The Adulterer's Unofficial Guide to Family Vacations, A Novel

by Langtry, Leslie

  “You good-for-nothing bastard. I’ll bet you thought I’d sleep with you so you wouldn’t tell Mike, didn’t you? Goddammit, Terry! What the hell is wrong with you?”

  He rose to his hands and knees, panting, “I just thought… I just thought…”

  “You just thought WHAT?” I resisted kicking him again, “That I would fall for some kind of blackmail? That I was easy since I’m sleeping with this other guy? Give me some credit, for Christ’s sake!” I stopped pacing and loomed over him, my arms crossed over my chest.

  “Alright, I made a mistake! Let’s drop it…” He was panting, his face red with pain.

  “Fuck you! That wasn’t a mistake. That was sexual assault!”

  The words struck him and his eyes opened wide, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means, asshole,” I said evenly, “that I could charge you with attempted rape.”

  To his credit, he didn’t get angry, “I’ll admit, I went too far. Are you going to call the police, Laura?”

  I wanted to hit him, “I will if you don’t take me back to the hotel right now.”

  Terry hung his head in defeat, then rose to his feet and dusted himself off, “You can’t blame me for trying. After all, you seem to be giving it out to old friends lately.”

  “And you thought you could claim your share, is that it?”

  He nodded as he folded the blanket and stuffed it into the knapsack, “Yeah, I did. Obviously I was wrong.”

  “Terry,” I said as I climbed back onto his bike, “you have a fucked up way of dealing with women.”

  I knew he wouldn’t tell Mike, because that might make me tell Mike my side of the story. The ride back was horrible. I wanted to throw him off the bike, not hold onto him. How could he actually think I would sleep with him? Maybe another woman would have. Maybe another woman would’ve called the police. In either case, that woman wasn’t me.

  We pulled up outside the lobby, next to the gift shop. I said nothing to him as I slid to the ground. He roared away without a word. In the gift shop window reflection, I could see that my hair was a mess, my clothes rumpled and covered in grass stains. My eyes shifted focus from my reflection to the inside of the store. On the other side of the glass I could see Alan and the kids, staring back. And oh, did he look mad.

  All six of us walked back to the rooms together in silence. The kids seemed to know something was up and kept quiet. Once they were dressed and curled up in the beds in my room for a nap, I followed Alan into his room.

  I wasn’t prepared for the look on his face. I expected anger and confusion, but not the deep pain that registered in his eyes. My mouth went dry and my limbs felt cold. My body was preparing for “fight or flight.” Every atom inside me was screaming for me to run away. But I couldn’t do that. I fucked up. It was time to face the music.

  “Well,” Alan’s voice sounded like tempered steel, “are you going to tell me what the hell is going on?”

  “Alan, I made a mistake, a horrible mistake…”

  “It sure looks that way.” He interrupted.

  “Terry called me while I was resting,” I started.

  “And you thought, ‘hey, since I’m screwing around on Mike I might as well screw around on Alan.” His voice was low and dangerous.

  Of course he thought this. Why wouldn’t he? After all, it was true I was cheating on my husband. And I did arrive on the back of Terry’s bike, completely disheveled, just a couple days after he’d made a pass at me. But was it necessary for him to think I was a total slut? In spite of the reasoning, I could feel my anger rising.

  “That is completely unfair! I did NOT have sex with Terry!”

  Alan glared at me, “How would I know that? You’re lying to your husband… for the second time, I might add.”

  “Are you joking? You’re also lying to your wife!” That’s it, the gloves were off. Round 1. Ding, Ding, Ding!

  “I guess that means we can’t trust each other.” Alan never once shouted, but I knew he was seriously pissed off. And his words shook through me like an earthquake. How could we trust each other? It had been so easy to lie to our spouses. Could a relationship built on deception stand a chance?

  “Alan, please, we have to talk about this…”

  “I don’t see how it can do a damn bit of good!” He roared at last, “I left you here, took the kids so you could take a nap, and you pick up the phone and run off with the idiot who made a pass at you. How could you do that?”

