Chapter 8
The honeymoon was incredible.
“I sat next to Larry in a lounge chair on the beach, so close to the water that we had to keep moving our chairs back when the tide came in,” Brenda said, sighing. “I fell asleep out there every morning. At noon, a waiter brought our lunch. It never varied - seafood, fried or fresh in a salad; potato salad; chips; and a diet Coke. I gained five pounds the first week.”
“Oh, that does sound good,” Corinne said, Terry and Margery listening.
They were sitting in the employee lounge, with rapt attention to every detail.
“It was wonderful.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Can you believe how blond I got? Larry’s is even lighter. His tan is amazing. He won’t have to go to the tanning booth for a month. He’s talking about getting a beach house with Arvin so we can go down the shore every weekend. But the Jersey shore is not the Caribbean, as much as I love it.”
“What did you do while you were there?” Margery asked, and the others looked at her and smirked. “Well, besides the obvious. Did you snorkel or go parasailing?”
“We did it all,” Brenda said. “One day we went horseback riding on the beach. Another, we rented Jet Skies. That was the most fun.
“At night we went to the dining room for out-of-this-world food, seafood again most of the time, and then we danced. Larry is such a fabulous dancer. I’m not that great, but anyone dancing with him would look good.”
“We’ve seen you dance,” Terry said. “Remember the reception. You do pretty good yourself.”
“Thanks. Well, this was so romantic; we would go back to the room every night and have wild sex. I think we wore ourselves out because since we’ve been home, nothing.”
“You’ve only been home for two days,” Terry said, frowning. “Give the man a break.”
“She’s right,” Margery said. “Listen to Terry. Larry’s no spring chicken.”
“He’ll bounce back,” Corinne said. “It’s probably jet lag.”
“Well, I hope he gets over it because I need his attention. I’m afraid this is marriage,” Brenda said. “You hear how they change right away, like a switch is flipped.”
“Ugh, that’s a horrible portrayal of marriage. I hope it’s BS in your case,” Terry said, worried for her friend.
The shore house materialized, and the first weekend in July, Brenda, Larry, Arvin and Terry headed down together, very much the vacationers with a cooler strapped to the back of Arvin’s rented luxury SUV, and a beach umbrella sticking out the back window.
“I’m so excited!” Brenda exclaimed, sitting in the backseat with Larry who already had his bathing suit on. “This is a childhood dream of mine. We always did day trips in the summer, but to have a beach house I can go to after work and every weekend? Pure fantasy.”
“I might commute,” Arvin said. “You’re both welcome to come back and forth with me.”
“That sounds exhausting, bro,” Larry said, turning to kiss Brenda. He pushed her back in the seat, the first of many public displays of affection, some almost crossing the line of indecency.
“I guess he’s finished talking,” Arvin said to Terry, and they had to stifle their laughter, as Brenda’s foot hit him in the back of the head.
“Larry, back off,” Brenda complained. “Arvin, I’m so sorry. My husband has a problem with exhibitionism.”
“I see that,” Arvin said, looking in the rearview mirror. “Wait until I can watch without killing us, okay?”
The causeway to the island loomed just ahead, and Terry rolled down her window, the air warm and tropical. “I can smell the salt,” she said, closing her eyes.
Gulls called, and the sound of waves hitting the sand completed the total transformation. They were no longer in the city.
“Oh, thank you so much for bringing me along,” Terry said, giddy.
“I told Arvin there would be no deal if he brought anyone else,” Brenda said.
“Ugh,” Terry moaned, but laughed. “I wondered what the sudden attraction was.”
“Hey, that’s not fair,” Arvin said. “I’m happy you agreed to come along.”
“He can’t have other women here if I’m here,” Brenda said. “That’s the deal.”
“You probably don’t plan on coming every weekend, then, correct?” Arvin asked, teasing, with the others laughing. “Because I know Terry won’t want to come every weekend.”
“I might,” she said. “If the house is decent, I might take you up on living down here and commuting into the city.”
“You would?” he asked, turning to her, sorry he’d mentioned it. The last thing Arvin intended was having the same woman at the beach all summer.
“Absolutely,” Terry said, her eyes shining. “It would be like Brenda said; a fantasy.”
“This is it,” Larry said, leaning forward, pointing to a big gray shingled cottage, with gables and a widow’s walk and a massive stone chimney along the side.
“Wow! It’s fabulous,” Brenda said.
“Good job, Larry,” Arvin said, truly impressed. “This looks more like the Hamptons than the Jersey shore.”
“I wouldn’t know. I moved from Warsaw to Philadelphia. This is the first time I’ve been out of PA,” Larry said.
“I’m afraid to ask what it cost for the summer,” Arvin said. “Since I said I’d pay my share.”
“It’s the down payment for Brenda’s former new car,” Larry said, chuckling.
“I’d rather have this and drive a junker,” she said, bouncing in her seat.
Arvin pulled into the driveway in back of the house which faced the ocean, right on the beach, only a narrow band of dune grasses separating it from high tide.
“I wonder what it’s like during a storm,” Arvin said. He’d parked the car and looked out over the beach and water in awe.
“The owner said there’s a piece of lumber nailed to the kitchen wall that shows the high-water mark during hurricanes over the years. Evidently, the house has been gutted several times.”
“Let’s go see it,” Terry said.
A small concrete porch led to the front door. “I wonder why it’s not up on pilings.” Brenda said.
“Not my problem,” Arvin said, putting his arm around her shoulder. “Your job is to enjoy the ride, not inspect the vehicle.”
“Who said that?” she asked, frowning.
“God,” he said.
