What's Not Said

by Valerie Taylor

  Most of the time Mike didn’t dwell on their sex life; it was ancient history. And he was too busy covering up for himself on multiple fronts. Except for the time he was at lunch with his colleague, Bill, when the subject of how times had changed in the sex department with their wives over the years.

  Bill boasted about how he was shocked, yet ecstatic, at the interest his wife, Nancy, had in making love recently. Bill described in great pains the cycles of their love life. In the early years before they married, they couldn’t get enough of each other. And they didn’t care where they did it. In the backseat of his Honda, in the stairwell of a hotel in the middle of the night after a New Year’s Eve party, up against a tree in the park after a concert.

  Then, Bill continued, they married and all that spontaneity disappeared. The bedroom became the more conventional venue to have sex. Though occasionally Nancy would turn the television off at halftime of an NFL game and unzip his pants right there on the couch with no prompting from him. Those were the days.

  Once the kids came, they both became sleep deprived and just plain old tired, balancing work and family. Sex became perfunctory. Almost always Saturday night. Kind of the date night hold over from their youth. And maybe they’d slip in another go-round on Thursday night, just so they could say they got it on twice that week. Neither of them tried to spice things up. Bill confessed he’d become bored at home.

  As Mike was well aware, Bill traveled for work, often to New York City, to visit clients. And that’s where he met Stella, a fetching and willing account executive.

  “STELLA!!” Bill bellowed, mimicking Marlon Brando in A Streetcar Named Desire. “Now there’s a gal worth risking a flight to LaGuardia.”

  One thing led to another, Bill explained, showing no guilt or remorse. First, coffee together, then lunch. And finally one night, after dinner and a night cap at her apartment on the East Side, Bill was bored no more. He’d forgotten what igniting a man’s passion did for his ego and performance—in the bedroom and at work.

  “Didn’t Nancy suspect?”

  Bill didn’t think so. He kept to the twice-a-week-routine at home. His affair with the long-legged Stella went on for a few years. Neither of them made promises or commitments.

  “Did you love her?”

  He wasn’t sure if he did or not. He loved the sex sure enough. But love?

  “Would you leave Nancy for her?”

  No, Bill never gave it a thought. In fact, it was easy to end it with her. She met another guy, got married, and had a little girl. All’s well that ends well.

  So how did things turn around for him and Nancy? Mike’s interest peaked, feeling himself getting off on Bill’s story.

  Bill continued. “Our boys are teenagers now. They both drive and are out a lot. We have the house all to ourselves.”

  It was Nancy that renewed the spark between them. One night, Bill came home from work and when he walked in, she stood there wearing nothing but her leather coat and offering him a gin martini. Bill knew it sounded cliché, but it worked for his libido, so why not? He chugged the drink and peeled open her coat. They dropped right there to the floor and had the best sex he’d had in years, even with Stella. That was just the beginning. Since then Nancy was always hot to trot, experimenting with locations and even toys. Bill admitted he felt nineteen again.

  Wearing a big, shit-eating grin on his face, Bill asked, “What about you and Kassie? How are things going in that department?”

  Adjusting himself and his seat, Mike was reluctant and embarrassed to say not quite as well as he and Nancy. So instead, he deflected saying their paths were totally different. And knowing words sometimes lie, he crossed his fingers and said no, he didn’t have a Stella on the side. Not that he wasn’t tempted. And, of course, they didn’t have children.

  Mike’s cover-up continued. He and Kassie were ten years apart, so their sexual appetites and expectations of each other were naturally different; couldn’t expect to be on the same plane. And then, their busy careers. Kassie traveled all around the country.

  “Stop right there, ol’ boy. Did you ever think maybe she’s got a stud on the side? You know what they say? If they’re not getting it at home, they’re getting it somewhere. And that doesn’t just go for us guys. Women have needs, too. I know. Nancy’s been whispering all her fantasies, and it’s pretty damn kinky what goes on inside a woman’s mind.”

