What's Not Said

by Valerie Taylor

  His daydream was short-lived. As he pulled into the driveway, Kassie backed down. He blocked her from leaving. Where the hell was she going?

  He jumped out of the car and knocked on her window. She ignored him, she didn’t even look at him.

  “Open the window,” Mike demanded.

  Finally, she did as he asked. He couldn’t help but notice suitcases in her back seat.

  “You going somewhere?”

  She didn’t answer him.

  “Come on, Kassie. Don’t do this. Stay. I want you to stay. I need you.” His earlier good mood evaporated into the evening air. “I will not move my car. So you have a choice.”

  She turned toward him and said, “I got a letter from my mother today.”

  Mike’s jaw dropped, shell-shocked, as Kassie maneuvered her car around his, destroying the lawn and peeling away.

  Did she say what I think she said?

  A letter from Patricia? Dead mother talking was not in his plans.

  37

  Cut to the Chase

  Kassie didn’t pass go, and she certainly didn’t collect two hundred dollars. She wasn’t playing any more games with Mike. She was a woman on a mission, except she wasn’t sure where she would land.

  She knew Chris was expecting her, but she couldn’t bear to have him defend Mike again, although she was interested in hearing how his day had gone.

  She opted for a pit stop in a Starbucks parking lot.

  “Hey babe, where are you?” Chris asked. “Thought you’d be here by now.”

  “I’m having second thoughts.”

  “About what? Me?”

  Kassie thought she could hear his lungs collapse.

  “No, about tonight. I think I need to see Annie. Girl talk.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “You first. How was your meet-and-greet with the boss?” Kassie snarled.

  “He speaks highly of you. Not so much about Topher.”

  “Huh?”

  “He showed me some pictures in his office.”

  “So you saw the college photo with Karen?”

  “Uh, no.”

  “It was a group shot.”

  “There were no group pictures. I’m sure of it. In fact, we talked about Illinois. If it were there, I think he would’ve shown it to me.”

  “That’s odd,” she said more to herself than to Chris.

  “I’m jealous,” he said.

  “Of Mike? Oh, please.”

  “No, Annie. I thought I was your best friend.”

  “Best boy friend. That sounds juvenile, doesn’t it? Sorry. Thing is, my mother left a letter for me with her attorney. I picked it up on last week but didn’t read it until today. Annie knew my mom for years. She’ll help me decipher it.”

  “What did it say? Your message sounded like you were unraveling.”

  “What didn’t it say? Seems she and Mike were in cahoots to keep me from leaving him. I was such a fool. I should’ve walked a long time ago.”

  “What kind of cahoots? That’s a pretty generic accusation.”

  Kassie explained that it was too complicated to go into on the phone but promised to let him read the letter the next time she saw him.

  “And when will that be?”

  Annie welcomed Kassie with open arms into which Kassie collapsed as soon as she entered Annie’s townhouse.

  “I’m not sure how much more of this I can stand.”

  “Well, you don’t have to stand.” Annie took Kassie’s hand and led her into the living room where she’d positioned four overstuffed throw pillows around the gas fireplace. A bottle of pinot grigio, two glasses, and a plate full of cheese and crackers awaited their arrival.

  Over the next three hours and two bottles of wine, Kassie and her best friend forever rehashed her history with Mike and Chris and Patricia.

  “I’m such a slut,” Kassie confessed, recounting the events of the previous Tuesday.

  “When you made love to Chris, you were unfaithful, but not a slut. But you’re right, when you slept with your husband, that’s when you became a slut.” They clinked their glasses saluting promiscuous women everywhere.

  “What was it like after all these years?”

  “I don’t remember much. I was trashed. He seems to think we did it twice. I hope not.”

  “Was he as good as you remember? Did you feel anything toward him?”

  Kassie sipped her wine and reached for a cracker, reliving the night in her mind. “Let’s say, he hasn’t lost his touch. Why would he? Once a skilled and passionate lover, always—”

  “Like Chris?”

