by Curtis Bunn
They shook hands and Charles left.
“Why was he kissing all on you?”
“Don’t start. He was comforting me. Isn’t that why you’re here?”
“You look good, Steph. Tired, but you look good. Where were you before you got here? Nice dress.”
“I was gonna hang out with Toya, but they had other plans. You’re not here to talk about me, are you?”
“We don’t have to have limits on what we talk about, do we?”
“This time is about Toya, Nick.”
“Nick? Still won’t call me ‘Dad,’ huh?”
“No need to. Anyway, you want an update on Toya or did you come here to quiz me. . . Nick?”
“Tell me what happened. Everything.”
It was nearly two in the morning and Stephanie was emotionally drained. Going through everything was hardly appealing.
“Can we just relax here? I’ve told you everything. Go up to the sixth floor, Room six-zero-six. Tell the nurses you’re her father. Maybe they will let you see her. Maybe Terry will take a break and you can go in there for a while.”
“I just got here and you’re trying to get rid of me.”
“Toya would love it if you went to see her. You surely didn’t come here to see me.”
“Did—what was his name?—Chris—”
“His name is Charles.”
“Did Charles come here to see you or Toya?”
“Your daughter is upstairs in a coma. And you want to talk about me? Really?”
“You’re right. Where is the elevator?”
She pointed and off went Nick.
Stephanie sat back down, picked up her phone and called Charles.
“Just wanted to thank you again for coming to see me. I wish my father hadn’t come. You could have stayed longer.”
“You never mentioned your father. Seems like there’s some tension between you two. Am I wrong?”
“We have our issues, yes. Well, actually, I have issues with him and he doesn’t seem to understand why, which is an issue. But I don’t want to talk about him. My sister is the apple of his eye, so he’s where he should be.
“But let me ask you something. I don’t talk much about my husband, but you never mention your wife. Why is that? Why are you seeing me?”
“The same reason you’re seeing me: Home isn’t right. We’ve been married twenty-two years. What I haven’t discussed with you is that I had prostate cancer about six years ago. It was rough going for a while. But I got through it.
“There were times when I thought I was going to die. When I got through it, I knew I had to live my life, enjoy my life. My wife is a good person. But the only reason I have not gotten a divorce is because she was there for me at my lowest point. She hardly left my side. She kept me from emotionally giving up. So, there is some loyalty I have to her.”
“Loyalty? You don’t consider seeing me behind her back loyalty, do you?”
“I mean staying married to her. I can’t leave her. For her and her family, the marriage means something, even if it is a farce. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s seeing someone.”
“And you wouldn’t care if she was sleeping with someone else?”
“I’d care. I guess I just don’t want to know about it. And that’s the same position she’s taking. We basically have an arrangement: Always be respectful. It’s worked so far.”
“Wow. I don’t think I could do that. I couldn’t share you.”
“You wouldn’t have to. You’re right up my alley. Passionate, fun. You’re in education, so we have a great professional connection, too. It’s ideal.”
“It would be ideal, yes. But we’re both married, so. . .”
“I’m thinking we should talk about this in person.”
“I don’t know when that can be. I have to be here for Toya. And there’s no telling how this will play out.”
“Well, I’m introducing a program in San Jose all week, so I’ll be able to come by again when the coast is clear.”
“Maybe I’ll find us an empty room so you can take care of me,” Stephanie said. “I’m almost ashamed to be thinking like that at a time like this. Almost.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
IT’S A SMALL, SMALL WORLD
JUANITA
Maurice sat in the family room with his children and their sitter in a suit and tie, waiting for Juanita to get dressed. They were going to an Inner Caucus semi-formal party at the Omni Shoreham hotel. It was Juanita’s suggestion.
Part of weaning herself off of Brandon was to immerse herself in her husband. Dressing up and going out to a nice event was something they did frequently before the kids had arrived, and would be a good way, she thought, to have fun together.
But Maurice was not happy. The more time he spent with Gloria, the more time he wanted to spend with her. Worse, he was irritated that Juanita took an extra forty minutes to get ready.
Finally, she emerged downstairs, looking beautiful, but not enough to ease Maurice’s ire.
“Finally,” he said.
She had not taken any more time than usual, but this time, Maurice expressed his frustration. Juanita was not sure how to react to it at first, but quickly decided to keep things light.
“Aren’t I worth the wait?”
“You look great. I’m just ready to go, that’s all.”
They hugged their kids, gave the sitter some last-minute instructions and headed to the car.
“You didn’t used to mind waiting on me, no matter how long I took,” she said as they pulled off.
“I always minded. I just didn’t say anything.”
“Well, why are you saying something now?”
“Because I didn’t really want to go to this thing—and then you had me waiting? What do you do for ninety minutes anyway? Bake a cake?”
“You’re a man. It’s a woman thang.”
Juanita laughed. She was intent on having a good time with her husband. Her rationale was the more fun and adventure they had, the more she would accept not having the wildness she believed she needed. It was not the ideal way for her to live. She knew that. But it was the best way to keep her family—and to not hurt her husband, who she knew worshipped her.