“He did not,” Brenda replied.
“The care of the horse is in the hands of the rider, but safety is in the hands of God,” Arvin said.
“That’s not a Christian scripture, is it?” she asked, frowning.
“It is. Proverbs, I believe. I’m Muslim but the missionaries forced that stuff down my throat, too.”
“What does that have to do with this house being on pilings?” Terry asked.
“Think about it,” Arvin answered. “You’re an attorney, you figure it out.”
“Children, no fighting,” Larry said. “I’m getting out on the beach right now.”
“I’m right behind you,” Brenda said, frowning at Arvin as she walked away.
“Where’s the umbrella?” Arvin asked. “I don’t need to get any darker than I am.”
“I’m staying undercover, too,” Terry said. “I’ll just get more freckles if I go in the sun.”
Larry pointed out where the bedrooms were, a larger, master bedroom near the front of the house that he and Brenda would take, and a slightly smaller room with a bathroom nearby for Arvin and Terry.
“You’re sharing with me. Is that okay?” Arvin asked.
“Okay,” she answered, knowing she probably shouldn’t, but it had been a long time, and she longed for a man’s arms around her.
Taking her suit into the bathroom, she’d give herself a few more hours of privacy before exposing herself to Arvin. However, she’d forgotten how small her suit was. It was one piece, but the bottom was high cut so her fanny hung out of the sides. Big breasts filled the top, the low V that traveled almost to her waist exposing a large amount of her.
Although Arvin preferred a leaner body, Terry’s voluptuous body was made for sex, and in a bathing suit, nothing was hidden. He had trouble keeping his eyes from her crotch, too, which stunned him. It was not usually a place where he ever looked.
“Do you still not shave down there?” he asked.
“Why? Is something hanging out?” she asked, looking down.
“No,” he said, laughing. “I’m remembering.”
“I don’t care for that bald, anatomical look,” she said. “I know some men like it.”
“Would you shave if I asked you to?” he asked.
“Probably not,” she said, getting into the lounge chair.
They set the umbrella up close to the house, while Brenda and Larry went farther down the beach, closer to the water’s edge.
“I’m warning you,” Arvin whispered, pointing to her breasts, unable to take his eyes off her. “You might have trouble with Larry if he starts drinking.”
He leaned over and in spite of her protests, slid his hand into her bathing suit, squeezing her right nipple while she pulled away.
“That’s a crock,” Terry snapped, pushing him off. “You’ve said yourself he’s crazy about Brenda and loyal to boot. Look at them now.”
The newlyweds had squeezed onto the same lounge chair, facing each other, kissing, Brenda’s leg thrown over Larry’s hips. Passersby couldn’t help but look at them in shock.
“Yikes, I wonder if they’re doing it,” Terry said, sitting up a little bit when thrusting hips got her attention. “He’s humping her!”
“He’s getting up,” Arvin said excitedly. “Look at the size of that boner!”
“Where?” she asked, stretching to see, while Arvin put his hands across her eyes.
They continued giving a play-by-play narrative of what was going on at the water’s edge, laughing, Terry batting Arvin’s hands away from her face.
“Are they coming inside?” Terry asked watching them get up, Larry tugging at his trunks.
“Looks like it,” Arvin said. “Close your eyes. We’ll pretend we’re napping.”
“Nap time,” Brenda announced when they passed by, Larry holding a beach towel in front of his hips.
“If the tide gets any higher, your chairs are going out to sea,” Arvin said, stretching.
“Bring them up then, would you buddy?” Larry asked, following Brenda inside.
“Their window is right there, and it’s open,” Terry whispered, hearing them enter the room, shutting the door.
“Oh God, Larry!” Brenda moaned, her voice echoing through the window.
“Oh baby,” Larry said. “Take your pants off right now.”
Brenda yelped, then a stream of laughter filtered out from the house.
“Try not to listen,” Arvin said laughing, getting up, fully intending to listen. He crept to the window, and hunched over right under the sill, waving Terry over. “Come here. Maybe I can find a chair for us to stand on. We can watch.”
“I can’t,” Terry said. “She’s my friend. We should walk down the beach and give them privacy.”
“You’re no fun,” Arvin said. “I’m ready to get on a stool and peep in.”
“Let’s go,” she said, getting out of the chair. “You’ll thank me someday.”
“I’m not walking around with your boobs hanging out like that,” Arvin said.
Terry looked down at her chest, sticking it out a little further to get his attention. “Get over it, Arvin. This is the beach. I’m covered.”
“I don’t want to see other men looking at you,” he said honestly, appraising her. “Here, put this on.” Throwing a T-shirt to her, Arvin nodded. “Humor me. Put it on.”
“You’re not making any sense, Arvin,” she said. “A minute ago, you wanted to watch our best friends having sex. Now, you don’t want other men to look at my tits. What’s going on?”
“Just put it on,” he said. “Come on. If we’re going to go let’s go, or I’m getting back under the window.”
“Jeesh, give it a rest, Arvin,” she said as he grabbed her hand and pulled her along. “What’s your hurry?”
“You wanted to walk on the beach, so let’s walk.”
Fortunately, Terry had long legs and Arvin wasn’t that much taller than she was, so keeping up with him at the pace he was striding wasn’t difficult. But it irritated her. “Arvin, slow the hell down,” she said. “This is not fun.”
“Sorry,” he said, trying to slow down.
A crowd of people up ahead caught their attention. They were standing in a cluster, pointing out to sea.
“What’s going on?” Terry asked, her curiosity roused.
They slowed down as they approached the group and followed the pointing fingers. Someone was in distress, a cluster of people crying for help.
