Chapter 11
The House of Blues was crowded. Alan excused himself once we found two seats at the bar and I placed my purse in his chair. A burly bartender delivered my Grey Goose and tonic and I frowned at it. I was drinking a lot on this trip, much more than I normally did. While Alan and I weren’t getting bombed every night, it bothered me, just like everything else was beginning to.
On the surface, the trip was going very well. The kids were having a ball and loved having playmates. The sex was fantastic, even if I had lost complete control of my senses. There could be no doubt Alan and I were treading on dangerous territory emotionally and physically. Was it the danger that made it so appealing? Did I really love him, or the fantasy? I certainly enjoyed making love to him.
The vodka was smooth, and I drained the glass. With a shock, I realized this was the first time I had actually been alone to think since we arrived. The trip ended in two days. Sooner or later we would have to resolve this. But up until now, we hadn’t made any attempts to do so. We weren’t even talking about it. And because no one knew about our affair, it was okay for the moment. Four little faces popped into my head. Did the kids notice? They’d been so busy having fun, I didn’t think so. Alan and I had to find time to talk about this.
“Laura?” My spine turned to wood. That wasn’t Alan’s voice. I didn’t respond, just sat there, frozen. After all, Laura is a pretty common name.
“Laura! It is you!” Uh oh. Turning around, I found myself face-to-face with Terry, Mike’s college roommate. I had completely forgotten that he lived here.
“Terry? How are you?” He gave me a hug that lingered a bit too long, then pulled away.
“I didn’t know you guys were coming down!” Terry feigned a wounded look, but smiled. He was very attractive and a close friend of Mike’s. I couldn’t have been more terrified. Alan would return any minute and I had no idea how I was going to handle this.
“Well,” I lied easily, “it was kind of a last-minute thing. And then Mike dropped out, so it’s just me and the kids.”
That was all he needed. Terry moved my purse and climbed onto the stool beside me, “So you needed a night out? What did you do? Call one of those Granny sitters?” The bartender came by and Terry ordered a beer. My heart was doing flip flops in my throat. My body was preparing for fight or flight. While Mike only talked to Terry once a month, something like this was sure to warrant a call tonight.
“Something like that.” I drank more vodka in a vain attempt to stall. Unfortunately, I drained the glass.
“Here,” Terry waved me off, “let me get you another one.” He turned to get the bartender’s attention and I searched the room frantically for Alan. If he came over to us, it would merit an explanation and I just couldn’t think of one. Most likely, Alan would see Terry sitting with me and come over to see if I was alright. How did I get myself into these situations?
Terry was paying for my drink when I spotted Alan. Fear rose in my thoughts as I tried to figure out how to signal him. He was almost a hundred feet away when he realized there was a strange man in his seat. For a moment, he stopped, frowning, just as Terry turned toward me. I prayed for time to stand still. For a fire. A terrorist attack . . . anything . . .
“Why didn’t you call me? It would be better than drinking alone.” Terry smiled and I was glad to see he was kidding. Alan still stood, frozen, a few feet away.
I leaped up and hugged Terry, laughing, “You’re so sweet, to want to hang out with me!” Behind Terry’s back, I waved Alan off, hoping he would get the idea. When I pulled away, I saw him heading to a stool on the other side of Terry. He acted as though he didn’t know me. Great. Just fantastic. My husband’s friend is ruining my liaison with my lover. Wait, did I actually think that?
“Didn’t we talk about you guys coming down here last year?” Terry wasn’t asking why I was here alone, yet. I still had time to come up with an explanation.
“You know what? I think we did.” I had to change the subject. “It’s been almost ten years since we’d seen you, right?” Behind Terry, Alan gave me the “oh that’s it” look. I could see his shoulders relax. Mine did too. He understood and would wait it out. But how long could I keep this up?
“I still can’t believe you’re down here alone! And you didn’t call me. I wonder why Mike didn’t say anything. I would’ve taken care of you and the kids.” Terry had a dazzling smile. He was alright. But this reunion was taking its toll and cutting into my sex life. How could I get rid of him?
