by Jason Starr
Now Karen was angrier with Mark because, even if he had nothing to do with Deb getting a wrong idea, he must have known, or at least sensed, what his wife was upset about, and had blatantly lied, telling her that everything was fine and it had nothing to do with her, when it had everything to do with her.
Karen’s phone chimed, a text from Mark: So so sorry, sweetie!
Sweetie? Was he fucking serious?
Pulse pounding, she hit back with: Please stop calling me sweetie!!
Then added: And erase these texts!!!
Several seconds later she got: Erased!!
Then: So so sorry, but don’t worry, it’ll all be okay
Then: Promise!
Calmness was officially out of the question now. Her anger was dominating, controlling her. She texted: It is not okay! You have to talk to her immediately, tell her absolutely nothing is going on with us!!
Maybe a minute later she got: Done babe! Already talked to her! Will all be okay, trust me!
Karen didn’t trust him and didn’t even believe he’d spoken to Deb. Mark was wimpy and spineless, especially when it came to his relationship with his wife.
She fired back: You better talk to her, or I’m going to talk to her myself. I won’t get sucked into your drama, Mark! I won’t!! And don’t call me babe!!!
She had a feeling this would get through to him. The last thing he probably wanted was her and Deb getting into an ongoing fight about this, which would make his life at home even more difficult. Sure enough she got back a meek: ok
The rest of the afternoon, Karen did her best to put the situation out of her mind. She did chores—laundry, some straightening up. She didn’t hear anything further from Mark, but she got another text from Steven: r u around today? Now she was certain that Steven wasn’t acting appropriately—texting her twice after a breakup? She wasn’t sure how to respond, if she should respond, and definitely didn’t feel like dealing with it today. Then she checked her email and got a nice note from Richard the dentist, asking her if she wanted to talk on the phone or get together sometime. She didn’t respond, but planned to later, when she felt more settled.
This whole being single, dating thing had been fun for a while, but not so much lately. Maybe if she lived in the city, she would’ve felt differently, but in Westchester there seemed to be a giant spotlight on her all the time—she was a single, divorced woman, the single, divorced woman. Dinner last night at the Lerners’ had been an exception; she’d been excluded from many social events that couples were usually invited to, and even her close female friends—mainly moms of her kids’ friends—whom she’d gotten close to while she was married, had left her off of guest lists recently. The country club was the worst as there were only a few single, divorced female members, and it was hard not to feel self conscious, especially when she was around happily married people. She could get over her insecurities, but she was getting tired of being alone and shopping for men on the Internet. Besides, dating was a huge time suck, and she’d rather spend that time with her family and with someone she loved.
After laundry, she whipped up a quick dinner for the kids—macaroni and cheese and a salad. When she called them downstairs, Matthew immediately came to the table. He was excited about the sleepover party tonight with a few others boys at Andrew Waxman’s house, and he was gobbling his dinner up, as if figuring the sooner he finished, the sooner he’d get to see all of his friends. Elana didn’t come down right away, and Karen had to call for her a few times before she finally sashayed into the kitchen in a tight red strapless dress and high heels. Karen thought the dress was way too sexy, even borderline slutty.
“Wow, that’s some dress,” Karen said, letting the implication linger.
“Thanks,” Elana said, texting somebody.
“Please put the phone away, it’s rude,” Karen said.
“Sorry,” Elana said. Then, glancing at the plate of food on the table, added, “I’m not hungry.”
“It’s not healthy to skip meals,” Karen said.
Karen didn’t think Elana was anorexic but had been concerned about her weight for some time. Especially the last few months, Elana’s body—in particular her arms and shoulders—looked bonier.
“I had lunch,” Elana said.
“What did you have?” Karen asked.
“Yogurt and a piece of fruit.”
“That’s not enough.”
“That’s what you have for lunch.”
This was true, but Karen said, “You didn’t have enough breakfast either.”
“I’ll eat at the party.”
“I want you to eat now.”
Elana sighed and said, “Fine, but there’s no way I’m eating all those carbs.”
She joined Matthew—who was busy gobbling down his food—at the table.
Karen watched her take a few bites of salad, mostly lettuce, then asked, “Are you comfortable wearing that?”
Confused, Elana asked, “What?”
Karen’s look explained it.
“Oh,” Elana said. “It’s cotton.”
“No, I mean are you comfortable with that outfit?”
“I look sexy.”
“But don’t you think you look too sexy?”
“How can you look too sexy?”
“Please change into something else.”
Shaking her head, Elana continued eating her salad.
“Done,” Matthew announced and stood up. “Can I play Xbox?”
“No, we have to leave for Andrew’s party soon.”
Matthew left the room, sulking.
“What was I doing?” Karen asked herself. “Right, loading the dishwasher.”
Karen did some more chores in the kitchen and around the house and when she returned Elana had finished her salad and some of her mac and cheese. She checked the garbage to see if Elana had tossed some of the food, but all seemed clear.
“Okay, a few more bites and you can go change,” Karen said.