“They got caught in the undertow,” someone yelled.
“Oh my God! Someone’s drowning!” Terry cried.
“I don’t swim,” Arvin said. “Does anyone swim?”
A young man stepped forward and got in the surf, swimming toward the person who was clearly struggling to keep his companion above the water.
“Let’s make a human chain!” Terry called out. “It will make it easier for him to bring the swimmer back to shore. I saw a group who did it on the news.”
People got into the water and formed a life-saving chain and before long, they reached the swimmers and the drowning man’s rescuer.
“He’s not breathing!” the rescuer cried out, out of breath.
They dragged him back to the beach and Arvin quickly jumped into action, assessing the victim. Arvin began doing rescue breathing while someone called 911.
“It’s odd there are no lifeguards around this stretch of beach,” someone said.
“It’s just this town,” another explained.
Soon, a Jeep pulled up to the group and two lifeguards got out with equipment. “Do you have oxygen?” Arvin asked.
“He’s an emergency room doctor,” Terry explained, and Arvin introduced himself.
They had oxygen and were able to begin administering it to the young man, really a boy, until the EMT’s got there.
Watching Arvin work, how calm he was, never hesitating to care for the stranger, Terry developed a new respect for him. He was a lifesaver for all his shortcomings.
They stood back as the EMTs loaded the stretcher into their vehicle, shook Arvin’s hand, and drove off to the hospital. The crowd dispersed.
“Do you think our friends are finished screwing yet?” Arvin asked. “I need a drink.”
“You are really something,” Terry said, taking his hand.
Without a word Arvin reached for her and they embraced on the beach. “I’m not sure he’s going to be okay,” Arvin said about the victim. “He wasn’t breathing on his own. I’ll call later on tonight and see if I can find anything out about his condition.”
“Let’s go back. At least I understand now why you were in such a hurry to get down there. Your subconscious must have known there was someone in trouble.”
“I don’t believe any of that crap,” he said. “I was pissed off because your boobs hung out of that suit and I’m just weird about it.”
“I know you hate when I say this, but it’s cultural. Women wear veils in your country. That’s what you’re used to.”
“I don’t believe that, either,” he said. “I’ve been here for ten years. I’m an American now. I have the citizenship papers to prove it.”
“Our upbringing plays an important role in who we become,” she said. “Don’t ignore it.”
“Are you done lecturing me? Because if you are, go inside and make me a drink. Vodka and tonic with lime.”
“Why don’t you go get it yourself?” she asked, needling him.
“Because I’m too upset about that kid, and I’m not ready to see Larry and Brenda yet,” he said.
“Oh, well that’s as good a reason as any, I guess,” she said.
Watching him get back onto his lounge chair, Terry opened the screen door and went inside. Larry and Brenda - obviously just out of the shower with wet hair, Brenda in one of Larry’s white T shirts and Larry with nothing on top but his impressive pecs - were standing at the kitchen counter looking at takeout menus.
“Where’s the liquor?” Terry asked.
Larry pointed to a cooler in the dining room. “We haven’t unpacked anything yet,” he said. “Where’s Arvin?”
“Out on the sand. He saved some drowning kid’s life a little while ago,” she said reverently. “He’s a little upset.”
“Wow, what a coincidence that an ER physician just happened upon a drowning victim!” Brenda said.
“Arvin doesn’t know how to swim,” Larry said, frowning while he looked out the window.
“Someone else saved him, but Arvin did CPR. The paramedics said he probably saved his life, but Arvin isn’t sure. He could probably use some love.”
“Are you making him a drink?” Brenda asked.
“I am.” Terry held a bottle up and read the label. “Vodka. This is it.”
Larry disappeared, going right to Arvin. “Buddy, you’re a hero outside of the ER, too.”
“No, I’m not. I don’t have a good feeling about the kid,” Arvin said, looking out over the ocean.
“You know you have to let that go, just like at work. You do what you’re trained to do and then let the next group come along and do their job. It was a kid? His family is lucky you were there.”
“I guess,” Arvin said, feeling a little better.
“Vodka and tonic with a twist,” Brenda said, handing Arvin a frosty glass, while Terry sat down.
“Where are our lounge chairs?” Larry asked, looking out over the beach.
“Oh, poop,” Brenda said, pointing to two objects in the distance. “I think those are our chairs floating to Atlantic City.”
After sunset, after Larry successfully rescued their lounge chairs from the surf, they ordered dinner in. Still in their bathing suits, sitting around the newspaper-covered table, eating crabs with their fingers and drinking beer, they were all in the moment, no worries about what had happened before, or what lay in wait for their future.
“I’m going for a midnight swim,” Larry said.
“No you’re not,” Brenda replied. “Didn’t you see Jaws? No, no way.”
“It’s been a long day, and I’m drunk,” Arvin said. “Let’s get some sleep and tomorrow we’ll have the entire day to swim.”
“Osoba psująca zabawę,” Larry said in Polish.
“That sounded dirty,” Arvin said.
“He called you a party pooper,” Brenda said, laughing. She grabbed Larry’s hand and pulled him up. “Come on, husband. Let’s go to bed.”
“You two go ahead. I’ll clean up this mess,” Terry said. “Thank God for newspaper.”
Arvin ineffectually helped her clean up their crab mess. “This is turning me on,” he whispered in her ear, slurring his words.
“Wow, I’m so lucky,” Terry said, turning her back to grimace.
But she needn’t have worried, because as soon as his head hit the pillow, he was out. Relieved, Terry curled up with her back to Arvin and tried to sleep, hoping she didn’t snore. They had never slept in the same bed for an entire night and she wasn’t comfortable. Finally, falling asleep, sometime after three o’clock, Arvin woke her up.
