by Wendy Burke
“What is going on with you two, Charly?”
They were saved by her phone rumbling against the tabletop. She reached forward, looked at it, frowned, the slid the device toward him. “Why don’t you ask him.”
***
Andy propped himself up against the headboard, getting comfortable. Holding his phone to his ear, he listened to the connection ring and ring. “C’mon, Charly, pick up.” While waiting for an answer, he tried to determine what city he was in. It’d been a long flight and, upon arrival, he remembered landing, checking in and that was about it. The rest of the information lost to a nap that had sneaked up on him.
“Hello, Andy.”
“Uh, hello?” My wife’s voice has definitely changed.
“Andy, it’s Casey.”
“Hey Case! Shit, I’m must’ve misdialed. I just woke up.”
“Where are you?”
“I have no fucking idea,” he chuckled. “Seattle, I think.”
“Well, you didn’t misdial. I’m in Milwaukee.”
“And you’re answering my wife’s phone, why?”
“And it’s nice to hear your voice, too!” The friends laughed together. “We were out for drinks with Paul. She had a few, plus a few more, and one on top of that. I didn’t want her getting snagged by the Milwaukee cops, and you know how serious the Ozaukee County deputies are.”
“That’s concerning.”
“She’s checking on the girls.”
“So, a little on the hammered side?”
“Uh, let’s just say, her natural gait right now is weaving and bobbing.”
Andy heard Casey’s awkward chuckle.
After a moment, his friend asked, “What’s going on with you two? There’s obviously something wrong.”
“New York is what happened. She hates the idea home games aren’t at home any longer. With good reason.”
“What reason?”
The connection remained quiet for some time. “I cheated on her, man,” he finally whispered.
Chapter Four
“You. Did. What?”
Andy heard the disgust in Casey’s tone. It hurt that one of his oldest and dearest friends would probably be good and pissed after this phone conversation. “It happened before we were engaged.”
“That’s not an excuse.”
Andy reached for a framed photo which visited every city with him. Three beautiful females smiled back at him from the frame—Charly, Breanna, and Chloe. “You’re right, it’s not.”
“Is this why your wife is in such a state?”
“Probably. This all happened years ago in New York.”
For some time, silence colored the connection between the two men, until Andy explained. “It was my first stint with the Breakers, first season with them. I was in New York for the league championship, two games there. Charly and I spent my off time together. Well, until we won the second game. Ran into someone I used to know, got a little fucked up, and forgot to meet her for dinner. She came looking for me—and found me in my hotel room.”
“Then what happened?”
“I mean, we were seeing one another, but there was never any real discussion about it being an exclusive relationship at the time and….”
“If you were seeing her often and sleeping with her, in her mind, it was an exclusive relationship.”
“I know that now. But then, I wasn’t sure...and I fucked it up. It’s my fault she left art school in New York. It’s my fault she hates the city. Of course, I want to preserve the great thing I have. I don’t want to fuck up again, but we’re on different pages when it comes to this trade. She’s not thrilled, but agreed that if I wanted to keep playing, it’s what I—what we—had to do. And you know the money’s pretty damn good. But, this being away, for more than the normal extended periods of time, keeps her worked up, tosses her back to the time I did fuck up.”
“You need to fix this, Knox and—”
“You think I don’t want to?” he interrupted. “I can only say nothing’s going on so much. If she’s not going to believe me, what can I do?”
“Saying no to that magazine photo shoot for starters. I love ya, brother, but you had to know something like that would bother her.”
“I didn’t know a thing about the models—”
“You could have avoided this entire situation.”
“I know, but I didn’t. What’s done is done. To be honest, Rupp, I don’t know what to do about it.”
“Do you love her?”
“Of course, I do.” The thought hung for a moment, then Andy admitted, “More than she’ll ever know or could imagine. I mean, this isn’t like what happened with her parents.”
“What happened with her folks?”
“Ah, shit, Casey. Her dad was pretty obvious about his infidelities, and then he dumped her mom when she was ill, and left them with pretty much nothing.”
“No wonder she’s so fucking upset, Knox. That shit doesn’t go away, no matter how intelligent and rational Charly is.”
Andy said nothing. No words could fix what he had broken years ago. As much as he knew Charly had done her best to put her familial past behind her and become a well-adjusted adult, Andy knew the scar of that particular hurt never completely healed.
“I have an idea.”
“I’ll take any help at this moment, Rupp.”
“I’m gonna text you from my phone. Don’t ask any questions, just follow the instructions and this will all work out.”
“You’re scaring the shit out of me, Casey. What is this?”
“Trust me, Knox. I’m a doctor, remember?”
***
Charly woke up with tears streaming down her face and a clanging headache. When she found Casey making the twins and Kristen breakfast, she turned right around, went back to her bedroom, and cried even more. Nothing happened. If it had, the babysitter still wouldn’t be here. Friday in its entirety came flooding back and sadness regarding her martial situation draped a wet blanket over Saturday.
After breakfast, Charly slipped Kristen two one hundred dollar bills and sent her home.
