“You’re doing it again. Defending him. Why?” She sat upright.
“It’s a guy thing. Put yourself in his shoes. And, Kassie, he doesn’t seem as bad as you make him sound.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. Where is this coming from?”
“Just listen a minute, Kassie, to what you’ve told me. First, he gave up a baby when he realized he wasn’t ready to be a father. Then, he stayed in touch with the mother of that child and, whether out of guilt or just plain caring and kindness, he came to her aid when she needed it most. Finally, on the day he learns he’s seriously ill, he goes and spends a few minutes at his office. The firm is his legacy, Kassie. You can’t fault him for that, or for not telling you why he went there. He may not know himself. His business may not be the same as comfort food, but to a man, it’s a pretty close equivalent.”
“You’re a better person than me.” She rested her head on his shoulder, sorting through Chris’s argument.
“Not really. I know you’ve tolerated his crap for years and the love you had for him has vanished, but there has to have been something good about Mike, and probably still is, or you wouldn’t have fallen in love with him in the first place, let alone married him.”
“You missed your calling. You’d make a good defense attorney. But I’m not buying it. Not for one cotton picking second.” Kassie cut him off, slid out of the bed and into her robe. “You can defend him all you want, Chris, but my intuition tells me he’s hiding something, and it’s in his office, which is why he just up and went there without telling me earlier in the day he wanted to go there. In fact, he said he wanted to go to the grocery store with me. All this kumbaya about his dedication to his employees is bullshit. And all his lies? This has gone on way too long to paint him as Mr. Nice Guy.”
Chris pulled on his shorts and shirt and followed her into the living room. “What? You think there’s more money, letters, what? Maybe he’s having an affair with the cleaning lady who comes by on Monday nights?” His eyes widened and his voice rumbled.
“Please calm down, Chris. I doubt that, but I can feel it, in my bones,” she whispered. “There’s something in his office he doesn’t want me to find. And that’s where you come in. I have an idea.” She poked him in the shoulder, hard enough to make him take a step back.
“What? Wait a minute.”
“Haven’t you always wanted to be a spy? Aren’t you writing a spy thriller? Consider it research.”
Chris grabbed her by the arms and plunked her down in the paisley side chair that complemented the couch. “Sit right there,” he commanded.
Kassie’s jaw dropped. Even Bad Kassie was tongue-tied. She’d never seen Chris so upset. He’d never raised his voice to her. Visions of her mother and stepfather flashed through the crevices of her mind. Her eyes blinked rapidly; her pulse quickened.
“Don’t even think about it, Kassie.” Chris paced the length of the living and dining room area, ran his fingers through his hair, turned around and stood hovering over her. He bent down with his hands on the arms of the chair and looked her straight in the eye.
“On that I draw the line. I’ll do many things for you, including waiting for you until you get your divorce, but spying on your husband is not one of them. Trust me, it would not end well for any of us.”
“Sorry, Charlie. It was just an idea. Didn’t really mean it.” Her lower lip quivered as she tried to hold back another round of tears.
“My name’s not Charlie. I’m sorry for yelling.” He scooped her out of the chair and laid her on the couch.
Why is make-up sex so carnal and piping hot? They’d started on the couch, christened the rest of the apartment, including the living room floor, the kitchen counter, and ended up cooling down in the shower.
Standing behind her, Chris whispered, “What is this really all about, Kassie?”
“The baby, Chris. There was a baby. There is a boy, a man. Mike is a father. I’m not a mother. It isn’t fair.”
“I get that. Does he?”
“If he’d only told me when we were getting married, maybe we could’ve found the child. I would’ve adopted him in a heartbeat.”
“Imagine it. Can’t you see Bad Kassie as the wicked stepmother?”
“You’re not funny.” She turned and slapped his chest. “I’d have been a good mother. I’d have given him everything I had. Every part of me would’ve been his.”
“How old do you figure that boy would be now?”
“Early forties, I’d guess.”