  “Not like Chris, in that department anyway. In my humble opinion there are two kinds of lovers. Givers and takers. I had sex with both last week. You figure it out.” She rose, put her hand on her heart as she giggled and staggered to the bathroom.

  “You know why you fell for Chris, don’t you?” Annie asked when Kassie returned.

  “Do tell.” She paced the room with her hands clasped behind her back.

  “You can’t see it?”

  “See what?”

  “He’s a younger Mike. I’ve known Mike forever. Tell me you’ve never looked into Chris’s eyes and seen Mike looking back at you?”

  “Stop, you’re freaking me out.”

  “And he’s got that curl in his upper lip that makes his eyes twinkle when he smiles like Ryan Gosling. Especially when he smiles at you.”

  “Rubbish.”

  “And the way he tilts left when he walks—”

  “It’s not genetic. Chris injured his back as a child which is why he swims all the time.”

  “You sure about that? What’s Mike’s excuse for tilting that way?”

  “He’s crooked!” They fell back on the pillows laughing.

  “Maybe. Just maybe, Chris is Mike’s long-lost son.”

  “You’re imagining things.”

  “I’ve got an idea. Why don’t you do one of those DNA tests on Chris? See what you find out.”

  “What am I supposed to do, pull out one of his hairs while he’s sleeping or ask him to spit into a test tube?”

  “Or collect his semen. That would work, right?”

  “Gross. You’ve been watching too many movies. That’s enough wine for you. Here, read this. It’ll take your mind off conspiracy theories. Well, maybe, it will.”

  Kassie handed Annie her mother’s letter while she refilled their glasses. She lowered herself to the floor and re-fluffed the pillows, making herself comfortable for what she expected would be a long night.

  “When did she write this? Why did she write this?” Annie said fanning the letter in the air.

  “Sometime before she died.”

  “Obviously.” Annie peered at Kassie over the frames of her glasses.

  “I think she didn’t want me to divorce Mike while she was still alive. That would’ve been too painful for her. Now that she’s gone, she doesn’t care.”

  “But it’s not just about Mike. All this about your father’s death and your wicked stepfather. You knew all that. Right? No big news there.”

  “Right. But she didn’t know what I knew. Now she wants me to forgive her.”

  “Will you?”

  “In the scheme of things, forgiving my mother is not number one on my priority list.”

  “What is?”

  “At this moment, figuring out what she’s trying to tell me. Do me a favor, read the postscript out loud.”

  “P.S. Remember, divorce isn’t the only way to cut the ties that bind.” Annie read it, lifting her hands toward the ceiling as if to ask, what the hell does that mean?

  “You know, in marketing, we put the most important message at the end. It stands out. Gets attention.”

  “I don’t get it. Is she telling you to leave Mike without divorcing him? What good would that do?”

  “I’m betting it’s some kind of perverted riddle. You remember how she loved Emily Dickinson and her other wacky transcendentalist friends
.”

  “Careful, all of us born in Massachusetts are related to them in one way or another.” Annie raised her glass in their honor.

  “What about ‘the ties that bind?’ What does that mean?”

  “Ties could mean marriage, family, our religious beliefs,” Annie offered before Kassie cut her off.

  “No, that’s too obvious for my mother,” Kassie said as she curled up into the fetal position, lowering her head on her knees. “Blank isn’t the only way to cut the ties that bind. Divorce isn’t the only way to blank the ties that bind. Divorce isn’t the only way to cut the blank.”

  “Maybe if you sleep on it, it’ll make more sense in the morning.”

  A few minutes past midnight, Kassie and Annie huddled together in the guest bedroom as if they were schoolgirls plotting how to ask the football star to the prom. Even the room looked the part. Kassie’s luggage occupied most of the open space, a black bra hung on a doorknob, her jeans slung on the back of a Queen Anne chair. The soundtrack from The Big Chill played loud enough to enjoy, but soft enough to not bother the neighbors. Leaving their heavy conversation downstairs, they spread across the king-sized bed, reminiscing about the good times, the fun times, the devil-may-care times.