  “I didn’t call him!”

  “Do you have any willpower at all?” He sneered and I saw him as ugly for the first time. No, not the first time. He had been jealous before, years ago. Alan used to accuse me of flirting with other guys while he was seeing other girls. Cold fear washed over me.

  “I didn’t call him,” I began but my voice sounded very far away. Old memories were unspooling in my mind, “I told you that.” My heart was no longer in this argument. I needed to get away, to think.

  Alan watched me curiously, the anger still blazing in his eyes, “Even if he called you, you went.”

  I wanted him to hold me, to act as glue while I fell completely apart. I wanted everything to be alright. “Please…” I whispered as the tears emerged, “please give me a chance to explain.”

  He turned his head away, lifting his hands to shield himself from me, “I’m sorry Laura. I can’t right now.” He opened the door between the rooms, holding it for me while I collected my sleeping children, and then bolted the door behind us. I laid the kids down and covered them up.

  They looked so innocent, so sweet. What the hell would I say to them when they woke up? I began to cry. Everything had fallen apart; my marriage, my affair, my life. The crying turned into sobbing and I buried my face in a pillow so I wouldn’t wake the kids. It was over and there was no turning back. I felt worse than I did when we arrived. I could really do a vacation up right.

  Chapter 15

  I couldn’t sleep. For an hour, I moved around the room like a condemned creature moments away from execution. Several times, I paused, about to knock on the adjoining door, but I didn’t know what to say if Alan answered.

  Over and over I turned my thoughts around. Everything felt upside down and inside out. My heart and head were not speaking to each other. I had no idea what I wanted anymore.

  Desperation drove me back to the door again and again, but how could I explain something I didn’t even understand? I really appeared guilty. And unlike my literary adulteresses, I was ten times worse. I had not only an affair with Alan, but also with Nick. It was only too easy for me to jump into another man’s bed and think I was falling in love with them. Either I was incredibly selfish or unbelievably naïve. The worst thing was that Alan knew about Nick and now he thought I had done the same thing with Terry. In his mind I was nothing more than a fickle, serial slut.

  And what frightened me more than losing Mike and Alan was the idea that I might actually be a repeat offender. I slumped to the bed and fell back onto the mattress. My God. Why wouldn’t Alan think I’d cheat on anyone, given the opportunity? At least Anna, Hester and Lady Chatterley only had one illicit lover. Apparently, I was running up a tab.

  My mind rewound to a conversation Alan and I had the second or third night. Something about me being a sex kitten and every man sensing that. Apparently he was right and obviously, any man who leered at me wound up between my legs. Now I was feeling worse.

  My thesis on adultery popped into my head. They’d have to sew two enormous red “A’s” on me now. At least that was better than Anna Karenina’s suicide. I began to wonder how one would commit suicide at a theme park. Throw myself in front of the miniature train? Jump from the roller coaster? Climb out of the jeep at the Safari ride and hope the lions are hungry?

  I forced the thought from my mind. After all, there were only two men I’d cheated on my husband with. I was reaching for the life preserver that would pull me out of the whirlpool of my own self loathing. I sat up and spied
the hotel notepad on the nightstand and wrote, I am not a slut, until I filled up a whole page. For some weird reason, I felt better. I flipped the first page over and did what any sane person would do under these circumstances. I made a Pro’s and Con’s list.

  I have always been a proponent of the Pro’s and Con’s list. The device had helped me make decisions for years. It’s kind of the grown-up’s version of the cootie catcher, Magic eight-ball or Ouija Board. I had to focus on the most important matter – whether or not to leave Mike. The key to the success of the Pro’s and Con’s list is to eventually destroy the evidence. It would not do to leave it lying around. Then it looks too pre-meditated.

  So, I dragged a chair outside and took a deep breath. At the top of the tiny piece of paper I wrote: Stay with Mike and Leave Mike. Two columns. I began numbering.