33
Hot Mike
Mike made a mental note to oil the garage door hinges. Despite lying in bed at the opposite end of the house, the clinging and clanging of the garage door prevented Kassie from sneaking out of the house that morning, if that was her goal.
He looked for the clock that had occupied the nightstand for many years on what had been her side of the bed. It was missing. She must’ve taken it to the spare bedroom. The candle was gone, too. Good riddance. It smelled like crap. In fact, the only thing left on the table was the shell lamp. He was surprised she hadn’t taken that too, except that was a symbol of good times they had on the Cape. Did she purposely leave it to remind him or to shun the memories?
He searched for his phone and groaned. It was too early to get out of bed when he had no place to go, no place to be, and no one cared one way or the other.
As he tossed and turned, punching the pillow to fluff it to the ideal shape, Mike wondered if he’d ever share the waterbed, or any bed, again with his wife. Analyzing the situation, he figured on the one hand, she’d come to her senses as she had every other time they’d argued. But on the other hand, he couldn’t forget Kassie had said the day before that divorce was still on the table. Would his illness change her mind?
He got up to pee, grateful it was easier than it had been before he went to the hospital. The new meds must be working.
Ding dong. Ding dong. Mike rushed from the family room, opened the front door and there she was, in all her splendidness. Amelia.
“Come on in,” he said, brushing her cheek with a light kiss once she was in the hallway out of the neighbors’ prying eyes.
“I’m so glad you called, Mike. This must mean you’re feeling better. I was so worried about you.”
“There’s nothing to worry about, and I have the day off.” He winked. “And I’m home alone.” His eyes pointed toward the stairs, and he followed close behind her. He could hardly wait.
“No pleasure chair today?” She teased. “How about the bathroom? We’ve got that one down pat.”
Mike pulled her close and kissed her deep as if he was searching for something. He unbuttoned her clingy, black, silk shirt and, while one hand unzipped her pants, the other unclasped her push-up bra, proud that he hadn’t lost his touch. She slipped out of her jeans, tossing them across the room onto the chaise lounge, jolting Topher out of one of the ten naps he’d enjoy that day. He made haste and fled the scene with his tail held high.
“Looks like you need a maid,” Amelia said as she wriggled into the waterbed, trying to straighten out the sheets and comforter.
“Sorry, Kassie usually makes the bed.” Mike cleared his throat as if something was stuck. “I was still in it when she left for work this morning.”
Making the bed would be something he’d be forced to do as long as Kassie alienated him and slept down the hall.
“But you’re right, I do need a maid. Time for you to grab my broomstick, young lady, and get to work.”
While Amelia took a quick shower, Mike explored the linen closet in the hallway and found an oversized plush white towel and waited for her to open the shower door so he could swaddle her in it.
“Thank you, sir.” She smiled and cocked her head to one side. “What’s gotten into you? Catering to me here and under the covers.”
Standing in front of the double sink, Mike unwrapped a toothbrush for her. The towel around her provided no barrier to his wandering fingers or tongue
. He felt a natural throb under his jockey shorts though he doubted he had the wherewithal for a repeat performance. He was satisfied that he’d been satisfied and that he could satisfy, one way or another.
“God, you smell good, like French toast.” Turning her toward him and leaning her against the sink, he got down on his knees and flung the towel to the floor.
“I kind of like this side of you.” Amelia moaned, running her fingers through his salt-and-pepper hair.
Mike stripped the bed and found clean sheets in the linen closet. What a concept, a treasure trove of household items in one central location. Were all husbands oblivious to this phenomenon, or just him? He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been in that linen closet, or any linen closet.
As Mike humored himself with the prospects of his new discovery and confronted the almost impossible task of putting clean sheets on a rocking waterbed, Amelia dressed and freshened up, again, in the master bathroom.
“Something’s missing,” she shouted.
“What, you lose a tooth?”
“Where’s her stuff? I’m assuming that was Kassie’s shower gel, but where’s her moisturizer?” Amelia stood in the doorway with her palms up, as Mike fought with the bottom sheet turning it in one direction and then the other.
