Bittersweets - Brenda and Larry: Steamy Romance

by Suzanne Jenkins

  “Anything without lasting consequences should be easy enough for you to move beyond. Unless she’s a felon or has a husband somewhere that she forgot to divorce, most sins should be forgivable.”

  “It’s my ego,” he said, smirking. “Male ego. What a laugh.”

  “Aw, so the wifey hurt your feelings. Get over it.”

  Another patron came in and she moved down the bar. Draining his glass, he put money down and left, walking back across the street.”

  “I hear his key in the door,” Brenda said to Terry. “I’d better get off. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Putting her phone facedown on the nightstand, Brenda picked up a book and pretended to be immersed in it when Larry came into the bedroom.

  “Can I ask you a question?” he said, looking down at her.

  “Maybe,” she said, keeping her options open.

  “How many men were there?”

  “Larry, I didn’t really count them. I knew of them, okay? I didn’t do business with strangers. They were students who I saw on campus. Some wanted to date me and I pretended to go along with it, but I really didn’t have the time to date. I worked, too, remember.”

  “It feels like it was more organized than that,” he said.

  “Well, you know how I am. I like things neat and tidy. I didn’t keep records, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  She had an old-fashioned savings account book with figures she could show him if he insisted, but she really didn’t want to.

  “Weren’t you afraid?”

  “Yes, I was very afraid,” she said. “I was scared to death my father would find out. And then when I met you, I was afraid you’d find out. The shame is unbearable. If I lost you over this, I’d be so sad.”

  “Can you give me time to get over it?” he asked. “I’m trying not to make a big deal out it.”

  “Sure, you can have all the time you want. But let me tell you something, Larry Babula. Don’t you ever make love to me again when you’re angry with me. As a matter of fact, I should be furious with you for what happened tonight, but I’m too hurt. I might need some time to get over the way you treated me and the things you said to me.”

  She was thinking, You acted like a little boy.

  “So what do we do now?” he asked, not apologizing to her, a further hurt she’d have to endure.

  “You can do whatever you want. I’m going to take it minute by minute. I have to go to work tomorrow, as do you. Then I’m going to clean the new powder room tile and get ready for the next step in there. That’s as far as I’m willing to look into the future.”

  “I’m getting a shower,” he said, leaving the room.

  “You do that, putz,” she muttered.

  Pulling the sheets up to her chin, she snuggled in and fell right to sleep, unaware of when Larry joined her.

  The next morning before sunrise, he left without saying goodbye. She heard the door close when she was at the periphery of consciousness. Springing out of bed, she went to the window in time to see him step off the stoop. The pavement was glistening from a light, falling rain, the reflection of the streetlights issuing a forewarning of winter. The windows of the pub he’d gone to just hours before were now dark and lonely. She forced the window open in spite of a cold, penetrating wind, and yelled “Goodbye, Larry.”

  He looked up and although he didn’t want to, he had to smile; she was so cute in her T-shirt, looking down at him, her hair wild, yearning on her face.

  “I’ll call you,” he said, waving to her. “Go back to bed.”

  She did as he suggested, getting another, wonderful hour of sleep. As usual, she got to the office with seconds to spare, her boss waiting in the reception area for her again.

  “Miss Lipinski’s on time!” Paul announced again, ignoring Corinne’s previous threats.

  “Sir, it’s Mrs. Babula, if you don’t mind,” Brenda said, with flashing eyes. “And the clock just turned nine.”

  “Come in to my office after you clear it with Miss Kovac, please,” he said.

  “Okay,” she replied, shrugging her shoulders.

  “Don’t go in there alone!” Corinne hissed.

  “I’ll yodel if he tries anything,” Brenda said, and then with less conviction, looking in the direction of his door, “Don’t worry. He wouldn’t dare.”

  “I wouldn’t put it past him,” Corinne said.

  Walking back to her office, she opened the connecting door between hers and Terry’s. “Paul said to come to his office,” Brenda told her. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Okay. You don’t have to do any work for him if he asks,” Terry called after her. “Tell him you’re not his secretary.”