When they arrived at the party, there were hundreds of young-to-middle-aged professionals nicely dressed and in good spirits. But not Maurice. He seemed uptight.
“Baby, what’s wrong?” Juanita asked.
He took a deep breath and smiled at his wife. “Nothing. I’m okay. Let’s get a drink.”
In the ballroom, the longtime popular D.C.-area band, Spur of the Moment, played songs that packed the dance floor. “You look handsome, husband,” she said.
“Thank you. You look pretty good yourself.”
She smiled at him, and he grabbed her hand and led her to the dance floor. They found a small space away from the speakers and danced to two songs before Juanita asked, “Can we get that drink now?”
On the way to the bar, they encountered friends and colleagues, and exchanged small talk.
“There are two seats at that table. Why don’t you get them; I’ll get the drinks. You want red wine, right?” Maurice said.
Juanita thought it was an ideal time to test her husband. She passed on having the heart-to-heart in favor of just being her full self. When she wanted to use profanity, she decided she would. When she wanted to have something other than wine, she would.
“I’ll have a Woodford Reserve.”
“What’s that?”
“A bourbon.”
“You don’t drink bourbon.”
“Actually, I do.”
“I’m not getting you a bourbon.”
“Why can’t I have what I want?”
“Since when did you start drinking bourbon?”
“Since before I met you. I stopped, but I want to have bourbon tonight.”
“This is crazy.”
“What’s crazy is I’m arguing with you over what I want to drink. You know what? Fine
. I’ll get it myself.”
Juanita turned and walked to the other side of the ballroom, where there was another bar. There were two people in front of her. She ordered her drink, “Woodford. Neat, please,” but realized she did not have anything in her small clutch other than lipstick, cell phone and mints.
“Shit. I don’t have my money,” she said to the bartender.
The man behind her stepped in. “That’s a cheap trick to get someone to buy you a drink,” he said. She turned around to see Brandon. Her heart fluttered and pounded at the same time.
“What are you doing here?”
“I told you about this party, remember?” he said.
“Oh, my God. I really need this drink now. This is twice I have run into you while I’m out—after years of not seeing you at all. You know I’m here with my husband, right?”
“I’m on a date, too. She went to the bathroom.”
“Can you pay for this for me? Then I’m going to find my husband.”
Brandon pulled out some cash and paid the bartender. She thanked him.
“No hug?”
She smiled. “Not on your life. Well, at least not here. Have fun. You know I have to go.”
She could see Maurice headed their way. Before she could leave, Brandon’s date arrived. He introduced them. “This is my friend from way back, Juanita. Juanita, this is Gloria.”
The women shook hands. Juanita successfully masked her jealousy. “That’s a beautiful dress,” she said to Gloria.
“Yours is beautiful, too.”
Just then, Maurice arrived with tension in his face. “You’re really drinking bourbon?” he said.
“Maurice, this is Brandon, a friend I haven’t seen in a long time. And his date. I’m sorry, tell me your name again.”
Maurice shook Brandon’s hand and turned to his date. The tension in his face intensified.
“Gloria,” she said, extending her hand. “Nice to meet you.”
Maurice was stunned to see his mistress standing beside his wife. He felt awkward.
“Uh, umm, hi. Nice to meet you, Gloria,” he managed to get out. He turned to Juanita.
“How do you know—I’m sorry.”
“My name is Brandon. I’ve known Juanita for about fifteen, twenty years.”
“Really? She never mentioned you.”
“We hadn’t seen each other in at least fifteen years,” Juanita jumped in.
“Oh, I see. And, uh, Brandon, this is your wife?”
Gloria’s and Maurice’s eyes met. “My wife? Not yet.”
“Really?” Juanita asked. “You’re considering marriage?”
“Never know,” Brandon said.
“Well, you have a beautiful candidate,” Maurice said. Juanita looked up at him. Then he added: “Like me.”
For the next minute or so, a mix of anxiety and tension filled the space the four lovers shared. Brandon basked in it. But Juanita, Maurice and Gloria felt stifled.
“Husband, let’s dance.”
“We just danced a few minutes ago. Hey, why don’t you dance with Brandon? I want to get a drink.”
Brandon turned to Gloria. “Only if you don’t mind.”
“Go ahead. I’m going to get a drink, too.”
Brandon smiled and Juanita begrudgingly downed the rest of her bourbon and followed Brandon to the dance floor.
“This is so fucked up,” she said before they got one dance move in. “After this dance, you take your date—how old is she, anyway?—and go to another part of this ballroom, please.”
“Am I bothering you? I’m just here at a party I told you about. I should be mad at you for closing in on my space. You knew I was going to be here. That’s why you came.”
“You’re so arrogant to believe that. And it’s not true.”
“Well, we’re here now, so make the best of it. It’s pretty ironic that your husband offered you up to me. Why would he do that?”
“I have no idea. And if he knew about us. . .”
“Well, he doesn’t, so let’s make the most of it.”
He grabbed Juanita’s wrist and led her to the middle of the dance floor, where Maurice and Gloria could not see them. Then he moved in, pressing his body up against hers.
