Chronicles of a Midlife Crisis

by Robyn Harding

  The thought of the two of them working on their relationship makes me want to throw up. I remain mute as Trent continues.

  “I don’t want to go, but Don made a really good point. If we do talk to a professional, then she can make Annika see that it’s really over between us.”

  I am incredulous. “So it’s over between you two, but you haven’t bothered to tell her that?”

  Trent obviously realizes how ridiculous this sounds. “Well, I tried but she’s just having a little trouble accepting—”

  I slam the receiver down. How could I have been so naïve? So gullible? Trent is still the same selfish prick who walked out on Sam and me, the same bastard who brought a date to the Crofton House art show. His tears and remorse don’t change a thing. I can’t forgive him. He doesn’t deserve it. The phone rings again. He obviously hasn’t gotten the message.

  “What?” I scream into the receiver.

  “Uh … Lucy?”

  Oops. “Yes.”

  “It’s Bruce. I was wondering if we could talk about you coming back to work?”

  Trent

  YASMINE WHEELER IS A STRIKING, forty-something brunette with really arched eyebrows. She sits with her legs crossed, listening to Annika explain our relationship.

  “We were friends for almost a year before we started dating, which I think is a good way to start off a relationship.”

  “It can be,” Yasmine says then turns to me. “But you were married for most of the friendship, right?”

  “Yeah,” I mumble.

  Annika jumps in. “Nothing physical happened until he left his wife. It was more of an emotional and spiritual connection.”

  What is she talking about? I thought she was sexy and I wanted to bone her. There was nothing emotional or spiritual about it.

  “And then when he chose me,” she reaches over and gives my knee a squeeze, “we took it to the physical plane.”

  I clear my throat, simultaneously sitting forward and pulling my knee away from her hand. “That’s not exactly right. I didn’t choose Annika over my wife. I needed a break from my marriage and I wanted to spend some time on my own. This thing with her was just … a fling that got out of hand.”

  Annika gives an incredulous snort. “Right. So we’ve been sleeping together practically every night for a month, and it’s just a fling to you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So when we went shopping to furnish your apartment? And when you took me to your daughter’s art show? That meant nothing to you?”

  Oh Christ, here we go again. “Sorry,” I mutter.

  Yasmine interjects, “So what I’m hearing is that you’re in the same relationship, but with different objectives?”

  I look over at Annika. We both shrug.

  Annika turns to Yasmine. “But the fact that we’re here means we’re willing to work on it.” She looks over at me and mouths, “Thank you.”

  “Not really,” I say, eyes fixed on our coach. “I’m actually here to make Annika understand that this is over. I’m sorry if I gave her the impression that we had some kind of future together, but we don’t. I need to focus on my family.”

  I was hoping Yasmine would turn to Annika and say something like, “Got the message?”Instead she says, “That must be very hard for you to hear.”

  “It is,” Annika says, grabbing a tissue off the large, dark wood desk. “And the worst part is, I know he doesn’t mean it.”

  “Yes I do!”

  Annika ignores me. “His daughter has been drinking and doing drugs and he’s blaming himself. He thinks that if I weren’t in the picture, she’d miraculously become his sweet, innocent little girl again. And that’s not going to happen.”

  Yasmine turns to me. “This must be a hard time for you.”

  Duh? How much are we paying this woman to state the obvious? “Of course it is,” I snap. “I’m worried about my daughter. I feel like I let her down and I’ll do anything to help her get back on track. I can’t do that if I’m stuck in a relationship I don’t even want.”

  “I have been nothing but supportive,” Annika shrieks. “All I want is to be there for you and for Sam, but you won’t let me! I’m a child of divorce! I could help her if only you’d give me a chance!”

  Surely this outburst will get us kicked out, but the relationship coach is nodding along. “Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Trent?”

  As both their eyes fall on me, I feel the intense need to get the fuck out of here. I stand up. “This is pointless.” I look directly at Annika. “It’s over. I don’t want your help, I don’t want your support, and I don’t want to be your boyfriend. Okay?”

  Yasmine says, “Trent, please sit down so we can finish the session.”

