James hesitated, then knocked on the table. “Okay, then. I’ll see you back at the office.” With his usual quick movements, he was gone.
• • •
Riding the bus home later I reflected with satisfaction on the day. Though Murray hadn’t said one word of approbation, I assumed with him that if he didn’t make me redo it, the voiceover work met his standards. Riley had likewise been content with my last revision of the Antarctiquest! Amundsen sections and just wanted me to edit for length. Free Universe might pay their contractors peanuts, but they more than made up for it in sheer fun. James’ odd behavior at the end was puzzling, but maybe he really did have to dash back. And his frowning, thoughtful expression might have been no more than a reflection of mine, as I thought about how comparatively disastrous I was as a mentor.
The bus turned the corner, heading past the park and up the main arterial into Clyde Hill, and I forgot about James when I noticed that they were already putting up the tent for the seasonal skating rink. I’d skated for years in elementary and middle school when we lived closer to an ice rink, but when we moved downtown it had become too much of a hassle. It would be fun to try it again now and see if I could still do any of my old tricks.
Friday evenings were usually very quiet around the Palace, since everyone usually had a date or, in Daniel’s case, someone to wine and dine before he slept with her. Heating up some leftover enchiladas, I brought my laptop down to check email while I ate. Two from Raquel, one from Nadina. Predictably, Raquel was reiterating her Thanksgiving invitation, and I was grateful to have Perry coming and a legitimate place to be, but to throw her a bone, I promised to visit the weekend before. Nadina, for her part, had two entirely new bits of news for me:
Cass:
Guess what? Got a 2nd job at that skating rink in Downtown Park! I’m a cashier elf. They can work around my Petco schedule. Wanted me to start day after Thxgiving, but mom and I will still be in Ohio. Tell you more Tues.
N
Ohio? What on earth would they be doing in Ohio? Not that I wasn’t glad that Nadina was going with her mom and getting away from Mike for a little bit. I had thought briefly of inviting Nadina and her mom to Thanksgiving dinner, weird though that would have been with my housemates, but had abandoned the idea when I figured I might also have to invite Mike and his dad. Although Nadina had been very quiet about Mike’s attitude toward me since our fight, I still had visions of him bludgeoning me to death with a turkey drumstick.
Shutting down my computer I moved it away and reached for my new library book about Captain Cook’s travels. Next to 19th-century novels, I loved a good armchair voyage with the Royal Navy. Before long my surroundings were forgotten, and I was stepping ashore in Tahiti, the air smelling of flowers and my footprints appearing and disappearing in the black sand.
I had just gotten to the part where the Navy men observe the Transit of Venus when I heard the garage door opening. Frowning, I glanced at the clock: 7:30? That could only mean someone’s Friday night had gone awry.
It was Daniel. He gave a curt laugh when he saw me, dumped his usual gear by the barstools and went right to the sink to start scrubbing his hands.
“Doing a little surgery tonight?” I asked dryly, after his unusually vigorous hand-washing went on for some time.
“Kelly vomited at dinner with me,” he said shortly, getting another pump of soap.
“I hope you didn’t take it personally.”
He smiled to himself in response and reached for the dish towel to dry his hands.
“Did the poor girl at least make it to the bathroom? Tell me she didn’t throw up at the table.” If she did that might be the new winner for World’s Worst Date.
“She made it to the bathroom. We were just finishing up,” he answered carelessly.
“And she didn’t barf all over your Corvette?” He didn’t bother replying. Coming over to the table instead, he made to reach for my Captain Cook book, but I scooted it away. “How do I know you’re not still contagious? You might have kissed her.”
“Are you flirting with me, Cass? Because, seeing that I just washed my hands for five minutes, the only way I could then infect you would be if I kissed you.” When my eyebrows zoomed together in response, Daniel said softly, “Easy there.” He sat down opposite me and very deliberately took the book from my hand. “More of your Antarctica research?”
I shook my head. “No, he’s only reached Tahiti.” I couldn’t resist adding, “You would have been in your element there—all those topless women rowing out to meet your ship.”