“Are you sure you’re going to be all right?” Casey asked. He stood at the front door and slipped on his Adidas jacket.
She could barely look him in the eye, still embarrassed by last night’s disgusting attempt at finding some kind, any kind, of affection and validation. “I will.”
“Charly.”
He took her into his brotherly embrace. She sucked down any inkling of a sniffle.
“When I say trust me, you’ll just have to. I’m telling you, nothing’s going on with Andy, and everything will be all right.”
Nodding into his broad chest, if she didn’t believe him, she tried to at least appear to. “Thanks, Casey. Thanks for looking out for me.”
“Anytime. I’m headed back to Ann Arbor, but call me later if you want.”
“A consult at the University of Michigan?”
“Uh, no.” He gave her a wink. “My fiancée.”
With that information, I’m officially even more pathetic, considering my lame move last night. Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree—I’m turning into a cheater just like my dad was. “Well, um,” she tripped over her own thoughts, “…congratulations. I’m sure she’s wonderful.” Like I used to be to my husband.
“Snagged myself a doctor. An older woman, too.” He winked.
“Casey, I’m, uh, sorry about my behavior last night—”
He cut her off. “Stop, now, okay?” he said quietly.
She closed her eyes as he placed a comforting kiss on her forehead.
“Nothing happened, chalk it up to a combination of old-fashioneds, vodka tonics, and chardonnay.”
“I appreciate your levity, Casey.”
“Anytime. Take care of yourself. I mean it.” He squeezed her.
A brisk April breeze blew in as he left. She had no idea what she was going to do with herself and the tormenting thoughts she couldn’t oust from her mind.
***
Feigning illness, Charly called her mother-in-law and asked if she’d take the girls for the remainder of the day. Then she went back to bed, hating herself for being a willing participant in her own pity party. Still, with all that had transpired over the past day or so, she felt she deserved it.
A tiny ping caught her attention. Rolling over, she took her phone from the night stand; it reminded her about five missed calls, three texts, and two voice mails.
She listened to a voicemail from Paul first. “You better be out of bed and dressed, darling. Don’t make me put you in the shower myself. I’ll be over later so you can apologize.” Then, in a less frivolous tone, “Love you, my dearest Charlotte. All is well, honey.
Voice mail rolled to the second message. “Hi, baby. Wanted to call and check on you. Sounds like you had a long night, and well-deserved, I imagine. I’m sorry, hon. I’m sorry I’m not there. I miss you and the girls terribly. We have an afternoon game, so call me tonight. Love you, Charly. I’ll be waiting to hear your voice.”
Before she had a chance to digest Andy’s words, the doorbell rang.
She dragged herself to the front door, peeking through the beveled sidelight to determine whether she wanted to answer.
“I can see you, Charlotte. Open the door.” Her boss rapped for good measure. “I want to hug you while I’m apologizing.”
Begrudgingly, she let him in. Before she could turn away and hide her puffy, tear-laced face from him, he snagged her and pulled her in.
“Let me go, Paul.”
“Not a chance, you remarkable little bitch.”
He cradled her face. His hands felt so warm and soft on her skin.
“I am so sorry, my darling. My words were terribly harsh yesterday, and I didn’t mean them.”
She couldn’t stop her tears—tears of embarrassment, regret, and worry.
“And, I know you’re sincerely hating yourself too, mon cher. C’mon, let Pauly make you a nice mocha cappuccino, and we girls can talk.”
Settled at the kitchen table, she watched him flit through the cupboards. Not only did he fire up the cappuccino machine, he found some refrigerated cinnamon rolls and put them in the oven.
“Will you marry me?” she asked, sipping his perfect brew, knowing he completely understood her sentiment.
Sitting down beside her, he touched her arm. “Honey, if I liked what you’re hiding in those yoga pants, I’d be all over you!”
“Thanks.” She put her face in her hands. “What am I going to do?”
“Let’s dissect the trouble first, shall we? Your hot baseball boy isn’t home. He’s back in a place where a bunch of heartache happened. Now, you must know he’s not going to go sex-rogue on you and mess up this fine family with those two adorable I-could-cover-them-with-chocolate-and-eat-them-alive little girls. So, what’s going on? You’re suspicious, he’s suspicious that you’re suspicious, and let me guess, it’s been a little quiet in the ‘nasty’ department for any number of reasons. The few times he gets home, he’s distracted or tired, which only causes you more suspicion. Charly-hon, I didn’t peg you for such a suspicious little snot.”
“Except—”
“Yes, except when you know I’m getting a bad deal on a piece of art.”
“Thank you. Knowing I do something well is doing a great deal for my self-worth at this moment.”
They were quiet, both sipping, until the beep of the oven called. He plated the rolls, slathered them in icing, and plopped a dollop of butter on top of each for good measure.
“Some caffeine, dairy, and sugar—you must feel better already.” Making her another cappuccino, he continued talking. “I think I may have an idea of how to correct this situation, but I don’t know if you’re going to like it.”
“What do you mean, ‘…don’t know if I’m going to like it?’”
“What I mean is, you might need some outside help in all those departments that aren’t getting the proper attention right now—your marriage, your relationship, and your sex life.”