“Don’t laugh at me. Give me a hand with this. You’ve done this more times than me.”
Amelia laughed. “So answer my question, Michael Stewart.”
“You. Are. Not. Funny. Grab the corner of that sheet, and I’ll fill you in.”
After they made the bed, Mike led her down the hall and opened a door.
“This is where her stuff is. Some of it anyway. She slept here last night. She announced a few days ago, while I was in the hospital I might add, she wants a divorce.”
“That bitch,” Amelia blurted as they made their way downstairs to the kitchen. “Why? What have you ever done to her?”
“Want some coffee?” Mike asked as he tossed the sheets and Amelia’s towel into the laundry room. He’d take care of that later, after he figured out how to use the new front-loading washer they’d bought the year before.
The Keurig was the one appliance Mike had mastered out of necessity. There was one in his office. He filled their mugs, sat across from Amelia, and confessed.
“Present company excluded, Kassie learned things about me this past weekend that upset her. In her eyes, I’m not the man she thought she’d married.”
“Impossible,” Amelia said.
“Oh, it’s possible.” Mike patted her hand.
He gave her his version of the college-sweetheart-unintended- baby story, placing his hand on his heart when he told her how devastated he was when they gave up his son. His chest inflated when he moved onto how generous he’d been to Karen after her husband died in a tragic accident on a ski slope. He was so young. She was so ill-prepared. What else could he have done but help her out?
“That’s so sad. How could Kassie not see that?”
Not so coincidentally, he neglected to provide the circumstances under which Kassie had found out about his life before her or why she’d be willing to give up their long-tenured marriage.
Staring out the bay window, Mike ended by telling her the kidney problem that had sent him to the hospital was worse than he’d expected. So when they learned he might need dialysis or a transplant, Kassie flipped out.
Amelia oohed and cooed. “If she’s that concerned about you as you say, she can’t possibly want a divorce, can she?”
“You’re a doll, Amelia, I think you may be biased.” He reached across the table and tweaked her breast. “I think Kassie’s focused more on the fact that I never told her that my kidneys were in trouble to begin with, than that they are. According to her, I’m a deceitful son-of-a-gun.”
“She’ll change her mind. She may be a bitch, but she’s a bitch with a heart, right? She’s always been kind to my mother. She wouldn’t let you go through this health thingamajig on your own. Would she?”
“That’s what I’m counting on. If I don’t squeeze her, if I don’t question her comings and goings, I’m hoping she’ll come to her senses and stop all this divorce hullabaloo. I need her now.” He looked at his wedding ring and rotated it back and forth.
“And I need to go.”
Mike escorted her to the front door, stopping in the hallway where they’d started two hours earlier. He thanked her for coming, held her close, caressed her back, as if seeking her comfort and reassurance. She leaned up and kissed him with an emotion he didn’t expect. He knew it wasn’t love; he hoped it wasn’t pity. Neither he nor
Amelia suggested another get together, but then again it wasn’t their custom to do so.
As she walked to her car in the driveway, Amelia turned back and gave him a flirty wave and wide smile. She hadn’t noticed the black sedan parked next to her or the man in the gray pinstripe suit who’d stepped out of it and was about to pass her. But Mike had.
He held the door open to greet the fellow.
“Michael Ricci?”
Five minutes later, Mike heard his phone ring. He shook his head in disbelief as he raced around the first floor, finding it in the family room.
“Hey, Bill.”
“How you doin’?”
“I’ve been better. What’s up?”
“Not sure what’s going on, but I just got back to the office from a meeting and heard that some suit came in asking for you. I’m sorry about this, but they told him you were at home.”
“I know. He just left. I’ve been served.”
34
Up in Smoke
All seemed quiet on the home front when Kassie walked in the house Tuesday evening. Cling-clang. Her keys landed with a bang in the pewter bowl on the table in the entryway from the garage. Last thing she wanted to do was surprise Mike, as she had on more than one occasion, if he was porn watching in the family room.