“Yes, too bad the Christian missionaries ever had to get to them,” he replied. “Taking something natural like sex and calling it dirty.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I considered. “Do you think it did more damage to have Christian missionaries come and ask people to slap a shirt on and get married before they had sex, or to have people like Cook’s sailors come, who loved ʼem and left ʼem in every port and brought venereal disease and prostitution to Tahiti?”
“Point taken,” he conceded, “but I’ve wondered about you church girls. Tell me that even church girls nowadays don’t wait till they’re married to have sex.” If he had once told me he never knew what I was going to say, I could now return the compliment, except that his surprising comments could usually be tied back in some fashion to sex.
“I bet you could find lots of church girls who would have sex with you.”
“Sex with guilt,” he clarified. “Girls who would have sex but feel guilty about it.”
“No, I’m sure you could find lots of church girls who would have sex with you without feeling the least twinge of guilt, if they thought you loved them and they loved you.”
“But not girls like you,” he persisted. My predictable blush came and went, and he added, “I mean, you don’t sound like you’d put yourself in that category. Women who think like you, or Joanie, or Phyl, for that matter, wouldn’t do even the sex with guilt. What’s that about?”
I couldn’t suppress a squirm. Embarrassment-wise, this was about on par with the junior high Discussion with the parents. I hoped Daniel wouldn’t say “penis.” After a pause I said cautiously, “Well, what girls like me think wouldn’t make any sense to you.”
“Try me.”
I sighed. “Okay, but I know you hate this stuff, so remember that you asked me.” It took me a minute to gather my thoughts. “In the Bible, marriage is an analogy for our relationship with God. It’s total: body, mind, and spirit. You love a person your whole life long with all you’ve got inside you, and they love you the same way, just like God asks for total commitment, and he offers total commitment. You can’t be intimate—really, truly known and loved—if there’s always the fear that the other person doesn’t love you and might leave you. You’ll always hold back. Having sex outside of marriage is like giving precious, intimate parts of yourself to someone who’s just going to throw it all in the trash when he’s done.”
“Plenty of church people get divorces and throw all kinds of stuff in the trash,” he pointed out.
I sighed again, thinking of Phyl and Jason and now Perry and Betsy. “Yeah, well I was giving you the ideal situation. Just because it sometimes fails doesn’t mean it’s not worth shooting for.”
His cell phone rang, and he pulled it out of his pocket, turning it off without glancing at it. Holding it in his hand, he flipped it over and over absently. “So you think, when I sleep with different people and then move on, I’m throwing precious parts of them in the trash.”
Well, wasn’t he? I remembered Missy’s unhappiness months ago at our first open house, but I couldn’t speak for all of them. Michelle had seemed as content as Daniel to sleep together when it suited them. “Daniel, you asked me what I thought, and I told you. I guess if both people don’t care it doesn’t make much sense.” If only he were Mom and Dad—then I could whine, “Now can we please change the subject?” Instead I said, “So anyway, what’s your Plan B when Plan A gets
the stomach flu? Do you whip out your little black book?”
“I’ve got to trash somebody’s heart tonight,” Daniel responded, deadpan. He sat back, looking like he was debating whether or not to let me sidetrack him. My wary expression must have decided him because he said, “Actually, I was going to ask you if you felt like playing a game of Scrabble.”
I stared. “Are you joking?”
“When am I ever not serious with you, Cass?”
“You mean besides all the time?” I felt relieved, at any rate, to hear the teasing note back in his voice. Before having this uncomfortable sex conversation, I would never have imagined I would welcome that sound. Scrabble was tempting, although it meant another hour hanging out with him. By his own admission he was no expert. A smile played around my mouth, which didn’t escape his notice.
“I thought you might be interested,” he said mildly. “You never do pass up a chance to crush me.”
Chapter 17: Lust in the Afternoon
A crash downstairs startled me.
Sitting back on my heels, I brushed stray hairs out of my face with the back of my rubber-gloved hand and listened.
Thumping, followed by laughing shrieks and giggling. Good Lord, please don’t let that be what I think it is.