“Terry, listen. They’re at it again! That Larry is a machine,” he said.
She got up on her elbows, not hearing anything right away, and then there it was, a little squeaking of the bed, some mumbled words, and then moaning.
In the bed on the other side of the wall, Larry was up on his knees holding Brenda’s legs wide apart, his penis rock hard and inside her. “I’m going to tease you,” he said, and he moved ever so slightly in and out, just enough to drive himself a little nutty. Then he’d bang it in, grabbing her ass.
Brenda loved having his attention on her like this, and she moved along with him, slowly when he wanted, or wild. “Don’t come,” she cried, her voice echoing through the wall.
He liked when she said that, and he stopped moving, eyes shut tight so he couldn’t see her beautiful face. “Don’t move for a second then,” he asked of her.
But it was her turn to tease him, so she grabbed him with her muscles, those Kegels were paying off, and it pushed him over the edge. “I can’t hold off any longer,” he cried, and they went a little crazy banging each other, and the headboard against the wall.
“Jesus! What’s he doing to her?” Arvin cried.
It was too late for Terry; she’d buried her face in her pillow and was screaming laughing, to tears.
The next morning, the newlyweds oblivious to the commotion they’d caused, came into the kitchen to find Terry and Arvin sitting at the table drinking coffee.
“Did you sleep well?” Brenda asked.
“For about five minutes,” Terry said.
“I slept like the dead,” Larry said, handing Brenda a cup of coffee.
“I had a dream that someone was yodeling,” Arvin said frowning. “It was pretty disturbing.”
“You drank too much cheap beer,” Larry said.
“Then someone was building something, banging the walls with a hammer.”
Brenda looked at him quizzically, and then turned away, smiling.
“Too much hot sauce on the crabs last night,” Terry said, snickering.
“Was that it?” Arvin said, one eyebrow lifted. “It was definitely too much hot something.”
When he got a chance, he unmercifully teased Larry about the headboard banging the wall.
“Sorry, buddy. I was unaware of anything but my dick last night. Why were you listening to us when you had that lush body in bed next to you? You should have been concentrating on Terry.”
“After listening to you two, we weren’t in the mood I guess,” Arvin said. “Terry doesn’t really do it for me. I mean I’ll fuck her because she’s there, but there’s no lust or anything like that.”
“Arvin, you’re a pig,” Brenda cried. “I heard that.”
“Oops, well as long as Terry isn’t around,” he said apologetically. “You shouldn’t eavesdrop.”
“Can I excuse myself? You brought this on yourself, buddy,” Larry said, going for the house.
“Why is she even here? I’m ashamed I introduced you to her,” Brenda said, on the verge of tears.
“I thought you wanted me to bring her along, that’s why,” Arvin replied defensively. “Look, Brenda, Terry knows we’re just going to be friends. We’ve talked and we both agree we are only friends. If she can accept that, you should be able to.”
“Oh my God, you are so full of yourself! Why didn’t I know that about you? Larry is going to get an earful.”
“Please don’t involve him,” Arvin pleaded. “We have to work together.”
“And he should know you’re a dog,” Brenda said, giving in and breaking into an old fashioned crying jag.
Inside the house, Terry watched the interaction between Arvin and Brenda on the beach. “What’s going on out there?” she asked when Larry came in.
“Brenda’s trying to get Arvin to grow up,” he answered.
“Ugh, I hope it’s not about me,” she replied.
“Why do you keep seeing him if you know there’s no future?” Larry asked, sitting down across from her.
“Hmm. That’s a tough question. Brenda knows this, just an FYI. I want to make partner. That’s really my only goal. Arvin is nice to know. We have fun, as he says. There are no strings attached, so I really don’t have to spend a second worrying about him,” Terry said. “Now this is the way I feel today. Tomorrow, I might feel used and hurt. But right now, I can handle it.”
“You’re gorgeous. If you don’t mind me saying this, Terry, you have a smokin’ hot body and you’re smart and funny, too. You deserve a man who appreciates that. Let me introduce you to someone else,” Larry said. “I feel responsible.”
“Oh Larry, you’re not responsible at all. I’m a big girl. I should have stopped seeing Arvin after the first week. I ignored all the signs because I wanted it to work out between us.”
“Brenda will be upset,” he said.
“She already is,” Terry replied. “Trust me, when I’ve had enough of him, I’ll let some time pass before I see him again.”
Or until I get horny, she thought, disgusted with herself.
After a summer of almost bliss, Brenda and Larry adapted to the rhythm of a life together. Once the shore house rental ended, demanding jobs left little time for relationship building, so what they had acquired during their summer of love was cyclically built upon and then drained, two steps forward, one step back. Finding a mutual interest outside of sex and each other was more difficult until a plumbing mishap initiated the renovation of their Pine Street brownstone the following fall. The couple’s social life now centered on home improvement seminars. They added every tool and piece of carpentry equipment available to their pile of wedding gifts.
“If you had told me last year that my life would revolve around learning to put up subway tile in a powder room, I’d have laughed in your face. But all I can think about is getting home, throwing something into the oven for Larry’s dinner and getting my work clothes on so I can cut tile in the backyard.”
“Wow,” Terry said. “That’s amazing! They say those kinds of activities are what help keep marriage strong. If you don’t have something you’re both passionate about, the relationship gets stale or something like that.”
“The focus was our sex life. Now, if one of us feels like doing it, I just pull down my pants in the sawdust, bend over and we do it. On Larry’s day off, we might do it in bed. But the rest of the time, we just get satisfied and move on. I hope that’s okay.”
