by Jason Starr
“His problem is he doesn’t have any passion,” Alison said.
H She was on the corner of Lexington Avenue and Seventyseventh Street, near Lenox Hill Hospital, talking on her cell with her sister, Lauren, who lived in San Francisco.
Alison continued, “When I met him he was a go-getter, he was motivated. I remember how excited he used to be when he talked about the future, all our plans. We were going to have two kids, live in a bigger apartment, I wouldn’t have to work because he’d be a big-time ad exec someday. Honestly I’m not surprised he got fired. He just doesn’t have that fire under him anymore, he doesn’t want to compete. You should’ve seen him this weekend, just sitting on the couch like a lump, doing nothing. I don’t know who he is, but he isn’t the man I married.”
“Did you discuss any of this with him?” Lauren asked.
“I was going to say something during our last counseling session,” Alison said, “but what’s the point? He is who he is, he’s not going to change. We’ve been living like roommates for months.”
“You mean you’re not having any sex at all?”
“No, we do it once in a while,” Alison said, “but I feel like we’re going through the motions. It always seems like something we just have to do to get it over with, like a chore. He would deny it, I’m sure, but I feel like he doesn’t actually want me. I’m not just talking about sex—he hardly ever touches me anymore, and I don’t feel connected to him. All our conversations are about Jeremy or other minutiae. I know it’s a cliché, but he doesn’t buy me flowers or do anything to show he actually appreciates me. That’s what it is right there. Bottom line, he doesn’t appreciate me.”
“Look, I’m not defending him, but he’s going through a lot right now,” Lauren said. “You’re both going through a lot. You have to give things time to settle in.”
“I know but it’s not only now, it’s . . .” Alison had another call coming in, from a doctor she’d been trying to reach. She said, “I have to take this.”
“Everything’s going to be okay,” Lauren said. “I promise.”
“Thanks for saying that,” Alison said. “I just wish I believed you.”
Alison took the other call. Switching to her upbeat, professional work persona, she said, “Hello, Dr. Sadacca, how are you today?”
Dr. Sadacca was a prominent York Avenue gynecologist. Alison had taken him out to dinner a few weeks ago, as an introductory meeting, to discuss the new line of oral contraception she was repping, and Dr. Sadacca said he was available next Thursday afternoon for a follow-up meeting. Normally Alison would have been happy about the potential sale, but lately it was hard to get excited about anything.
She’d thought she’d be happier with the new situation, being the breadwinner, but it was hard not to feel resentful. Simon got to spend hours every day with Jeremy and she was running around the city, working her butt off? It just didn’t seem fair.
When she ended the call with Sadacca she saw a man in a business suit dash across Lexington Avenue and hug the pretty red-haired woman who was waiting for him. He was so happy to see her that he picked her up and held her for several seconds before he put her back down. Alison watched them, wishing she had a man in her life who was that excited to see her, who hugged her tightly, like he didn’t want to let go.
Later in the afternoon, when she was coming out of her next meeting, she got a text from Simon:I’m thinking about you right now
During their last counseling session Dr. Hagan had suggested they text each other during the day with loving messages as a way to increase intimacy in their marriage. She knew that Simon was only texting her because he felt he had to do it, like a homework assignment; it wasn’t heartfelt.
But it would be too antagonistic to not respond, so she texted back:Thanks ☺
She immediately regretted sending the text, and especially adding the smiley face.Why was she playing this game, letting him think everything was okay, when things were clearly not okay?
After work, when she arrived at the apartment, as usual it was a total mess—dirty dishes on the table and the counter and toys strewn all over the living room floor. But unlike other nights, when she’d tried to be considerate of what Simon was going through, with all the changes in his life, this time she couldn’t control herself.
“Isn’t fair, just isn’t fair,” she muttered—maybe to herself, maybe to Simon, maybe to no one—as she started to rinse dishes and put them in the dishwasher.