  “Was that the doorbell?” Kassie said rolling off the bed.

  “Christ, were we making that much noise? Hope it’s not the cops.” Grabbing robes to cover their nightgowns, Annie headed down the stairs with Kassie close behind for moral support.

  “Thought I might find you here,” Mike said. “You blocked me.”

  “You blocked me in the driveway. I think we’re even.” Kassie tugged her belt tighter.

  “Why are you here? It’s after midnight. Couldn’t you wait until tomorrow?” Annie said.

  “Kassie, I need to talk to you. I can’t sleep.” Mike ran both hands through his uncombed hair and pinched his nose as if he needed to stop it from running. His wrinkled striped oxford shirt was mis-buttoned and hanging out of his jeans. His fly only halfway zipped.

  Ever the good hostess, Annie invited him in and offered to make coffee.

  “That won’t be necessary. He won’t be staying long.” Kassie led Mike to the living room, but didn’t offer him a seat.

  “It’s late. Stay the night, but come home tomorrow.” Mike reached out to her.

  Kassie stepped back avoiding his touch. “You’re kidding, Mike. You’re done telling me what to do.”

  “Listen, I can explain.”

  “Explain? Explain why you had a moral duty to Karen but abandoned your moral compass with me, your wife? The man I see standing in front of me is an imposter, a con man. My mother confirmed as much today.”

  “I’m sorry, I was wrong to deceive you. But damn it, Kassie, she promised not to tell you about the vasectomy.”

  38

  Curve Balls

  Two days after the “incident,” code name for the night she learned Mike had deliberately prevented her from getting pregnant and her mother was a co-conspirator, Kassie’s pain was as raw as having a Band-Aid ripped off along with the scab. She’d gotten out of bed only to use the john and to ask the woman in the mirror what she had done to be so mistreated. Each time her reflection provided no answers, she returned to the protection of the crumpled bed covers and prayed for something to heal the pain.

  While Kassie wallowed in self-pity, Annie contacted Kassie’s assistant. She’d be out the rest of the week. Stomach flu. Probably caused by stress over her husband and his ordeal. Just give it time.

  By that evening, having heard enough of Kassie’s moaning and sniffling, Annie intervened.

  “You have a visitor,” she said.

  “Whoever it is, tell them to go away.”

  “Tell him yourself.”

  Kassie peeked out from under the comforter as Topher leapt from Annie’s arms and buried his white button nose under her chin. She wrapped her arms around him and clutched him to her heart.

  “Thank God, it’s you. I thought it was Chris.”

  “You think I’d let Chris in here with you stinkin’ like last week’s garbage? He’d make tracks back to San Francisco in a New York minute, whatever that means.”

  Kassie stared at her. “I don’t know how I’ll deal with all of this.”

  Annie continued, “Have you looked at yourself? I have a new nickname for you. Zombie Kassie. I’m surprised Topher recognized you.”

  Kassie stroked her cat. “What day is it?”

  “Wednesday.” Annie felt her forehead. “Listen, you’re not sick, and I don’t allow zombies in my house. If you want to stay, you need to get your ass out of this bed. It’s time for you to shower and join the living. You’ve got twenty minutes.” Annie yanked the covers off her. Topher flew into the air, landing in Annie’s open arms.

  Kassie was in no mood to argue, even Bad Kassie was in seclusion. In fact, having Annie take charge was just what she needed. She found Annie in the kitchen where a plate of spaghetti and meatballs and a basket of garlic bread greeted her.

  “Well, don’t you look better?” Annie said with her hands on her hips. “You smell better, that’s for sure. Now eat.”

  “I’m not sure I can.” Kassie stared at the fists in her lap.

  Annie dragged a chair next to her and held Kassie’s cold, shaking hands in hers.

  “Listen, Kassandra O’Callaghan. This is not your mother, or Mike, or even Chris speaking. This is your friend who has been with you through all the hell in your life. I can give you tough love, or sweet love. Your choice.”

  Kassie kept her head down as her eyes welled up. How could any tears be left?