“Whatever you two are doing seems to be working fine,” Terry said. “Arvin told me Larry has never been happier. I can see with my own eyes that you’ve found your pace with Larry. That’s so wonderful.”
“So, you’re seeing Arvin again,” Brenda said smiling.
“We’re friends. Just friends. He’s so much fun, I can’t not see him. He stood me up again last summer, and since then we don’t make dates, ever. Once in a while he might say let’s do so and so, but I put the kibosh on it right away. I’ll go out of my way to see him once a month or so. It’s enough to keep me from feeling like a complete eunuch.”
“Oh, Terry, I’m so sorry,” Brenda said, mortified for her friend. “How did it come to this?”
“No one is interested in dating me,” she answered, shrugging her shoulders. “You don’t have to deny it. I accept it. I want to make partner. I’ve been here a year and everything I’ve read said ten years at least before most firms will even consider a partnership. So that’s my focus.”
“My focus was passing the bar and getting a job and I did both and still found Larry. It will happen when you least expect it,” Brenda said, meaning it.
“I really don’t care,” Terry said, lying. “I don’t think it will happen for me.”
“I guess I’d better get back to work. Vince said I’m going to court with you tomorrow. I’ll be real lawyer! Yippee.”
“Brenda, you’ll be fine, I promise,” Terry said.
“I know it. But I’d rather be tiling my bathroom,” she replied.
At five, Brenda said goodbye, grabbed her coat and headed for home, a few blocks’ walk. She stopped at the falafel truck and got four different entrees for dinner; Larry was bound to like one of them. Once home, she put the bags of food in the refrigerator and ran upstairs to their bedroom to put her work clothes on: ripped-up jeans, a Saint Joseph’s University sweatshirt, and her hair tucked up under one of Larry’s baseball caps.
For the next hour and a half, she mindlessly cut tile, matching it to the exact size on Larry’s perfectly executed diagram. She numbered the backs of the tiles to the corresponding numbers on the diagram. Once they were all cut, she’d take them into the house and begin the tiling process.
“Hey, beautiful. What are you doing out here?”
Turning the saw off first, she looked up to see handsome Larry on the back porch, smiling down at her.
“Wow, how do I rate?” she asked. “You are so handsome.”
“You’ve got it wrong,” he said. “I just came home to find a beautiful woman cutting tile in my backyard. It doesn’t get any better than this.”
“I’m almost done,” she said. “I’ll box this up and be right in.”
He jumped off the porch and came to help her, stretching over to kiss her. They boxed up the cut tile pieces and Larry carried them into the house.
“I waited all day to do this,” she said. “I couldn’t wait to get home.”
“Me too!” Larry replied. “We’ll be done with the powder room by this weekend. I’m going to hire someone to do the drywall in the living room.”
“Wow, that’s a great idea,” she said, relieved. “I keep reading how difficult it is.”
“Well, forget it. We can do the creative stuff, but drywall can go to the experts. I’m afraid of heights anyway.”
“Ha! Me too,” she said. “Middle Eastern for dinner tonight.”
“From the truck?”
“Yep,” she said. “We’ll both smell like cumin now.”
Leaning over, he gave her kiss. “I’ll put the tile in the powder room and change my clothes. I’m going to start putting it on the wall tonight.”
“Oh honey, it’s so late. Aren’t you tired?” Brenda asked.
“I’m off tomorrow,” he said. “So the night is ours.”
“Well, it’s technically yours because I have court tomorrow, so I’d better be in bed by eleven.”
“You’re going to court?”
“Yep. Vince told me today I’m going to start going with Terry, and she has jury selection tomorrow. It’s about time, don’t you think?” Brenda asked, watching him.
“I don’t think anything,” he said. “You know how I feel about it. If you want to clerk for the rest of your life, that’s okay with me. If we have kids it might actually make it a little easier for you.”
She didn’t want to start that conversation at eight at night, so she told him to change and she’d heat dinner.
Quickly getting out a linen tablecloth that had been a wedding gift and spreading it over the table, she didn’t see any reason to save the stuff for good. Good was now. Uncorking a bottle of wine next, she poured half glasses, not wanting Larry to get too hammered before his tiling adventure. She was a stickler about it, using spacers and getting everything exactly lined up. Larry was more artistic. Mosaic would be a good medium for him, but not subway tile in the powder room.
They ate their street food in the small dining space overlooking their neighbor’s lighted fishpond, making small talk and laughing together. “This is perfect,” Larry said, leaning back in his chair. “Thank you so much for the relaxing meal.”
Reaching for her hand, he brought it to his lips and kissed the back of it. The simple gesture was so intimate, it seemed to make up for all the recent slights and omissions they’d suffered upon their marriage. She couldn’t remember him ever kissing her hand, and she closed her eyes to try to remember it.
“Why are your eyes closed?” he whispered, coming in closer to kiss her neck.
“I’m memorizing every detail of this moment,” she said. “When you came home tonight and stood on the porch, you were so handsome, it jolted me. I’m married to you, Larry Babula; I don’t ever want to take that for granted.”
“I don’t feel taken for granted at all,” he said. “I come home every night to a beautiful woman who works right alongside me to achieve our dream.”
“What is our dream?” she asked, looking into his eyes. “We’ve never really talked about the future.”
“We’re making our dreams unfold as we work,” he said. “We set high professional goals for ourselves. Now we’re building our dream home.”
“Thank God for a rotting sewage pipe or we’d never have known we wanted to do this,” she said.