  “You don’t need me for the session,” I grumble, moving toward the door. “You can spend the rest of the hour convincing this nutcase that I just broke up with her.”

  “Trent!” Annika cries, but I’m already hurrying into the hall.

  Lucy

  “WELCOME BACK, LUCY!” Ainsley rushes into my office and greets me effusively.

  “Thanks,” I reply, trying to hide my cynicism. Ainsley had barely said two words to me before Wynn went to bat for my job.

  “I hope Bruce is making you comfortable,” she says, shooting a warning look at Bruce hovering in the doorway.

  “I was just about to call some junior buyers to help her out,” Bruce chirps.

  “Great,” Ainsley says. “This is a family show, so obviously, we’ve got a lot of respect for families.” Given that fortysomething Ainsley’s family consists of a Shitzu poodle named Grier, she’d never seemed too concerned with how my work schedule affected my daughter. I know Wynn is behind this.

  I smile tightly. “Obviously.”

  She claps her thick fingers together. “All right then. We’ll let you get to it.”

  When they’ve departed, Camille rolls her chair over to me and whispers, “All this special treatment and you haven’t even slept with him yet.”

  “True,” I whisper back, “but I did flash my boob.”

  “What!”

  “It was an accident,” I explain. “The towel slipped.”

  “Towel?” But before Camille can grill me, Bruce is calling for her to join him in his office. Left alone in the room, I sense the perfect opportunity to slip away. Even though the work has backed up during my dismissal, I won’t be able to focus on anything until I talk to Wynn.

  When I reach the set, the assistant director is overseeing the filming of a fundraising car wash. Teen actors throw wet sponges, squirt water from hoses, and cavort among the soap bubbles. “Cody” isn’t in the shot, so I make my way to his dressing room. A number of his hangers-on mill about the hallway and give me the eye as I approach. But I am on a mission and can’t be swayed. With a fortifying breath, I knock.

  The beefy designated driver of the Lincoln Navigator opens the door. “Hey Lucy,” Jamie says, sounding rather familiar.

  “Hi, can I see Wynn for a second please?”

  Before I’ve finished speaking, Wynn’s head peeks over his friend’s enormous shoulder. “Come in,” he beckons me. I enter and Jamie exits, leaving us alone.

  “How are you?” Wynn says, perching on the back of an overstuffed chair. His dressing room is sumptuous but without warmth—like a professionally decorated showroom.

  “Fine,” I say as I assess his ensemble. He’s wearing a fluorescent green T-shirt and a pair of jeans rolled up to his knees. His feet are bare—obviously in preparation for the fundraising car wash. I decide to dive right in. “First, I wanted to say thank you for getting me my job back.”

  “My pleasure,” he says, eyes twinkling. “I’m glad you’re back.”

  I move farther into the room. “Well,” I continue, not looking at him, “the second thing I wanted to say … to make clear … is that this can’t happen.”

  Wynn stands and moves toward me, a sexy grin on his face. “What can’t happen?”

  I feel the pull of att
raction and decide to focus on his rolled-up jeans and bare feet. This juvenile outfit helps solidify my decision. “I can’t have dinner with you,” I say firmly. “I’m flattered that you’re interested in me but … I’ve just split up with my husband and it would be hard on my daughter if I was to start dating again so soon.”

  He’s standing mere inches from me now. “I understand,” he says, his voice soft and kind. I stare at his toes. “I wouldn’t want to upset Sam.”

  “Thanks.” His feet are clean and perfect. He obviously gets pedicures.

  “But I also don’t want to miss out on a great thing just because the timing isn’t ideal. I think you’re really amazing, Lucy. I’ve never met anyone like you.”

  I shrug, smiling despite myself. “I’m not that great.”

  “Yes, you are. I meet so many phony people in my world and you’re so real and honest and wise.”

  I shift uncomfortably. Wise is just a more flattering way of saying old, I think.

  Wynn puts a finger under my chin and tilts my head up. “That night at the bar was really hot.” His voice is husky. “I haven’t stopped thinking about it.”