  What was going on inside Kassie’s mind . . . right now? With Kassie at the hospital with him, he couldn’t continue hiding from her. What would she think? Would she ever forgive him? Luckily Tommy Thompson had whisked him away from the lobby, and Kassie stayed behind to get him checked in. A bright green, blue, and yellow plaid curtain stood between Kassie and the hot mess he’d created.

  Reality struck. The silver metal grommets screeched twice in succession as a small man in a white coat pulled open the curtain and closed it again. For a moment, he thought maybe he was having a nightmare. A black male nurse and a peanut-sized doctor all in the same day. Was he dreaming he was in a circus hospital? A sharp pain in his back told him this was no dream.

  “Mr. Ricci, good evening, or should I say good morning. I’m Dr. Alexander, the attending,” he said, grabbing a small white step stool. Were stools scattered around the hospital for this doctor’s convenience?

  “Now tell me what brings you in here today? Trying to get out of coloring Easter eggs?”

  Mike brushed off the doctor’s attempt at a humorous bedside manner. He was in too much pain to care. While the doctor tortured Mike with his icy stethoscope and checked his pulse, he painstakingly downloaded his medical history and that night’s events. What concerned Mike the most was the back pain and the swelling in his feet. Couldn’t he prescribe something for those two things and send him home?

  “A person could contract a terminal illness in a place like this,” Mike said.

  “Not likely. But I do applaud you for coming to the hospital when you did. When there’s a long weekend like this, many folks put off getting life-threatening symptoms checked until Monday.”

  Life-threatening? Was this life-threatening? Good grief! He was only kidding about a terminal illness. Mike’s eyelids sweat as he tugged at the plastic admittance bracelet.

  “Let’s not jump to conclusions. We’re running a series of tests and scans. This way when Dr. Singleton gets here, he can review them. It shouldn’t surprise you, Mr. Ricci, that your chronic kidney disease is more than likely progressing, which is what has caused you the back pain and edema in your feet. Dr. Singleton will discuss the test results and prescribe the next steps in your treatment. Please don’t worry. You’re in good hands here.” Dr. Alexander snapped off his gloves and pumped the hand sanitizer.

  “In the meantime, we’ll give you something for your pain. Be sure to drink plenty of water. We’ll get you some ice chips, too. You might like them better.”

  “Thanks, Doc.” Mike felt reassured and nervous at the same time. If only he’d read those damn pamphlets.

  “Do you smoke?”

  Mike admitted he did, but he’d tried to cut back to just one pack a day. He had so few vices left these days.

  Dr. Alexander left Mike alone to think about what Dr. Singleton might tell him. Was he ready for bad news? What would it mean for his life, his business, his marriage? In that order. He was confident that his business was in good shape; his marriage not so much.

  He laid there enjoying the warmth of the blanket a nurse had draped over him, imagining he was on the warm beach again in Haiti, one stop on a cruise he and Kassie had taken during the good times. What a joy it would be to trade that day for this. But that would not be. He would have to face the music and hoped she could find it in her heart to forgive him, at least for this.

  Mike opened his eyes and saw by the jumbo clock on the wall it was almost six o’clock. He’d been there for nearly three hours and had seen no sign of Kassie. The curtain scraped open again sending a shiver up his spine, and at long last
Kassie walked in behind the short doctor. The next few minutes boggled his mind, one moment he was in the express lane, the next he shifted into reverse. Questions were asked, but not answered. Neither was her cellphone.

  He recalled hearing that ringtone before. The conversation with Bill flashed through his mind. A sourness rose from his gut. He reached for the kidney-shaped stainless-steel vomit dish, and tipped over the blue plastic pitcher. Humpty-Dumpty had better days.

  6

  Man of the Hour

  Finally, it was time. Christopher Gaines scheduled Uber to drive him to San Francisco International Airport. Usually he’d take the BART, but that night he had more luggage than most self-respecting forty-year-old men would have. He scoured his one-bedroom walk-up, making sure he’d left nothing behind he might need before he returned in September. If he’d forgotten something, he could always call his friend Sam whom he’d given a key the night before so he could check the place from time to time.