“Hey, I think about it all the time! We could have bought a fixer-upper and saved a ton of money. But that’s okay. Are you okay with the way it turned out?”
“Larry, I’m fine with it, truly. It’s all good. I keep pinching myself to see if it’s really true. I’m a lawyer, and I married a doctor. That sounds like a corny script.”
“And we’re both hot,” he teased.
Sliding out of her seat, Brenda got on his lap, threading her arms around him, kissing his neck, and then his ear, his purposeful five-o’clock shadow a little heavier because of the hour.
“Your beard is tickling me,” she said, and he stuck his bristle-covered chin out at her, moving it up and down.
“You know what I’d like to be doing right now, don’t you?” he asked, sticking his tongue out at her.
Blushing, Brenda giggled and buried her face in his neck. “I’ll have to shower,” she said shyly.
“Let’s shower together,” he said, pushing her off his lap. “Come on beautiful, I’m hot now and it’s your fault.”
“Oh my God,” she said. “If Sister Mary could see me now.”
“Or Sister Angela,” Larry said. “She’d beat the crap out of me with a ruler if she knew.”
Holding Brenda’s hand, Larry led her up the stairs, through their bedroom and into the bathroom.
“Do you want me to do a striptease?” she asked.
“No. I’ll take them off.” He pulled her college sweatshirt over her head. “Aw, you have your lacy bra on,” he said.
“Always,” she replied, standing with her arms out at her sides.
Unbuttoning and unzipping her jeans, he pulled them down with her underpants in one movement. He’d let her little blond bush grow back and it was staring him in the eye as he pulled the pant legs off her while Brenda leaned on him.
“I’m sorry I made you shave,” he said, throwing her pants to the side.
“You shaved it,” she said.
“Well, whatever,” he said. “I’m sorry. It’s very nice.”
After he undressed, she reached for him, cradling his balls in the palm of her hand, fondling them the way she knew he liked. His erection was big and hard, and the more she touched him the more he responded. “Let’s get into the shower before I throw you on the floor right now,” he said in a husky voice.
They stepped in and the warm water felt so good, she put her head under it and let it saturate her hair.
“You’re so beautiful,” Larry said, watching her.
They took turns washing each other’s bodies, concentrating on making the other feel wonderful and it worked. Brenda didn’t always have an orgasm during intercourse, but that night she did because he had her ready, ready for him.
Seven o’clock the next morning came too early. “Oh, why did I drink that last glass of wine?”
“Stay home,” Larry moaned, reaching out for her. “Call out sick.”
“I can’t. Remember? I have court with Terry today.”
He put the pillow over his head. If she wasn’t staying home, there was no reason to have his sleep disturbed.
The day went by quickly for both of them; court was fine, just like Terry said it would, giving Brenda a more involved role in the proceedings.
Larry got up at eight and promptly left to run errands; grocery shopping, picking up dry cleaning for Brenda, and having coffee with a retired neighbor also in the midst of a brownstone renovation.
By five thirty, Brenda reached the house, and was inside, calling for Larry. She went into the kitchen and looked out into the backyard to see if he was cutting tiles and her heart almost stopped. The sensation was a cliché, but it was so real, she gasped for breath. Standing in the yard, talking to Larry was Bill Lassen, one of her clients from Saint Joseph’s.
Thinking fast, if he outed her to Larry, she’d deny it to the death. Even if he brought ten more men around who could testify on his behalf, she’d stick to her story. She couldn’t imagine how he found her. She’d pretended to lose her phone so she could get a new number, and no one but her family knew her address. The conversation appeared congenial; Larry was laughing and listening and Bill was gesturing with his hands like she remembered him doing in their brief encounters.
The minutes ticked by and she had to do something; go out there or text Larry and tell him to come inside, anything.
Finally, she went out the back door. The sound alerted the men and they looked up.
“Hey Brenda, surprise!” Bill said, running over to hug her. “I tried calling you but I figured you got the number changed when some guy named Pierre answered the phone.”
“I lost my phone,” she said. “How’d you find me?”
“Your mom! I remembered where you lived, but she couldn’t remember your new phone number so she gave me your address instead.”
“Thanks Mom,” she mumbled.
“I was hoping you could get away this evening for drinks and dinner,” Bill said.
“What?” she asked, looking over at Larry, who smirked, rubbing his chin and looking at her from the corner of his eye.
“Come out with me tonight,” he said. “I’ve really missed you. We were so good together. I’ve already asked your dad and he said it was up to you.”
“My dad? Bill, this is my husband, Dr. Larry Babula.”
“Your husband? No way,” Bill said, flushing. “Your mom said your father was here doing some tile work.”
“He’d just left before Bill got here,” Larry said.
“Bill, you know my dad. Professor Lipinski? You had him for the freshman math requirement.”
Looking from Larry to Brenda and back again, the man was clearly appalled and embarrassed.
“Sir, I’m so sorry,” Bill said.
“I’m only fifteen years older than you are, so cut with the sir shit,” Larry said.
“Well, Brenda, I’m sorry to you then. That was awful of me. Goodbye,” he said, quickly leaving the yard, calling, “I’m sorry again,” over his shoulder.
“I’m going to kill my mother,” she said after he’d left.
“It’s no big deal,” Larry said. “The whole time he was talking, I was thinking of the weekly striptease I get on my day off.”
“Aren’t you spent from last night? That was some hot sex,” she said, feeling her way, aware of a wall slowly going up between them. “I actually had trouble walking today.”
“Ha! You didn’t,” he said.
“No, not really, but my muscles are sore. So was my dad really here?”
