“Fine, who said you have to join a gym anyway?”
With a green cloth napkin slung over his crisp white sleeve, Don Juan pointed to the label on our bottle and took his time removing the cork. He poured a splash into Shelly’s glass and she nodded. He tilted his head to the side and raised his eyebrows as he filled her glass. The ceremony surrounding the uncorking of this thirty dollar bottle of wine, which I knew I could get for twelve ninety-nine at Trader Joe’s, made me want to laugh. When he left, we raised our glasses and touched them together as the soft clink brought back a spark of the joy I had felt earlier.
“To the new you.”
“And to our friendship,” Shelly added.
A surge of warmth traveled through my entire body with the first sip. I moved to put the glass down and then raised it again before it even hit the table. Taking a deep breath, I decided to enjoy myself, skinny Shelly notwithstanding.
I polished off the first glass of wine and imagined my inhibitions floating away on a cloud as we quietly studied our menus.
“So I bet your sex life is pretty amazing these days.”
Her smile was tinged with guilt. “Yeah, it has been pretty good lately, what about yours?”
“I’d rather talk about yours.”
“Are you saying you never do it anymore?”
“No, it’s not that bad. We probably do it once every two weeks or so, just a quickie under the covers in the dark.”
“You should try it with the lights on.”
I looked at her as if she had just said aliens moved in next door to her.
“Come on, Beth. Rick loves you just the way you are.”
“Yeah, and didn’t Billy Joel write those words for the first of his three wives? I’m sure Max used to tell you that too, but I bet he prefers this version.”
She opened her mouth then shut it again.
“Why don’t you tell me about your sex life and maybe I’ll be inspired to improve mine?”
She raised one eyebrow as if to say she wasn’t sure I deserved to hear it, but she’d give me a shot.
“Well, when I first started losing weight, Max asked me if I’d be willing to try role-playing, you know, pretending I’m someone else.”
“How insulting. You’re gorgeous and thin. Isn’t that enough for him? Men and their juvenile fantasies.”
“It’s not what you think, Beth. It’s just a game.”
She caught me glancing at my empty wine glass and reached for the bottle to refill it for me.
“Well then maybe I need more of an explanation of how this works.”
“Okay.”
The waiter arrived to take our order. We made our requests in a hurry, Shelly’s with a host of annoying requirements, all dressings and sauces on the side and steamed vegetables instead of potatoes with her grilled salmon.
After spending too much time complimenting Shelly on her outstanding selections, Don finally left us alone.
“So, you were about to give me an example of this little game you and Max play.”
“Right, well, last Saturday, he arranged for a babysitter to come over in the middle of the day and he told me we were going on an adventure. He took me to one of the construction sites he’s working on. It was closed down for the weekend. He packed a picnic lunch with wine and red roses in a vase.”
I finished my second glass of wine, noticing that Shelly was still nursing her first. I pictured Max with his strong chin and broad shoulders leading Shelly to the construction site. I saw the two of them giggling and gazing into each other’s eyes. The story was arousing something in me that had been dormant for a while. Shelly paused to take a slow sip of her wine as she smiled with teasing eyes.
“After we ate, he said he wanted to show me his equipment. I’ve never really been interested in bulldozers or cranes before, but I wanted to play the game. We pretended I was a new female construction worker he had to supervise. He said I could pick any name and any job I wanted. So I decided to be Heather, the new mini-excavator operator. After a little tour of the site, he told me it was time for him to teach me how to maneuver my vehicle. I started to climb on but he told me to stop. ‘Heather,’ he said, ‘when a mini-excavator operator is as pretty as you are, all training must be conducted in the nude.’ I did as I was told.”
My head swirled as I poured my third glass of wine, leaving little more than a drop in the bottle.
“Maybe we should get another one,” Shelly suggested.
“No, I’m done. You finish it. So how did it feel being naked outside in the middle of the day?”
“I felt completely free.”
“I suppose I’d feel that way too, if I looked like you.”
She huffed.
“That’s not what it’s about. I may have lost some weight but I can still show you the stretch marks on my stomach and cellulite on my thighs. I didn’t care about my imperfections that day and I know for damn sure Max didn’t care. Most men I know would rather have a self-assured curvaceous woman who’d get down and dirty with them at a construction site than an insecure waif waiting under the covers in a darkened room.”
“Okay, I get the point. So tell me what happened next.”
She took a breath.
“I got on the mini excavator seat and he told me he’d have to come up there with me to show me what to do. He sat down behind me. Then he said, ‘Okay, Heather, now I’ll need you to stand up and bend over to reach that lever there. It’s the furthest one, so you’ll have to really stretch.’ He told me to keep my hands on it and wait for further instructions. He stood up behind me and caressed my entire body, commenting on every curve, still calling me Heather. Then he ordered me to press my breasts around the lever. He put his hands over mine and pushed harder, squeezing my nipples with his fingertips. The feel of that cold metal on my skin and then his warm body pressing against me from behind, oh my God. Then he warned me to prepare myself for a deep thrust as we began the excavation project.”