  “I will.” She hung up her coat and looked in the mirror, the pale yellow wool of her suit wrong for the fall, but it looked so cheerful on that gray, sad morning, she wore it anyway.

  “Don’t you look pretty!” Corinne said when Brenda walked by. “Shout if you need me.”

  “I will,” she said, smiling. Everyone was worried about Paul taking advantage of her. “What took you so long?” he asked when she knocked on his door.

  “You said to clear it with Terry.”

  “Well, I want you to work for me,” he said. “I’m talking to Vince today.”

  “With all due respect, sir, I don’t want to work for you. You are disrespectful and make inappropriate comments about my clothes every day.”

  “You look nice, by the way,” he said, ignoring her. “That color is very bright.”

  “It appealed to me today,” she admitted, looking down at her clothes. “Now what do you want, Paul. As you know, we’re prepping for a trial.”

  “I already told you I want you to work for me,” he said, leaning back in his chair, staring at her.

  Studying his face critically, Brenda tried to imagine having to work intimately side by side with him daily like she did with Terry. Working so closely with another, you could smell them. She knew when Terry washed her hair every other morning, the smell of the shampoo was sharp, like peppermint. It made Brenda conscious of her own hygiene, careful not to eat garlic during the week, always considerate of bathing, wearing clean clothes.

  Paul often smelled of the dry cleaner’s. Someone needed to tell him to air his suits out when he got them home, but she imagined Paul’s wife was in charge of that like so many middle-aged women were. Her own mother, for instance. At the Christmas party, Brenda had met Paul’s wife, a lovely, almost glamorous businesswoman, with raven hair combed in a shoulder-length page-boy, but on her it worked. She looked like old Hollywood. Petite but with huge breasts, she had carried it off in designer suits. Terry whispered she thought the suit that Suzette; that was her name, wore on Christmas was vintage Chanel.

  Paul and Suzette together made a distinguished couple, in contrast to Senior Partner Vince, who had divorced his first wife, and was now married to a former fashion model in her mid-twenties, probably the same age as Terry and Brenda. They were in the process of starting his second family; he had kids as old as his wife and now the wife was pregnant with twins via invitro fertilization.

  “I like you Brenda,” he said in a low voice, interrupting her reverie. “I’ve watched you working and you are organized, efficient, and intuitive. I need someone like you on my team.”

  “I don’t want to work for you,” she said, honestly. “So if I can be excused…”

  “If Vince approves it, I’m bringing you over here.”

  “I’ll quit then,” Brenda said, walking out and gently closing the door.

  Choosing to bypass telling Terry about the offer, Brenda returned to her own office and started work right away. A knock interrupted her.

  Terry stuck her head in the door. “What’s going on?” she asked. “Vince just said Paul wants you to work for him.”

  “Well I’m not doing it!” Brenda shouted. “I told him I’d quit first.”

  Terry slipped in the office and hugged her friend. “Calm down. You’re not going
anywhere. I asked him to hire a new clerk for Paul, pointing out that Paul has been commenting on your ass since day one, and then he hung up on me.”

  “Ha! You didn’t,” Brenda said, wiping a tear off her cheek.

  “I did. For now, at least, we’re together. I can’t promise in the future that it will work. Once we’ve been here for a while tolerating the hostile environment, threats won’t do much good. We’ll be aiding and abetting.”

  “I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it,” she said, sniffing. “I have to get back to work. Thank you for standing up for me.”

  “No problem,” Terry said, looking at Brenda with uncertainty. “Is everything okay? I mean did you iron things out with Larry?”

  “Not right away, but this morning he said he’d call me. I need to call my mother and give her hell. Imagine, giving a strange man my address? And the guy thought Larry was my dad.”

  “Oh, that’s not good,” Terry said. “But it’s hardly your fault.”

  Terry went back into her office and shut the door just as her phone rang. It was Russ, the librarian.