  “Me either!” I want to cry. “It was incredible and sexy and I haven’t felt so alive in years!” But I bite my lip to keep the words in.

  “It could be our secret,” he says. “Sam doesn’t have to know. We’ll keep it out of the press. It’ll be just ours.”

  “I can’t …” I croak helplessly.

  “Come on …” He leans forward and I smell his minty-fresh breath, the magnetic force of his proximity. And suddenly I think: what the hell? After all I’ve been through, I deserve this. Trent flaunted his girlfriend in front of me—not to mention a significant portion of the Crofton House parent population. This will be like my revenge—or more accurately, my reward for surviving the humiliation. Besides, it’s just a kiss … a simple, meaningless, incredible kiss. I lean forward and feel the warm, moist caress of his mouth.

  There’s a loud banging on the door. I jump back, startled. “Five minutes, Wynn!” someone yells from the hall.

  The commotion brings me back to reality. “No,” I say, stepping away and composing myself. “This is wrong and inappropriate. My daughter has a huge crush on you, and obviously, she’d find us being together disgusting.”

  “But she doesn’t have to find out,” Wynn pleads.

  Determinedly, I head for the door. “I said no.”

  “Okay,” he acquiesces, catching my hand as I pass. “Just do me one favor, okay?”

  I start to refuse, but he’s so goddamn cute. “What?”

  “Let me make you dinner.” Before I can object he cuts me off. “As a thank you. I’m reuniting with my family because of you. I feel like a new person—more grounded and healthy. And I owe that to you, Lucy.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Please. Come to my place on Saturday. I’ll cook my special pasta. We’ll have a nice quiet dinner and no one will ever know.”

  It’s as though he can sense me waffling in his favor because he says, “Just this once, okay? And then, I promise, I’ll respect your boundaries.”

  The door opens and a girl with a headset pokes her head inside. “We need you on set, Wynn.”

  Wynn looks at me, his blue eyes plaintive. “All right,” I say, “just once.”

  Trent

  ON TUESDAY I GO BACK TO WORK. Don told me to take a couple of days off to sort myself out, and I did. I feel a hell of a lot stronger than last week, and I’m more than a little embarrassed that I was so emotional in his office. But there’s no point dwelling on it. I’m moving forward now. I’ve ended things with Annika and I’m going to get my family back. It feels good to have a clear-cut goal again.

  But as soon as I walk into the building, I hear it. It’s faint, coming from the other end of the hall, but it’s unmistakable. It’s crying. More precisely, it’s Annika crying.

  “Fuck,” I mutter, heading to my office. I knew she’d have a hard time with this, but she’s got to accept it. Like Don said, it was a roll in the hay that got out of hand. Annika’s young and beautiful and she’s got her whole life ahead of her. Why is she being so goddamn clingy? Maybe if she went on a vacation or something, she could get herself together.

  I’m booting up my computer when Karen from accounting walks in. “Annika’s really upset,” she says, stating the obvious.

  “I can hear that.”

  Karen puts her hands on her hips, a distinctively judgmental posture. “So … what are you going to do about it?”

  “What am I going to do about it?” I scoff. “I’ve been straight with her. It was a mistake and now it’s over. She’s got to deal with it.”

  Karen gasps, as if I’ve just said a punch in the face might set her straight. She turns on her heel and hurries back to comfort Annika.

  There are no messages from Lucy or Sam, but I refuse to get discouraged. I dial Lucy’s cell. It goes straight to voice mail, so I leave a message. “It’s me,” I say, affecting a cheerful tone. “I’d like to take Sam out this weekend … both of you, if you’re up for it. Maybe dinner and a movie? I don’t want to pressure you, Luce … I just want …” I scramble for a benign way to say: I want my family back. I want us to be together again. I don’t want to die alone in some crappy apartment and have no one show up at my funeral.

  Finally, I come up with “… to spend some time as a family. It will be good for Sam.”

  I’m hanging up the phone when Don sticks his head in my doorway. “You want to come to my office?”His face is tense: not a good sign.

  When I close his office door behind me, Annika is already seated in front of his desk. She is sobbing quietly into a tissue. “Sit,” Don commands, indicating the chair next to Annika. I obey. Annika shifts her body away from me, cries slightly louder.