“I love you, my friend, but I don’t know if I want to discuss my sex life with you.”
“Puh-leeze, missy, like you haven’t before.”
“Never when I was sober.”
“Well, you might have to! What about Skype sex? Ever tried that?”
She’d made sour faces in the past, but this one probably would win awards. “You’re kidding, right?”
“No, hon, c’mon, wouldn’t you like to see your honey’s hot bod and enormous cock on your laptop? I mean, you both could watch each other have some fun. Josef and I do it all the time.”
“No. Please, that’s enough.”
He waved away her disgust, chuckling. “I just wanted to see your reaction! Even after all that schooling in Paris and Florence, I’m surprised you’re so…um…prim.”
“How prim or not-so prim I am with my husband is no one’s business but his and mine, Paul.”
“I know, sweetie. So, let’s take it out of my hands so to speak, although I’m sure it’d be a thrill to handle Andy’s—”
“Paul! Stop it!”
“Oh, darling, you so have to loosen up! Anyway, like I was saying, out of my hands and into those of an expert.”
“I’m not going to a therapist.”
“Oh, I would never suggest that, but I would suggest this.” From a butter-blond leather portfolio which he had so carefully placed on a nearby kitchen chair, he extracted a beautiful parchment envelope.
“Stationery? You’re suggesting I write a letter?”
He tapped her hand in playful disgust. “Just keep your pretty little silk knickers on, Charlotte.” He extracted sheaves of paper from the envelope. Placing the paperwork in front of her, he said, “Read.”
She scanned the pages, then stopped, handing them back. “Seriously don’t want to read about your sexual activities….”
“Oh, baby doll, you are so missing the point.”
“Which is?”
He straightened the papers precisely and slipped them back into the valise. “The point is, you need a little help. Andrew needs a little help. You both need a little help in that department. The woman who runs this agency—”
“From what I’ve read, she sounds like a modern day pimp.”
“Stop that right now, young lady, and listen to me. I found the love of my life through this service. Sure, at first, it was just a hook up—and honey, let me tell you she hooked me up! But, somehow, Madame Eve—”
“Madame? She is a pimp!”
“I’m ignoring you, right now, and continuing my lovely story. Madame Eve seems to know people’s hearts and what they need. Josef and I are together because of her.”
“But, wait, first and foremost, this ‘Eve thing’ is a hook up service.”
“Well, not really, but—”
“It either is or isn’t.”
“Okay, it is.”
“So, why would I pay good money to be hooked up with someone I’m already hooked up with?” They were both quiet for a moment, looking at each other. “But,” she began, “because you love me and are always looking out for me, leave it here and I’ll look it over. I am not, however, going to read all that personal stuff—so take those pages out.”
“Why, you might get some tips that Andy would like—”
“Paul Franklin Francis Strait, stop it right now!”
“Oh, honey, you need to loosen up!” He rose and kissed the top of her head. Leaving the fancy envelope, he plucked his portfolio from the table. “See you on Monday. Do not be late.”
“Thanks, Paulie.”
“Love you, sweetheart!” he called, heading for the door.
***
Charly read three Dr. Seuss books over Facetime to the twins, including Hop on Pop. Twice. After a loving digital goodnight, she tucked them in extra snugly. She chatted with her mother-in-law before she hung up, assuring her everything was fine and that she was just having a little of a rough row wit
h Andy away. I know she’s not buying it, but she’s too classy to get in the middle of my relationship with her son.
Twenty-four hours or so had passed since his terse words with her. Does he get it? Does he really have any idea why I’m upset? Maybe it was time to at least come to some agreeable way to disagree about the situation. I’d rather have him stew, but…. With a sigh, she picked up her phone.
“Hey, honey! How ya doin’?”
He’s much too chipper. “I’m all right, a little hung over.”
“Nothing wrong with that, baby. A night out is good for you once in a while. I’m glad you had some time to yourself if that’s what you needed.”
I know what I need and I know you do too.
“Did you have a nice visit with Casey?”
“He’s engaged, you know.”
“What? To what, his career?”
“A doctor. An older woman, he said.”
She listened as her husband went on about how it was about time for his friend. How they’d have a wedding to go to, how wonderful it was for Rupp to finally settle down. That’s all good and fine, husband, but we’re not solving a thing when it comes to us.
“We’ll be in Chicago at the end of the week. Come down. Bring the girls.”
She hated to cave, but he deserved to see his children, regardless how irritated she was with him. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Another fifteen minutes of innocuous chitchat, avoiding the meat of the problem, and a few awkward I love yous later, she wished her husband good night.
Turning out the light, she thought about the myriad of conversations she’d had over the past twenty-four hours. Paul’s probably right, maybe I need someone to look at this relationship from the outside. But what if that 1Night Stand place doesn’t hook people up with others they know? I don’t want to have an affair. I could never go through with that. And who knows how much it costs? I’ve gotten this far without any help, I should be able to figure this out on my own. With a sigh, she slipped down into the sheets, wondering if her marriage would ever recover from hurt Andy had inflicted upon it.