“Hey Laura! How about I run around the parks with you and the kids tomorrow? You could probably use the help and I’d love to do it.” He was sincere, I knew that. How in the hell would I get out of this one? Alan looked alarmed.
“That’s ok, Terry. I met a single mom in the next room and we’ve been hanging out together. The kids have really become attached and I think I’m helping her out.” Whew. Papillion didn’t have this narrow an escape.
Terry looked around, “So, why isn’t she here with you?” I stalled by draining yet another vodka. The corners of my brain were getting fuzzy from the sudden intake of so much alcohol. And yet, more booze seemed like a good idea.
“Well, she’s watching the kids. I just needed a moment to get away. And actually, I’ve been here too long already.” I picked up my purse and made like I was getting ready to leave. The bartender arched an eyebrow but said nothing. Fortunately, Terry didn’t see it.
“You probably took a cab here. Let me give you a ride back on my bike.” Terry rose, left a tip for the waiter and started to guide me toward the door, his hand on the small of my back. Now what, genius? Alan gave me an amused look that seemed to say he was wondering the same thing.
“Um, that’s ok. Actually, I have a rental car.” Nice save. I think. Alan stifled a grin and turned back to his drink.
Terry continued to smile, “Well, at least go for a ride with me on the Harley before you go.” Alan looked up sharply. How could I refuse? If I did, it could come back to haunt me in a big way. How much harm could come from a ten minute motorcycle ride?
“That sounds great. Why don’t you bring the bike up while I slip into the ladies’ room, then drop my purse off in the car?” Alan’s forehead creased. I couldn’t tell if he was angry or concerned.
Terry laughed, “I’ll see you in a few minutes, then.” I watched as he walked out the door, and then turned to Alan, shoving my purse into his hands.
He looked blankly at the handbag then at me, “What am I supposed to do with this?”
“You’re my car.” My mind was racing – trying to think of a way to get out of it if the trip took longer than I thought.
“Laura, who was that guy?” Hopefully, he understood I was trapped.
“Mike’s college roommate.” Alan gave me the “ohhhhhhhh” look, “How long do you think you’ll be gone?”
“I’ll get out of it after ten minutes. I’m completely out of ideas or I’d think of an excuse.” Ten minutes. Surely that was enough time to think of an excuse. Right? I wasn’t really sure. My brain was twisted with all the lies I’d told in the last five minutes. It probably wasn’t possible to come up with one more. Besides – how would I explain to Mike that I refused a bike ride? Sure it was weird. But weird was what I had to deal with.
Terry was out front when I got there. Flashing him a one hundred kilo-watt smile, I climbed on the seat behind him and he pulled out of the parking lot. It was a lovely night. Being on the motorcycle should have been a little fun, but I was torn in two. Terry handled the machine skillfully and took us through some natural, wooded areas I hadn’t seen before. Ever mindful of the time, after ten minutes, I tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention.
He surprised me by pulling off the main road, driving straight into the woods. Instead of stopping, we rode through the trees until we at last came to a quiet lake. Terry brought the bike to a stop and helped me off.
“Isn’t it beautiful here?” Terry flashed me a sly grin and
started walking ahead of me toward the lake.
I followed with some difficulty. My ballet flats were not made to cover rocky paths in complete darkness. “Uh, hey, what are we doing here?” I caught up to him at the water’s edge.
“I thought you wanted to stop.” It seemed like a reasonable response. But what puzzled me was how he got “let’s go to make-out point” from my simple shoulder tap. I wondered if I shouldn’t look for hidden television cameras in the trees. Maybe Terry was wearing a wire.
“It’s very nice here. But what I really meant was,” Terry cut me off, bringing his right index finger to my lips to hush me. It worked.
“You know,” he began, “it’s been a long time since I’ve been in the company of a beautiful woman. I just wanted to savor it for a moment. That’s all.” I knew he and his fiancé had split up a couple of months ago. I also knew from our conversations on the phone that he was lonely. So why did I break out in goose bumps and wonder if he had turned into one of these Florida serial killers?