  “I have tickets for the Rodin Museum. The Fall of Icarus is there on loan from some museum in Paris.”

  “I’d love to go,” she said. “When?”

  “It’s for this Saturday, at two. I know it’s late notice. A colleague gave them to me.”

  “It’s fine,” she said. “I’ll meet you there at two.”

  “You don’t mind coming down alone?” he asked.

  “Russ, not at all. Why would I ask you to come all the way up to Mount Airy and then down again? Please.”

  “I’d like to see your place,” he said. “I like that part of town. If I’d gotten a job anywhere but University City, I’d have lived up in Germantown.”

  “Well, how about you come home with me and we’ll order dinner in?” she asked, a little forward. He’d never given her any indication that he wanted more than her companionship, but he was hinting.

  “Excellent idea,” he said. “So two o’clock, Saturday afternoon, with dinner after at your place.”

  “Correct,” she said, and laughed.

  “We sound like a lawyer and a law librarian.”

  “That’s because we are,” Terry replied.

  “I’m such a nerd,” Russ said, distastefully.

  “Me too,” Terry said, sighing.

  While Terry whispered to Russ on the phone, Larry called Brenda.

  “I’m sorry about last night,” she said after he said hello, not really feeling she was to blame, but having to break the ice somehow, and the only way she knew how was to offer him an olive branch.

  “I’m still upset,” he said. “I need time to get over this. That kind of past probably needed to be confessed before we got married. Are you sure you’re healthy?”

  “Yes, I’m healthy,” she said, keeping her voice soft and controlled. “I always protected myself.” When he hesitated, she didn’t mince words. “I’ll get tested if it will make you feel better.”

  “Okay, that’s a good idea,” he replied.

  It was then she knew he was not going to cut her a break. It would be a long, drawn-out process, one in which he’d expect her to do penance before he’d forgive her. Fear settled in her heart that he might never forgive her, and it would be an ongoing source of contention between them in which the punishment would be Larry withdrawing from her for days at a time.

  “Do you want to go to Eastside Grill for dinner tonight?” she asked, flinching when her question sounded like she was begging him.

  “I don’t think I’m ready for dinner out,” he said. “You go ahead and make plans for yourself if you want. I’m going to ask Arvin to have a drink after work.”

  “Please don’t share our problems with him,” Brenda cried. “Telling Arvin my secrets is not going to help us, Larry.”

  “You are in no position to tell me who I shouldn’t confide in,” he said. “I’ve got to get back to work. Goodbye.”

  With that, he hung up on her. The phone still to her ear, she looked around the claustrophobic windowless cubical and an overwhelming need to get a breath of fresh air hit her. She wanted to run away, not to the construction zone of a house she lived in, and find a clean, sterile hotel room where she could hide.

  “Brenda, the bailiff just called,” Terry said, opening the door. “We have to file the continuance papers now instead of the morning for some reason. Let’s get out of here.”

  Jumping up, it was an offer to escape. “I’m coming,” she said, grabbing her coat.

  “It’s freezing out so bring your scarf, too. It’ll be good for us to walk to city hall.”

  “I’m putting my sneakers on then,” she said. “To hell with Vince.”

  “I have boots,” Terry said. “I defy him to say anything to me about my boots!”

  The women told Corinne they were headed to the courthouse and were going to stop for lunch on the way back to the office. The cold wind pierced their faces, and they walked backwards as long as they were able to.

  “This reminds me of walking to school in the winter! I’d beg my mother to drive me but she said it was good for my character to suffer a little bit.”

  “She did not,” Brenda said, laughing.

  “She did! I’m so glad you met my family,” Terry said. “I feel like we’ve known each other all our lives.”

  “I’m glad, too. You know my family, so now you understand why I’m screwed up.

  “Ha! You’re not screwed up, Brenda. Not by a long shot. You’re just having a moment of uncertainty in what will be a lifelong marriage. You and Larry are made for each other.”

