Alice's Summertime Adventure

by Suzanne Jenkins

  “I don’t know about that. Faye might not go for it,” Bill said uncertainly. “She’ll be mad as hell.”

  “Well, mad as hell is better than headed to the lawyer’s office,” Al replied. “You got a lot at stake there, my friend.”

  They said good-bye, and Bill drove the rest of the way back to Cedar Springs, not sure he was ready for a big confession. But every time he thought of the way Shelly Oaks smelled and her fresh, clean skin, her ample body under him on the couch, he knew he was in trouble. He would go back and pull her jeans off and imagined her pussy covered in the same sandy-colored hair that was on her head. He shook the vision from his mind as he pulled into his driveway, aware that he had a giant hard-on. He sat there, thinking of his kids and the house, the work he needed to do on the pool, anything to take his mind off his crotch. He looked up, and Faye was standing at the gate. She was sure pretty. She had on a brown bathing suit that sort of melted into the color of her skin. She tanned—rare for a redhead. Her hair was pulled into a knot on top of her head, and it had curlicues springing out of it. He got out of the truck and went to her, pulling her into an embrace.

  “Stop! I’m covered with suntan lotion,” she complained. “I’ll have to put more on.”

  “I don’t care,” he said. “You are really beautiful, you know that?”

  She laughed, looking at him curiously. This was not his usual behavior upon arrival. He’d go right to the mail and she could be standing there naked and he wouldn’t notice. Or so she thought.

  “What’s wrong with you?” she asked, eyebrows down in a frown. “Something’s up.”

  He looked at her, fearful that she could read him so well. “Where are the kids?” he asked.

  “Everyone’s occupied. You’re scaring me, Billy, what’s wrong?” She let him lead her into the kitchen, and looking around to make sure they were really alone, he told her to sit down.

  “It’s not a big deal. I just think you should know.” He took a deep breath. “That client I went to see today? The garage conversion? She came on to me,” he said, using the same words he used with Al.

  “What do you mean ‘came on to you’? Was she naked when you got there? Did she proposition you?” Faye was standing next to the counter with arms crossed over her midriff, her long legs crossed at the ankles; a stance Bill knew meant she was down to business.

  “She served me coffee and then she kissed me,” he said, leaving out the journey to the couch and the dry hump that followed.

  “Okay, so what happened next?” Oh, Jesus, my wife is no dumb ass.

  “I said I better leave, and I left,” he said, not hardly.

  Faye was trying hard to stay calm. “What’s the point of telling me this?” she said, certain he had a motive.

  “I told Al, and he said I should tell you,” Bill said, stammering. Did he have to tell her he was tempted? That he wanted to go back? “I am doing a job for her, and if you know what happened, I won’t let it happen again, that’s all. I’ll keep my distance from her.”

  Faye put her arms down and went to the coffee pot. Bill knew that when Faye made coffee in the afternoon, she meant business. He was in deep shit.

  “Are you attracted to her?” she asked, stopping and looking at him with her look.

  He decided to be honest. “Um, sort of,” he stammered. “I mean, she’s not someone I thought I would be attracted to. She’s overweight and doesn’t wear makeup, sort of dumpy. That kind of woman.”

  Faye stared at him with venom shooting out of her eyes, abhorred. “Why, in God’s name, would you be tempted by someone like that?” She crossed her arms again. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

  Bill shook his head no in agreement. “No, it sure doesn’t,” he admitted. And then, against his better judgment, he said the words all wives loathe to hear. “She was offering me something I don’t get around here anymore.” The words slipped out of his mouth, over his lips. He licked them with his tongue, wishing he could call them back.

  “And what the hell is that?” Faye was pissed.

  Bill wasn’t going to be able to get out of this without a fight, so he might as well clear the air. “Affection, a little kindness. Sex! When’s the last time we did it? I can’t even remember. I am getting sick of jacking off in the shower. And don’t tell me you don’t know; you have avoided this conversation with me for months now. Since that ridiculous blow-up where you got pissed off at everyone for mentioning Lynn. It was an excuse to act like a spoiled child.” He waited for the barrage from her, but surprisingly, she’d listened to him. He could almost see the wheels turning in her head.