Simon said something about how he was sorry and he’d been planning to clean up before she got home, but she’d come home earlier than he’d expected.
She cut him off with, “I can’t work all day and then come home and spend an hour cleaning up after you two. If you’re going to be home all day, you have to do some housework too. I can’t do everything.”
“You’re right, I’m sorry,” Simon said. “We were downtown in Battery Park again and I meant to clean up, but we didn’t have a chance.”
“These dishes are from breakfast. You could’ve cleaned up before you left.”
“You’re right,” Simon said. “Next time I’ll do all the dishes. I’m sorry.”
Alison didn’t say anything, knowing that their real problem had nothing to do with dishes.
She wanted to talk to him and express how she was feeling, but after she got Jeremy bathed and to sleep she wanted to have a little time to herself, so she watched part of The Rachel Maddow Show. When she got into bed Simon was asleep and she lay down next to him, turning in the opposite direction.
Simon had had his best night’s sleep in days. He was in the kitchen, pouring coffee, when Alison came in, dressed for work, saying,“I left an apple and a banana on the counter; make sure Jeremy has them in his stroller today. He hasn’t had enough fruit lately.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure he has a good eating day,” Simon said.
Alison kissed Simon on the lips so lightly it was practically an air kiss, then hurried out of the apartment.
Simon had no idea why Alison was acting so distant the past couple of days, but he decided to not let it get to him. They’d gone through many periods during their marriage when they didn’t get along, and things always somehow got resolved. Stressing or making a big issue about it would only make things worse.
Simon had a pleasant, relaxing morning with Jeremy. They played Candy Land and then Jeremy watched some TV while Simon did his e-mail. Jeremy didn’t put up any fuss about getting dressed or having his teeth brushed, and when it was time to head downtown to Battery Park, he got right into his stroller. Jeremy was definitely getting used to Simon being his primary caretaker, and now that he’d met the three guys and their kids and had a semiregular routine, Simon was feeling much more comfortable as well.
Later, at the playground, they had another great afternoon. It was amazing how well the four boys played together. They shared well and didn’t argue at all. Simon enjoyed hanging out with the guys. Charlie and Ramon were great as always, and though Michael still seemed very reserved, Simon was getting used to his idiosyncrasies, like how he spoke in statements, even when he seemed to be asking questions. Though he didn’t get what Charlie had said, how Michael was “like a motivational speaker,” there was definitely something intriguing about him and it was obvious that he was a great dad. He seemed in tune with his son, Jonas, watching him even when he didn’t seem to be watching him, and almost instantly responding to his needs, including diaper changes and water and snack breaks.
The guys invited Simon to another play date, and Simon suggested meeting uptown for a change. Everyone loved this idea, so the next afternoon they met at Sheep Meadow in Central Park. It was a sunny, warmer day, and they all played soccer—dads against the kids. Simon thought he was in pretty good shape, but it was hard to keep up with the guys, who were all excellent athletes. While the kids were having their snacks, the guys played Frisbee. Charlie was able to toss the Frisbee incredibly far, maybe the length of a football field, an
d Michael could chase it down every time, no matter how out of reach it seemed. Michael was a stocky guy and didn’t seem like he’d be so fast, which made the spectacle seem even more amazing. People stood around oohing and ahhing like they were watching a fireworks display.
When they took a break, Simon said to Charlie, “Wow, that’s amazing. How do you do that?”
“Played a little ultimate when I was growing up,” Charlie said. “And sometimes I toss a Frisbee around with the guys from the firehouse. On family picnics, you know?”
“And how can you run so fast?” Simon asked Michael, noticing that he didn’t seem to be sweating at all even though he’d done about twenty consecutive hundred-yard sprints.
“I’ve always been a fast runner,” Michael said.
“But you’re really fast. You should be a track star or something.”
“I don’t like competitive sports,” Michael said, “but I love running, especially at night. There’s nothing quite like it.”