“If you don’t stop.”
“What are you going to do? Tell your husband. He asked me to dance with you. I’m just doing what he asked.”
He grabbed her waist and moved his hands slowly around to her ass. Then he squeezed.
“You’re so bad.”
“Bad like you want me to be.”
Juanita looked up at him and smiled.
By the bar, Maurice eased over to Gloria. “I’m surprised to see you. But happy to see you, although I wish you were alone.”
“What are the odds that my date is friends with your wife? This is spooky.”
“For sure. I want to hug and kiss you right now. But who’s this guy you’re with?”
“You’re jealous?”
“I am. Maybe I have no right to be, but I am.”
“I understand because I’m jealous, too. Your wife looks good. But it makes me feel—I don’t know—funny to see her, to meet her. It was easier knowing she existed but not seeing her.”
“If I could have prevented it, I would have. You can believe that.”
“Want to leave them? Let’s go back to my place.”
“I wish you were serious.”
“Me too. That would be wonderful. .”
“But I’d like to dance with you. We’ve only danced in your living room.”
“I don’t want to raise any suspicions, Maurice. If we’re too familiar, she will notice. I’m a woman. I know these things.”
After a few songs, Brandon and Juanita made their way back from the dance floor.
“It’s too crowded out there,” Juanita said, sidling alongside Maurice.
“You have a delightful date,” Maurice said to Brandon.
“So do you.”
“I’m going to go to the bathroom,” Gloria said.
“Again?” Brandon cracked.
“Just to freshen up, if that’s okay with you. Juanita, want to come with me?”
The last thing she wanted to do was leave her husband and her lover alone. But she trusted Brandon. “Yes, I will,” she said.
Maurice’s heart dropped as the women left.
“So, how long you all been married?” Brandon asked.
“Going on fifteen years.”
“How long you’ve been dating Gloria?”
“We met a few months ago and have gone on a few dates. She’s a rock star, though.”
“Yeah, seems like it. What kind of work do you do?”
“I’m a massage therapist.”
Maurice’s antennae went up. “A massage therapist. Really? Where?”
“I used to work at some spas at hotels downtown. But I’ve been at Massage Envy in Bethesda for about four months. It’s a little more casual and relaxed.”
Maurice turned into private detective then. “It’s amazing you’ve been here all this time and just seeing my wife for the first time in almost twenty years. This is the first time you’ve seen her, right?”
Brandon was intent on protecting Juanita. He quickly thought back to their introduction, when she had said, “We hadn’t seen each other in fifteen years.” So he answered, “Yes. She still looks pretty much the same, too.”
Maurice nodded his head and looked off. “What kind of work do you do?”
“I work on Capitol Hill in the Rayburn Building and—”
Brandon did not hear the rest. He knew Gloria had worked at the Rayburn Building, and she told him she had been dating a man who worked there. It was one of the things he liked about her; she was transparent. When he inquired about why she was single, she’d told him: “I’m quasi-single. By that, I mean, I’m going through a divorce and I date a man who is not divorced. I’m not proud of it, but I own it. That’s why I can tell you.”
Further, Brand
on drove Uber on off days, and he met Gloria when she was a passenger in his car one afternoon. They exchanged numbers. When he dropped her off at her house, there was a man standing out front, waiting for her. He believed in that moment that man was Maurice. That reality stunned him.
In the line outside the women’s bathroom, Juanita and Gloria clicked. They admired the fashion of the women, chatted about the D.C. social life and learned a little about each other.
“So, you and Brandon—how did you meet?”
“I live on Capitol Hill and sometimes I drive to work, sometimes I catch the bus and sometimes I catch Uber. One day, I went with Uber and he shows up in, like, three minutes. When I got into the car, he insisted I sit in the front and said, ‘I’ve been waiting for you all day.’
“He got my attention right away. We chatted and I felt intrigued enough to give him my number. He called me and invited me to get a massage—you know he’s a massage therapist, right?—and I was sold. I had just gone through a divorce and I’m open to new things. He’s a lot of fun so far.”
“I bet he is,” Juanita said.
When they returned to the men, Maurice’s disposition was different, and Juanita noticed. Juanita knew then she had to separate from Brandon and Gloria.
“Husband, let’s find a table where we can sit down. I don’t want my feet to start hurting.”
“Sure,” he said. Then he turned to Brandon. “Nice to meet you, Brandon. I may have to send my wife to your location. She loves massages.”
Juanita’s heart pounded. She had told Maurice she had gone for a massage. Now he knows Brandon’s profession? Did he put it all together?
“Nice to meet you, too, Maurice. Maybe I’ll see you around the Rayburn Building when I pick up Gloria.”
Maurice swallowed hard. Does he know about Gloria and me?
Juanita caught Gloria staring at Maurice. She thought: How could he not know or at least have seen this woman if they worked in the same building? And why is she looking at him like that?
Brandon gave Juanita a strange look as he and Gloria went one way, and Juanita and Maurice went another. They were walking in different directions but headed on a collision course.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
AFTER THE STORM. . . A TSUNAMI