“He was. I’ll show you the powder room. He did the small pieces around the light fixture. I couldn’t cut them without splintering them, so he brought a pair of nippers over and sized them all by hand. The man is an artisan.”
Leading her into the finished powder room, Larry was so proud, seeming to take in the accolades from his wife.
“You deserve a good show after all your work,” she said, beckoning him to follow her up the stairs.
“Before we go up, I need to ask you a question,” Larry said, resisting her.
“Oh? Go ahead,” she replied, her heart beating a staccato rhythm.
“This Bill guy. He seemed pretty familiar with you even thinking I was your father. It felt a little bold.”
“I don’t know what he was thinking,” Brenda answered. “To go to my mom’s like that and then come to my house? We never kept in touch while I was in law school.”
“Did you date him?” Larry asked.
It was the first time her past had ever been brought up. Aside from never being married, neither one had questioned each other. It just didn’t seem relevant. Brenda wondered what had changed. Now was the critical moment. If she lied to him, well, she was lying. But if she told the truth, he might still construe it as her being untrustworthy. How truthful did she need to be?
“We did date in college. Nothing serious at all. He was not even someone I would categorize as a close friend. He might have hinted around that he was interested in more, but certainly not enough to hunt me down four years after graduation. I hope he’s not going to make a nuisance of himself.”
“He didn’t seem like he was going to be a problem,” Larry said.
“I’m surprised you’re interested,” Brenda admitted.
“Only because the guy showed up on our doorstep,” he said. “I wondered if you’d seen him since we got married.”
“Never,” she said, throwing herself in his arms. “I’ll never betray you, Larry. I’m so lucky to have a guy like you. I would never jeopardize it, ever.
“Besides, I don’t want to go to hell.”
“Ha! I have Catholicism to thank for a loyal wife,” Larry said, contritely.
“Well, more than that, but a little concern for my soul is helpful. Besides, who could ever love me like you do? I know what I’ve got.”
“Show me what you’ve got,” he said when they reached the bedroom. He pushed her to the center of the room and lay on the bed to watch Brenda undress.
Her striptease never varied; he told her what to do and she did it. Tonight, he didn’t waste any time when she was done. “Leave your stockings and garter belt on,” he said. “I want to fuck you wearing them.”
She walked to the bed and lay down, sliding under him. He pried her legs apart with his knee and got between her legs. “Wrap your legs around my back,” he said.
He grabbed his penis and ran it up and down her to get it wet and then without the usual gentle care, he pushed up against her, not rough exactly, but different. With his eyes closed, he began to move, banging from side to side, almost like he was purposely avoiding her clitoris. She held on to his shoulders while he was moving, wondering where this behavior was coming from, but certain it had something to do with the unexpected visit that afternoon.
He came quickly, pressing his lips together, not a sound made, and then fell over on the bed next to her. She waited, hurt, feeling his disconnect immediately.
When his breathing slowed down, he got up off the bed and went into the bathroom, no inquiries about her level of satisfaction. She looked for her underpants and slipped them on when he came back in. Standing in front of him, naked except for her panties and garter belt, he looked at her, then rubbed his chin in the way he had before he was about to say something critical.
“I’ve been thinking about our chat regarding augmentation surgery,” he said, looking at her breasts with a look on his face. “Did you give it any more thought?”
“Ah, no, Larry, I did not.” Hurt feelings segued to anger.
“Well, I’m asking you to think about it,” he said with an edge.
“Why?” she asked, knowing, but forcing him to acknowledge his selfishness.
“Because I’d like you to have bigger breasts,” he admitted. “I’m trying to be honest with you.”
Reaching for the shirt she’d worn to work that day, she slipped her arms in and plunked down on the side of the bed. This was terrain she was not familiar traversing with Larry, a mean, vindictive element she’d never seen before. Wisdom told her to let him have the last word, not to argue, or get defensive, or whine.
“Thank you for being honest,” she said.
“Well, what do you think?” he asked, a challenging note to his voice.
“Think? I’ll think about what you’re asking me to do,” she said, dying to respond, I think you should consider getting a penile lengthening procedure while you’re at it, but she didn’t really feel that way. It would simply be a childish response to his cruelty and she imagined if she ever made a comment about the length of his penis, which was more than adequate, it would have lifelong consequences.
“How long are you going to think about it?” he asked.
“Is there a deadline?” she asked.
“I talked to a plastic surgeon at work and he can see you this week,” he answered.
“You talked to one of your colleagues about the size of my breasts? No way,” she said, appalled. “You’re joking.”
“I’m dead serious,” he said. “He’ll fill a vacancy he has and it will save us about half the price.”
“Larry, I’m not going to your buddy to have my tits made larger. Forget it.”
She picked her clothes up off the floor and walked to the closet to hang them up, her jaw set, keeping her face as neutral as possible. Dreading it, she could feel him following behind her. He wasn’t finished yet.
“Brenda -”
“Forget it, Larry. No. I allow you to shave my asshole because you don’t like hair back there. I wear the clothes you like, fix my hair to please you, don’t show my teeth when I smile. I’m not getting a breast augmentation because your buddy has a vacancy. No.”
Trying for the bathroom next, surely he wouldn’t follow her in there, but he put his hand up to block her from shutting the door.
“There’s something you need to level with me about,” he said. “Bill wasn’t the first guy to come around. I ran into someone else, a tall, goofy guy who was on his way to see you at your apartment when we still lived in University City.”
“Oh, I see. You decided to let your concern build up so you could spring it on me all at once,” she said.
“It didn’t make any sense until now,” he said. “I wish I could remember every word the guy said, but it didn’t take much imagination what he was there for.”
