Maybe that’s why she had trouble conceiving again. She believed lovemaking and baby-making were synonymous. You can’t, or shouldn’t, have one without the other.
“What’s going on with us, Mike?” Kassie asked one night after having sex with the lights out for the first time ever.
“Nothing’s going on. We had sex. What do you want? I’m doing my part. It’s all up to you.”
As she rolled away from him, facing the wall, she wondered whether Mike was the one who needed therapy.
The effect of Kassie’s miscarriage on their relationship was like a crack in the arctic ice. An irreparable fissure occurred between them that widened with time.
Mike turned his attention away from Kassie and launched his consulting business. He spent hours traveling with realtors searching for the perfect office location, which he discovered nearby in Cambridge. He spent weekends away from the house, driving all around New England looking for an antique oak desk they could ill-afford, and he stayed up late at night creating spreadsheets and a business plan and went to bed long after Kassie fell asleep.
With her therapist’s counsel, Kassie refocused her energy away from building a family to making a life and a career outside their home and marriage. She took on more clients around the country, practiced tai chi and yoga, volunteered during telethons at the local PBS station, tutored second graders, and sold pies for Thanksgiving to support a not-for-profit food and nutrition program.
Though married, they separated. Looking back, it pained her to think they had failed to live up to the basic responsibilities of a married couple, and they hadn’t even made it to their first five-year mark. Her marriage disappointed her. She assumed the feeling was mutual.
“I’m not sure he even likes me,” Kassie confided to her therapist.
“Is there anything you could do?”
“Short of divorce, no, and that’s out of the question. We’re Catholic.”
So Kassie stayed put. She continued to do her wifely duty. How many ways could she fake orgasm? She figured as long as his urge was satisfied, he’d never care about whether she was, or be the wiser. Time took care of ending that illusion.
It started about ten years ago when neither of them instigated sex any longer. A week without sex turned into a month, into two months, into six months, into a year. Then two years, three and so on until their sex life was a memory that couldn’t be jump-started.
Relieved, Kassie needn’t pretend to be Mike’s lover any longer; she was only his wife according to the laws of the Church and of Massachusetts. Thankfully they lived in a no-fault divorce state now that she was ready. She’d deal with God and the Church later.
The hospital’s parking garage was more crowded than she’d expected. Maybe the holiday was the culprit. Round and round she drove until she found a spot on the top level. She flipped on her car’s interior light and checked for any evidence of Chris. Her makeup appeared in place, no black mascara smears. And no hickeys on her neck, like she had after their first encounter back in the states after Venice.
Kassie took a deep breath, put on a happy face, and walked into Mike’s hospital room.
“Hey, there.” She dropped his duffel bag on the floor and her purse on a chair. She didn’t approach him to give him a kiss. He didn’t appear to expect one.
“Oh, there you are. It’s about time. What took you so long? Thought you were going to leave me here to die alone.”
“You’re not going to die. I told you I didn’t know what time I’d be back. Did you sleep?”
“Who can sleep in a hospital?”
“You need to try. I need you to get better.”
“Looks like you slept.”
Kassie looked away and stalled. “I tried, but I think I tossed and turned a lot,” she said, not lying. “I’ll sleep better tonight knowing you’re in good hands here.”
“Where did you go? The gym? You look flushed. Your hair’s wet. Boy, I could sure use a shower.”
Ignoring his reference to her afterglow, Kassie went out to the nurse’s station and returned with good news.
“Your wish is granted. Let’s get you in the shower.” She helped him into the bathroom, and she unpacked his toiletries and clothes. Maybe he’d have an attitude adjustment once clean and out of that hospital gown.
“How do you feel now? Better?” She steadied him as he climbed back into bed.
“I’ll be better once I get out of this hellhole.”
“Any news about that from Dr. Singleton? Any test results?”
“Nope.”
“I read about Stage Three.”
“Where?”
“Googled it.”
“Oh. Terrific. I thought you were smarter than that.”
“I needed something, Mike. You’ve told me nothing.”
“Listen, let’s just see what happens Monday and go from there. I’m not worried. Don’t spend your weekend fretting over me.”
“I’ll try not to,” she said as she told him how she blew off the game and postponed her trip to Georgetown. She wanted to be there on Monday to hear what Dr. Singleton had to say before he was released.
“You know, if you had told me what was going on, maybe I could have helped.”
“I don’t think there was anything you could’ve done. It is what it is. I’ll figure this out when I know what’s happening.”
Kassie was quick to pick up his use of “I” instead of “we.” In her mind, there was no “we” in their future either. Time to change the subject.
She asked if he’d eaten. Oh dear, another touchy subject. He railed for five minutes about the crappy food and the rude nurse who threatened to put him back on an IV. But he ate, right? Mike rarely missed a meal no matter how unappetizing.
She racked her brain for a non-controversial subject, some common ground. How about the news? What’s going on in Washington? He didn’t know. He thought he fell asleep when the news was on.
“This is a waste of my time. I thought you’d be away this weekend and had planned to go into the office. You need to go there and bring me some things. I’ve got work I could be doing right here chained to this bed.”