  “So do you feel justified because we haven’t had sex?” She purposely left room for him to fill in the blanks.

  “Justified? Remember, she made a pass at me. I didn’t initiate anything, Faye. I thought you should know, and that you would give me some support. I’m not likely to screw around on you now that it’s out in the open, am I?” That was a mistake, especially saying it with a smug look on his face.

  Without meaning to be so harsh, Faye lashed out, slapping his face. She was livid, her nostrils flared, the red creeping up from her neck belying her anger. “Fuck you, Bill!” She walked off, and he could hear a door slamming.

  Well, that went well, he thought.

  Now, on this bright morning, Bill thought of the time that’d passed since he told his wife about Shelly Oaks and how Faye avoided any eye contact with him, or even being in the same room with him unless it was during dinner. The coffee was done; he poured a cup and walked to the doors leading to the pool. He saw movement coming from his dad’s apartment across the patio, so he went out and walked across the slate path to say hi. It was cool out. He took a deep breath and thought he might even smell the sea.

  When he got closer to the french doors leading to the apartment, he was confused because it looked there might be another person in the room with his father. Bill quietly put his coffee cup down on the table next to a patio chair and leaned in to look through the glass. It was Faye. Bill gently turned the door knob, sure it wouldn’t be locked, and very carefully opened the door. His father was lying on the bed in his underpants, and Faye was naked and lying on top of him. Bill wanted to jump on them and start beating the shit out of both of them, but the visual was too beautiful to waste on his anger. Faye had a beautiful body. For being almost forty years old and the mother of five kids, her ass was really superb. She tanned so her buttocks were as brown as the rest of her body. She was passionately kissing his father. Reality kicked in at that moment.

  “You better be giving my father mouth to mouth,” Bill said.

  Faye moved so fast, Bill later thought she was at least four feet off the ground. She flew up into the air and grabbed her robe while Vinnie smiled at his son while struggling to get up on his elbows.

  “If you don’t take care of business at home, son, the handyman will come in for you,” he said.

  Faye slugged him across his chest so he fell back down flat on the bed. “Shut up, Vinnie,” she growled. But to Bill, she didn’t say anything right away. There was nothing to say. She was bored and lonely and got caught naked on top of her husband’s father. What could be worse? She cleared her throat. “I guess the next move is up to you,” she said to Bill, with a sad expression on her face. The ludicrousness of the scene settled in on Bill. They were about to have a conversation while Vinnie looked on, stunned from the slug but proud that a seventy-year-old man could usurp the authority of his son in his own house.

  “Dad, pack up your shit, and get out of here. Faye, get your robe on, and come see me in the kitchen when you’re ready.” He left the room and walked back across the patio, bending over to pull a pool filter cap off to check for leaves. It was empty. Faye also took great care of the pool.

  Bill felt like he had a pretty good grasp on what had happened in his own house. He thought back to all the history of Vinnie and Faye, from the first day Bill brought her around his family. Vinnie was smitten. And when
the opportunity presented itself, when Faye was most vulnerable and Vinnie was available to her, or they were available to each other, it just happened. Bill knew his father was boastful and would tell his brothers and business associates that he was screwing Faye. At that moment, he knew that if Faye wanted to stay with him, he’s fight for her. He’d call his father a fraud and a liar to protect her name. By the time he got to the kitchen, he was shaking. How far had it gone? She was naked, so Bill assumed they’d copulated right in the room below his children’s beds. It made him sick. He was going to fight against going down the path of anger…they’d get nothing resolved if he allowed it.

  He looked around for his cup of coffee and remembered he’d left it on the patio, so rather than leaving it and getting a clean cup out of the cabinet, he walked out to the pool again. He knew he was being irrational; his father would be pouting, wanting to get his way, not packing to leave as he was told to do. As Bill got closer to the french doors leading to Vinnie’s apartment, he thought he saw the shadowy figure of his father moving around the room. He fought the impulse to bust through the doors and pummel him with his fists. Retrieving his cup, he turned to go back to the kitchen. Faye was standing in the doorway, fully dressed, waiting for him. They made eye contact, but didn’t say anything.