  With the checklist provided by Kassie, Chris approached his departure like a moving pro—emptying the refrigerator, cancelling his cleaning service, and forwarding his mail to the Charlestown post office box he’d rented when he was in Boston the month before. He turned off the thermostat and unplugged almost everything. He left one light in the living room on a timer, just like she said he should.

  It took three trips to get his bags down the stairs to the sidewalk. So much for traveling light. He’d ignored the packing list Kassie had emailed him. Besides clothes for work, he had casual and gym clothes, and three pairs of swim trunks. He also had his MacBook and iPad, and all the peripherals that went with them, including various types of headphones. And then there were his shoes. He wore his brown loafers and packed his black wing tips, plus two pairs of running shoes, two pairs of sandals and flip-flops for the pool.

  Ten minutes later, a black SUV arrived as scheduled. Chris and the driver loaded nine bags.

  “Long trip?”

  “Moving east, at least temporarily. Might be back, all depends.”

  As they made their way to the airport, Chris marveled at the sparkling city lights. The San Francisco skyline took his breath away. Maybe someday he could convince Kassie this was where they should live. Boston had its good points, but to him, there was no place like San Francisco.

  Before he knew it, they arrived at American Airlines departures. I’ll need a cart. The driver was one step ahead and commandeered one as soon as they pulled alongside the curb.

  Chris grabbed his black backpack from the rear seat. Better not forget that. It carried everything that was important—his computer, his novel, and the lease to the apartment in Charlestown, which he could move into after the holiday weekend. While he may leave his heart in San Francisco, he couldn’t leave his backpack. He slapped the driver on the back, thanked him, and gave him a twenty-dollar tip.

  How cool was this? No crowd. Chris rolled the cart toward the check-in counter and unloaded his luggage. As he handed his reservation receipt and identification to the pretty redhead, he noticed her name was Melissa.

  “You always wear a suit on the redeye, Mr. Gaines?” Melissa gushed.

  “Sometimes. Dress to impress, right?”

  “That you do,” she murmured.

  “You always this perky late at night? Is it Miss Melissa?”

  “Generally. Depends on the passenger, I guess. How many bags will you be checking, Mr. Christopher?”

  “Eight.”

  “You might want to move to the side and repack a couple. Otherwise I must charge you for at least six,” she said with a coy smile.

  “Thanks for the suggestion. But that’s okay. I knew there’d be charges.”

  “Why so many bags? If you don’t mind my asking, are you moving to Boston?” She fake-pouted.

  “Yes, at least through the summer, I hope.”

  “Let me see. I think I can waive the fee on a few of these. How about I charge you for five? Maybe when you move back, you could look me up and thank me?”

  “Sounds like a deal.” Chris winked and concluded the financial transaction with his AMEX Platinum card, leaving her invitation floating unanswered.

  Chris retrieved his boarding pass and luggage receipts and headed toward security. Behind him, he heard giggling and female voices say, “Was that Chris Hemsworth? No. Couldn’t be. Wasn’t he People Magazine’s sexiest man alive? Not sure. Let’s look him up?”

  He did a one-eighty back toward the counter.

  “Oh, Melissa, I forgot one thing. Look me up if you’re in Boston this summer. Perhaps we could get a drink some time.” Chris handed her his business card.

  More giggling as he walked away. He shook his head and stifled a laugh. It wasn’t the first time he’d been mistaken for a celebrity, but Chris Hemsworth? Was he Chris’s doppelgänger? He’d have to look him up.

  There was a good hour before boarding, and he felt a pang in his stomach. Nerves or hunger? Not all the restaurants were open this late. He found his way to a new pub he’d heard about and found a two-person table open. He settled in and ordered a Corona and a chicken quesadilla. That should hold him until morning.

