Loving Chloe

by Jo-Ann Mapson

  Junior sighed. “Hit me with some good news first thing in the morning.”

  “It’s a male dog, Junior. Hannah’d go nuts. I’d take him if I could.”

  He reached forward and rubbed the little pup’s ears between his thumbs. The sheets slid down to his belly. Chloe tried not to look at the nearly hairless skin, the sculpted angle of hipbone pressing taut against sheet. He pulled the covers up to his shoulders and studied her face.

  “This here is all very coincidental. I was dreaming about you before you came in.”

  “Junior, you’d recite the Lord’s Prayer backwards if you thought it might me get in that bed.”

  “I don’t lie. You’re the one who does that.”

  She bristled. “I fudge now and again. But only when absolutely necessary.”

  He looked at her gravely. “Be that as it may, in my dream, you weren’t scared to look at my body. I think we were outside, dancing maybe. You like dancing? I bet you’re good at it.”

  “Hold on a second.” She reached into her purse and took out the bottle of estrogen pills, slid one into her mouth, and swallowed it dry. “Wait about thirty minutes before you tell me anything else.”

  He took the pill bottle from her hands, read the label, and set the bottle down on his bedside table, a serviceable wood-grained plastic creation that held an equally utilitarian lamp. They watched the puppy sniffing around the covers and chuckled as he attacked Junior’s fingers, then flattened his ears and crouched at the sound of their laughter. “Uh-oh. Looks like somebody’s wondering where to take a leak.”

  Chloe grabbed the dog and took him outside on the motel’s porch. It was cold enough that the pup shuddered as he did his business. When she turned to go back into the room, Junior stood in the doorway, halfway dressed, the fly of his jeans partially done up, his belt hanging open, the buckle glinting in the winter sunlight.

  She held the puppy up between them. “Give him a name.”

  “Chloe.”

  “Come on, Junior, a proper name. Lucky, Rex, Paddlefoot—”

  “Chloe.”

  She looked away. “Junior, you and me have to be smart enough animals that we recognize how dangerous this is and walk away. We’ve got kids.”

  “We have wonderful kids. They could grow up like brother and sister.”

  He ran his fingers up and down her arms, cupped one hand under her breast, and she felt the milk in her—Reed’s breakfast—rise, surface, and cause her flesh to ache. She shut her eyes. “I have to go.”

  “Where?”

  “Home, that’s where. I have to go home.”

  “Look me in the eyes, Chloe. If being with Hank’s truly your home, you go on then. You got no business being here if that’s how things are.”

  “Okay. I will. It is. Goddammit, will you stop saying crap like that?”

  “Hey, you’re the one who picked my lock. Maybe you should remember that before you start cussing me.”

  “Just take the damn dog. Please.”

  “Okay.” He accepted the dog, and she backed away. Bare-chested, no shoes, he stood in the doorway looking at her while she stumbled into her truck.

  “Nice wheels,” he called out. “A classic. Careful of the ice.”

  She stalled the engine twice, swore until her breath fogged the windshield, then managed to drive away. In her rearview mirror, she saw Junior lift the pup to his cheek. The little dog squirmed frantically in an effort to get closer. Junior held his little paw up and made him wave in her direction.

  That’s what you wanted, she chided herself. To give a dog a home. Let the rest of it go. Here’s the deal: Turn the corner and don’t look back. You’re not even allowed to think about it.

  She and Hank drove Kit to the airport in Flagstaff and stood warming themselves next to the fireplace, waiting for the shuttle to land.

  Hank said, “You remember how to get to the other plane in Phoenix?”

  Kit scowled. “Hank, I got here, didn’t I? All I have to do is basically the same thing backwards.”

  He jiggled Reed in his arms. “We know that, Kit. We just want you to be careful.”

  Kit’s eyes filled with tears. Chloe took her by the arm and walked her away, closer to the windows. “You promised me you’d go to a support group when you get home.”

  Kit looked away. “What if I don’t?”

  “Well, Lita and I haven’t had a heart-to-heart in a long time.”

  “Chloe! You wouldn’t.”

  “Go on, try to bluff me. You know you’ll lose. You may be a princess, but I am the queen. Admit it.”