  On the next page, I wrote: Stay with Alan and Leave Alan. It seemed very important to distinguish between these two things. After all, I could end up leaving both men completely. For a moment I entertained the notion of becoming a lesbian and getting out of this entirely. But that would be impossible. There was no room for a third column.

  Flipping the first page back, I pressed the pencil to the paper and began to write. It took another hour. I was thankful the kids still slept because the words poured from me. A few times, tears blurred my vision but I continued. I had no idea if what I was writing had continuity; it just came out on its own. I filled ten pages with my thoughts (of course, this is easy to do on paper that measures four inches by six inches) before the door to my right opened.

  Alan pulled up a chair, “Hey.”

  “Hey,” I said weakly.

  He looked at the pencil and paper in my hand and smiled, “Pro’s and Con’s?”

  “I forgot that you knew that.”

  He nodded, “You did it all the time. I think it helped you, so I never said anything.” To his credit, Alan looked at me, not the paper, “Did it help?”

  “Alan, I wasn’t lying to you.”

  “I know that. I was pretty hard on you.”

  I could feel the tears burning the back of my throat but I wouldn’t let them through, “Not really. I know how it all must have looked.”

  For a moment, he looked away, “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

  “Are you ready to listen?” I tried hard not to sound snide.

  Alan returned his eyes to mine, “I am.”

  Slowly, I took a deep breath, “Ok. As I said, Terry called me.” I waited for Alan to respond. I wouldn’t say one more word if he didn’t agree. He nodded and I continued, “He’s been following us since that night at the House of Blues. He saw us in the park and he saw me faint. Terry asked me if I was having an affair.”

  Alan nodded, but his face darkened. Perhaps he could see what was coming.

  “Anyway, he asked if I needed someone to talk to about it and, like an idiot, I said yes.”

  “I knew this was bothering you. I should’ve listened.”

  “Alan, aren’t you conflicted about this too?” How could I be the only one who was confused?

  “Sure I am. But I know where I want this to end.”

  “You do?” I thought my heart had stopped. Could I handle it if he said he wanted to run off with me? Worse yet, could I handle it if he said he wanted to go home and pretend like nothing had ever happened?

  “Yes. I…”

  I cut him off, “I don’t want to know right now.” Alan frowned. “First we have to resolve this issue. Let me finish the story.”

  I waited for him to nod, then began again, “It was Terry’s idea to go on the bike ride. He was just outside the door. I guess he had been waiting there when he called me.” Alan’s eyes turned darker, like a murky, brackish green.

  “Again, like an idiot, I climbed on his bike and off we went. I should’ve said ‘no,’ but I didn’t.”

  “Where did he take you?”

  Did I detect concern or anger in his voice? “The lake where we went that first night. He had a blanket in his saddlebag and we sat down and I told him some of the story.”

  “What, exactly, did you tell him?” Alan said the words slowly, as if he was preparing to yell at me again.

  “I left out the juicy stuff. I told him I didn’t think I loved my husband anymore. That he’d become a philandering workaholic and that his priorities had changed. Terry held me and I cried. It would have been fine if that’s all that had happened.”

  “What else happened?” Anger flared across Alan’s face, but I had to continue.

  “How descriptive do you want me to be?”

  “He came onto you?!” Alan stood, knocking his chair down. He began to pace.

  “Yes.”

  “What did he do? Kiss you?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s all?” He was in full fury mode.

  I sighed. I would have to tell him or he would always wonder. “He pushed me down, climbed on top of me, shoved his tongue down my throat and his hand down my shorts.”

  Alan’s voice was deadly calm, “He tried to rape you?!” Veins thundered beneath his skin. “That fucking bastard! I’ll kill him…”

  I interrupted his vigilante monologue before he put on a ski mask and tried to buy a handgun in Florida, “You don’t have to.”

  “He attacked you!” he screamed.

  I folded my arms, countering his hysteria with calmness, “I’m not exactly helpless, you know.”

