by Shana Festa
I gave Jake the stink-eye. "Not even close. The only thing I saved were patients having to expend energy by walking their asses to the bathroom. Cleaned up a lot of crap. I’m dead tired and have aches and pains in areas I didn’t even know existed." I grabbed my back and walked hunched around the sofa. I put on my best pathetic voice and hobbled over to him. "I need a hug to make all the pain go away."
Jake leapt back so fast I thought he was going to fall through the glass coffee table just to get away from me. "Ew, you touched poop? Don’t come near me until you’ve taken the mother of all showers and boiled all those germs off you!" I forgot to mention that my husband is a total germophobe. He wouldn’t come near me even if I’d only been sitting in a classroom talking about disease. It was actually adorable, and I loved chasing him around the house after class just to mess with him. But, alas, he was right; who knew what disgusting things hitchhiked a ride home with me?
"Geez, Jake. You should just put yourself in a bubble and get it over with." I gave him an exaggerated eye-roll and headed for the bathroom.
I took a long, hot shower and put on an over-sized tee shirt that had seen better days. Dragging my feet as I walked through the room, I sat down on the bed to brush my hair and made the mistake of leaning back to get comfortable.
I jerked awake the next morning stiff from falling asleep in the upright position and a long string of drool sliding down the left side of my chin. I flopped onto my side like a beached whale to discover Jake’s side of the bed was still made. It took all of two confused seconds for realization to dawn on me, and I let out a chuckle. He was so skeeved-out by the poop germs that he never came to bed.
Spying the clock on his nightstand, I jumped out of bed. I had plans to meet Kat at 10:30 for mani-pedi day. The clock read 10:02. I was so screwed. I figured since I had fallen asleep right after showering, I could just toss on some clothes and be done with it. The theory was sound…until I went to brush my teeth and caught a glimpse in the mirror. Not only was the hairbrush still in my hair, it had created a glorious rat’s nest. My hair had seen a wide spectrum of colors over the years. Currently, it was red. Cognac, according to my long-time hairdresser, Dee. The color, combined with my fair skin, made my blue eyes pop.
While I dug the hairbrush out, I eyed myself in the mirror. As all women do when they come in range of a reflective surface, I turned sideways and patted my stomach to see how fat I was. I had to admit, all the time spent on my feet running between patients had done wonders for my waistline. Gone was the pooch that had plagued me for the last two years. Instead, my tummy was flat. Of course, I had no illusions that it was toned by any means, but I would gladly take flat over pooch any day.
Jake was sitting at the kitchen table with his laptop when I emerged from the shower. The smell of fresh coffee wafted over to me and I sighed with pleasure. "God, I love you. Have I told you that you are truly the best hubs in the world? Girls all around are jealous that such a perfect specimen exists. And you’re all mine. Seriously, how did I get so lucky?" Immune to my thinly veiled, good-natured bit of sarcasm, he looked up at me with a mischievous smile on his face.
"So, you want to get lucky eh?" He waggled his eyes at me lasciviously. "I can make that happen."
"No time. It’s girl day. And I’m late, as usual."
"Fine, but you’re missing out on this perfect specimen." He got up from the table and walked toward me. His cockiness was not unfounded. Jake was one of the most attractive men I’d ever laid eyes on. He was my sexy, doe-eyed, Italian stallion. I usually gave him a hard time about his facial hair, because he often sported a five-o'clock shadow. While the scruff only added to his rugged good looks, it was itchy when we kissed. He was about six inches taller than me and his body was muscles in all the right places.
I thought he was going to give me a kiss and hug goodbye, but he stopped five feet away, then turned around and mooned me. I covered the rest of the distance, laughing the whole way.
"Thank God you’ve got such a sense of humor, because you’ve been cursed with a flat ass." He caught me up in a tight hug and unleashed a barrage of kisses on my neck before I ran for the garage and hopped into the car, defying speed limits in an attempt to make it to the salon on time.
* * *
Chapter 02
Happy Wife, Happy Life
"Shellac? What the fuck is shellac?"
"Jeez, you have a language problem. Has anyone ever told you that? You should put a swear jar in your house. I bet you’d be able to fund your kids’ entire college career." Kat held her hand up like she was Vanna White and wiggled her newly manicured nails in my face.
Frankly, I didn’t see a difference between shellac and regular nail polish, but I told the Vietnamese manicurist sitting across from me to go for it.
"Speaking of kids. When are you and Jake going to start trying? You’re not getting any younger, you know," Kat asked.
I groaned. "Not you, too! Have you been talking to my mother-in-law? I swear to God, if I get asked that question one more time my head is going to explode. I’d love to start popping out the puppies, but my uterus apparently doesn’t share the sentiment."
When Jake and I met in our twenties, we had agreed that we wanted at least two kids, great careers, and a house with a white picket fence. Now married, and over a decade later, I fell into the ‘high risk’ category because I was over thirty-five—thirty-seven to be exact. My picket fence turned into a privacy fence so we could have late-night skinny dips in the pool without prying eyes, and my career would get some forward momentum after I finished nursing school.
