by Dee Ernst
I have lots of leisure time in January, time I spend looking through foreign travel magazines, especially the English ones, reading articles about Schlepping Through Sky or Cavorting In Cornwall. Mainly, I love to look at all the tweed, and fantasize about long, rambling walks in the crisp European air.
The food is always great in January, too. With the holiday cooking frenzy behind me, I bake lots of things with cinnamon and raisins in them. I start pulling out recipes for hearty stews and pot pies. I eat apple crumble and roasted squash, and drink gallons of hot, spiced cider.
Best of all, January is about new beginnings. I’m a resolution person. I make a New Year’s Resolution every year, and I really try to stick to it. I’m very reasonable about my resolutions. Last year, I resolved to learn to make a perfect pie crust. The year before that, I learned to say all my housekeeping requests in perfect Spanish. This year, I resolved to sign my name as Mona Quincy without giving it a second thought.
So, all and all, any day in January is a good one. But the day I divorced my husband Brian, after he left me for someone 15 years younger and 30 pounds lighter, was the best.
The morning began with no fighting, no wardrobe issues, no last minute demands. Jessica came down for breakfast in a mohawk. That’s a haircut where the sides of the head are shaved but the center is left in a soft, tufted crown. She had gotten this haircut four days previously to show her new boyfriend that even though they were too young to be legally committed to each other, there were other ways of showing undying love and devotion, and since he had a mohawk, she’d get one too. The good thing about that particular morning was that when she came downstairs and I saw her, I didn’t jump three feet into the air and scream in fright.
She came over to me and put her hand on my shoulder. “I’ll get a ride home from school today, in case you want to, you know, get drunk after court. Okay?”
I nodded and tried not to tear up.
Lauren was next. She gave me a small kiss and a big hug. “Mom, I know this is going to be a strange day for you. Just know that I love you and think you’re the best Mom in the world.” Then she grabbed a Pop Tart and went out the door, leaving me tearful and elated.
Finally, Miranda came down. “I’m working after school today, babysitting at the Fosters,” she said.
“I know.”
“But I’ll be thinking about you.”
“Thanks.”
“I love you, Mom.”
That started the tears again.
Divorce is not a private affair. We sat in the courtroom along with several other couples awaiting dissolution. I had noticed that Dominique slipped in, and was sitting in the back row. Brian must have neglected to tell her about his last-minute change of heart. When our docket number was called and we were going up to the front of the courtroom, I turned to sneak a look at her again and found that Patricia, arriving late, wearing a fabulous fur coat the exact color of old gold, had managed to sit directly in front of her. Patricia, much taller, waved happily.
So I stood in a courtroom and legally stopped being Mona Berman and became Mona Quincy again. Brian looked grim. Hirsch Fielding looked exactly like the jerk I imagined. David West was cool, comforting, and smugly satisfied. The lawyers talked, the judge talked, we answered questions, signed some things, and that was that. Then Patricia took me out to lunch.
When I got home, Ben Cutler’s truck was parked on the street in front of my house. Aunt Lily was supposed to be at the library taking a class in something that I hoped wasn’t bomb-building. As I came in the kitchen door, I saw Ben leaning against the counter.
He gave her a long, cool look. “I don’t like to be kept waiting, madam.’ She smiled slowly and pulled loose the ribbons at her throat. Her cloak fell to the floor, and she stood, naked in the candlelight. ‘I’ll try to make it up to you’, she said, walking towards him, watching his eyes widen with pleasure.
“Hey,” I said. “What’s up? Did something burst while I was gone?”
He shook his head. “Nope. Lily let me in before she left. I was just, you know, in the neighborhood, and knew today was the big day, so I figured I’d see how you were doing.”
He was not in his usual plumber clothes. He was wearing a thick turtleneck sweater over his jeans, which were clean and pressed. He looked magnificent. The early afternoon sun was shining softly through his dark hair, there was just a suggestion of stubble on his perfect jaw, and his eyes were wide and twinkling.