It being my week, I had been on my hands and knees, scrubbing the floor of Daniel’s shower stall in the Lean-To, a bucket of soapy water beside me and a scouring pad in my hand. The towels and sheets were tumble-drying downstairs, but thankfully I had already made the bed. I say thankfully because, if I guessed right, Daniel and some girlfriend were dropping in for a lunchtime quickie. Please please please don’t let them come upstairs!
Getting noiselessly to my feet, I peeked around the bathroom door. Still downstairs. Could I possibly sneak out without being noticed? I couldn’t lurk in the bathroom and risk being found after having heard everything—should I hide in the closet? Under the bed? Picturing myself flat under the bed while they bounced around on top was too farcical, and heaven knew I never moved the bed to vacuum. All the dust under there might make me sneeze at an inopportune time, and being discovered under the bed sounded even more humiliating than being discovered in the shower stall. Nor did I want to be forced to hear the entire proceedings. At least in the closet I could shut the door to muffle the ruckus, but what if Daniel wanted to put on a fresh shirt after his exertions?
There was nothing to do but try to make my escape.
While the giggling and groaning and bumping around continued downstairs, I quickly and silently stripped off my rubber gloves and stashed them with the bucket under the sink. Slipping off my shoes, I stuffed them in the pocket of my apron and tiptoed out to the landing.
“Oh, Daniel,” someone moaned appreciatively. “Oh, Daniel!” Yeah, I thought, I’d like to Oh-Daniel him for putting me in this ludicrous situation.
Step by step I crept down the stairs. It sounded like the action was happening in the kitchen—unfortunate, since the only door in and out of the Lean-To was there, but fortunate in that a wall separated that room from the stairs. On the last step I peeped one eye around the wall, only to retreat a split-second later, my fist crammed in my mouth so I wouldn’t laugh out loud. From my vantage point, Daniel had his back to me—he was ripping off his button-down shirt but was otherwise still clothed, thank God—and he had deposited his long, lithe, fake-redheaded girlfriend on the kitchen counter, her leg hitched over his hip. In contrast to Daniel, she had hardly a stitch left on, though articles of clothing formed a trail back to the door, in case she should forget the way out. He was kissing his way down her neck while she growled and purred and whimpered like a one-woman children’s petting zoo. If they weren’t going to make it out of the kitchen, this was going to be a problem.
Dropping to a crawl, I scurried across the floor and hid behind the island. Although the door had shut behind them—the crash I’d heard, presumably—the lock wasn’t turned, and maybe if I waited for my moment I could zip out and close it oh-so-quietly. It only took me another ten seconds to decide that this woman was so darned noisy they probably wouldn’t hear anything if the ceiling caved in, and I’d better go for it. Scrunching my apron up around my waist I began squat-creeping toward the door and had just emerged from behind the island, reaching silently for the door knob, when I felt an insidious vibrating in the back pocket of my jeans. In that position, there was no way I could get my phone out of my pocket to shut it off before I heard the ringtone building: dah dah dah dah DAH DAH DAH DAH dah dah dah dah DAH DAH DAH!!! Stupid Beethoven’s Ode to Joy on my stupid cell phone that is only charged ten days out of any given month, and this had to be one of them? I slapped my hand over my pocket, but the sudden silence told me I needn’t bother. “Dah dah dah dah DAH DAH DAH DAH dah dah dah dah DAH… DAH DAH!!!” sang my phone again, enjoying my mortification.
“Are you planning on getting that, Cass?” came the dreaded voice. Cringing, I turned to look up at them. Daniel was leaning over the counter, bare-chested at this point, and the girlfriend peering over his shoulder, outraged. He was rather flushed, but I had no way of knowing if that was from his recent labors or embarrassment or anger or all three. Those piercing blue eyes traveled from my disheveled hair, swept back under a red bandanna, to my ratty World Vision t-shirt to my gingham half-apron with shoes stuffed in the pocket.
Wordlessly, I rose to my feet with my back to them and dug my trilling phone from my pocket. Nadina. I quickly switched it off. “Excuse me,” I croaked. Before anyone else had to think of something to say or do, I was out the door and across the deck without a backward glance.
