“When’s dinner?”
Mike retreated to the family room, leaving Kassie alone to do what they both knew she did best. Take care of him. Once she chopped the vegetables and sliced the chicken, she put away the Cuisinart, and tackled Mike’s laundry. She unzipped his duffel bag. His excuse for going to the office stunk as much as his clothes.
Kassie’s hands trembled as if she’d been tasered, redefining the stir in stir-fry. Could her day get any worse? Either Mike didn’t go to the office, or he lied about why he went there. And seeing the résumé folder on top of all the others when she opened his bag reinforced the implausibility of the Mike and Chris relationship. Sheer madness.
“Supper’s ready,” she shouted, clinging to a cabinet near the stove.
Despite her empty stomach, she wasn’t hungry, and even if she were, there would be no way she could bring herself to share the dinner table with him that night.
“Aren’t you gonna eat?”
“Nope.”
“Thought we were gonna talk.”
“Nope.”
Kassie brewed a super-sized cup of green tea with lemon, opened a new box of chocolate almond biscotti, and disappeared to the sanctuary of her office. She gave Mike thirty minutes to eat in peace before she returned to the kitchen not empty-handed.
“You forgot these,” she said, slamming the three folders on top of the magazine he’d been reading.
“What the—?” Mike jerked in his seat.
“Another lie, Mike? How many does that make today?”
Kassie didn’t stick around for his answer. She marched up the stairs, the sounds of her cursing and footfalls in fierce competition. Storming into her walk-in closet, she pulled out one of her navy-blue pant suits and a long-sleeved white oxford shirt. Still cursing, she hauled them to the closet of the larger of the two spare bedrooms. She returned to select appropriate lingerie, earrings, and her “survival” ring, a one-carat, square garnet in a silver setting she’d bought a year after she met Chris. Similar to the new gondola necklace around her neck, she’d wear the ring when she needed an extra dose of courage, like during her mother’s funeral or now as her marriage dissolved to dust.
Kassie threw her cosmetics, moisturizer, and a new purple toothbrush in an oval basket she’d found in her closet and retrieved one of her favorite knee-length cotton short-sleeved nightgowns from her bureau. Some people resorted to comfort food during times of stress. Kassie relied on tangibles to ease her tension. Last but not least, she grabbed the teddy bear and the afghan from the back of the chaise lounge.
Tears again filled her eyes as she balanced herself against the sink in the spare bedroom’s bathroom. That would be the first night she wouldn’t sleep in the same bed with Mike when they were under the same roof. Ever. In retrospect, no matter how much it shook her core, she conceded that she should’ve moved out of their bedroom a long time ago.
She rubbed her stomach. Hunger pains replaced the ache in her heart and reminded her of the incident at the grocery store. Oh gross. She ran her tongue around her teeth, praying no strange-tasting particles would make their presence known. But man could not live on tea and biscotti alone. Well, at least she couldn’t. The thought of chicken stir-fry conjured up yet another queasy sensation. Toast could help.
As Kassie descended the stairs in more control of her stomach and her feet than before, she recognized the chummy banter of the NESN announcers emanating from the family room. Red Sox. Figures. Apparently Mike shrugged off the kitchen encounter as a Bad Kassie moment that would fizzle overnight, or he simply chose, as was his natural custom, avoidance over confrontation.
She picked up where she’d left off, moving Mike’s laundry from the washer to the dryer and starting a new load more out of habit than generosity. Not surprisingly, when she refilled the Keurig reservoir at the kitchen sink, she saw he’d maintained his habit, too, of leaving his dishes in the sink for her to wash.
“How will he ever survive on his own? Do I care?” Kassie said to Topher who nuzzled his cold white nose against her leg begging for a treat.
With the baseball game providing Kassie a safety umbrella from the threat of a verbal attack from Mike, she plugged in her earphones, accessed a meditation app, and sought solace through her tea and cinnamon toast at the kitchen table.