As they left Sheep Meadow at around five o’clock, the four guys walking together behind their four boys, Simon said, “Well, this was a blast, and the kids seemed to have a blast too.”
“You’ll come out with us tomorrow night,” Michael said.
“A play date at night?” Simon asked.
“No, just us four men,” Michael said. “No kids, no women. You’ll come to my family’s old brewery in Brooklyn.”
“Oh, that sounds cool,” Simon said. He and Alison didn’t have any plans, so he didn’t see why it would be a problem.
“We hang out there once in a while,” Charlie said. “Guys’ night out kinda thing, you know?”
“Man, wait till you see the place,” Ramon said. “You won’t believe it.”
It had been a long time since Simon had gone on a guys’ night out. His other guy friends were all working full-time and they were married with kids and didn’t see their kids often enough during the week, so getting together with Simon on weekends didn’t work out because they wanted to spend time with their families. Simon had been in constant daddy mode now for over a week, and a night out with the guys was exactly what he needed.
“Tomorrow night sounds perfect,” Simon said. “What time do you want me?”
SEVEN
“Have you ever felt in perfect unison with a guy? Like you weren’t two people? Like your bodies were physically and spiritually merged? That’s how it is with Michael and me. It’s like whenever we’re together I’m transported to some faraway land that’s beautiful and dangerous and terrifying and exhilarating all at once.”
Olivia and Diane were walking on the grass through the center of Bryant Park, holding their bags of take-out lunch—salads from Cosi. It was a bright sunny day, a nice break after all the rain lately, but they could have been in a monsoon and Olivia still would have been in a great mood.
“Wow,” Diane said, “that’s quite a review, especially for a guy you’ve known what, three and a half days?”
“I know it hasn’t been a long time,” Olivia said, “but, you know, maybe time is overrated. After all, some people spend a whole lifetime together and never really know each other . . . . And it’s definitely the most amazing sex I’ve ever had.”
“Really?” Diane was intrigued.
“Trust me,” Olivia said. “You have no idea.”
They sat at one of the green metal tables that were set up around the park. A lot of businesspeople and tourists were taking advantage of the nice weather, and most of the tables were occupied and the paths were crowded.
As she took her Shanghai chicken salad out of the bag, Diane said, “I think I have some idea. I mean, I’ve had good sex before.”
“I’ve had good sex too,” Olivia said. “But there’s good sex and there’s goooood sex. I’ve had good sex before, but this sex is goooooood.”
“Why is it gooooood?” Diane laughed.
Olivia, not trying to be funny, said, “It’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced. It’s raw, it’s visceral, it’s violent, it’s—”
“Whoa,” Diane said. “Violent?”
“Violent in a good way.” Olivia pulled up her blouse a little to show Diane part of a black-and-blue mark above her waistline.
“Oh my God,” Diane said, “he did that to you?”
“You should see what my arms and legs look like,” Olivia said. “His hands are so strong, it’s almost like he can’t help himself. He pins me down to the bed so hard, I can’t move at all.”
“And that’s fun?”
“And his eyes,” Olivia went on, “they’re so intense. He looks right into my eyes while we’re doing it and, I know this might be hard to understand, but it’s like . . . well, it’s like I can see right into his soul.”
“Please tell me this isn’t real,” Diane said. “Please just tell me the guy turned out to be the typical jerk lawyer who stopped calling you and this is all some kind of joke.”
“You know what he says to me when we get into his bedroom?” Olivia said.“ ‘ Get naked.’ He doesn’t say it like he’s asking me to take off my clothes. He says it like an order.”
“That sounds so romantic.”
“I wouldn’t use that word,” Olivia said. “No, it’s not romantic. It’s not erotic either. It’s passionate. It’s just so amazingly passionate.”
“Being roughed up and ordered around is passionate,” Diane deadpanned.
