Savage Lane

by Jason Starr

  “I miss you so much, baby,” he said.

  “Really?” Elana asked.

  Owen had meant to say this to Deb, but he snapped back to reality—having to leave a fantasy really sucked—and said, “Yeah. You’re so hot.”

  “I want to touch you and kiss you all over too,” Elana said.

  “Wanna park someplace?” Owen asked.

  “We can hang at my house.”

  “Is your mother home?”

  “Yeah, but it’s cool.”

  Owen remembered the scene this afternoon at the country club—Deb and Karen having that crazy fight. It made sense that Karen and Mark had something going on. Everyone at the club knew that Karen had been slutting around since her divorce, or maybe even since before her divorce. Owen overheard people talking about Karen and the guys she was with all the time so it made sense that she’d be cool with her daughter bringing a guy back to her place. Like mother like daughter, right?

  “Yeah,” Owen said. “Okay.”

  On the way there, Elana was doing shit to him—kissing his neck, putting her hand over his crotch while he was driving, telling him how “unbelievably cute” she thought he was.

  They parked in the driveway, then went into the house through the garage.

  Owen had never been to Elana’s, but had gone past it lots of times on the way to Deb’s. Well, maybe not lots of times, but during the two years they’d been hooking up, he’d go over to her house whenever she was home alone. Like if Mark took her kids into the city, Deb would text him and he’d drop anything and zip over there as fast as he could.

  “I’m gonna miss that so much,” Owen said.

  “Miss what so much?” Elana asked.

  Shit, he had to stop saying what he was thinking; it would get him into trouble if he didn’t watch out.

  “What you were doing to my neck before,” he said. “That felt so awesome.”

  Yeah, okay, this didn’t really make sense, but it didn’t matter because Elana wasn’t paying much attention anyway. Meanwhile, this made him think about Deb’s neck, how he’d had her hands around it, and how into it she’d been. Right up to the point she let go and was gone, he could see it in her eyes, how she wanted more, how she was begging for more.

  They went up some steps to the first floor of the house. Damn, it was a lot nicer than Owen’s house. Wasn’t Elana’s mom a schoolteacher? Yeah, something like that. But he didn’t think teachers made enough to pay for a place like this; the place had to be worth more, what, maybe a half a million bucks. But she was divorced so she was probably getting money from her ex too. She had a good set-up going all right.

  In Elana’s room, Elana put on some music. Owen didn’t know what it was, had never heard it before, but he said, “Oh, cool, I love this song,” because he knew that was what he was supposed to say.

  “I love it too,” Elana said.

  She turned out the main light, put on a little lamp on her night table, and then grabbed his hand and pulled him onto the bed. He should’ve been totally psyched. He had a sexy girl—she looked sexier and prettier in the dimmer orangeish light—all primed and ready to go, but he just couldn’t get into it.

  They got totally naked—maybe that would help? He was kissing her, his hands all over her, but it wasn’t doing anything for him because he couldn’t stop thinking about Deb.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Sorry,” he said. “Just can’t get into it.”

  “Oh.” She sounded upset. “Okay.”

  “It’s not you,” he said. “I mean I think you’re hot.”

  “Want a BJ?” she asked.

  “Nah, it’s cool, I gotta go.”

  He got out of bed and started getting dressed.

  “Come on,” she said. “I mean, how do you know you won’t feel better in a few minutes? Maybe it’s just, I don’t know, passing?”

  She was still talking, going on, trying to get him back into bed with her, and he wasn’t really listening to anything she was saying. Then he heard, “Wanna hang again sometime?”

  “Um no, not really,” he said.

  As he headed downstairs, he was proud of himself. How many guys would have bullshitted her, said “I’ll text you later” or some shit like that? But not him—no, he was an honest guy, good guy, and there were so few good, honest guys left in the world these days.

  Downstairs, he heard, “Hello.” It wasn’t a friendly hello. It was an angry, threatening hello.