"Anyway, I have to go pick up the girls from school before they’re left standing alone like latch-key kids. Good thing we didn’t carpool. I didn’t realize how late it was. Oh, have I mentioned how glad I was to not be on your unit last night?" She laughed at me. Kat was a wife and mother, the kind that baked cupcakes and cookies with her kids every weekend. Kat and I often drove together to class. We lived only a few minutes from each other, which made it convenient to have frequent study sessions lounging in my pool. Was it still considered studying if our books were in the house and we finished off a bottle of wine?
"Yeah, it was pretty bad. At least I get to spend tomorrow night down in the ER. If I have to choose a body fluid to deal with, I’ll take blood over shit any day. Let’s try to meet in the cafeteria at some point for dinner. Synchronize your watch."
* * *
Jake was walking up the driveway when I got home. "Ah, my queen, I’ve been waiting for you to grace me with your presence."
"To what do I owe the pleasure, my king?" He wrapped me in a bear hug as I got within reach and planted a big ol' wet one on me.
"We have a date." He motioned to the garage. The door stood open and two shiny new bicycles stood in the middle. A cooler was strapped to the back of the bigger one, a big red bow on the smaller. "Go get changed. I’m taking my baby to the beach…in style."
I ran in the house and threw my bathing suit on under a pair of shorts and a clean t-shirt. I hadn’t ridden a bike since I was in high school. I grew up in Northboro, Massachusetts. One of those small towns where everyone knows everyone else and instead of busting you for delinquent behavior, the cops drove you home for your parents to deal with. At least that’s how it was for me. My dad was the dog trainer for the police department. He wasn’t a cop himself, but they treated him like one of the boys.
Even though it was Small Town, USA, my parents were always overly strict. I attributed it to the fact that both of them had been raised in the city. My dad was from Allston, one of those places where you didn’t take walks after the sun went down, unless you wanted to lose something valuable.
They wouldn’t let me drive in any of my friend’s cars until I got my own license. Talk about a social life killer. When I was eleven they bought me a bright canary yellow ten-speed bike. I was mortified when I saw it. For crying out loud, I was a preteen girl, which meant appearances were everything. The bike wa
s so bright that I swear it glowed in the dark. I just could not bring myself to advertise that thing around town for fear of the reputation ramifications. Luckily, my parents were so strict that they wouldn’t let me ride it off our dead end street. Crisis averted. Mind you, their caution was not without merit. I was a major klutz. A strong gust of wind could cause me to trip and fall.
One day my dad finally decided I was old enough to graduate from my tiny street and took me on a ride to the center of town. I knew the ride was a test to see if I could handle the great outdoors. Everything was going great until I hit a sandy patch on the sidewalk. The rear tire fishtailed and I landed on my ass. Let’s just say we walked the bikes back home, and I spent a few more months on the street. I had my revenge, though. By the time I hit high school, their trepidation was all but gone.
My mom owned a retail store and it didn’t open until ten in the morning, so she enjoyed the luxury of sleeping in. That plan didn’t work out when I woke up constantly late and missed the bus. My only option was to ride Big Bird, the name I bestowed on my ugly ten-speed, to school. Like I suspected, that bike became a topic of much ridicule over my freshman year. So as a tribute, I forgot it at school on the last day and didn’t say anything for a couple weeks. After I felt enough time had passed for someone to steal it, I told my parents. It wasn’t a far stretch, considering my forgetfulness was almost as bad as my clumsiness. And that was the last time I had been on a bike.
"Florida in October is awesome," I exclaimed, pulling myself from the memory. The temperature was in the mid-eighties and there was no humidity. I grabbed my sunglasses and hopped on the bike.
The first few minutes were precarious, but after we turned off the street it became easier to navigate. The bike Jake picked for me looked nothing like Big Bird. It reminded me more of Pee-Wee Herman. Cherry red with long handlebars. He had affixed a cute little bell close enough to ring without having to move my hands. I bet he didn’t realize how smart this actually was. I could just imagine the catastrophic spill I would take were I to attempt riding with one hand.
Jake rode circles around me, literally.
"Stop doing that, dork. You’re gonna make me dizzy. And if I fall, you’re carrying my ass home."
He tossed his head back and laughed. "Don’t be such a chicken."
The sun felt good on my shoulders and the ride did wonders to alleviate the constant state of stress nursing school kept me in. I had to reposition my butt a few times since the seat kept giving me an atomic wedgie.
The beach packed in the tourists like sardines. The challenge became finding enough open space to stretch out the towels and not be on top of our neighbors. Jake carried the cooler to the sand and opened it to reveal a six-pack of Labatt Blue and some sandwiches.
"Well, didn’t you just go all out? You sly dog." Leaning over, I gave him a quick peck.
The chicken salad and beer went down easy, and I thought about my marriage. I had kissed my share of frogs before finding Jake, and it didn’t take long to realize he was a keeper. He was one of those men who subscribed to the happy wife, happy life theory. After a short stint in the army he attended Villanova University in Philadelphia and earned his degree in computer programming. His career was now in full swing, and he had the luxury of working from home, which made special afternoons like this easy to accommodate.