“Oh. Well, I can understand that.” But I really couldn’t. Surely he wasn’t going to hit on me. Mike told me last year that when I slipped away for a few minutes, Terry had gone on and on about how amazing I looked. And when I hugged him goodbye, he wouldn’t let me go, joking that it had been too long since he had held a woman. I remember joking that I would go home with him. We laughed about that then. I didn’t feel like laughing now.
Terry looked at me for a long time. Just when I was trying to figure out where he hid the rope and butcher knife on the motorcycle, he gave me a warm hug, “I knew you’d understand.” Carefully he helped me back to the bike. Without a word we rode back to the bar. He stopped at the door and turned off the bike.
“Laura, thank you. That was nice.”
I was so relieved I hugged him, laughing almost hysterically. I was back at the bar. Alan was inside. A few steps and I would be safe!
My thoughts were stifled by the pressure of Terry’s lips on mine. I was so stunned, I couldn’t tell if it was passionate or affectionate. He pulled back and said, “Please don’t tell Mike about this.”
As he drove away I finally found my voice to respond, “Don’t worry. I won’t.”
Alan was sitting in his chair at the bar, his eyes glued to the door. He seemed so relieved when he saw me that I resolved not to tell him what just happened. Hell, I wasn’t sure myself.
“Everything alright?” He had a strange look on his face, which must have meant I had a strange look on my face.
“Yes, of course,” I lied, “everything’s fine.” For some reason, Terry’s kiss still lingered on my lips and I was afraid to dissect its meaning. I shrugged it off.
“What happened?” That was a fair question. How much should I answer?
I rubbed my forehead wearily. All this passion and intrigue was wearing me thin, “Nothing much. We just went for a ride, that’s all.” I explained who Terry was and Alan listened without comment.
The bartender placed another Grey Goose in front of me. I smiled thankfully, and then drained the glass instantly. Bad move. Alan looked alarmed.
“He made a pass at you, didn’t he?” There was no judgment or condemnation in his words. Just concern.
“Yes,” I sighed, “at least I think so.” I related the details of the moonlight bike ride and Alan listened carefully. If he had been a dog I believe I would’ve seen his hackles rise up.
“How could he do that?! Hit on the wife of his friend?!” Alan’s voice went up an octave.
“Well, we aren’t exactly pillars of morality ourselves.” I was irritated. “Maybe it was an innocent kiss?”
“He asked you not to tell your husband. What do you think that means?” Color was rising in his face.
“I don’t know. Hell, I don’t know anything anymore, Alan.” I sat down in the seat he had been saving for me and signaled the bartender for another drink.
Alan watched me for a moment, and then looked down at his wedding ring, twisting it painfully on his finger. “I guess we should talk about this sometime.”
I looked at him, wondering if he was serious. He hedged on the subject every time it came up. Now another man was showing interest in his mistress and he wanted to talk about it.
“Ok. How about right now?” The vodka and tonic arrived and I threw it back like the other. I was getting very drunk.
“I don’t know what to say,” he replied.
I believed him, “I don’t either. I don’t know what to do about our… our situation.”
He was quiet for a minute, “What is our situation?”
“Well,” I tried to hold back the sarcasm, “we are married to other people, having sex with each other, and last night decided we were in love. How’s that for a description?”
You know when you have one of those moments where just before you say something a little too loudly, it becomes quiet? I didn’t have to look around to know that the people around us were staring. That’s it. Cut me off. No more vodka.
Conversations slowly began to resume and Alan put his arm around me, “I’m sorry.”
I gave him a sideways glance, “Sorry?”
He shifted uneasily in his seat, removing his arm from my shoulders, “For all of this. I started…”
“Something I was just as willing to do. You can’t take all the blame for this. It’s my fault too.” Alan looked down at his drink, and then slid it aside.
“So,” his eyes focused on mine, “what are we going to do?”
