their QB’s recovering from a groin pull, so they’ll—”

  “No, our boys,” said Dana. “Where are you coaching tomorrow?”

  Jack blinked, reeling himself back to his own life. “Oh, yeah. Vernon.” They talked about the game and a bet he had with a co-worker that he could sell more Ford F-150s by Christmas. Soon they were pulling in to her driveway. He unbuckled his seat belt and turned toward her, his hand resting on the back of her seat. “This was great,” he said, grinning. “But I knew it would be.”

  “It was really fun,” she agreed. The way his gaze kept flicking from her eyes to her lips made her heart pound as if it were trying to find an emergency exit.

  “I feel really comfortable with you, you know?” he said. “Some women make you want to puff up the truth so you’ll sound better. But you’re not like that.” A finger leaned out from the hand on her seat back and traced the curve of her cheek. “God, you’re pretty.” His face came closer, the blue of his eyes a darker, oceanic color in the dimness of the truck’s cab.

  With all his attention focused on her, Dana had a rare moment of feeling wonderfully lucky. This is a good man, she thought. Perhaps not as urbane as Kenneth, nor as insightful as Billy. But unlike them, he hadn’t allowed other women or drugs to lure him away. Jack wanted her.

  Now lightly kissing the corners of her mouth, Jack murmured, “You taste good.” Gently, then more insistently, he probed deeper, a slow, sensual escalation.

  I’m being kissed! she thought. When was the last time . . . ? New Year’s Eve . . . Polly and Victor’s party . . . Kenneth patting my back as he gave me his last kiss . . . This was so much better. Jack was a good kisser, but, more important, there was so much wanting behind it. She put her hand out to Jack’s shoulder, and he nibbled her ear. “Let’s go inside,” he breathed.

  Dana froze.

  “Whoa, hey,” he said. “It’s fine.”

  “No, it’s just—”

  “Seriously, no biggie.”

  “Alder’s home, and I wouldn’t feel right . . .” Alder was sleeping over at Jet’s. The house was empty. “Also, I’m not really—”

  “Course not. My bad.” He arranged himself back into his seat and slapped his hands on the steering wheel. “So when can I see you again?” He grinned and wagged a finger at her. “And don’t say two weeks from now, because there is no way I can wait that long.”

  Wanted, wanted, wanted . . . the thought reverberated in her chest. “No,” she said. “Neither can I.”

  CHAPTER 20

  HER ALARM WAS SET FOR SIX-FIFTEEN ON MONday morning, but Dana was wide awake by a quarter to five. Seamless, she kept thinking. The kids should barely be aware that I’m working now. By seven she was in the kitchen making breakfast, wearing an apron printed with the word MANGIA! to shield her work clothes. Grady straggled in, his pajama top hanging off one shoulder.

  “Pancakes or waffles?” she asked.

  “What day is it?” His half-lidded eyes squinted in her direction.

  “Monday.”

  “Is there school?”

  “Of course there is. Monday’s a school day—you know that, silly.”

  “We only get pancakes on weekends.”

  “Well, I got up early, and I just felt like making them. So which is it—pancakes or waffles?”

  “Toast,” he said, slumping onto a kitchen chair and scratching his neck. “We had pancakes at Dad and Tina’s yesterday. He puts all those chocolate chips in them.”

  Dana stared at the bowl of pancake batter. “Sounds like you had a fun weekend.” She poured Grady a glass of orange juice.

  “It was awesome.” He slurped at the juice. A drip ran down his chin, and he wiped it on the shoulder of his pajama top. “We went to Dad’s health club, just him and me, and we had races in the pool where you could only use one arm and stuff. I beat him fourteen times. No, fifteen.”

  “Where was Morgan?” Dana asked. He better not have left her at his apartment to wander around on the Internet, she thought, loading the toaster and slamming down the knob.

  “Her and Tina went shopping in the West End.”

  He can’t cover the bills, but they can go shopping in the West End? Dana fumed. Boy, is he in for a phone call.

  “But it was so dumb,” said Grady. “They didn’t even buy anything! They just looked at stuff. What’s the point of that?” He slumped further in his sea
t. “I don’t want to go to school. I hate it.”

  “No you don’t, honey,” she said. “School’s fun. Especially recess, right?”

  “I hate it. Especially recess.”

  Dana was waiting outside the heavy glass exterior door of Cotters Rock Dental Center when Tony arrived with the keys, blue medical scrubs peeking through his unzipped leather bomber jacket. “You’re early.” He smiled warmly as he unlocked the door. “No surprise.”

  They completed her employment forms and went over how to find files, submit claims, and the like. “I had Marie give me the low-down on this crazy phone system,” Tony said, leaning over her as she sat in the swivel chair behind the desk. That strange scent he had, the commingling of mint and musky aftershave, drifted by her. “You practically need a pilot’s license to operate it,” he joked. “She comes in at eight-thirty if we can’t make it behave.”

  The little bell that hung from the handle of the office door jingled, and a man in a business suit came in. He removed his Blue-tooth earpiece, pocketing it as he approached the desk.

  “Can I help you?” said Dana. Tony patted her on the shoulder and went back to his office.

  At a quarter to twelve, Marie the hygienist came into the receptionist area with a take-out menu from Nelly’s Deli. “Do you mind ordering?” she asked Dana. “Tony gets a veggie sub, no onions, and an iced tea. Just tell him when the delivery guy shows.”

  “Sure. And what are you having?”

  “Nothing. I take my run during the lunch hour.” Marie turned to leave, her posture light-pole straight. “Switch over to the answering service right at noon. Otherwise you’ll never escape.”

  Dana was eating her yogurt when Tony’s lunch arrived. He came out and handed the delivery man some bills. Turning to Dana, he said, “Hey, you started without me.”

  “Oh, sorry—I figured it might be a working lunch.”

  “Nah,” he said. “Come and join me.” She followed him to the kitchenette at the back of the office, and they sat at the little wooden café table. Searching for something to say, she asked about the filing system, though she’d already figured it out. Soon she’d exhausted all work-related subject matter, and there was a silence that lingered for several moments. Tony dabbed his mouth with a napkin. “So,” he said. “How was your weekend?”