  “Okay,” Don begins, “I looked the other way when you two started seeing each other, which may have been a mistake.”

  I’ll say—but I don’t.

  “But now that things are over between you, I’d like your assurance that you can handle yourselves in a mature and professional manner while in the office.”

  “Of course,” I say. Annika snivels.

  Don continues. “I know this is a difficult time, but things will get easier. And you’re both valuable employees. I want to make sure that you two can continue to work productively together.”

  “We can,” I say, nodding emphatically.

  Annika looks up from her tissue. “I don’t think so.”

  I turn in my chair to face her. She’s still snuffling into the Kleenex, but I sense a grim determination in her expression. That fucking bitch. She’s going to destroy me.

  Don clears his throat. “I hope you’ll reconsider.”

  She looks up. “I don’t think I can work with someone so heartless and cruel.”

  “What?” I boom.

  But Annika keeps her eyes on Don. “He made me think we had a future together. I invested myself, heart and soul, in our relationship. And then suddenly,” she snaps her fingers, “just like that, he announces that I meant nothing to him.”

  “That’s not how it was!” I cry.

  Annika continues. “He came to see a relationship coach with me, only to verbally abuse me in front of her and storm out of the session.”

  Don looks at me. “It w-wasn’t like that,” I stammer. “It was a misunderstanding.”

  Annika faces me. “You led me on for almost a year. You introduced me to your friends. You let me decorate your apartment. And now you want to go back to your wife and I’m left with nothing!”

  Oh Jesus! My armpits are sweaty and my heart is starting to palpitate. I look at Don pleadingly. “That wasn’t my intention. I-I wanted to make her see …”

  Don leans forward in his chair. “Look, your personal problems are your business. But if they’re going to affect the productivity in my office, then something’s going to have to change.”

  I lean back in my
seat. It’s harsh, Annika getting fired over our relationship, but it’s for the best. We obviously can’t work together if she’s going to carry on like Glenn Close. And frankly, she deserves it if she can’t grow up and take her knocks like an adult.

  Annika says, “I understand your position, Don. That’s why I’ve consulted a lawyer friend of mine. I know these situations often don’t work out in the woman’s favor …”

  I nearly fly out of my seat. Was that a threat? I look from her face to Don’s. He’s composed, but a vein is throbbing near his temple and he’s breathing deeply through his nostrils. Looking back at Annika, I see that she’s no longer crying. Her expression is sheer determination and menace.

  Don speaks. “I’d prefer that this was worked out without involving lawyers.”

  Annika shrugs. “Me too, but I’m afraid it’s too late for that.”

  “No, it’s not,”I interject. “Annika, please … can we talk about this?”

  She stands up. “You’ve made your position clear, Trent. I don’t see how we can continue to work together.” She looks at Don. “I’ll be taking the rest of the week off. I’m emotionally exhausted and would prefer not to come back to work until this …” she points her thumb at me, “is sorted out.” Turning on her heel, she strides out of the office.

  I turn to Don, my expression one of panic. He promised me my job was safe. I’ve been a loyal employee for seven years. Yeah, I’ve fucked up recently, but before that, I was pretty much perfect. He can’t turn on me now. “Wow,” I say with a nervous laugh. “She’s mental.”

  “Yeah,” Don replies dismissively. He’s already reaching for the phone. “I need some privacy, Trent.”

  I stand obediently. “I’ll talk to her. It’ll be okay.”

  Don pauses, looks at me. “I think you should stay away from her for now.”

  Lucy

  SOMETIMES THE STARS JUST ALIGN and you know you’ve made the right decision—like having dinner with Wynn. Despite my doubts and fears, circumstances fell so easily into place that I knew it was okay. Trent had phoned and practically begged to spend time with Sam this weekend. I decided that it would do her good to be with her father. Yes, he’s hurt and disappointed her, but he’s still her dad and can’t be shut out of her life completely. So I arranged for her to spend a night with him at his apartment. And that night just happened to be Saturday, leaving me free to see Wynn.