  “Are the kids up?” Bill asked.

  “It’s six in the morning; what do you think?” she answered.

  “I wonder if I will ever get a yes or no answer from you,” Bill said, the characteristic bickering comforting to him. Then he looked at her. “What the hell were you thinking?”

  “I don’t know. I asked myself the same question yesterday.” Faye was careful not to reveal too much. She didn’t think total honesty was smart at this time. “Your father has a very commanding presence.”

  Bill nodded his head. That was true. He looked up at his wife, careful not to allow the vision of her naked body anywhere near his father. “Okay, well, I don’t think I need the gory details, but where the hell do we go from here? It’s clear he needs to leave. You realize he’ll blab.”

  Faye was stoic, nodding her head. She didn’t really give a shit if the whole world knew she screwed her father-in-law until the image of her kids filled her head. She wanted to put her head down on the counter for a good old-fashioned cry. However, she didn’t think she’d get much sympathy from her husband right then. “I just thought of the kids. I’m sorry I did it to you, but how could I have forgotten them? Am I that self-centered?”

  Seeing Faye as the contrite sinner wasn’t working for Bill. He liked the defiant, defensive Faye better. “Knock it off,” he said. “You’re a great mom. My take on this is that my father is a liar. We kicked him out because the arrangement isn’t working with him here, and in retaliation, he’s going to lie. How does that sound?” Bill smirked, self-satisfied. He would deny it until his death that his wife preferred her aging father-in-law to him.

  “I better get to work.” Bill filled his thermos with coffee and went back to their bedroom to get dressed.

  Faye was nowhere around when he left, and Bill didn’t allow himself to think she might be having a good-bye fuck with his dad. But when he pulled out of their subdivision, he got out his cell phone and dialed Shelly Oaks’ number.

  Chapter 11

  Todd and April Cabrini chose the path of least resistance in almost every aspect of their life together. It was just easier to pretend all was well, to ignore the truth. She was an alcoholic, and everyone knew it, but no one addressed it. Now that the boys were getting older, Todd lived in fear they would get hurt with no supervision. When they were babies, he’d rigged up a gate system in their finished basement that prevented them from coming into contact with anything dangerous. It was like a giant, padded cell. Before he left for work in the morning, he’d feed them and change their diapers and put them in the basement with extra bottles in a basket on the carpet. He’d come home at lunch, and often they’d be sleeping on the floor, drinking the last of the bottles. He’d go into his wife’s bedroom and demand that she get up, and April would take over the best she was able.

  But now, the two older boys couldn’t be locked up in the basement. They wanted to play outside in the fresh air, and at age three, Mark was a walking accident waiting to happen. So every morning, Todd got his boys ready for the day, feeding them and making sure they were cleaned and dressed, and then he’d go in to wake up his wife. April was always crabby, the smell of alcohol blowing off in her breath. Todd knew things were coming to a head. Every day was getting more difficult.

  “I’m tired,” she said, murmuring. “Just turn the TV on.”

  “No, April, get up,” Todd said patiently. “Mark won’t sit and watch, you know that. You need to supervise today. I’ll be home with food at lunch. You just need to pull it together for the next four hours.”

  She sat up in bed, trying to open her eyes. She’d gotten up at two with insomnia and drank four ounces of vodka before she could go back to sleep at six. Now it was just eight. Oh, hell.

  “Go, go, go,” she said irritably. “I’m up, I’m up.”

  Todd looked at her, worried, but he had to leave. His beeper could go off any minute with a job. He went into the tiny living room where his two older boys were huddled on the couch watching cartoons.

  “Can you boys keep an eye on Markie until Mommy gets up?” He patted the oldest, Doug, age seven, on the head.