  “You’re the queen. The uncle, whatever. There. Are you happy?”

  “No, not really. But the longer I live, the more I suspect happiness isn’t what we’re supposed to feel except on a few rare occasions. Look. Here comes your plane.” The tiny twin-engine taxied into its slot on the tarmac.

  Kit picked up her duffel bag, then dropped it. “God, it looks so small. I bet only ten people can fit on that plane. There’s way more than ten people standing around here. Maybe they overbooked. Lita says sometimes they give you money if you give up your seat. Does that look like ice on the wings to you?”

  “Kit, the pilot wants to get to Phoenix just as much as you do. You have to return to real life sooner or later. Now give me a hug, kiss Reed, and tell Hank you’ll miss him. Then get your butt home to California. Do some schoolwork. Make the honor roll. Ride horses.”

  Kit flung her arms around Chloe’s shoulders, and Chloe had to take a step back to keep her balance. She allowed the girl to weep her necessary tears for several long minutes. To onlookers, she imagined the scene came off like any other sorrowful good-bye, but thanks to halfway-decent horses, shitty mothers and the kind of pain only men could deliver, she and Kit would always be tight. Now, however, there was a shadowy side to the closeness that bound them. They could know each other until they were decrepit old ladies, and the dark sisterhood would always be present, part of their connective tissue.

  “You behave, too,” Kit whispered. “And you know what I mean.” She hugged Hank and covered Reed’s little face in kisses. She stood there holding the baby until the announcement came for all passengers to be on board. “I don’t want to give her back. It’s like I’m leaving my sister.”

  “Your sister will be here come summer vacation, Kit. Smelly diapers and screaming fits and teething pains, too. She’ll need you then just as much.” Hank put his arm around Chloe, and they stood watching the plane taxi down the runway.

  She felt him tuck Reed up close to his chest. “I can take her for a while if you’re tired.”

  “No, I’ve got her. You should rest whenever you can, Chloe. You lift her too much, and you’ll end up with adhesions.”

  “It’s been forever since my surgery. I feel genuinely healed up. I’m even starting to dream about riding horses.”

  “So long as dreaming’s all you’re doing.”

  “I will ride again, Hank.”

  He was quiet a minute. “I’m aware of that. I’m also aware of the toll your riding’s taken on all of us.”

  Chloe knew she’d never stop paying for it. Maybe in twenty years he’d forgive her. Maybe not. Out the windows she saw the plane lift, tuck its landing gear and rake across the sky. The counter clerk who’d taken passengers’ tickets opened the terminal door and came back inside, trailing a pine smell as strong and bracing in the chilly air as aftershave. In a few hours Kit would shed the jacket, turn up her radio, call somebody on the phone, begin laying out school clothes for the next day. Tonight Chloe and Hank were embarking on family life. No troubled houseguests, no more waiting for chances to be alone. Just the two of them and, Reed willing, one sleeping baby. They’d drive home, have supper, and then Hank would turn to her, touch her in that unmistakable way, wanting to make love because that was one sure way of cementing themselves back to each other.

  She ran a finger down Reed’s sleeping face. “You, my daughter, are looking awful damn cute fo
r a screaming demon. What we’ve got to do is find a way to tire you out so you’ll sleep through the night. What’s it going to take? Baby aerobics?” She looked at Hank, who was watching her intently. “As long as we’re in town, think maybe there’s time to look for a real crib?”

  “I think that’s a brilliant idea.”

  “Well, I guess everyone gets to shine once in her lifetime.”

  As she was setting the table for supper, Hank fetched a bottle of wine down from the cupboard. He held it up for Chloe’s inspection.

  She squinted at the gold-embossed numbers. “Wasn’t that a great year for horsewomen out to wreck normal men’s lives?”

  “It certainly was.” He dropped the corkscrew and gave her a half grin as he picked it up. “A little wine’s supposed to be good for nursing mothers. I—”

  She pointed a fork at him. “Jesus, Hank, don’t tell me. You read that in a book.”

  “A magazine, actually.”