• • •
“Dude, why do you look so thrashed today?” Nadina demanded, when she met me outside the school a few hours later. I was still in my housecleaning get-up, minus the gingham apron which was stuffed in my purse, having fled the Palace as quickly as I could yank a coat from the closet and pull my shoes back on. I hadn’t had the presence of mind to grab some leftovers on my way out, so my stomach was growling, but it had seemed more urgent at the time just to get out of there.
I didn’t know why I felt so perturbed, but I had been walking the big gravel loop at the park ever since, trying to figure out what my problem was. To be sure, it was awkward being an unwilling witness to other people’s sexual shenanigans, but Daniel could hardly be upset with me for it, since I had just been innocently cleaning his place, and I’d never before known him to pop in midday for a tryst. Besides, before my stupid phone exposed me, I had been trying to sneak out for the dignity of all.
Was it because I had somehow expected something different from him, after our conversation Friday night? This troublesome question had halted me in my tracks, my third time around the loop. Of course I hadn’t imagined Daniel would hear my opinion on the meaning of sex and suddenly have his eyes enlightened, but, to be honest with myself, I had hoped it might make him reflect just the tiniest bit. Since that clearly wasn’t the case, I guessed the lack of “house guests” the entire weekend must have been merely the product of Kelly’s continuing stomach flu, rather than any growing awareness on Daniel’s part.
And, while I was being honest, I had to admit that my thoughts kept flitting back to what I had seen. It had been, what, nearly seventeen months now since Troy had died? And it wasn’t like we had been having tons of sex before then because I was usually exhausted from my day with Min, but occasionally was still more often than never. Daniel’s bare chest came to mind again, and I blushed scarlet. Did I really need to have that picture in my mind? It would be so easy to go there, to let physical attraction override my better judgment—to do exactly what I had told Phyl was foolish. Even easier for me to do it than Phyl because Daniel kept his polite distance from Phyl, while baiting me seemed to be one of his favorite pastimes.
By the time I headed up the hill to meet Nadina, I had resolved that I would avoid Daniel for the time being, giving the images of the morning time to fade until I could be sure of behaving rationally.
/> “Oh, I had to leave the house in a hurry,” I answered her vaguely. “I can’t always look drop-dead gorgeous. What were you trying to call me about earlier?” Although the day was overcast and lowering and we had no Benny with us, we fell into step and headed toward the lake.
“The best, Cass!” Nadina crowed. “You remember stupid Blaise, my Petco manager?” It was unlikely I could forget the horny-clawed Blaise, whose eleventh hour entrance had cut short our unpleasant scene, and I nodded briefly. “She says that this Saturday I finally get to help out at the dog training class!”
Stopping short, I gripped her arm excitedly, and such was Nadina’s good mood that she permitted it. “Finally! That’s great, Nadina. They are going to be so blown away by your skills. Does Blaise do the training?”
“Her?” she scoffed. “I don’t think she knows which end of the dog is the front. Nah, it’s some perky chick named Katie. She’s hella full of herself ʼcause she’s volunteered at the friggin’ SPCA since she could walk, or some b.s. like that, and she annoys the hell out of me, but I’m dying to do this.”
“And you’re going to be cooperative and do what Katie says, right?” I prodded. “Even if she gets on your nerves and bosses you around?”
“Y-e-e-e-s, Cass,” groaned Nadina. “You’re supposed to be my mentor and encourage me, not nag me all the time.”
“I am encouraging you, you idiot. I’m encouraging you to be your best self. You’re the most gifted person I’ve ever seen with dogs, so don’t screw up this opportunity just because perky Katie makes you want to slap her.”
She giggled. “Most people make me want to slap them. I even want to slap you sometimes.”
“That’s called being a teenager.” On such a day the waterfront park was deserted, but we sat on our usual bench. “How are you going to swing this dog training thing, if you’re also supposed to start working at the ice skating rink?”
Mourning Becomes Cassandra Page 17