  “Sure, Dad, don’t worry.”

  The boys were intuitive, and that was what Todd was most concerned about. He had to do something before her condition destroyed them. He thought he’d ask his mother to help out, and find out whom to call to put April in some kind of rehab facility. He thought it would be easy—put her away to dry out and then start afresh. He left uncertain, as he was every morning, that his family would survive his absence.

  As he was pulling out of the driveway, April laid back on the bed. Mark toddled in with his bottle. “Momma, up,” he said. April loved her boys and, once she pulled herself together, was a good mother.

  She kept her tiny house spotless because that was the one brainless task she could perform without screwing up. Crafts were out. It was impossible to keep count of stitches when you were in a drunken haze, or not sew over your own finger with a sewing machine. She’d tried stained glass and almost cut off her hand, and pottery, but the instructor told her she was hopeless, whispering “Your breath! Oh my God, dear, go to AA.”

  She pulled Mark up into bed with her, and he lay next to her, drinking his bottle. She knew it was time to get him to stop taking it, but it was the last baby thing he did. She’d never have more because the torture of not drinking during her pregnancies was too much for her. And she’d never taken one drink once she knew she was going to have a baby. She was a little worried about Todd Jr. She drank a lot during the early weeks before she found out about him. A lot.

  “Come on, baby, let’s get up,” she said to Mark. She wanted a cigarette. She usually didn’t smoke in the house, but in the morning, when it was nice out, she’d stand on the back deck with the door open so she could supervise while she smoked. She set some parameters up for herself or she’d be out there all day, just one in the morning on the deck. Her life was carefully regimented like that. One smoke, an hour of housework. Take the kids for a walk around the block. The next hour preparing for Todd to bring lunch home. He’d see her perfect makeup and immaculate house and perfect kids and think it was safe to leave for the rest of the day. But that was when she would do the most damage to her fifth of vodka. When the older boys started going to school during the day, it was great. Mark still napped in the afternoon, and she’d be cross-eyed by the time dinner rolled around. Todd always brought home pizza or sandwiches. She didn’t have to go near the oven.

  Stumbling around the bedroom to gather her clothes, she’d have her shower and beauty time when she was finished smoking. The top of the refrigerator was the place for her stashes, but the pack was empty. How was that possible? She
pulled a chair up and searched the white surface, but there was nothing, not even dust. She got down and stared off into space. She must have smoked last night because she never allowed herself to run out. It was a staple on her grocery list.

  “Come on, boys, I have to run to the store.”

  The obedient little boys lined up, Mark sliding off her bed with his bottle hanging out of his mouth.

  “Oh,” she said, noticing he still had his sleeper on. “Oh well, you can go like this.” She wasn’t one of those mothers who left her children in the car, but today she might make an exception. She pulled on shorts under her sleep shirt and grabbed a ponytail holder. All the years they lived in Deptford and she never ran into anyone she knew at the store. She’d be safe.

  She opened the door of her minivan, and the two older boys got in their booster seats, buckling their own seatbelts like old pros. April lifted little Mark up into his seat, grunting under the weight.

  “You’re a big boy!” she said, delighting him.

  “Big boy!” he echoed.

  She got in the driver’s seat, forgetting to buckle her own belt.

  “Mommy, buckle up!” Doug said.

  She did as she was told and pulled the seatbelt around her. She reached to put the key in the ignition and kept missing the keyhole and had to lean over to look to insert it, laughing.

  “Mommy is goofy today!” she said, looking in the rearview at her three boys, Doug directly behind her.

  She got the car started and pulled out from the front of their house and drove to the stop sign at Deptford Avenue, but for some reason went through it without looking to see if the way was clear. A truck coming from 644 couldn’t stop, slamming into the rear side of April’s car. She heard the impact and a strange “maaaaaa” sound and then screamed “Doug!” She looked in the mirror but the order behind her was in disarray; where the car seat should have been was air. She struggled to turn around, but her seatbelt held her captive. There was no sound, but then a small gasp, and the baby, Mark, started to cry.