Читать книгу The Secret Lives Of Housewives - Joan Elizabeth Lloyd - Страница 9

Nice women, Angie thought as she climbed into her five-year-old Ford and thought, for the hundredth time, how much she and Tony needed a larger car. She’d been watching ads on TV and, knowing that the babies’ two car seats took up the entire back, almost drooled at the seven-passenger vans. Of course, with only two children, she and Tony could manage but if there were more, well…She’d always wanted lots of kids, and when she got pregnant, she’d dreamed of three or four, spaced a convenient two or three years apart. Now, with the twins, she wasn’t so sure she ever wanted to see another diaper, but they were so adorable. She knew she was a good mother and she loved the job. In a year or two they might be ready for more kids, one at a time. But even with only the twins a bigger car would certainly help.

When she’d discussed a new car with Tony, he’d told her flatly that, with the extra expenses of two babies, the chances of affording even a late-model used car, much less an expensive new van, were slim to none. “Angie, baby, you know I can’t do it on my salary, even with my second job.” Tony taught English in a high school in New York City, and during the summer and on weekends during the rest of the year, he worked with his brothers doing electrical contracting. He wanted to get some time to work during the week but his commute to the Bronx got him home too late to get in any meaningful amount of time. “We’ll just have to keep the Ford running and make do with less room.” When Angie looked totally defeated, he’d added, “Maybe we can ask our folks for help. Eventually.”

Angie sighed, put the car in gear, and, waving to the women she’d just left, drove slowly out of the community center’s parking lot. What nice women, she thought again. Coffee at the diner next week. God, it would be so great to have someone to talk to who didn’t focus on kids. She talked to her folks and Tony’s frequently, but they seldom even asked how she was. “How are my babies?” her mom would ask. My babies. Like they were hers. Maybe she could come over sometime and actually help take care of them instead of sipping coffee and talking baby talk to them. Stop it, she told herself. Mom is what she is. Be a good sport and take her as she is.

“Are the twins still taking two naps a day?” Mary Cariri, Tony’s mother, would ask. Although Tony’s folks had moved to North Carolina, Mary called almost every day for an update. Often she called at the worst minute, but Angie tried to talk to her at some length anyway, while juggling the babies, bottles, and dirty laundry. “Tell me about them. Any sign of them walking?”

When did I stop being a person, too? Angie wondered. Even for Tony.

She flipped on the car radio and tried to relax as soft music filled the passenger compartment. She used her yoga breathing and focused on the tall oaks and pines that lined the quiet streets of East Hudson. Summer flowers were in full bloom in front of well-maintained houses. Now that the clouds had passed and the sun shone brightly, she knew that all the neighborhood children would be outside playing in their yards: toddlers with balls and brightly colored plastic toys, digging in sandboxes or splashing around in small inflatable wading pools, older children on bikes or skateboards or shooting baskets, parents sitting together and sipping iced tea. God, I can’t wait until the twins don’t need me every waking moment. Maybe she could make some friends, too, like those women she’d been with briefly after class that morning.

She turned onto Judy Lane, a typical suburban street with paved sidewalks and impossibly green lawns. Her split level was halfway down the street, and as she approached, she thought about Tony, waiting for her. She let her mind drift into her favorite fantasy. He’d be at the door to greet her. She could see it.

“I’m so glad you’re home,” he’d say. “I missed you so much.” His kiss would be warm and deep, his hands stroking her back, wandering down to her cheeks.

“I missed you, too,” she’d say as she came up for air. His kisses always made her breathless.

“The babies are still asleep,” he’d whisper. “Come into the bedroom with me.”

He’d draw her into their room, where the sun shone through windows open to the soft summer breeze. He’d slowly remove her clothes and stroke each part of her body as it was revealed. His soft hands on her shoulders, his lips on her neck would heat her blood and increase her heart rate. Then his mouth would find her breast and he’d bite lightly on her already erect nipple. Shards of pleasure would arrow to her groin, making her swell and moisten.

Soon his fingers would slide between her thighs and stroke her hungry body. God, how she loved the feel of him opening her, penetrating her. He’d tell her how she aroused him, how he wanted her and only her.

They’d be on the bed now, naked, his large cock sliding into her soaked body, filling her, then teasing her by pulling out. In and out, until she was writhing beneath him. They’d climax together, then doze.

She returned to reality as she pulled into the driveway of their small, three-bedroom house and turned off the engine. She remembered when the Ford had fit into the small garage, but now the space was filled with baby stuff: a second high chair—they’d have to find room for it in the house somewhere now that the twins were feeding themselves—a twin stroller, two toddler tricycles and two wagons, portable cribs for trips to who-knew-where, boxes of hand-me-down clothes from caring neighbors, and enough other stuff that she’d actually lost track of what was in some of the cartons.

Angie climbed out of the car and walked past the few straggling salvia and zinnias left from her flurry to put growing things around the house one afternoon several months ago. She’d spent two hours with the baby monitor beside her while the twins were sleeping and it had looked really good for quite a while. Now, however, with her lack of time for care or water, most of the plants had wilted in the summer heat. Maybe this morning’s rain would perk them up.