“You’re not chained. I’m sure you can get up and walk around.”
“What in pajamas?”
“Oh Mike, grow up.”
Silence. Not the quiet serenity that followed the sexual gratification she’d shared with Chris earlier in the day. Their silence spoke the truth of their corrupted marriage.
“I have to get some tea.” She escaped.
When she returned, she didn’t take a seat. With little else to say, she had no desire to hangout and chitchat with him any longer than necessary.
“I’m tired, Mike. I think I should go. I’ll come by some time tomorrow. Is there anything else you need?”
“You’re going? You just got here. Shit. Go.”
Kassie turned to leave.
“You gonna stop by my office before you come tomorrow? The key’s in my briefcase. There are three manila folders on my desk. Bring them here, okay?”
“Sure, Mike, anything else?” She prayed for a quick getaway.
“And since I’ll be here for a while, bring me my goddam phone and charger. You should’ve thought of that.”
“I had a lot on my mind.” She turned to leave again.
“Where’s my book, Kassie? You brought it, right? It was on your damn list.”
She halted and opened his duffel bag. “Damn, I remember getting it and putting it on the stairs. Teresa must’ve moved it. And I forgot it. I’m sorry, Mike.”
“I don’t know about you, Kassie, sometimes you’re just plain useless.”
14
Chronically Romantic
“I missed your beauty marks.” Kassie rolled toward Chris as he applied delicate kisses along her back, her neck, her breast.
“Good morning,” she whispered, kissing his nose. “You were saying?”
“I’ve committed the pattern of your beauty mar
ks to memory, and when I’m horny—”
“You do what? Get off imagining them?”
“As a matter of fact . . .” He pulled her on top.
Stepping out of the shower an hour later, Kassie confiscated the only fresh towel remaining and wrapped it around her waist.
“What are you humming in there?” Chris shouted.
She peeked out at Chris sprawled on the couch in the sapphire-blue silk boxers she’d given him during their first rendezvous when they were back in the states after Venice.
“What a difference a day makes. Tis true, si?” Kassie joined him on the couch. “Nice shorts.”
Chris switched places with her, unwrapping her towel. Her nipples beckoned him. His tongue traveled along an invisible but previously traveled pathway starting at her navel, around each breast, along the sweet spot between her neck and shoulder and ending at her right ear.
“Better put something on. Food should be here soon,” he whispered, as his long fingers stroked her thighs for good measure.
“Spoil sport,” Kassie said as she hunted through the suite that mirrored a baggage claim area. She pulled out clean clothes and darted for the bathroom just as room service arrived. The mashed-up aroma of coffee, eggs, and bacon made her stomach gurgle. She’d only had one piece of the pizza they’d ordered in the night before, falling asleep in Chris’s arms watching a movie they’d rented.
“Yum,” she said, returning to the living area of the suite, this time wearing only a black thong. “How’s this?” Kassie stood legs spread with her arms across her chest, moistening her lips.
“The fashion police might give you a failing grade for dressing for brunch, but not me.”
Kassie slipped on the white oxford shirt he’d slung over a desk chair. “Is this better?”
“That brings me back,” Chris said, unwrapping an English Breakfast tea bag for her. “Venice.”
“That was just the first time. There were many other white shirt moments. Remember, Seattle. San Diego. What about Napa last year? What was the name of that B&B we stayed at?”
“Courtland Inn?”
“That’s it. So romantic. What we did in that hot tub!” She grimaced.
“One of our best trips, don’t you think? The weather, the wine—”
“The sex,” she said, taking the last bite of the omelet and croissant Chris had ordered for her and licking her fingers. She passed on the bacon; Chris didn’t.
“Little Miss One Track Mind. I was going to say that’s the trip you decided you were ready to leave Mike.”
“Hah, Mr. Know-It-All. I made my decision long before Napa. I just hadn’t told you.”
“Really. When?”
“Oh, about a year after we met. Mike burned me once too often. I’d had it. I didn’t tell you. It was too soon. We weren’t serious yet. I figured I’d give Mike one last chance.”
“So, what happened.” Chis poured himself another cup of coffee.
“It was Seattle.”
“But . . . I met you in Seattle.”
“Yes, but I’d asked Mike to join me there first,” she said, fiddling with a silver napkin ring. “I had two clients to visit, so I planned an extended trip so I’d have a long weekend there. On the long flight out, I got the not-so-bright idea of inviting Mike to join me.”
“You never told me this.”
“That’s because it didn’t matter. He refused to come. I pleaded with him; can you believe? We hadn’t had a vacation together in years. Remember he wasn’t with me in Italy.”
“How could I forget?” Chris raised his eyebrows appearing unsure of where this was going.
“It was about two in the morning, his time, when I called him. He was annoyed that I’d woken him up. Please, Mike, just fly out here. A long weekend together in the beautiful Pacific Northwest might do us good.”
“And?”
“He declined. Work was crazy. The dishwasher broke. And it’d be stupid to fly clear cross country.”
“Even for you?”
“Even for me.”
“And then you called me? I remember now how surprised I was you were so close to San Francisco and hadn’t given me a heads up. You said it was spur of the moment. Liar?”