  “Look at me, young lady.” Annie lifted her chin. “Ask yourself, what do you have left to mourn that you haven’t already? Your mother’s been dead for over a year. Check. Your marriage has been dead for decades. Check. You came to terms with not having children a long time ago. Check. From where I sit, you’re brooding over some very dead horses that don’t deserve an ounce of your precious energy.”

  Kassie reached for the glass of pinot grigio, her hand trembling. Annie lent hers, guiding the wine to her lips.

  “I know you don’t want to hear this, but you have your whole life ahead of you. You’ll divorce the bastard. And you have a gorgeous hunk of a man waiting for you. So smarten up. All that is bad is in your rearview mirror. Only good times lie ahead. The direction you choose is up to you.”

  While Annie cleaned the kitchen, Kassie retreated to her bedroom with Topher close behind. As she finished changing the bed linens, Annie walked in carrying Kassie’s treasured afghan.

  “Oh my God, where did you get that?” Kassie squealed, wrapping it around her shoulders.

  “Mike. As I was loading Topher and all his paraphernalia—God he’s got a lot of shit just like his mama—Mike came out and asked me to wait. He returned with the blanket and a box. He said to give these to you and tell you he’s sorry.”

  “What box?”

  Kassie and Annie spent the rest of the evening on the floor of Annie’s bedroom. They sorted through hundreds of photos, restaurant napkins, matchbook covers, and swizzle sticks. Memories— places Mike and she visited, from their early days in Missouri, their vacations on the Cape, and their honeymoon in Italy—scattered everywhere. Kassie set aside a photo of them standing in front of a row of black gondolas with royal blue rain covers but kept returning to it.

  She showed the picture to Annie. “See? I went on a gondola ride once in my life.” She grabbed her necklace as if checking to be sure it was still there. “Once. With Chris.”

  “I can see that, silly. You and Chris right there.” Annie tapped the photo.

  “Don’t start that again. That’s Mike.” Kassie pushed Annie backward. They both fell back all giggles.

  “I need to call him,” Kassie said.

  “You’re gonna call Mike?”

  “No, Chris. God only knows what he’s thinking.”

  “Not to worry. I called him. Didn’t give him the
details, but told him you had a blow up with Mike, that you were staying with me, and needed privacy. He sounded worried, but I assured him you’d recover in a few days.”

  “Thanks, Annie. I couldn’t get through this without you.”

  The next day Kassie regained her courage and ventured out into the daylight. I’m not a vampire after all. Still a little gun-shy, she skipped Stop & Shop and drove out of her way to Wegmans. The time had come to return Annie’s hospitality.

  “She’s in the kitchen.” Annie greeted Chris as he arrived for dinner.

  “Smells good in here,” Chris said.

  “What? Me or dinner?” Kassie turned away from the stove and rolled into his right arm. A bouquet of spring flowers occupied his left .

  “Both.” They kissed as if they hadn’t seen each other in more than a week, because they hadn’t.

  “You are a sight for extraordinarily sore eyes.”

  “I’m betting you’re on the mend.” Chris glanced down as Topher brushed against his pant leg.

  “Thanks to Annie and Topher.” Kassie leaned down to pet him.

  Chris picked up Topher and stroked him from the scruff of his neck down his back. Topher craned his head as if he was in kitty heaven.

  “Careful. You’ll be covered in cat hair,” Kassie warned and chuckled.

  “Not a problem. I’m assuming you have one of those handy dandy lint rollers. If not, I’ve got one in the car.”

  Kassie waited until they’d finished their chicken fajitas before bringing Chris up to speed on the incident, what had precipitated it, and her nearly nervous breakdown.

  “Nearly? I’d say what I witnessed was a complete, unadulterated collapse of a human being. Right before my eyes, Chris, she transformed into Zombie Kassie.” Annie snickered.

  “I wasn’t that bad.”

  “You had a right to fall to pieces. All these years you’d been a rock, and out of nowhere came this shock. Wow, I’m a poet!” Glasses were raised and clinked.