  “Pour away, not that I need any help lactating.” She held out her empty coffee mug. They were just about to sit down to deli food they’d shuttled home from Flagstaff. Now he was fussing with the tape player. A gust of early Van Morrison filled the small room. “Moondance and red wine,” Chloe said. “Is this a formula for seducing the mother of your child or what?”

  “I’d walk down Main Street naked if I thought that would yield better results.”

  “Yeah, but then you’d risk frostbite on your equipment.”

  “Can’t have that.”

  She swallowed a mouthful of wine and felt the familiar sting hit the backs of her knees. “Whew. Better get some of that food in me. Being good all those months, I’ve lost my chops for booze.”

  Across the room Reed lay in her secondhand crib, which was painted somebody’s idea of a sunny yellow. With the addition of a little black pinstriping, it could have passed for a taxi. “Don’t you wonder what other babies slept there?” Hank asked.

  Chloe thought of Rhonda in the hospital, nursing her son with milk derived from a diet of junk food. She wondered what name he’d eventually answer to, and if he’d settle into having a crazy mother or spend his life trying to outrun her. “To tell you the truth, it reminds me of foster care. On a daily basis, which bed you got to call your own was a crapshoot.”

  Hank opened his mouth to say something, then shut it.

  “But it’s a real nice crib,” Chloe said. “Sturdy. Safe, affordable. All the things we need.” She reached across the table and patted his hand. “Stop trying to impress me, and eat your dinner.”

  They emptied the cartons one by one, listening to the crackle of wood shifting in the stove. Hank cleared the table, took the trash out, fed the horse a coffee can of grain, threw a flattened Coke can for Hannah to fetch. Chloe woke Reed and gave her a cat-bath with a warm washcloth, wasted the better part of an hour feeding her, pulling her booties up high, playing with her, and making faces, making sure she was one tired baby with no reason at all to complain. For once Reed happily complied. Chloe kissed her sweet-smelling head and smoothed her dark hair. “I know what you’re up to,” she whispered. “Tilting the evening in your father’s favor. It’s always going to be like this, isn’t it? The two of you in cahoots, making sure there’s no place for me to hide.” She wondered if Junior had taken the puppy to his son’s house, if Corrine had made the dog a nest of blankets with a ticking alarm clock to remind him of his mother’s heartbeat.

  The back door clicked open and shut: “Here, I’ll take her.” Hank reached for his daughter. He rocked her to sleep while Chloe sat on the couch observing them. He placed the baby in the crib, and they stood quietly looking down as Reed settled into sleep. “What a good baby.”

  “Tonight, anyway.”

  Hank looked down at the floor. He rubbed his face, a gesture he couldn’t seem to stop doing now that he’d dispensed with the beard and was shaving every morning. Hannah was parked so close to the stove Chloe worried she might catch fire. Van Morrison had long ago signed off with Glad Tidings, and the wine had done its duty blurring the edges. “Well, I see definite improvement.” He couldn’t seem to locate his voice to speak or his feet to take the next step.

  Chloe reached one hand up to his chin and tilted it down to her face. “So. Ready for bed?”

  “It’s a little embarrassing how ready I am.”

  She laughed. “It’s not like we haven’t seen each other naked.”

  “I know. Things just feel so awkward.”

  “If it makes you feel any better, I’m nervous, too. All day I’m wondering how in God’s name we’re supposed to fool around when she might hear us, when she might be laying there with a pin stuck in her side. Is this how it’s always going to be? Part of me can never stop listening?” She tapped her chest. “Right here, it’s like I’ve grown a third ear.”

  “I feel the same way. Maybe the trick is to take that as a given.”

  They walked down the hall together. Chloe sat down on the bed and took off her shoes. A brief sulfur odor sparked through the air as Hank lit the beeswax candle stubs on the dresser. He joined her on the blankets and they lay back against the pillows, watching shadows flicker across the walls. He reached for her hand, interlacing their fingers, tracing the textures in her skin. In her mind’s eye Chloe flashed on Junior’s hands petting the puppy while he looked at her. She turned over, put her arms around Hank, kissed him like she meant it and issued a stern command to the rest of her body to catch up. “How’s it feel having no basketball between us?”

  “Like old times.”

  “Old times as in California?”