“Can I get you some coffee?” I asked, shrugging out of my jacket.
I turned and he was right behind me. He grabbed me and pulled me to him, and he kissed me. Right on the lips.
It was the most astonishing kiss I’d ever received.
In my whole life.
Really.
It left me speechless.
And breathless.
When I finally pulled away, my entire body was quivering. Like a tightly strung harp string that had just been plucked. I stared up at him. I tried to form words but only managed “Whaa..?”
“I’ve wanted to do that forever,” he said. “I’m crazy about you, Mona, and I could never do a thing about it. But you’re a single woman now, and I want you to know how serious I am.”
Holy shit.
“Serious?” I croaked.
“Yes. Listen, we’ve been spending more time together the past few months, and I was hoping you’d start feeling a little differently towards me. You know, like maybe I could actually be somebody important in your life.”
I felt lightheaded. Maybe it was the kiss. I gotta tell you, it was something. “I need to sit,” I gasped. He propelled me to a kitchen chair, sat me down, pushed my head down and rubbed my back while I took long, deep breaths. When the world steadied itself, I opened my eyes. Ben was crouched down in front of me, his gorgeous eyes filled with concern.
“Better?” he asked gently.
I nodded, and he brushed the hair away from my face.
“Water?”
“No. I’m good.” I took another long breath. There. That was better. What had he just said?
I squinted at him. “What did you just say?”
“That I wanted to be a part of your life.”
“Oh. That’s what I thought you said.”
It was kind of funny, actually, that he wanted to be part of my life, since he’d been part of my fantasy life for just about as long as I’d known him. I’d given him all kinds of thought. Like what he looked like naked. How he’d look dangling grapes over my mouth. If he was into licking ice cream off my stomach. If he liked to spoon after sex. If he’d prefer being on the top or on the bottom. And now, here was Ben, offering me the chance to answer all those questions, and more. Ben the kind. Ben the thoughtful. Ben the unbelievably handsome. Ben who, now that I was single and he was obviously willing, I could now take to bed and keep there as long as I wanted.
I looked at him. I opened my mouth to say something, but I could find no words.
“I know you’ve been seeing somebody else,” he said gently.
My brain completely froze. Somebody else? Yes, of course there had been somebody else. Somebody sweet and thoughtful who made me laugh. Tall. Dark hair. Cute mole on his left nipple. What was his name again?
“Mitch,” I blurted.
“That’s his name?”
I cleared my throat. “Yes
Ben was frowning. “Is it serious?”
“Actually, we broke it off. He bought an art gallery in California. He’s leaving. We weren’t in love, so I’m not heartbroken or anything. I miss him, but he’s gone.”
“Good. I mean, I’m sorry you miss him, but maybe you can think about a future with me.”
“A future?” I looked at him. “This is really weird.”
“Mona, no it’s not. Think about us. Think about how we are together.”
I shut my eyes. Okay. Ben with clothes. Ben sitting in my kitchen. Drinking coffee. We could talk about everything. We had talked about everything. Our kid
s. My writing. We laughed together all the time. We’d even been on an actual date or two, and that felt fine. On Thanksgiving, he had been an absolute trouper. In fact, he had such a doting companion to Patricia that I had to keep reminding myself it was all a charade.
“We’re pretty good friends,” I admitted, opening my eyes.
“Yes, Mona. We’re very good friends. Is there a problem with us being more than friends?”
I had to think about that. “Yes,” I said finally. “The problem is sex.”
He opened his mouth to speak, stopped himself, and then started again. “We’ve never had sex, Mona.”
“Well, yes.” I said carefully. “That is literally true, but I’ve sort of been having sex with you in an abstract way for some time now. Years, actually. Sometimes in my head. Often, really, in my head. A lot in my books. You’re one of my most repeated male characters, and you wouldn’t believe the things you’ve done.”
He had been looking at me, but shifted his eyes to the right. I could practically hear all the gears in his brain going round.
“Are you going to tell me about them,” he said at last, “or should I just start reading?”