“I was so ready. It was unbelievable.”
“Were you able to… you know?”
She nodded. “He reached his hand around to take care of that. It didn’t take long. In fact, he was done pretty quickly too, but that was just fine with me. The sex itself was good, but it was more about the building up to it, you know?”
With my elbows on the table, I placed my chin on my fists and nodded slowly.
“So now you need to tell me about you and Rick.”
I struggled to find words: distant, disconnected, overwhelmed, tense, monotonous. None of them felt just right, but Shelly seemed to understand.
“Do you think he could be having an affair?”
The question didn’t surprise me but the fact that I had never thought about the possibility before did.
“I really don’t think so. I mean when would he? Where? How? No, there’s no way. We’ve just grown apart.”
Shelly encouraged me to see Carly, her therapist. I agreed it would be a good idea and quickly changed the subject.
“We should do this regularly.” I couldn’t believe it was me who said it.
“Absolutely. How about every week?”
“Maybe once a month to start.”
“No, I think once a week would be better, we’ll start with that. And we can do something different each time, like go to movies or lectures, just get out and try new things.”
I wasn’t about to protest this time. It sounded too good.
She grabbed my hand and squeezed it. I squeezed back and smiled. Don Juan was passing our table at that exact moment. He saw our intertwined hands and raised his eyebrow. As soon as he was out of earshot we broke into a fit of laughter.
When Shelly walked away from our table to go to the restroom, I couldn’t help but notice her rear end. It was perfect. Small and firm. I shifted in my seat and fantasized about what it would be like to have an ass that looked that good. Our dinner arrived before Shelly returned and I found myself noticing the soft jet black waves that
framed Don’s cheeks and jaw. I straightened my back and sucked in the little roll that wanted to fold itself over the top of my pants. His arm brushed against mine as he leaned over to put my plate on the table.
“Thank you,” I said, sounding a little more flirty than I had intended. I was trying to be subtle, but the wine made it difficult.
“You’re welcome ma’am.” He winked.
Butterfly wings fluttered in my stomach.
“You ladies having a nice evening? Girls’ night out?”
I smiled.
“Yeah, girls’ night out. I don’t usually get to… I mean we haven’t seen each other for a while, so we’re really having fun.”
His lips were the color of Sam’s favorite crayon, brick red. I imagined running my fingers through his hair.
“Well, enjoy.” He walked away.
I snapped back into reality and wondered if our flirtation had all been a figment of my imagination.
I looked down at my plate with dismay. I had tried to make a healthy choice, but I could barely recognize the lettuce underneath the gobs of creamy dressing, blue cheese and candied nuts. And it was huge, way too much for one person. I imagined my salad sitting on a table next to a greasy hamburger with all the fixings on some talk show. A collective gasp would arise from the audience as the slender dietician announced that the salad actually contained three times more fat and calories than the burger.
I decided to chew very slowly and only allow myself to eat half the salad. I studied Shelly’s plate as I waited for her to return. Her salmon looked flaky and fresh and steam wafted from the colorful pile of vegetables next to it. When she came back, I told her that she had inspired me to start eating a more light and healthy diet. I don’t know if I would have done it without the influence of the wine, but somehow I found the courage to tell her about my donut episode earlier that day. She empathized and told me about a similar experience involving Twinkies and peanut butter cookies just days before her doctor decided to lay down the law.
“The biggest realization for me was that overeating is a manifestation of self-loathing. It’s self-destructive, just like taking drugs or drinking too much.”
I bristled at the comparison.
“Well, I don’t know about that,” I said. “Eating too much only hurts you, it’s not like it can affect your kids or your work or anything else.”
She gave me one of those looks that says, “I know that’s not true, and you know that’s not true, and I’m no longer willing to play the denial game with you.”
“All right. I know. It’s just hard to come to terms with this kind of thing,” I said.
“Like I said earlier, we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
“But I do want to. It’s just… I don’t know… go easy on me, okay?”
She smiled and nodded. I lost track of time as we talked about how she conquered the demons that were causing her unhealthy eating habits and I started to believe that I could do it too.
When the topic of weight was exhausted, Shelly asked about how my classes were going. I talked about how much I enjoyed teaching and complained a little about Wade Wesler, the smart ass who liked to challenge everything I said in class. I detected the faintest scent of envy as I often did when I talked about my work with women who gave up their careers completely to be mothers.
“Do you ever miss working?”
“Hell yeah. I mean I don’t miss the long hours and the self-righteous judges, but helping kids, helping families when they were in crisis… I’m sure someday I’ll… ” She trailed off and traveled back in time.
It occurred to me that it often slipped my mind that Shelly was a family law attorney in a former life.
“You know, it’s frustrating how few part-time opportunities there are for women with young children,” I said. “I mean, I only teach for six hours a week, and even though I have to do a lot of work at home, I can be with my kids. Why can’t there be more flexible options like that out there?”
“I know. There isn’t anything I could do as an attorney for six hours a week. Hell, that wouldn’t even make a dent in the cost of keeping up my license and liability insurance.”