“Yes,” Olivia said. “I’m so sick of trying to figure out what guys are thinking. I think every guy I’ve ever dated has had trouble expressing himself. With this guy it’s all out in the open. There’s no silly misunderstandings, no walking around on eggshells. There are no walls.”
“Okay, nothing you’re saying right now is making any sense.”
Frustrated that she and Diane were on such different wavelengths, Olivia said, “You know how usually the first time with a guy it’s awkward? You don’t know how to express yourself yet? Everything’s unspoken?”
Diane nodded tentatively.
“Well, with Michael there’s none of that. He takes control, in a good way, like an expert dancer. I feel confident when I’m with him. He makes me feel safe, protected, like nothing can ever hurt me. It’s like I’ve been with boys my whole life and now I’m with a man. But it’s not even like he’s a man. He’s so much more than a man.”
Diane, holding a forkful of salad in front of her mouth melodramatically, stared at Olivia. Then said, “I think I know what the problem is. You’re settling.”
“How’m I—?”
“Just try to remove yourself from this fantasy land you’re stuck in and look at it the way a ration—the way I’m seeing it. We went out the other night, you met a guy. I didn’t think you were making the right decision, but okay, you went home with him. Everybody has their weak moments. You had some good sex—sorry, goooood sex—and it’s blinded you. You think you have to settle for Mr. Violent Weirdo because you might not meet anybody else. But you will meet somebody else. Because you’re an amazing woman.”
“Thanks for the pep talk,” Olivia said, “but I don’t think you get it.... I really do like him. I think he’s the most amazing man I’ve ever met. I’m in love with him.”
“Oh my God, you didn’t tell him that, did you?”
“I’m not an idiot,” Olivia said. “I’ve fallen for enough guys to know that saying I love you too soon is an automatic relationship killer. But that doesn’t change the way I feel.”
“I don’t know what to say,” Diane said. “I mean, if being ordered around and getting bruised up is your idea of a great relationship, who am I to argue with you?”
“Did I tell you about the way he smells?”
“No,” Diane said. “I think you left out that part.”
“Oh, God, I just love the smell of his skin.” For emphasis, Olivia took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Seriously, I just can’t get enough of it. You know how they say French men don’t wear cologne and French women find it such a t
urn-on? I’d never really understood the allure. To me, it always seemed like having sex with a taxi driver or something. But now I get it. When we’re doing it, Michael smells so musky and pungent . . . it’s amazing. His scent is just so unique and intimate. I can’t get enough of it.” The memory of his scent made it feel like she was actually in bed, having sex with him. She closed her eyes and moaned, “Mmmmm,” much louder than she’d intended. When she opened her eyes, two middle-aged guys in business suits at the table were looking over, smirking.
“Oh, sorry,” Olivia said, forcing a smile.
When the guys looked away, Diane said, “Look. I get that you’re excited because you met this new eccentric guy, and I get that you’re really attracted to him, and I get that you’ve been having great sex. But take it from someone who’s removed from the situation—it’s weird, okay? It sounds like he’s manipulating you or something. You’re not acting the way you normally act.”
“You mean I’m not as miserable as I normally am? You mean I’m not whining about how I can’t meet anyone new, and how I’m sick of meeting the same jerks?”
“No,” Diane said, “what I mean is you’re not looking at the situation clearly. It’s not normal to have bruises from sex.”
“He’s not hurting me—”
“And you know nothing about this guy. Did you even find out what he does for a living?”
“His family used to own a brewery. I think he comes from old money.”
“You ‘think’ ? ”
“I don’t want to probe, okay? It’s like he told me the other night, ‘Questions only complicate things.’ When I thought about this, I realized how it’s so true. I’m always questioning relationships, finding reasons not to like guys. He’s too this, he’s too that, he not enough this, he’s too much that. Not knowing is so much simpler.”
“It sounds like he’s trying to hide something from you.”
“No, it’s the total opposite. Everything’s out in the open. There’re no secrets, no boundaries.”