Dusting sandwich crumbs from my hands I stripped down to my bathing suit and held my hand out to Jake.
"Come on; let’s go for a swim."
"I’ll follow you. I want to admire the view." Giving my ass a little pat, he let out an admiring whistle. I slapped him playfully and ran to the shore, dipping my foot in. The water temperature was in the seventies. Growing up in New England, it was damn near a miracle for the water to hit seventy degrees there. Now, having acclimated to Florida weather, my teeth chattered any time my pool went below eighty-five. The cold water shocked my system when it hit my inner thighs and I turned back to Jake.
"Come on slow poke, the water’s nice and warm." I let out a giggle as I said it, knowing he’d believe me and run into the water to catch up. What can I say? Misery loves company.
I broke into laughter as Jake ran to the water and dove in head-first.
He came up for air yelling, "Holy shit! You’re gonna pay for that!" And so began the fight to dunk me. Which, of course, he won. We warmed up by walking hand-in-hand up the beach. Further up the shore we saw an ambulance drive onto the sand.
"The day is never complete until a snowbird passes out on the beach. Cape Coral, Florida. Home of the geriatric population of the world," I griped.
"It looks pretty bad," Jake mused. A crowd had gathered around the commotion.
* * *
As we peddled our bikes home from the beach, we played the lottery game. We took turns telling each other what we would buy if we won the Megabucks. We decided we would buy up all the land on an entire street and build our own community for our friends and family. We spent the next twenty minutes telling each other what we’d put in the community. Pools for everyone and a central pool to gather around for family barbecues. Jake always had such a wild imagination, so his contribution was a miniature golf course. I could get behind that in the cold months, but there was no way I would stand outside in the July heat for it.
"Don’t forget Thanksgiving is coming up next month," Jake reminded me. "It’s our turn to host."
Since we switched off with his parents, I realized he was right. It was our turn. While I was an only child, Jake was the oldest of three. His sister Meg was off at school studying psychology. It felt kind of weird to be thirty-seven and in college at the same time as his twenty-one-year-old sister. Their brother, Vinny, followed in Jake’s footsteps and joined the army after a bad break-up. Vinny was a big teddy bear. His goofy personality made him easy to be around.
Madly in love with his high school sweetheart, Vinny vowed their relationship would defy the statistics. For a while we thought he was right. Lena was a year younger than him and still in high school when he went off to Methodist College in North Carolina to pursue a degree as a physical trainer. Vinny had always been a brick shithouse. The guy was six-foot four and two-hundred and fifty pounds of solid mass. His high school football career landed him a free ride to Methodist on an athletic scholarship.
Lena had one of those families you’d expect to see on Jerry Springer. A horrible role model, her mother had a constant string of boyfriends, each more deplorable than the last. She spent her nights in an alcohol-induced haze and wasting her measly earnings on pot and booze instead of the bills. Due to her mother’s failure to pay the rent on time, Lena had found herself living out of the boxes that she refused to unpack since she knew the cycle would just repeat. The final straw was when her mother collected her car insurance payment and it never made it to the bank. After she got pulled over and her car was impounded, Lena moved in with my in-laws, taking Vinny’s old room.
The year apart proved to be agony for him and after the semester ended he moved home and enrolled in the community college for his paramedic license. The two lovebirds were anxious to get a place of their own, and my mother-in-law helped find them the perfect starter home.
Lena’s credit was nonexistent, so the Rossi’s offered to cosign with Vinny. They even kicked in the down payment to get them started off. The first year was bliss. Vinny and Lena were affectionate, and one was never too far from the other. They got one of those drooling boxers that reminded me of the dog from Turner and Hooch; we’re talking some serious drool—solid strings of ooze that could fly across the room when the dog shook its head and just stick to a wall like cooked pasta. Vinny proposed, and while Lena accepted, she insisted on a long engagement.
The first indication of trouble in paradise shone when Lena began to skip family holidays or not talk to anyone when she did grace us with her presence. She could be found sitting on the sofa, arms crossed, and a sour puss on her face. Still, my in-laws treated her as one of their own. She wan
ted a new car but couldn’t finance it with her credit, so they once again overextended themselves and cosigned the loan for her. The agreement was that she would make all the payments.
Then, boom, Vinny’s life went into a tailspin. She left him with the house and dog. Just packed a bag, three days before Christmas, and walked out. The bitch even defaulted on her car payments and creditors began hounding my in-laws. As if that wasn’t bad enough, two days later the mailman delivered a confirmation of an upcoming cruise in her name. The second passenger was Vinny’s best friend, Don.
So, unable to make the mortgage on his own, he sold the house in a short sale and enlisted in the army. That was about four years ago. With the name Lena a distant memory, Vinny was pretty tight lipped about his dating life with all of us but Jake. Even though they were ten years apart in age, they were best friends.
From what little Jake told me, Vinny was playing the field…a lot. When on leave, he would come over and they spent the entire night playing Madden on the PlayStation and the two of them would laugh the entire time. His brother was due home on leave around Thanksgiving and would be staying for a couple months before shipping out again.
Jake and I turned onto our street and stopped at the end of the driveway to empty the mailbox.