  Curiosity got the best of him, “What did you do?”

  “I knocked his balls so far into his throat he won’t be able to swallow for a week. Then I kicked him while he lay there. I told him I would call the cops and report him for attempted rape and made him drive me back.”

  Alan slumped into his chair, staring at me in amazement. Clearly he hadn’t expected that.

  “He’s pretty scared right now. I wouldn’t worry about him.”

  “I still want to kill him,” Alan muttered. “Did he give you an excuse as to why?”

  I shivered, thinking about that, “He said he’s always wanted me and that he thought since I was sleeping with you, I would sleep with him.”

  “Blackmail?”

  “Possibly. Or he could have thought I was a slut.”

  “Jesus.” Alan wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, “I had no idea.”

  We sat for a moment, allowing what I told him to sink in. Relief washed over me, taking all my strength with it. If Alan still wanted to fight, he wouldn’t get much from me.

  “Are you alright?” He ran those long, sexy fingers through his hair.

  That was exactly the right thing to say. “I think so.” I responded, taking his hand in mine, “Alan? Do you think I’m a slut?”

  “No, I don’t. I’m so sorry I even made you think that.” He rose and pulled me tightly against him.

  I pulled back, “Well, I told you about Nick…”

  He brought me back into his arms, “I don’t care about Nick. That was completely different.”

  I took a deep breath, smelling him, remembering and making new memories. This one problem was solved but a much bigger one loomed ahead. Tonight, I would have to have answers, but for right now, I felt better.

  Martha arrived promptly at seven and we left the hotel for the bus, arm-in-arm. During the twenty minute ride, we laughed about the kids’ antics on the trip. I noticed that when Alan talked about Ben and Jenny, it was with the same affection he used for Alice and Jack. He was already beginning to think of all four kids as ours. I know it should have startled me, but it had the opposite effect and I melted into him.

  Our reservations at the fake, English pub weren’t until 8:30. We had a table reserved on the patio so we could watch the light show. As darkness fell, we walked around the lagoon, talking intimately and holding hands.

  Every time our eyes met, my heart fluttered. I felt nervous and giddy but also comfortable and safe. Like that feeling you have when you fall in love for the first time. It w
as exciting and terrifying and I wanted more.

  We paused beside the lagoon, Alan’s arms around me. His lips brushed my ear, kissing my neck, leaving a trail of shivers across my skin.

  “It’s a beautiful night,” I said.

  “You are a beautiful woman,” he responded, “I’m a very lucky man.”

  “Hmmm, how so?”

  “There’s no place I would rather be than right here right now with you.”

  I laughed, “You say that to all the moms you run into on vacation.”

  “No, no, you are the only one.”

  I turned to face him, kissing him slowly on the lips. He moaned and I wanted him. Pulling myself away, I forced myself to think of the kids. Tonight was supposed to be about discussing our dilemma. No matter how desperately I wanted to fuck him.

  “You were going to tell me what you’ve decided,” I said, searching his eyes.

  He nodded, “I was, but you stopped me.”

  “Don’t think you’re going to get out of telling me. I want to know. Right here. Right now.” I sounded calm but was jelly inside. What if he didn’t want me? He seemed so sure of himself. Why wasn’t I the same way?

  Alan pulled me against him, tracing my face with his fingers, “I know what I want, Laura. I want you. I don’t care if we live in a shack in Guatemala. My decision is to have you with me for the rest of my life.”

  I trembled uncontrollably. He slipped both hands up to my face, looking deeply into my eyes. I can’t remember a time when I felt more terrified and happy. He was telling the truth. I could see it in his eyes.

  “Come on,” he said with a smile, “I’ll bet our table is ready.”

  We held hands all the way to the restaurant. After we ordered, our fingers met across the table. I had made up my mind.

  “Okay.”

  He looked puzzled, “Okay?”

  I nodded, apparently having run out of words.

  Alan’s face turned from confusion to ecstasy when he realized what I was saying. “Really? Are you sure?”