About ten minutes later Mike interrupted her peace and quiet. “If you must know, I went to the office just to anchor myself to something positive in my life. The past few days have been hell.”
Kassie unplugged, raised her shoulders erect but chose not to respond. Let him talk. Would he ask about the Westin?
“I waited until everyone was gone for the day. That way, I wouldn’t have to explain why I was in the hospital or what’s next.”
She sipped her tea, tapping her fingers in sequence from pinky to index on the place mat.
“Their livelihood depends on me.”
“Their livelihood? I depended on you, too, you know,” Kassie muttered in a soft voice, clinging to her Starbucks mug as though it were liquid courage.
She let it go, stood, and walked toward him. “You let me down, big time, Michael.” She glared up at him, her tone crescendoed as she said his name.
“Is it Michael now? Listen, Kassandra, I know you’re upset. We can work things out. I’m sure of it.”
“How can you be so sure? I’m not sure of anything. At every turn I discover a new lie, a new deceit. You’ve taken me for a fool. Our marriage was a fraud. We, you and me—” she wagged her finger at him, tapped her chest, threw her hands in the air “—we were a sham from the moment you left Missouri. You came back here under the guise of building a happy marriage. You knew how much I wanted a baby, and you had one all along hiding in the shadows.” Sobs replaced her recent meditative state.
“Is that what this is all about? The baby?”
“Did it ever occur to you that you never had to give up that little baby boy? We could’ve brought him into our home. Given him every opportunity.”
“That would’ve never happened. Karen already had him and given him up for adoption before I met you.”
“There must’ve been something we could’ve done to find him and get him back. You’re his biological father. You had rights.”
“You’re not thinking straight, Kassie, the events of today have messed with your mind. Go upstairs and lay down. You’ve clearly lost it.” He turned away from her.
He might as well have slapped her across the face. His words triggered the return of her self-control as she wiped her tear-drenched face for the umpteenth time that day. Kassie snapped out of it. She was back.
“Don’t patronize me, Michael. Look at me. I meant what I said Saturday. Your kidneys notwithstanding.”
Before he could respond, she took his advice and hustled up the stairs to her new bedroom.
32
Child Support
Rise and shine for Kassie came an hour earlier than usual that Tuesday. She got up, showered, dressed, took care of Topher’s needs, and backed down the driveway before Mike emerged from what was then his-and-his-alone bedroom.
Kassie thrived on routine, so going into the office that morning was a good thing, especially following the hellish weekend she’d just endured. Nevertheless, she found it hard to concentrate, let alone lead her 9 a.m. staff meeting. The final row the night before, when Mike discovered she’d chosen not to sleep in their bed with him, ended with a broken mirror and a sleepless night for her, and more than likely for Mike, as well.
In stark contrast, Kassie anticipated seeing Chris with the same heart-pumping and tingling she experienced over the last five years whenever she’d rendezvous with him. She knew they had serious issues to talk about, after all she’d only scratched the surface with him on the call the evening before, but her desire for him was always resolute and often distracting. From her perspective, she and Chris had aced her five-year relationship test with flying colors. Though they weren’t married, she theorized her philosophy
should still apply. She was the judge and jury after all.
As usual, her assistant had saved her butt. A five-topic agenda was already projected on the plasma screen mounted on the wall in the glass paneled conference room when Kassie walked into the meeting with a venti tea double-cupped with a brown corrugated sleeve in hand. Also compliments of her assistant.
She assumed her normal position in the middle of the long glass conference table and opened her light purple Moleskine notebook to a blank page. With her purple ballpoint pen, she scribbled the date and the words, “duct tape,” and underlined it twice, reminding her to stifle Bad Kassie if needed. This subtle personal warning had saved her on more than one occasion from opening her mouth and inserting her foot.