The kitchen appeared sterile, lifeless, as the spring sun had shifted to the opposite side of the house. She flipped on the overhead light. Topher meandered in to greet her, mewing and swinging his tail in abandon. At least she could count on his unconditional love.
Something felt eerie, out of place. As her eyes adjusted to the light, she saw two mugs on the kitchen table. Did Mike have company? She picked up the empty cups and put them in the sink. She opened the trash bin. Sure enough. Two K-cups. One was Italian Roast, Mike’s usual, the other was decaf hazelnut.
Still no sign of Mike. With Topher at her heels meowing to beat the band, she wandered around the first floor and slipped up the stairs. His bedroom was ajar, so she peeked inside. Nothing going on in there at the moment.
Back downstairs, she stood in the family room stretching, pulling her hands behind her head. Where the hell is he? His car was in the garage, so he had to be home. Or did he go somewhere with his coffee mate? Not likely. Mike preferred to drive.
She scanned the family room searching for some clue. Nothing.
Squeaaaak. Squeaaaak. Ah. The back-porch swing.
Kassie opened the French doors and stepped into the not-so-fresh air. The acrid smell of skunk spray combined with a smoky haze billowing away from the porch onto the lawn gave Mike away.
“There you are. I’ve been looking all over the house.”
“Really? That would surprise me more than a little, Kassandra Ricci. That is your legal name, isn’t it? Rolls off your tongue easier than Kassandra O’Callaghan, wouldn’t you say?”
Kassie waved her hand in front of her face as if she was shooing a fly and squinted her eyes trying to solve Mike’s puzzling remark. Giving up, she changed the subject.
“Was someone here today?”
“Nobody that’d interest you. Then again, someone stopped by and left me a present. But then, you already knew that.” Mike shook a legal-sized white envelope toward her.
Kassie grabbed the envelope and read the return address.
“Oh my God, Mike. No. This was not supposed to happen. No
t today anyway. I called and left a message . . .”
Kassie realized her fatal error. She never followed up to make sure her lawyer got the message or asked her to confirm she’d received it. She shook her head in disgust. Careless and stupid. What was she thinking? Images of Dr. Singleton, Annie, and a cracked mirror flashed through her mind.
“Move over.” She nudged Mike and sat next to him. “Anything left in that joint?”
They finished the first and agreed the occasion warranted another. As Mike ran upstairs to his closet to dip into his stash, Kassie grabbed worn-out jackets from the hall closet and an old University of Missouri black and gold blanket that had seen better days.
Mike handed the joint to Kassie for safekeeping while he wrapped the blanket around them, tucking it in around the edges.
“Cozy, isn’t it?” he said. “Now tell me, lassie, what’s this all about.”
After she apologized up one side and down the other for catching him off guard, Kassie fessed up and admitted her original plan was to serve him divorce papers that day. But then Good Friday happened, and she had second thoughts about the timing. She’d called and left a message for her attorney Monday evening, but apparently she didn’t get it.
“Tomorrow. I’ll call her tomorrow and give her a piece of my mind.”
“So, you’ll stop the process, Kassie? Call it all off?”
She inhaled deeply. It’d been years since she smoked, she exhaled, coughed and said, “No, Mike, you and I know we were finished before Friday. Before I found your hidden boxes and learned about your love child. You’ve admitted it yourself. What I regret is the timing and its effect on you, not the cause behind it. The cat’s out of the bag, horse out of the barn. Whatever cliché you want to ascribe. I’m going through with it.”
“I was afraid of that.”
They watched the bats flicker above the tree line and heard the crickets chirp the first sign of spring, as the swing rocked back and forth. They told remember-the-time stories and laughed so hard they wiped each other’s tears, as the swing rocked back and forth. They expressed a shared sadness and accepted mutual responsibility for letting their marriage, once happy, spiral into a crevasse that neither believed could be rescued, as the swing rocked back and forth. Mike rubbed her thigh. Kassie put her head on his shoulder.
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