  He turned, and saw Karen Daily near the entrance to the kitchen, hands on her hips. It was funny, he’d never really thought Karen was sexy. She was pretty, yeah, had a nice body, but he’d never really noticed her before. But now he saw her in a whole different way, and he wasn’t sure why. He remembered watching her fight with Deb before at the club; did it have to do with that? It was definitely hot, seeing a schoolteacher on the floor, wrestling like an animal, but maybe it was just her looks. Did she do something different to her hair? She wasn’t wearing anything fancy, just a tank top and, what were they called? Gym pants? No, yoga pants, yeah, yoga pants, but she still looked sexy as hell. No wonder so many guys were so into her.

  “Hey,” he said, smiling, the way he used to smile for Deb.

  Karen was squinting. It was kind of dark, the only light coming from the kitchen.

  “Do I know you?” she asked.

  Owen was offended. How could she not recognize him right away even in the dim light? She’d seen him all the time at the country club, and even before he’d started working there, at school pick-ups and from just around.

  “Yeah, you know me,” he said.

  “Wait, you’re the one from the country club,” she said. “You work there, don’t you?”

  Owen wasn’t crazy about “you’re the one,” he wasn’t sure what that meant, but he said, “Yep, that’s me. I’m not sure I ever said hi to you before, though. I’m Owen.”

  “How do you know Elana?” she asked maybe suspiciously.

  “Oh, just from, you know, around,” Owen said.

  “No, I don’t know,” she said.

  Owen liked the bitchy attitude; it was so hot.

  “You know,” he said, “parties, hanging out, school.”

  “How old are you?”

  “Eighteen.”

  “Do you know how old Elana is?”

  “Um, sixteen?”

  “You’re too old for her.”

  Thinking, But you’re not too old for me, baby, Owen said, “Don’t worry, nothing happened.”

  “I didn’t ask if anything happened,” she said. “She’s not allowed to have boyfriends over to the house, especially boyfriends who aren’t appropriate for her.”

  “You really have to learn to chill,” Owen said.

  “Excuse me?” Karen asked.

  “I can see it in your eyes,” he said, knowing he was winning her over already. “You’re so stressed out, I can hear it in your voice too.”

  He saw her look to her right, at a mirror. So she was insecure—okay, he’d have to remember that, play up to it.

  “Are you always this way?” Owen asked. “Or is it because of me?”

  “I think you should go now,” she said.

  “Seriously,” he said, “do you know how to relax? I mean, I can tell by your arms that you do yoga, maybe Pilates. You’re in great shape, I can see that.”

  He knew he was getting through to her. This was the way he always got the woman he wanted—tell them what they want to hear.

  “And about Elana,” he said, “I just want you to know, I’d never do anything to disrespect you. I thought it was cool with you for me to come by. If I knew it wasn’t I wouldn’t’ve come.”

  “It’s okay.” She was calmer now. “I understand, and you’re right I’ve just been a little... agitated tonight, and I didn’t mean to take it out on you. Thank you for driving her home.”

  “No, thank you.”

  He knew he had her—she was vulnerable, opening up. He reached out and held h
er hand and he knew, by how she was looking at him, that she felt it too—a connection. Her eyes were saying: I want you. No, I need you.

  Then she yanked her hand away and snapped, “Why did you just do that? What’s wrong with people?” but it didn’t matter because he knew her first reaction had been her true reaction.

  “Sorry,” he said. “Goodnight.”

  Driving away with Deb in the trunk was as exciting as before but not nearly as sad. After all, it would be so much easier to say his final goodbye to Deb knowing he already had a new GF.

  IN HIS basement, gasping, into his third set of bench-presses, Mark had an epiphany: yeah, today had been a total nightmare, but everything would work out in the end. He’d been stressed all afternoon, especially about Karen. Things had been kind of weird at the drop-off for Andrew’s pajama party, but now—maybe because exerting energy exercising was clearing his head—he had a much more positive take on things.

  Karen wasn’t actually angry with him—that was the bottom line. Yeah, she’d seemed angry, but he remembered her once telling him that it was a pattern for her in relationships to have emotional responses when she got upset, and it didn’t mean she had any loss of love.