She glanced at her phone and remembered that she owed Richard an email, so she opened the Match app and, keeping it simple, wrote that she’d love to chat on the phone sometime or get together and sent him her number. She remembered how Mark had bashed Richard earlier. Was he trying to protect her, or was he just jealous? The idea of Mark getting jealous would have seemed crazy just twenty-four hours ago, but after what had happened at the Lerners’ last night and at the country club today, it made Karen question his intentions all along. All those times he’d helped her with divorce and financial issues, was he actually hitting on her?
The doorbell rang. Karen opened the door and saw Riley Berman there in a flimsy black dress, so short most of her butt cheeks were exposed. Well, it didn’t seem like there was much great parenting going on in that household.
“Hey,” Riley said. “I just texted Elana from my friend’s car.”
Karen glanced toward an idling Honda and Sabrina Feldman at the wheel, busy texting.
“I’m here,” Elana said in the monotone she spoke in when she was angry.
Elana was behind Karen and had just come downstairs in jeans, heels, and a nice tank.
“Much better,” Karen said.
But Elana ignored this, saying to Riley, “C’mon, let’s go,” as she headed toward the car.
“I want you home by eleven the latest,” Karen said to their backs, “and you better keep your phone on.”
Karen’s phone chimed—she didn’t recognize the number on the display.
She tapped, said, “Hello?”
“Karen?” A man’s voice.
She didn’t know who it was, said tentatively, “Yes?”
“Richard Gross from Match.”
“Oh, hello,” she said, trying to sound upbeat.
“Hope I didn’t get you at a bad time,” he said.
“No, I’m just getting my kids out, but it’s not a bad time at all.”
Sitting on the living room floor in a half lotus, she chatted with him for a while. He was charming,
had a good sense of humor, and seemed genuinely interested in her and her career. He suggested meeting for dinner on Tuesday at an Italian restaurant in New Rochelle and Karen said that sounded like a wonderful idea.
A few minutes later, in the car on the way to the sleepover at Andrew’s, positive feelings about Richard had overwhelmed negative feelings about Mark and Deb. Today’s drama, and the whole situation, seemed so meaningless. So Mark had a crush on her, and Deb had exaggerated the situation in her head and things had gotten a little out of control. What was the big deal?
The sleepover was in Golden’s Bridge, the next town over from South Salem, at a nice, contemporary house. Andrew’s father, Tom, did something on Wall Street, and his wife Sarah used to work in the city, also in finance, but had been a stay-at-home mom the past several years and was active on the PTA at Meadow Pond, the school where Karen taught. Karen and Sarah had never been great friends, but they’d always been friendly whenever they ran into each other, usually at play dates, sleepovers, and other events for their boys. This evening, though, something seemed off. Sarah usually greeted Karen with a warm kiss on the cheek and had a short conversation with her, but today when she opened the door she barely smiled and said to Matthew, “The boys are upstairs.”
Matthew dashed up to his friends and Sarah said to Karen, “You can pick up any time tomorrow before noon,” but she wasn’t making eye contact, maybe distracted by something or someone to her left in the house’s living room. It was also unusual that Sarah hadn’t invited her in, as she usually asked her if she wanted coffee or something else to drink. Eh, Karen figured, maybe she was just overwhelmed, having to host a party for about ten prepubescent boys.
“I’ll get him by eleven,” Karen said.
“Great,” Sarah said, now looking beyond Karen, toward the street.
Karen turned and saw Mark approaching with Justin.
“Hey you,” Mark said, smiling widely at Karen.
Karen was surprised to see him, and she was also thinking, Is he for real? After everything that had happened today, and all the texts, was he really saying, “Hey you” to her? She wasn’t sure what to say, when he reached out and grabbed her hand and said, “Wait one sec, I wanna talk to you.”
Flustered, Karen didn’t react right away. Maybe a few seconds went by. Then it registered—Mark was holding her hand again.
Karen yanked her hand free, but it was too late. She looked at Sarah, who was still at the door, and it was obvious she had seen what had just happened. Great, this was all Karen needed, another misunderstanding, this time right in front of Sarah who had a reputation as a major gossiper.
While Mark dropped off Justin with Sarah, Karen lingered. She didn’t want to talk to Mark—not here anyway. She just wanted to get into her car and drive away, but she thought that could come off as too dramatic, and she didn’t want to make a bigger scene than she already had.
After Mark exchanged goodbyes with Sarah—she’d been very smiley and outgoing with him—Mark came over to Karen and, seeming excited, almost hyper, said, “Wow, it’s so great running into you here.”
“What the hell?” Karen sneered.
“What?” Mark was instantly defensive. “What did I do?”
“What is it with you lately? Seriously.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You can’t do things like this.”
“I was just excited to see you.”
“But you can’t be excited to see me. I’m not someone you should be excited about. And you can’t just—” Karen realized she was raising her voice, and the last thing she needed was Sarah overhearing and/or watching a dramatic conversation through a window. In a more controlled tone she said, “You grabbed my hand. Why did you grab my hand again?”
“I grabbed your hand?” He sounded lost.
Straining to maintain an even, non-agitated expression, Karen said, “I told you I’m not getting sucked into the middle of anything, and I meant it. Did you talk to her yet?”