I touched his hand. “Do you really love me?”
“Yes.” He was looking right at me now. “I love you. And I’m in love with you.”
“What did you want to do about it?”
He shrugged. “Well, I figured if we started planning now, we could get some invitations printed up by spring and get married in June. What do you think?”
I stared. My jaw dropped. He smiled, closed my mouth with his index finger and kissed me very gently on the lips. Off in the distance, angels sang.
“Or we could try dating,” he said. “You know, dinner. A movie. Maybe Scrabble. I don’t expect you to dive into this head first. I’m perfectly willing to court you.”
My lips were still buzzing but I managed a smile. “Court me? Is that a romance-book reference to score some points?”
He grinned. “Hey. Whatever helps.” He tilted his head at me. “You seem really caught off guard by all this. Didn’t you get the feeling that my interest in you was more than just polite professionalism?”
I sighed. “No. You see, I had a whole relationship with you in my head. I never thought of you as anything more than that. Now that I look back, I probably should have been a little more aware about what was going on. That’s my problem. I mean, I’m not sure how to separate the real person that is you from the dark, brooding hero in my head.”
He stood up. “You’ll figure it out, Mona. I have.” He walked across the kitchen and opened the door. “See, I had the same problem. But I managed to fall in love with the living, breathing Mona, in spite of the other Mona.”
“What other Mona?”
He walked back to me. He pulled me to my feet and held me so closely that we were practically touching. Something electric was actually vibrating between us as he spoke. “The naked one. The one who keeps dragging me into bed. Touching me, stroking me, driving me crazy with her kisses.” He stepped back and grinned again. “All God’s children got fantasies, Mona.”
Golly.
“Think about it, Mona. I know this has been an emotional day for you. So think about what I’ve said.”
“Okay,” I managed.
“And call me. Anytime you want. For whatever reason. Okay?”
I nodded and he shut the door behind him.
I sat back down. Ben wanted me. Brian, who had wanted me back, had just divorced me. It was all suddenly too much, and I put my head down and started to cry.
I was sobbing so loudly I didn’t hear the back door open again, but Patricia’s voice came floating in, and I raised my head to see her leaning back out the door and yelling. Seconds later MarshaMarsha burst in. They sat down on either side of me, patting my shoulders.
“I was right to check on you,” Patricia was saying. “I knew you were too calm at the hearing. Go ahead and cry, darling. Get it all out.”
“I’m not crying about the divorce,” I managed.
“The girls?” MarshaMarsha asked. “Did something…”
“No,” I wailed.
Patricia grabbed my arm and gave it a little shake. “You haven’t been reading Jodi Picoult again, have you?”
I shook my head, sniffing loudly. Tissues appeared, and I grabbed them, blew noisily, and blurted, “Ben just told me he loved me.”
Silence.
“Ben Cutler?” Patricia finally asked.
I nodded.
“But,’ she continued, “you’re crying. Why would you be crying?”
I mopped my eyes. “I don’t know. I practically fainted when he kissed me.”
MarshaMarsha caught her breath. “He kissed you. Oh God, what was it like?”
“The best kiss I’ve ever had. In. My. Life.”
“But,” Patricia was soldiering on, “why are you crying? This is Ben. The best- looking man never photographed for an Abercrombie and Fitch clothing advertisement.”
“What did you tell him?” MarshaMarsha asked.
I took a breath. “I told him I’d think about it.”
“But this is Ben,’ Patricia said. “Who loves your kids, and your animals, and can have an entire conversation with Lily without the aid of pharmaceuticals.”
I nodded. “I know.”
MarshaMarsha leaned in close, disbelief on her face. “Did you tell him to go away?” she whispered.
I shook my head.
“Thank God,” she breathed.
“Mona.” Patricia was looking aghast. “This is Ben. Who is one of the best men I’ve known. Who probably has enough money to take you to Tahiti so you can spend the rest of your life sucking down coconut milk. And he’ll fix all your toilets for free.”