  “Yes.”

  “It was a crazy, wild winter. I think we set records.”

  He stroked her hair. “I missed being inside you. This light makes your skin glow. I wish I knew how to paint. The way you look is worth learning how.”

  She plucked at her sweatshirt, spotted and grubby from the baby. “Reality check, buddy. This ensemble would make a painting only you’d buy.”

  “Oh, I don’t know if that’s true. I can think of a few other individuals who might be interested.”

  He kissed her forehead, began forging a trail down her body, unbuttoning and discarding clothing as he made his way. Every new increment of exposure made her shiver; every touch of his fingers loosened her up until, so long as she didn’t think of Junior, she felt they’d arrived pretty much in the same place they’d been a year earlier, that first night in her cabin.

  “Remember our first time together?” Chloe whispered into his neck. “Hannah barked you up a tree. The owl outside the window scaring you half to death?”

  “The luckiest night of my life.”

  “Many would disagree.”

  “Time to forget all of that.”

  This night, at this time, beyond a yearling colt growing spoiled on handouts and hibernating prairie dogs, who knew what wild thing was waiting in their future? Hank placed his hand on her bare thigh. Automatically her legs opened. When he entered her, there was a sharp, unexpected jolt that caused her to cry out.

  He pulled back, cupping his hand against her cheek. “Did I hurt you?”

  She kissed his neck, murmured no, but she was lying. Everything hurt, just a little. She was different inside. Letting somebody in changed everything. She ran through her prayer of rational thinking: This is Hank, not that awful cowboy. This man’s the father of your baby. He loves you, he’s solid. He’ll stay, if you let him. But in truth it wasn’t about any of that, it was more the realization that she had served her time in safe confinement, and now her body was no longer hers alone. She had to be vulnerable for Hank, in order to allow him in. She had to remain defensive to keep Junior out. For God’s sake, just be here, she commanded herself. Drink in all this wonderful sensation the way you used to. Listen to the sound of nerves firing, doing their job. Breathe with him. Let it be about that and nothing else. She felt herself begin to fall away, taking the first easy strokes toward swimming in the collective pool that an
nounced yes, of course, this was exactly what you both needed, and it was all so simple, patiently waiting for you. You forgot, that’s all. She felt him begin to move in earnest, desperate to work out all that unspoken worry that troubled them, kept them separate. Those tears she felt brimming in her eyes were hormone-related. Hank wants to love you; now you’re letting him. And at once she remembered she’d left her pills on Junior’s bedside table. Her heart fluttered, and the shocky feel of her blood rising made her mouth go numb. She had to take several deep breaths, and even fully oxygenated, the shame remained.

  Hank misunderstood. “You like this?” he murmured, and the pride in his voice tore her heart in half as if the muscle was made of paper.

  Throughout, Reed stayed quiet. Afterwards, as they felt the echoes of pleasure grow more and more distant, and settled under covers, Hank drew her close, his bare legs flung over hers, his toes rubbing up and down her ankles, prolonging contact. Reed didn’t make a sound. “Hey,” Hank said. “You kept your socks on. No fair.”

  “It’s winter. My feet were cold.”

  He spooned his body against hers, his hand lightly clasping her breast. “They don’t have to be cold.” He kissed the back of her head. “I’ll always be here to warm them.”

  Was there anything about this day that wasn’t fraught with double meanings? She lay awake listening to Hank’s even breathing, to the silence down the hallway where Reed slept, to Hannah’s occasional shuffling as she settled herself on the floor. Somehow she had to get to sleep. Tomorrow she’d be on her own with her daughter.

  Who the Hell Knows What the Date Is

  Whoever you are,

  Right off, I have to be honest. It wasn’t me at all who looked for you, but a well-meaning friend too young and romantic to know any better. But as long as you wrote, I have got me more than a few questions I’d like answered.

  Why did you give me away? Was I such an inconvenience that you had to be quit of me? I have a baby of my own. They don’t cost that much, except for doctor visits. After you left me at the home, did you ever wonder how I was doing? If I was lonely? I looked for you in the face of every woman who walked through those doors. For a long time I was sure you’d come back. But we both know that’s horseshit.