  A relationship. Pushing through the tenth rep, Mark liked the sound of that.

  After downing a bottle of PowerAde he checked his cell and was disappointed there was nothing from Karen yet, but he knew the make-up text would be coming soon. Then they’d probably talk on the phone later, and she’d tell him how excited she was about the idea of he and Deb getting divorced and him being free. Well, she might not come out and say she was excited—she wouldn’t do that in the current situation, and risk putting the kids in the middle of it, but the excitement would be in her tone, it would be obvious. She would probably say she was going to stop dating now, implying that she’d wait for Mark, and once the divorce got underway maybe Mark would move out to his own apartment—take a short-term lease—and then he and Karen could actually be together. They’d have to keep it under wraps, of course, they didn’t want people talking, but Karen could start discreetly coming over to his new place, maybe a few evenings a week.

  When Mark’s cell rang he was so excited he almost dropped the bar of weights on his head and crushed himself to death. He managed to rack the bar, and then rushed to his phone that he’d put on the ping-pong table, disappointed that it was Stu, not Karen.

  “Hey,” Mark said.

  “You okay?” Stu asked.

  “Yeah, fine. Why?”

  “You sound, I don’t know… down, man.”

  “I was just lifting weights,” Mark said, as if that explained it. “What’s up?”

  “Just checking in on you,” Stu said. “I saw what happened at the club today and wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  “The club?” Mark was lost, still disappointed he wasn’t speaking to Karen right now. “Oh, that, sorry. Yeah, I’m okay, thanks. It’s just a lot of stuff’s going down with me and Deb, and I’m trying to deal with it, you know?”

  “Trust me, I know what it’s like when things get weird at home, bro,” Stu said. “If there’s anything you need, give me a call.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate that,” Mark said. “See you on the train Monday.”

  Mark resumed bench pressing, thinking about what Stu had said, about knowing what it’s like when things get weird at home. Were Stu and Janet having trouble as well? That would be a big surprise, if it were true—they seemed so happy—but you never knew what was going on in other people’s lives.

  Mark’s cell rang again, and he rushed to it, thinking this time it had to be her, but it was from a restricted number.

  “Hello?” he asked excitedly, hoping Karen was calling from another phone, maybe from a friend’s cell.

  “Mark?” It was a woman, not Karen.

  “Yes,” he said, feeling the letdown.

  “He just wet himself,” the woman said.

  “Who’s this?” Mark asked.

  “Sarah Waxman, Andrew’s mother. Justin just wet himself.”

  “Seriously?” Mark was surprised; Justin hadn’t wet himself in years. “How’s he doing?”

  “Not well,” Sarah said. “He’s extremely upset actually.”

  “Okay, I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Mark said.

  Mark felt bad for Justin, the poor kid. On his way out, he called Karen and after four rings got her voice mail, though there was an extra tone after each ring meaning that she was on another call and wasn’t getting off to speak to him. He thought this was strange, but it didn’t necessarily mean something was wrong. She had her kids this weekend, right? Maybe she had an emergency with a kid or had some other crisis she was dealing with. She’d probably call him later or at least text him.

  When Mark arrived at Andrew’s house his mom, Sarah, looking nervous, said, “Come in, he’s very upset.”

  Then Mark went further inside and saw Justin sitting on the bottom step of the staircase, his head bent over between his legs, shaking, maybe crying. His knapsack was next to him.

  Crouching, holding Justin’s hand, Mark said, “It’s gonna be okay, kiddo. Don’t worry, I promise it’ll be okay.”

  Justin, continuing to shake, didn’t respond.

  Sarah whispered to Mark, Can we talk for a sec?

  “We’re going home in two minutes,” Mark said to Justin. “Two minutes, okay?”

  Then Mark went with Sarah toward the kitchen, far enough away so that Justin couldn’t hear, and then stopped.

  “I had him take a shower and change into the clothes he brought with him for tomorrow,” Sarah said.