“What was he there for?” she asked, her teeth chattering in fear.
“He assumed I was there for the same thing. ‘You here to see Brenda?’ he asked. ‘Yep,’ I said. ‘She still hooking up then? I haven’t seen her since undergrad but I heard she was here.’”
Pushing him away with her hand, Brenda squeezed past him and returned to the bedroom. “Sit down Larry,” she said, pointing to the bed, and he complied. “I’ll tell you everything. But first, I want you to know that since I graduated, I haven’t had a date with anyone but you. You can believe that or not.
“When I was in college, I turned tricks,” she said defiantly. “It wasn’t with hundreds of students, but it was with enough that I was able to save up most of the money I needed for law school.”
“You went to Penn Law… that’s over a hundred thousand for three years.”
“Not quite, Larry. I had a substantial scholarship. Anyway, if you want to punish me for what I did before we even knew each other, go for it. But I’m telling you right now, I’ll leave you if it’s an issue. I don’t need the one person on earth who is supposed to love me unconditionally to judge me.”
“I’m not judging you,” he said. “It’s a matter of character. Did you really think I’d never find out?”
“Well, yes, I guess I hoped that. It’s not something I’m proud of. I didn’t do it because I wanted to have sex constantly with men who didn’t love me. I needed the money and it was the easiest way to make it. Remember, I also waited tables.”
“I need to get out for a while,” he said, getting up from the bed and moving toward the staircase. “Do you need to tell me anything else?”
“Not that I can think of,” she said. “Isn’t that enough?”
He left without replying, leaving a huge void in the room. She looked around, at the carpet samples in the corner and the fabric samples pinned to the wall next to the window. Everything they had done suddenly seemed like a huge waste of their time. Why fix up a house for two people who hardly knew each other?
Running down the steps after Larry, she caught him before he was out the door. “I’m not the same woman,” she called out. “That young girl was trying to escape her situation, that’s all. It didn’t mean anything to her, and it doesn’t mean anything to me now. We’re just getting to know each other, Larry. Give me another chance, please?”
“Can I take it under consideration?” he asked.
“Of course,” she said. “I just didn’t want you to leave here thinking I don’t love you or that I don’t care what you think of me. I’m completely ashamed.”
“I don’t want you to feel shame,” he said, shutting the door. “I just need to sort out my feelings about it. My imagination has taken flight.”
“Do you want to regale me with tales of your youth?” she said. “I’m sure you weren’t a virgin when we met.”
He snickered. “No, that’s true,” he said. “And I have to admit, I have paid women for sex.”
That news made her a little ill, and she wondered how him paying for it was much different. “You don’t have to tell me your history,” she said. “I don’t really care, I swear to you.”
But there was a little gleam in his eye, like he might want to tell her a thing or two to even up the score, and as far as she was concerned, it wasn’t going to happen, even if she had to lock herself in the bathroom. Then, to clear up any doubts, he said it.
“I’d like to tell you about the women I’ve been with,” he said. “I was with a famous model.”
He mentioned the name of a well-known Polish underwear model. Larry went on to describe her body in detail to Brenda, what it was like to have her long legs around his waist, how her breasts would bounce when she fucked him. He even said her pussy smelled like lemons.
Letting him talk, trying to shut him out but failing, her sense of well-being rapidly diminished as he unloaded on her, trying to make her jealous, and for a moment, she wondered if she even loved him. It seemed impossible that this was the same man who had cried at the altar on their wedding day.
“I’m so happy for you,” she said, sarcastically. “I’m sorry I stopped you from leaving.”
He turned and slammed out of the house. It was definitely a losing situation, and the sooner she just let it go and let him do what he had to do, the better it would be. She didn’t realize that heartbreak might be part of the marriage cycle for her. It wasn’t going to be all blissful or even working side by side. Occasionally, there might be a wall between them. It was just life.
Looking out the window, she saw him going into the corner pub. It was a place they’d gone to together in the past, but a little too greasy for Brenda’s taste. She hoped there wouldn’t be any Polish speaking babes in there tonight.
Trudging back up the stairs, she decided to get into her PJs and call Terry. Terry always had a word of wisdom for Brenda.
Chapter 9
Sitting at the greasy bar at Polktown Pub, Larry Babula looked into his glass of ale hoping for answers to life. He had everything going for him, but nothing could have prepared him for the rigors of marriage. Devastating confessions aside, living with Brenda had been fairly easy up to a point. Disappointingly, domesticity was not Brenda’s forte, a comfort he’d hoped marriage would provide. The first time they had argued about it, he was shocked at her response. She hadn’t done something he’d expected her to do and she’d looked at him in amazement when he confronted her.
“Hey, I’m not your mother. You want your clothes folded and put away; you’d better do it yourself or hire someone, Larry.”
“You wash the clothes,” he said. “I thought the natural next step is to fold them and put them away.”
“I wash the clothes as a courtesy to you because I have to wash my own clothes. But beyond that, you’re on your own. I work full time, as you know and taking over every chore in this house is not my intention. You want someone to take care of you, you’d better…” and here they chimed in together – “hire someone.”
“Rough night?”
Larry looked up into the most earnest eyes he’d ever seen. “You could say that. I had a fight with my wife.”
“I’m not married myself,” the bartender said. “But what I hear from patrons is that marriage is constant work. If you look away for too long, something is bound to pop up that needs fixing.”
“How much of a person’s past is important in a relationship?” he asked, staring off. “I mean, what if someone isn’t who you thought they were?”
“Like a transsexual?” she asked, and he burst out laughing.
“No, nothing like that,” he replied.
“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.