Kassie’s team of five account executives, three project managers, and her assistant were already seated, buzzing about her husband’s ordeal and sharing tales about their personal experiences, both wholesome and gruesome, at Boston Clinic. After a respectful five minutes of you-know-what-happened-to-me stories, Kassie curtailed the conversation on the basis of too much information. She assured them Mike would survive to see another day, year, or even decades.
“Where should we begin?” she said.
Four hours later when she arrived at the apartment in Charlestown, she asked the same question.
“First things first,” Chris said, “Come with me.” And so she did.
“What’s this?” Kassie propped two bed pillows behind her so she could sit upright. Unlike the little purple box Chris had given her the day before, the box Chris slid onto the bed was huge, white, with a large lilac-and-rose-pink bow on top.
“You’re making a habit out of gift-giving. Didn’t we agree not to do that?”
“All bets are off now that I’m in town. If you’re not here 24/7, I want to shower you with love and affection—”
“You’re not gonna start singing to me now?”
“If that’d make you happy.”
Kassie jumped out of the bed and slid her naked body into the plush white robe with the Westin logo embroidered on it.
“Thank you, Chris. I just love it. Now when I come over, I’ll have something comfy to climb into.”
“And out of,” he said as he lifted her and laid her on the bed, untying the robe, and burying his head in her chest.
“Later. We have to talk.”
Chris put on a San Francisco Giants t-shirt and gym shorts, and they moved to the living room where Kassie reasoned she’d be able to keep Chris at arm’s length, at least for thirty minutes. Who was she kidding? That was about as much time she could restrain herself from going for round two.
Kassie checked out the open floor plan of the apartment for the first time. The red-brick outer walls provided a sharp contrast to the whiteness of the place, especially the kitchen. Not bad for a short-term rental.
“Did you buy the plant, or was it a gift from the realtor?” Kassie touched the clay pot of the deep purple orchid that decorated a table in front of the big picture window overlooking Boston Harbor. Their place must be lovely at night. Their place? Was it their apartment, or was it Chris’s? She wasn’t sure how to refer to it yet. Give it time; everything will work out.
“What do you think?” Chris said.
Not wanting to know, Kassie curled up on the tan couch with large, fluffy throw pillows that was part and parcel of the furnished apartment. Her new robe covered her legs and private parts when she tucked it under her thighs. That was not the time to give Chris any incentive to make a move on her. Though she knew from experience, it didn’t take much to turn him on.
“Take a seat,” she said, patting the couch cushion, “You’ll want to sit down for this.”
“You trust me this close?”
“I trust you close, I trust you far away, I trust you any way, I trust you every day.”
“Okay, Dr. Seuss.” He settled in on the far end of the couch and massaged her feet. Kassie didn’t object.
“What did I tell you yesterday? Maybe I’ll start at the end of the day and then go back to the beginning.”
“Whatever works.” Chris crawled his hand up her leg exploring under the robe. She slapped it away, not giggling.
“I slept in the spare bedroom last night.”
“Well, now, it’s about time. That is a good start.”
From there Kassie gave a blow-by-blow account of the day before, trying not to forget any critical detail. She told him that the KR in the note she’d found at Mike’s office belonged to Karen Ricci, one of his college sweethearts, but that wasn’t her real name. It was a game they played.
“I kind of like my maiden name.” She tilted her head, her eyes studying the ceiling.
“I kind of got that message the other night.” He lifted her foot and sucked on her pinky toe. She pulled her foot away, still not laughing.
Kassie explained that Karen had infuriated her parents by getting pregnant by Mike, a Catholic no less. If she hadn’t mentioned it, Karen was Jewish; not that it mattered. Anyway, her parents intervened and separated them. In the end, Karen gave their baby boy up for adoption despite Mike’s objection.
“So he’s been paying child support all these years?”
“No, but that’s a good guess. Kind of close, almost like paying alimony to someone you never married. Maybe I’ve invented a new concept.”
“Don’t get any ideas.” Chris raised his eyebrows. “You thirsty?”