  “That’s great, thanks,” Mark said.

  “It was very difficult for him,” Sarah said, “and I’m afraid the other boys weren’t very nice to him. Andrew, especially, wasn’t very nice, and I just want you to know he’s going to be punished for it—severely.”

  “What can you do?” Mark said. “Shit happens. Or, in this case, piss happens.”

  He smiled, trying to make a joke out of it, but he knew he’d misfired.

  “I’m kidding,” he said. “I mean, I don’t want to make a big deal about it, you know? I mean, something like this is hard enough already, you know, psychologically.”

  Mark wasn’t sure he was making sense. He just wanted to get Justin home, in bed, and then hopefully have a nice relaxing chat with Karen.

  During the car ride home, Justin was crying a lot, and Mark said all the right things, like, “It’s gonna be okay, I promise,” and, “It happens to everybody,” and, “You’re a big, strong kid, you’ll get through this.” Meanwhile, Mark was bummed because Karen still hadn’t gotten back to him. He was dying to talk to her again, just to hear her voice.

  At home, Justin was still having a hard time. Mark tried to get him to talk about it, asking him if he was upset because of things the other kids had said, and he said that was part of it. He also mentioned that it had happened a few times before and that Deb knew about it. This wasn’t the only time Mark had felt in the dark about a situation at home. When Riley was having trouble in school last year and was in danger of failing a couple of classes Mark didn’t find out about it until he happened to pick up the phone when the school guidance counselor called. Deb was also behind on taking the kids for physicals and dental appointments. Mark had no idea what Deb was doing with her free time, but she had certainly let the household go to hell.

  Mark tried to get Justin to bed, but Justin was still saying, “I didn’t want to go to the party. You and Mom made me go, why did you make me? Why? Why?” and Mark snapped, “I didn’t make you—your mother did!” This made Justin cry even harder. Mark apologized, but Justin was still upset. After a while, Mark got into bed with him and held him until he calmed down and fell asleep.

  The kids needed Mark, that was for damn sure, and not just because he brought home a paycheck every two weeks. They needed him because he was a father, a caretaker, and he needed a woman who appreciated him, didn’t t
ake him for granted. When was the last time Deb had asked him anything about work? Yeah, it was true, Mark hated talking about work at home, but it would still be nice if she asked once in a while, said, “Hey, anything new at work?” just to show she wanted to care even if she actually didn’t. And he needed some taking care of himself sometimes. Like when was the last time Deb came into the shower and gave him a blowjob? Years ago, when they were dating, and before Riley was born, she used to blow him in the shower all the time.

  Later, Mark left Justin’s room, his neck sweaty from where Justin’s head had been leaning on him. There was still no message from Karen. Just so she knew that he was thinking about her and cared he texted: Can I call you to say goodnight???

  He expected her to text or write back with Yes!! or Of course!! or maybe she would just call him. But fifteen minutes, then a half hour, and an hour went by and she hadn’t responded. It was almost eleven o’clock. Maybe she’d turned her phone off or fallen asleep. She’d had that late night last night, ran this morning, and she always complained that she was wiped out on weekends after long days during the week working with autistic kids. He waited for a while, watching the rest of the golf tournament he’d TiVo’d. He wanted, no needed, to hear her voice, but he wanted to do the smart thing. If he called now, she might get the wrong idea, think he was pressuring her.

  In bed, Mark watched more golf. At some point Riley came back from wherever she’d been, and he heard her go into her room. He was surprised Deb wasn’t back yet. She hadn’t told him where she was going, but she probably went out with a friend. Maybe Kathy; was she still friends with Kathy? She’d probably stay out late, to try to make him jealous. Yeah, right.

  Mark must have fallen asleep because when he checked his phone he saw it was past three a.m. He was upset that Karen hadn’t texted—it made him unsettled. Then he realized that Deb wasn’t in bed next to him. She’d probably come home and gone to sleep in the guestroom, or crashed drunk in the living room.

  “Fuck it,” he said to himself, as he lay back in bed, clutching his cell phone.