I wanted another drink. I really did. However, that wouldn’t solve anything and I would have a nasty hangover in the morning. Not that I didn’t deserve it.
“I don’t know. What are the options?” Perhaps it was unfair to throw the ball back into his court.
“Well,” he began thoughtfully, “we could go home, and pretend this never happened.” A sharp pain developed in my stomach at the sound of that.
“Or we could leave our spouses and move in together.” The flip-flop in my heart outranked the aforementioned stomach cramp.
I licked my lips slowly. The bartender shot me a look. I shook my head and he turned away.
“The first option is definitely the easiest. The second requires complete chaos.”
Alan nodded, waiting for me to go on.
The problem was, I didn’t really know what I wanted. Between the hectic days with the kids and the steamy nights with my lover, I hadn’t really done much thinking. But here he was, waiting for me to say something brilliant. The problem was that I drank away any chances of being brilliant quite a while ago.
“Alan, did you mean it last night when you said you loved me?”
He looked again at his wedding ring, as if hoping for some kabballahistic wisdom to appear as an inscription. How very Lord of the Rings.
“Yes.” His voice was very quiet, “I don’t think I ever stopped loving you, even after all these years.”
“Oh.”
Alan glared at me, “Oh?! Is that all you have to say?”
I shook my head, “No. It’s just that I haven’t had any time to think about it. I’ve kind of been swept up in the romance and lust. We haven’t talked about it, so I didn’t think your feelings were that serious.”
His eyes grew wide, “I suppose you’re right. I turned down every opportunity to discuss this.” Alan placed his hands on mine, “Do you love me Laura?”
This would have been a good time for that terrorist attack. Hell, I even wanted Terry to return! Maybe in a G-string with a dozen yellow roses and my name tattooed across his chest. That would be a lot easier to handle than this one, simple question.
“I do love you, Alan. But I also thought I loved Nick. I just don’t know what to do.” My fingers interlaced through his and I thought I could sense relief.
“We should get back.” Alan threw a couple of twenties on the bar and took me by the arm, leading me out to the street. As if by magic, a cab appeared and we rode silently back to the hotel. Somewhere, in the
boozy fog, I thought I heard a motorcycle engine. My drunken brain was adding paranoia to the evening’s events.
Once again, the kids were asleep and we sent Martha home. My buzz was wearing off and I was jittery. Alan ran down to the gift shop and returned with a six pack of beer and we set up the chairs in the darkness outside.
“I think I should be honest with you,” he began unsteadily, “it might help.”
“I wish you would.” It wasn’t a rebuke. This whole mess would be easier to sort out if we were absolutely truthful. Right?
He sighed heavily, weighing his words, “I’ve never really gotten over you. I love my wife, but I used to think of you. All the time at first, then less and less. But you were still a major fixture in my heart.” Those eyes looked deeply into mine, “Does that make sense?”
“Of course it does. I’ve never forgotten you either. And I really love being with you here.”
Alan took one of my hands in his and began stroking my palm with his thumb. “But you’re wondering if this is real?”
“Yes, I am.” My fingers moved slowly, caressing his skin. There definitely was an unmistakable chemistry between us, “I mean, this place isn’t real. Would the same thing have happened to us somewhere else?”
For the first time this evening, he laughed, “Actually, if we met in the French Riviera and didn’t have the kids, we probably would have wound up in bed a lot sooner.”
I had to agree, “That’s true, which begs the question, what if we weren’t in such a romantic environment?”
“I don’t think you can deny that we certainly have a lot of pent up passion for each other.” He released my hands and reached for his beer, “What did you feel when Terry kissed you tonight?”
The question startled me, “Well, nothing, really.”
“You weren’t aroused?”
I thought about this, “No, I wasn’t.”
“But when I kissed you for the first time, you were?”
Drunk or not, I could see where he was going, “Yes. But I was turned on earlier in the evening. If you hadn’t kissed me when you did, I probably would have kissed you.”
The Adulterer's Unofficial Guide to Family Vacations, A Novel Page 8