Don Juan looked disappointed when we didn’t order a second bottle of wine. Even Shelly urged me to have another glass if I wanted one.
“Are you trying to get me drunk?” I asked right in front of Don. He chuckled.
When he was gone, she leaned over the table with a sly grin.
“Actually, I was waiting until you had enough wine to ask you something.”
I gave her a suspicious look and imagined her kidnapping me for some crazy weekend getaway. Thelma and Louise from the San Fernando Valley.
“What?”
“I’m going dancing tonight and I want you to come.”
“You’re going dancing? You mean if I say no you’re still going? Alone?”
“No, I’m meeting a friend.”
“Where?”
“A place called The Spot. It’s not far from here. I’ll drive and we can pick up your car later.”
“I don’t think so, Shelly, I have to get home.”
“Why? The kids are asleep by now anyway.”
“What friend are you meeting?”
“He’s just a friend.”
“He?”
“I met him at the gym. He teaches the core classes.”
“The what classes?” In my world, core classes were upper division courses required for a degree in communication studies.
“Thirty minutes focusing on the abdominal muscles.”
“Thirty minutes of working on your stomach?”
“Forget about the class, Beth. Will you please come dancing with me? We’ll have so much fun.”
“I don’t know.” It did sound fun. I wondered when I last went dancing. Probably not since college.
“Well, maybe for just a little while. Does Max know about this guy?”
“Of course. Call Rick and tell him you’ll be home late.”
I looked at my watch. It was already 8:52. I took my cell phone from my bag. Rick answered after the first ring.
“Hello dear, having fun?” I wondered how people ever got up the courage to answer the phone before caller ID.
Even in my warm, fuzzy, wine-induced state, Rick’s voice brought me back to reality.
“How did it go with the boys? Are they asleep?” I could hear the television blaring in the background. “And that makes it a bogey, double bogey on the last two holes, this is not his day…”
“They’re sound asleep. It was a piece of cake.”
“Sam didn’t ask for me? Did Jack cry?”
“They were fine. I told them I was the lucky one who got to put them to sleep tonight.”
“What did Sam say?”
“I don’t remember exactly. Everything went smoothly. Sorry, there was no crisis.”
I saw Shelly furiously writing on a napkin. “COME WITH ME!”
I smiled and nodded my head. I felt like a sixteen year old calling my parents for an extended curfew.
“Shelly wants me to go dancing with her.”
“Do you want to go?” He sounded surprised.
“Yes, but it’s fine if you don’t think I should. If Jack wakes up and I’m not there, it’ll be hard to get him back to sleep.”
“You should go if you want to.”
I couldn’t read his tone. It was so flat. I knew I shouldn’t care. He was giving me permission. I should have left it at that.
“Well, what do you think about the idea of my going dancing?”
“It sounds fun. You should go. Don’t get mad, but I really want to watch this replay of the tournament. I don’t know what you want me to say. Are you going or not?”
“I guess I am.”
“Good. Well then have fun and don’t worry about the boys. They’re fine.”
“Okay, but uhm Rick?”
“Yeah?”
I considered the possibility that Ri
ck wasn’t the enemy. Maybe he had been a convenient scapegoat for my discontent.
“Thanks.”
Chapter 6
My favorite black pants and aqua blue sweater set felt all wrong as we waded through the sea of short skirts and tight tank tops with sayings like, “single and looking” after entering the dance club. The loud music and blinding strobe lights brought back the feeling of panic I had when Sam and I couldn’t find our way out of the county fair fun house. Before I could come up with a reason for leaving, Shelly grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the bar. “There he is! Fathi!” she screamed over the thumping music.
He turned around and leapt into her arms. They hugged for too long. I decided she must have the same unearned admiration for him that my students have for me. He turned to face me and I was mesmerized. His flawless dark chocolate skin glistened all the way to the top of his shaved head. His wide nose and full lips were sexier than any I had ever seen on a white man. But what struck me most was the suffering I could see in his eyes. And it felt as if he could see right through me too.
Shelly introduced us.
“So, you’re the famous Beth? Shelly’s told me a lot about you.”
His accent was subtle but captivating. I couldn’t place it. That eloquent, regal air, with emphasis ever so slightly placed on all the wrong syllables.
“Really?” I asked. He leaned in closer.
“What did she tell you about me?” I was shouting now.
“Well, that you’re smart and funny, let’s see… and a very good friend. Oh and you’re a college professor but you don’t talk about that much.” He smelled like sandalwood.
“Well, Shelly seems pretty impressed with you too. I can see what your core class has done for her stomach.”
“Yes, she looks good, doesn’t she? Why don’t you come try out my class, Beth?”
I laughed out loud. “Me, in a core class? You must be joking.”
“Yes, you. I’ll get that powerhouse in shape for you, girl.”
I laughed again. “You’re very funny. I don’t believe I have a powerhouse, whatever that is, and I can’t go to your class because, well, I have a one year old.” Shelly rolled her eyes, though she was only half paying attention. Her gaze was fixed on the people on the dance floor as she swayed to the music.
Is This All There Is? Page 4