“No, the trip was spur of the moment. So was my invitation to Mike.” Kassie rose from the leather desk chair, walked to the window, and turned facing Chris. “But I offered you a similar deal, silly. And you took it.”
“What does that make me? Consolation prize?” Chris sounded skeptical. “Or was it a test?”
“None of the above. Don’t go there, Chris. It wasn’t a test. Even if it was, you passed! And I decided to leave Mike after being with you in Seattle. You know when I knew?”
“Do tell.”
Kassie went to Chris, sitting on the edge of the disheveled California king bed, and lifted his chin. “Remember you suggested we meet on the top of the Space Needle? When I got off the elevator, you came up to me, took my hand, and kissed it.” Kassie mimicked what Chris had done.
“It was the Seattle version of Sleepless in Seattle. Except not the Empire State Building, the Space Needle. I went all the way to Seattle and found you. Get it?”
“You’re hopeless . . . and sleepless.”
“Whatever. I was devastated when we left each other at Sea-Tac. I blubbered all the way back to Boston. The only time I’d ever cried on a plane before was once on a trip from San Francisco to LA. I was reading Bridges of Madison County. The guy next to me thought I was nuts.”
“That was me, goofball. I still think you’re an incurable romantic.”
“What’s wrong with that? It’s not a crime to be a romantic. And that’s why I chose you. I could only be with someone who gets me. And that’s you.”
Kassie continued her story about how withdrawn Mike was when she returned from Seattle. They never talked about how he rejected her, just as they never talked about her trip to Italy.
“It’s impossible for relationships to succeed when both parties employ conflict-avoidance techniques,” Chris kind of lectured.
“You mean denial. Both of us, for years. And even after Seattle, I couldn’t leave him. My mom, ya know. It’s as if she got sick just so I wouldn’t leave Mike.”
“That’s pretty cynical, don’t you think?”
“Maybe so. But she’s been gone a year now. I’ve mourned her long enough. It’s time for me. It’s time for me to move on.”
“Speaking about moving on, I’d love to hang out, but I’ve got to meet the rental agent in Charlestown at two.”
“Look who’s being the adult in the room. I have things to do too, but one for the road wouldn’t hurt.” She slipped off her thong, knelt in front of him, and reached into his boxers.
Chris peeled his shirt off her shoulders, lifting her onto his lap. She threw back her head and moaned. He lowered her, as she took him back to the little inn in Napa.
Finally, they got dressed. Both agreed it would be best to leave the hotel room for a while if only to get it cleaned. Kassie needed to run home to check on Topher, go to Mike’s office to pick up a few things, and then swing by the hospital for a short visit with him. The shorter the better. They’d meet back at the hotel later.
Admiring themselves in front of the full-length mirror hanging on the front of the bathroom door, they agreed they’d cleaned up pretty good—Chris in his gray Italian trousers and light blue oxford shirt, Kassie in her skinny jeans, white tank top, and black blazer. Looking dapper, Kassie and Chris grabbed their briefcases and walked out of the hotel together, beaming as though they had just negotiated the Paris Climate Accord. Well, if not quite that, something else was consummated. Kassie could feel it.
15
A Sleuth is Born
Another brilliant Saturday afternoon in Boston. Kassie was bummed she had to spend it running around for Mike rather than spending it running around town with Chris.
She figured the highway would be crowded, so she took the back roads home from
the hotel. Maybe it would take longer, but it’d give her blood pressure time to recover so she could concentrate on Mike. Whether or not she liked it, she had to muster enough brain cells and energy to solve the problem with one man so she could be with another. So much for all she’d done to arrive at that weekend. Only thing that had gone according to plan was her reunion with Chris. Big sigh. Why was it she always felt thinner and taller after a romp with Chris? Be still my heart.
As usual, Topher greeted her with his alley cat mewl as she walked in the house. She hated leaving him alone all night. Oh, shit. Her face grew feverish, her stomach convulsed. She fished in her bag for her phone.
“Chris, oh thank God.”
“Miss me already?”
“Yes, but. I forgot Topher.”
“Thought you were heading home.”
“I am. I’m here. I can’t leave Topher with Mike when I move out. Oh my God, how did I forget him? He’s my cat. Mike would never take care of him. Bastard. And once he finds out about you, who knows if he’ll take it out on Topher.”
“I guess you’ll need to bring him with you to my place, our place.”
“You think we can do that? Is it allowed?”
“Let me talk to the realtor. Probably cost something. Just chill. I’m good with pussies.”
“Great. I’m panicking and you’re joking.”
Next up. Mike’s goddamn book. Kassie looked in the living room. Not there. On the stairs. Not there. Where would Teresa put a book? Oh, Hemingway, where art thou?
Was that her phone? She’d left it in the kitchen. It wasn’t Chris, not his ringtone.
“Hi, Annie.”
“Where are you? How’s it going? How’d Mike take the news?”
“Slow down. I’m home. Kind of a change in plans. At least a change in timing.”
“Oh poor dear. Chris a no-show, huh? I’m so sorry. After all these years—”
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