  “I know, right? I’ll do what I can to make amends, but he’s not going to make it easy for me. As a matter of fact, he’s going out with Arvin after work for a drink, I quote. I’m sure they’re going to that dive by the hospital with the nurses from the ER.”

  “Do you mind?” Terry asked.

  “No, I guess not. Maybe if he has a fling he’ll cut me a break,” she said.

  “You really don’t want him to have a fling, Brenda. That’s just your guilt talking,” Terry said.

  They reached city hall and ran inside to escape the wind.

  Chapter 10

  On Saturday at one, Terry left her house in Mount Airy to meet Russ Adams at the magnificent Philadelphia Museum of Art. Ever the optimist, she looked forward to spending time with him and seeing the exhibit in spite of the disappointments she’d had with Arvin in the previous months. It was not Russ’s MO to stand her up.

  When the cab pulled up to the Rodin, Russ was waiting for her. Moving to the curb, he got the door for her and offered her his hand. “You’re right on time,” he said.

  She smiled up at him, and then remembered she had to pay the driver. “I’ll get it,” he said, but she put her hand out.

  “I can get it,” she said, then turned to him. “Thank you so much. You’re so chivalrous! But you don’t have to pay for my cab.”

  He offered her his arm. “Icarus awaits. Do you know the story of Icarus?”

  “Well, didn’t his father make him wings of feathers and wax so he could escape imprisonment in a labyrinth? But he flew too close to the sun, and the wax melted, throwing him into the Mediterranean.”

  “Yes, that’s basically the myth,” Russ said, holding the door for her. “I’m impressed you know it.”

  “It’s not the whole story though,” she said.

  “It’s enough,” he replied. “So this piece is called The Fall of Icarus.”

  He studied it with his chin in his hand, looking at it from different angles, walking around the sculpture. “Big deal,” he whispered.

  Taken aback, Terry bit her tongue to keep from laughing. So the brainiac Russ was just a guy after all.

  “I must be missing something,” he said. “Now I’m determined to find out what all the hoopla is about.”

  She followed him around the base of the statue for a minute or two.

&nb
sp; “Look! Icarus’s dickarus is bent!” she exclaimed, pointing to Icarus’s penis.

  “It is!” he said, trying to keep his composure, bending over to look. “Could that be what all the accolades have been about?”

  “Maybe,” she answered, laughing.

  “I’m glad I didn’t buy these tickets,” he said. “What a waste of money.”

  “What will you tell your friends if they ask?” she asked.

  “Oh, the usual, how fabulous it was to be able to see the exhibit,” Russ answered. “Do you want to keep going?”

  “I’d love to,” she replied.

  They spent the next two hours wandering around the museum. Her sniglet had effectively broken the ice and the result would be a warm and affectionate relationship. But it didn’t help the lack of chemistry between them.

  “Are you sure you want to go up to my place?” she asked. “Maybe it would be better if you came up during the day when we can scout out the neighborhood in the light.”

  “Okay, that’s probably wise,” he said, realizing they might get into bed together out of loneliness.

  “Thank you for a nice afternoon,” she said.

  “I might owe Icarus a debt of friendship,” Russ said.

  “Yes, I was just thinking the same thing,” Terry said.

  “I won’t deny that I’m a little disappointed in us,” Russ admitted, switching his finger between the two of them.

  “Me, too,” Terry said. “But at least we didn’t make a mistake.”

  “No, no mistakes,” he said, looking at the pink sky. “I’d better get you to the station. I don’t like thinking of you on the train after dark.”

  “That’s so nice,” she said.

  “I’ll do all your research for you, too,” he said, seriously.

  “Oh, I already thought of that,” she said. “But what can I do for you?”

  “Just be my friend,” he said.

  She stood up on her toes to reach his face and kissed his cheek. “It’s an honor.”

  On her way back up to Mount Airy, Terry thought about Russ, how handsome and interesting he was, seemingly perfect for her in every way, but that vital spark was missing. She wondered if a marriage could survive without it. Could you force it? She’d never know, because a week later he called with news.