“I know,” I wailed. “I know.”
The front door slammed and Anthony’s voice drifted in. “I thought you were back. Are you a free woman at last?” I saw him come into the kitchen through a haze of tears. He stopped and put his hands to his mouth. “Oh, Mona, don’t cry. This divorce is a good thing.”
Patricia stood up. “It’s not the divorce. Ben is in love with her. We need a drink.”
Anthony clutched at his throat with both hands. “Ben? My Ben?”
“Apparently,” MarshaMarsha said, “Mona’s Ben.”
“He said he loved her?” Anthony gushed. “OhmyGod. Mona. You sly little vixen. Ben? I told you something was going on! Didn’t I tell you?”
“She told him she’d have to think about things,” MarshaMarsha told him.
He stopped and turned deathly white. “But, Mona. This is Ben. Who is a kind, generous man who likes your kids and-“
“I know,” I yelled. “Stop it. All of you.” And I put my head back down on the table and started crying again.
Gradually, I could hear things other than my own sobbing. The heartwarming clink of ice on glass, for one thing. Then, voices.
“Well, I saw his truck parked in front of the house, but I mean, I just thought it was another toilet,” MarshaMarsha was saying.
“And he kissed her?” Anthony asked.
“Yes,” Patricia told him, “and she said it was it was the best kiss ever.”
“Well of course it was. I mean, was there ever any doubt? So, she told him what?” Anthony continued.
“That she’d have to think it over,” MarshaMarsha said.
“I don’t get it,” Anthony said. “Gorgeous man, likes her kids, loads of money. What am I missing here?”
“It’s shock, I bet,” MarshaMarsha offered.
“It’s crazy,” Patricia said.
“She’s crazy,” MarshaMarsha murmured.
“But she’s usually not that crazy,” Anthony murmured back.
“Maybe it’s about Mitch,” Patricia mused.
“Aren’t they over?” Anthony asked.
MarshaMarsha chuckled. “Well, I though so, but maybe she changed her mind. Maybe she asked him to stay here after all.”
>
“But I thought that was just sex,” Anthony said.
“Maybe there was a little more to it than that,” Patricia said.
“She turned down Ben for Mitch?” MarshaMarsha asked.
“She wouldn’t follow him out to California,” Anthony said. “Would she?”
I lifted my head. “I’m still in the room,” I growled.
Patricia handed me a martini glass. A full martini glass. “Drink this. Now.” she said.
I did as I was told. What a difference. My eyes cleared, my sinuses dried right up, and my brain shifted into focus. “These are amazing,” I told her.
“I know.” She folded her arms across her chest. “Do we need to talk about this? Does this have to do with Mitch?”
I shook my head. “No. It’s Ben. And it’s Brian.”
“What?” MarshaMarsha looked shocked. “What about Brian?”
“He asked to come back. He wanted to stop the divorce.”
“When?” Patricia demanded.
“Yesterday,” I said. “He told me he had made a mistake. He wanted to come back and put the marriage on track.”
“What did you say?” Anthony asked.
“No. I said no. What else could I say? Then he got all angry, like it was my fault. Can you believe it? My fault. I threw him out.”
“Well good for you,” MarshaMarsha said. “Really, Mona. That’s exactly what he deserved.”
Patricia came around and gave me a big hug. “Absolutely.” She tilted her head at me. “But why would you be upset about that?”
“Because he’s such a jerk. I can’t believe he put us all through this, and then he changed his mind. Why did he have to start this whole mess on the first place?”
“Mona.” Patricia gave me a shake. “If he hadn’t started this whole mess, you’d still be married to a complete idiot. You wouldn’t have written a terrific book, you’d still be running around trying to be Mrs. Perfect Berman, instead of doing what you want to do with your life, and the most beautiful man in the world would not have told you he loved you. You shouldn’t be upset.” Her good breeding took over. “You should send him a thank-you note.”
The phone rang. I waved at Anthony, who picked up the receiver, glanced at caller ID, and said. “It’s Oprah.”