While polishing off a sixteen-ounce bottle of water in three gulps, Kassie recounted the sad story of Karen’s husband’s sudden death and how Mike had been helping to support her out of some kind of moral imperative.
“So she married at some point?” He sat on the couch again, putting his feet up on the coffee table.
“It was a win-win. To her parents’ delight she married a Jewish fellow after all her shenanigans with Mike, and she got rid of her maiden name. She’s Connor now. No, that’s not right. Cooper, Cooperman. No, Copperman, I think.”
Kassie buried her face in her hands. “I had a hard time grasping what Mike was telling me. I wanted to scream. I felt my insides would burst through my skin. But I was at the hospital, I had to control my hysteria or they’d check me into the psych ward. The words pregnancy, baby, money were blowing my mind.”
Sunlight streaming through the window reflected tears welling from her eyes. “Did I ever tell you how much I wanted a child?”
“I think you mentioned it on more than one occasion. I’m so sorry that didn’t happen for you, Kassie. But maybe just think, if it had, your whole life would’ve been different, and we would’ve never met.”
Chris leaned toward her, lifted her chin, and kissed her salty lips.
Kassie nudged him backward. “I’ve got to pee. Don’t move.” Kassie excused herself needing to gather her thoughts and composure. Not having Chris in her life was unthinkable, unacceptable, a notion she would never entertain.
When she returned to the living room, Chris owned the couch having stretched his long legs its full length. She motioned him to move his legs so she could reclaim her rightful position at the other end of the couch.
“He noticed my necklace.” Kassie touched the gondola.
“So?”
“So, nothing. Just sayin’. I’m not taking off something you’ve given me,” Kassie said, making a pouty, yet flirty, face as if she was a teenager.
“What about this robe?” He reached for the belt.
“Incorrigible.” She tightened it and shoved away his hand. “Let’s see, where was I?”
Kassie took him through Dr. Singleton’s news about the progression of Mike’s CKD.
“Stage Four. That’s rough. How did he take it?”
“How does Mike take anything? I think he’s in denial, though it’s hard to tell. He’s mad as hell that he must make some life changes if he wants to delay the possibility of dialysis or transplant down the road.”
“It’d be great if he could get a transplant, don’t you think
?”
“I know no one willing to give up a kidney, do you?”
“Maybe Karen. She gave up her baby,” Chris said.
Kassie whacked him hard across his chest with one of the throw pillows. “That’s some wise-assed thing to say. Now you’re being just plain mean. You’ve been hanging out with me way too long, me thinks.”
Chris picked up the pillow and slung it back at her. “So, you want to play?”
Half an hour later, Kassie and Chris spooned under the bed covers. He kissed her shoulders as she reached behind and rubbed his hip. He rolled her toward him and pulled her close.
“You didn’t tell me why you’re not sleeping with your husband anymore.”
“Don’t call him that. Anyhow, I was afraid I’d call him Chris.”
“You lie.”
“Not me, Mike. He lied again. After I puked at the grocery store.”
“Excuse me. What?” Chris pushed her shoulders back ever so slightly.
Kassie filled him in on the gory details, including how Annie appeared out of nowhere, directed the face-and-life-saving operation, and invited her to stay with her if the situation became untenable at home.
“What are friends for?” Chris said. Kassie thought he sounded either disheartened or jealous.
“That’s what I said. To Mike. Just before I discovered he lied about why he’d gone to the office while I was grocery shopping.”
Chris sat up and slid her alongside him, wrapping the sheet around them both. She sensed a hint of green apples floating around them and was comforted by the warm and cozy influence his cologne had on her.
She told him about how she’d found the folders in Mike’s duffel bag within minutes after he’d told her he’d brought them to the office for Bill.
“The one with your paperwork was on top. Creeped me out. When I confronted him, he gave me an excuse about needing to go to the office to feel better.”
“That’s probably true. Isn’t it conceivable he’s not in as much denial as you think he is, and he’s afraid about his diagnosis and what it would mean for the future of his business?”
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