“Yeah, don’t worry, sweetie, it’s all taken care of.”
“Please don’t call me sweetie, and what did you tell her?” Keeping a calm expression seemed to involve every muscle in her face.
“I told her what you wanted me to tell her, that nothing’s going on.”
Karen didn’t think he was lying.
“Fine,” she said. “That’s good.” She looked toward the house and thought she saw the blinds on the living room window rustle. She added, “Well, this isn’t the place to have this conversation, so I’ll talk to you later.”
But she wasn’t planning to talk to him later. She was angry and frustrated and just wanted him to leave her alone.
As she walked away toward where her car was parked, Mark came up behind her and said, “Wait, hold up.”
She didn’t stop, but he’d caught up to her and walked alongside her.
“I have to tell you something,” he said.
“What is it?”
“Can we go in your car?”
She didn’t want him in her car, and she had no idea why he wanted to get in with her. Well, she didn’t want to think about the reason why anyway.
“I’m in a rush, I have to meet someone,” she lied.
“A date?” he asked.
Did he sound jealous?
“Kind of,” she said, thinking, Why not make him a little jealous? Maybe it would help him realize that they were just friends, and that’s all they would ever be.
“How do you kind of have a date?”
Karen stopped in front of her car. “Seriously, what’s this about?” There was no one around so she felt freer to talk.
Now Mark had a weird, overly sincere expression. “It’s kind of about what we were talking about before,” he said. “As you know, my marriage has been, well, pretty stormy for a long time, and Deb’s drinking has been out of control.”
“Okay.” Karen was impatient.
“I’m just saying,” Mark said. “I mean maybe today, what happened, maybe it was a good thing. You know, I mean, for us.”
“Us?”
“Yeah, for our, you know… connection.”
“Connection?” Karen couldn’t believe she was actually hearing this. “What connection?”
“Whatever you want to call it,” Mark said. “The thing we have going on.”
“The thing? What thing?”
“You know, the thing. I mean, I’m not sure where things are going with Deb so, you never know, me and you, maybe we’ll get a chance to spend more time together. You know, in the future.”
“Are you out of your fu—” Karen checked to make sure there wasn’t anyone around then continued, “You’re crazy, you’ve totally lost it. There’s nothing going on with us, nothing at all, and there never was anything going on with us. We’re friends, that’s it. Friends, F R I E N D S. I don’t know what this is about, I honestly don’t. I’m clueless.”
“Okay, never mind, never mind,” Mark said, trying to calm her down. “I know this isn’t the best time to talk about this. Talk to ya later, okay?”
He moved in quickly and kissed her on the cheek. She reacted late, jerking her head back away, but the kiss had already ended.
When she got in the car she saw Mark outside in front of her. He was holding his hand up to his ear like a phone and, though she couldn’t hear him, she could read his lips: I’ll call you.
Ugh, Karen couldn’t take this anymore. As she drove away, she wiped her face where Mark had kissed her. There wasn’t any saliva there, but it felt like there was. It felt like her face was covered in his spit.
Then, a couple of minutes later, her phone chimed. Shit, it wasn’t Mark already, was it? On top of everything else she had to deal with in her life—taking care of her kids, her work, trying to meet the right man, worrying about finances and the future, now she had this? But no, the dashboard display showed that it was Steven calling.
“Fuck,” Karen said.
This
day was out of control. This was, what, the third time Steven had contacted her today, and now he was calling? As his name continued to flash she couldn’t help feeling a little frightened. This behavior definitely didn’t seem normal. Jesus, this was all she needed now, to be stalked. Could this day possibly get any worse?
She was going to let voicemail pick up, but she didn’t want to be passive about it; she wanted to take control.
So she answered with the speaker, “Hello,” going for a severe, okay bitchy tone.
“Hey, it’s Steven,” he said.
“Yeah, I know,” she said. “What do you want?”
“Did you get my texts?”
“Yes, sorry, I’m in a hurry right now.”
“Oh, okay, I just wanted to talk about—”
“Look.” Her patience was officially gone. “I thought you were okay with everything yesterday. The relationship wasn’t working for me, we have to move on, and that’s that, okay?”
“No, I understand, it’s not that,” he said. “That’s totally cool. It’s about something else.”
“What?” Now she was clueless. Was this just bait, a ploy to try to suck her back into the relationship?
“Are you on speaker?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said.
“Are your kids in the car?”
“No.” She was definitely getting a weird, stalker vibe now. Maybe he couldn’t handle rejection after all; maybe he was a psycho. She flashed back to the trepidation she’d had on their first date when he’d mentioned an ex he’d had “a hard time letting go of.” Were there other red flags she’d missed? She said in her authoritative, no-bullshit tone, as if she were disciplining one of her kids, “What is this about, Steven?”
“Well, this morning, I… uh… saw something.”
“You saw something.”
“Yeah, well, noticed something, yeah. So… I… um… went to see somebody this afternoon, and… God, this is so hard.”
“What is? What’s hard, Steven?”
“Please don’t hate me for this.”
“Hate you for what?”
Shit, what was he getting at? Her pulse was pounding.
“I’m really, really sorry.”
“Just tell me.”