  He checked his phone. No call or text from Kassie. It was after one in the morning in Boston. He hadn’t expected to hear from her. She’d said she and Mike were going out for dinner. The last supper? How appropriate and kind of surreal when he thought about it. Chris decided not to point out the irony to Kassie, afraid she might think it a bad omen, change her mind, and delay her well-planned escape once again.

  Kassie had agonized about how Mike would take the news. Would it be like a bomb coming out of left field, Chris wondered? Or maybe her husband had sensed her infidelity all along? Did Mike consider Kassie’s frequent business trips normal, or were they red flags? Did he accept late nights at the office as part of her job? Kassie had assured Chris she had covered her tracks, and Chris had assured her that he would be there to support her.

  Chris’s meal arrived. The sweet smell of peppers took him back to the Mexican dinner he had with Sam the night before.

  “So, buddy, you really gonna do this, huh?” Sam had quizzed him.

  “Yup. What’s it to ya?”

  “Do I need to state the obvious? She’s a lot older than you. A cougar and a married cougar at that.”

  “Jealous?”

  “Depends. Honestly now, is she that good in the sack?”

  “None of your business.”

  “You think it’ll last?”

  “We’ll see. Taking one day at a time. Tomorrow’s day one.”

  “Day one? What’s happening tomorrow?”

  “Didn’t I tell you? Kassie’s telling her husband she’s filing for divorce and moving out of the house. We’re moving into a furnished apartment next week.”

  “Wow! This is more serious than I thought. I figured you were just going out there for a few months to get laid more often than you do here.”

  “There’s that too. I could’ve stayed here, out of the possible line of fire. Her mother died last year. She could use some support. And, living together for a few months should give us an opportunity to see whether it’s real or just the excitement of a tryst and unbelievable sex.”

  “Rubbing it in, huh? Think Kassie’s got a friend just like her? Can’t say I’ve been with an older lady. I hear they’ve got all the same parts as their younger sisters, yet with all their wisdom, they leave all their inhibitions behind.”

  “Is that what you hear? I don’t kiss and tell. I’ll just say with Kassie we take it up a notch.” Chris winked.

  Sam asked about whether Kassie’s husband knew or suspected anything? Did Chris think he’d shoot him?

  “Hope not! That would be a waste of two good lives. Wouldn’t want that to happen.”

  Chris told him that in all the time he’d been seeing Kassie, there’d never been a close call. They took measures to keep their affair a secret, traveling mostly away from Boston to meet or timing their visits for when Kassie had
a good excuse to be out of the house. They never met at her place, avoiding gossipy neighbors or the accidental toothbrush left in the bathroom. No husband barging in unannounced.

  “If she’s been unfaithful to her husband, what makes you think she’ll be faithful to you?”

  Chris raised his eyebrows and explained to Sam there were no commitments between them. Not yet anyway. Over the last few years, Chris continued to date either gals from work or someone he’d met at the gym or at a bar. They were mostly one- or two-night stands. Nothing serious. He always gravitated back to Kassie.

  “Did you tell her about the others?”

  “Sometimes. She’s married, so I thought I should keep my options open. I don’t think she much appreciated it, but she understood, I guess. Maybe filing for divorce is her signal she wants me to stop fooling around.”

  “What about her? Were you her only lover all this time?”

  “I don’t know. Haven’t given it much thought.” Chris gazed around the restaurant. “She’s got enough baggage already with a marriage, a career, and a long-distance affair. God bless her if she found time for someone else; but I doubt it.”

  Chris had paused, tapped his fingers on the table, and turned his eyes to the ceiling. “Thanks, Sam, for bringing that up. What a pal.”

  Changing subjects, Sam asked, “What about your job here? What are you gonna do about that?”

  “That was easy. I quit.”

  “What? Are you crazy?”

  “Nope. I’ve saved enough money to carry me for a while, and I have an interview at a marketing firm in Cambridge next week to do some freelance work.”

  “What if things don’t work out as you plan with your lady friend?”