She opened the front door and walked into the small entryway. “I’m home,” she said softly, hoping the twins were still asleep. She reached down and picked up Gizmo, their six-year-old chocolate brown miniature poodle, so he wouldn’t bark and wake the babies. Reflexively, she scratched him behind his ears as he wriggled joyfully in her arms.

The living room was its usual shambles, filled with baby toys, books, blankets, a pile of clothing from the wash she hadn’t had time to fold yet. A pile of diapers and a box of baby wipes lay on the coffee table on top of a pile of art books she’d bought to add color to the room. The babies’ bottles from their pre-nap feeding still sat on one end table. Beneath it all was the comfortable, contemporary furniture she and Tony had bought when they were first married, when they had two incomes and could afford to buy pretty much what they wanted. They’d actually decorated, poring over magazines and haunting furniture stores, local art shows, and craft fairs. She breathed in the standard smell of baby lotion, formula, and just a hint of baby poop.

She glanced into the kitchen, at the sink filled with dishes that needed to be stuffed into the dishwasher and several bowls on the tray of the twins’ single high chair. Again she realized that they needed to find room for the second one. Where could it go? she mused. The kitchen was too small for two high chairs and the dining area carpet was still in pretty good condition. For the moment she was feeding one baby in her arms, while the other sat in the chair, but that wouldn’t work for long. Maybe they could put a throw rug down in the dining area or just use a sheet of plastic.

“Hi, hon,” Tony mumbled, not looking up from the computer game he was playing. “MaryLee fussed a bit about an hour ago but then went right back to sleep. Brandon, as always, is out like a rock.”

Tony. She loved him, she really did. He was warm and caring with long, slightly shaggy dark hair and soft brown eyes. He wasn’t exactly gorgeous but even now, when her libido was almost nonexistent, his sexy body, sensual face, bedroom eyes, and tight, jeans-encased butt still stirred her.

“That’s great,” Angie said, sighing as she thought about the ordeal when they woke: changing diapers then feeding a pair of hungry babies. Fortunately they were exceptionally good children, seldom cranky even at mealtimes.

“Did you get the beer?” Tony asked, still using his controller to shoot at enemies. As explosions flashed on the screen Angie was pleased that he had at least turned the sound off.

“Oh, baby, I’m sorry,” Angie said. “I completely forgot to stop at the store. I got to talking to a few of the women from the class and it just slipped my mind.” She turned and started toward the door.

“Don’t bother,” Tony said, pushing the pause button. “I’ll go.”

“Why don’t you wait until we’re through with the babies and then I’ll go? Or we can put the kids in the car and both go. I’ve got the list right here.” She fumbled in her pocketbook and found the scrap of paper she’d scrawled on.

“That’s okay. Don’t trouble yourself. I’ll do it.” He grabbed the car keys from Angie’s hand.

Right. You’ll find any way you can to get out of baby duty. Can’t you just once volunteer to take the babies off my hands? But she sighed and said, “Okay, babe. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

“Actually this works out really well. Jordanna bought a new sound system and I told her I’d help install and wire it up for her. I’ll just stop there on my way home.”

Jordanna. Tony’s ex-wife, who couldn’t seem to stay totally ex. On one hand, Angie was glad they had a good relationship. So many divorced couples were so hateful to each other. But why did they have to be so friendly? Gorgeous Jordanna with her corporate job and high five-figure income. Never-had-a-kid Jordanna with no stretch marks and perky breasts. Clever Jordanna with her sneaky ways to keep Tony close. Jordanna, who’d be there to pick up the pieces should things go wrong with Tony’s marriage to poor little Angie.

Angie bit back an angry reply. It really was good that they got along. Wasn’t it? Damn them both. Tony would spend a few hours with the lovely, needy Jordanna and by the time he arrived home, the babies would be changed and fed and he’d be relaxed with his ego bursting. She took a deep breath. Get along. Be a good sport. Don’t make problems where you don’t have to. “Whatever. Say hello to Jordanna for me,” she said. And feed her a cyanide cocktail for me, too.

She heard the front door close behind her husband and chastised herself for her negative thinking. She wandered into the kitchen, spread a thick layer of peanut butter on a slice of bread, and folded it over. Chewing, she poured baby cereal into a bowl and pulled a jar of strained apricots out of the closet. Empty baby bottles covered the back of the kitchen counter and she scooped powdered formula into two of them. Brandon gets the lap this time, she remembered, and MaryLee gets the high chair. At least they weren’t breast-feeding any more. What a relief it would be when they held their own bottles. She’d read that ten-month-olds should be doing that, but hers seemed to be conspiring to give her extra work.

Stuffing the last bite of her sandwich into her mouth, Angie heard the first slight rustle through the baby monitor. If the twins woke slowly, as they usually did, she’d have about ten minutes to change out of her sweaty clothes and then it would be “Twins Time!”