Читать книгу A Summer in Sonoma - Робин Карр, Robyn Carr - Страница 7

Julie stopped off in the ladies’ room after lunch before leaving the restaurant. Right before she scrolled off some toilet paper, she prayed, Oh, God, let there be blood! But alas, it was what she knew it would be. She flushed and exited the stall. She met eyes in the mirror with Chelsea.

“Well,” Chelsea said, beaming. “We just keep crossing paths.”

They gave each other little cheek presses. “What are you doing here?” Julie asked.

“Lunch after a sales meeting,” she said. “Our dealership is just a few blocks away.”

“That’s right—you’re selling cars now,” Julie said.

“Well,” Chelsea said, laughing indulgently, “Hummers. And I’m a sales manager. My dealership won a couple of awards recently.”

Julie noticed that Chelsea wore a very attractive suit and her shoes were to die for. Julie no longer knew anything about brands—she’d been picking up her duds at Target when she had money to spare—but she knew they were tres expensive. Julie wore a sundress and sandals, each about three years old, the same thing she might wear for a trip to the grocery store. She felt as if she’d been thrown together out of a thrift shop. “Aren’t they kind of hard to sell these days? Hummers?”

“Nah,” Chelsea said, shaking her head dismissively. “Even in a down economy, we move a lot of them. People just love them. They think of it as a symbol of affluence—the bigger the better.”

“With gas prices so high?” Julie asked, noting all the little extras about Chelsea—manicured nails, shaped and waxed brows, highlighted curls, rich-looking makeup that appeared almost professional.

“I don’t think our sales have even dropped. What are you doing here today?”

“Lunch with the girls,” she said with a shrug. “It isn’t very often we can drag Beth out.”

“Oh. Sure. You’re looking very smart today,” Chelsea said. “Cool and comfortable and pretty.”

Julie immediately felt as if Chelsea was throwing her a bone. She said, “Thanks, that’s nice of you to say. I just grabbed this at Costco.” Then she thought, Why did I have to say that? Chelsea’s purse was worth Julie’s weekly household allowance. “Why did you leave that company you worked for before? Insurance, wasn’t it?”

“Health care,” she said, lifting a brow. “It was quite a while ago, actually. I’m just following the money, Jules. Health care is good, but there are a lot of business degrees in there humping for management. This is better.”

“Wasn’t it a hard transition? They don’t seem to have much in common…”

“On the surface, maybe. In the end, business is business. When I thought I needed a change, I started working weekends at the dealership, and when I’d made enough money to see the potential, I quit Health South and went full-time. Do you have any idea what the commission is on a Hummer? But what I’m really interested in is upper management, eventually a dealership.”

“A Hummer dealership? At twenty-nine?”

“It’s not going to happen next week,” Chelsea said with a laugh. “Listen, one of these times when you girls get together for lunch, give me a call, huh?”

“Sure,” Julie said, thinking, Never gonna happen. “Today was pretty last-minute. I don’t think it was even planned till ten this morning…”

“I’m flexible,” she said. “I have to run. The owner is waiting.”

“Sure, go ahead,” Julie said, busying herself at the sink. “Take it easy.” She washed her hands while the door closed behind Chelsea. All that kiss-kiss-call-me bullshit, she thought. They’d stopped fighting like cats in a sack the year after graduation, but little else had changed. Chelsea had been a cheerleader, too. She’d managed to stay friendly with Marty, but Chelsea had dated Billy during one of his rare and brief breakups with Julie, which had lost her any chance of being friends with Julie. Because of that, Cassie wrote her off. Beth had never cared about all that drama. And to this day Chelsea’s eyes lit up when she saw Billy. It made Julie furious.

But there was no question that Chelsea had made good. She, like Billy, had a degree in education. If it weren’t for the fact that Chelsea had gone to college full-time while Billy picked up night classes whenever he could, Julie would suspect her of following him into that major. Billy had gravitated toward industrial arts while Chelsea was elementary education. Neither of them had ever worked as teachers.

Like her or not, what Chelsea said got Julie thinking. Why wasn’t Billy doing something like that? Finding a field he could work in part-time, looking for a better opportunity, instead of cutting wood and countertops for extra money? Why wasn’t Billy following the money?

When she left the restaurant, she saw Beth and Cassie standing by Beth’s car, talking, probably saying goodbye. She gave them a wave and got in her car. She slipped the key in and thought, If it doesn’t start, I’ll sue those people at the auto supply. But it started. She glanced at the odometer—a hundred and four thousand miles and change.

After lunch with the girls, Cassie cornered Beth at her car for a minute. “Are you serious about that? Having a baby without a husband?”

“If I wanted a baby and didn’t have a husband on the agenda, I would do it,” Beth said. “I don’t know why everything you want out of life has to be put on hold because the right man hasn’t turned up.”

“Huh. That never occurred to me,” Cassie said. “But, Beth, you had a real serious guy back in med school. Couple of years—you lived together…”

“Believe me, I’d rather have a child without a husband than go through something like that again. That ended so badly. A lot of hard feelings. Makes me pretty suspicious of relationships…”

“Yeah, that was horrible,” Cassie said. “Well, I know people do it all the time—have children even though they’re single. But it seems like they’re always celebrities or millionaires, not ordinary people. Not working women.”

Beth smiled. “Those celebrities—they probably work harder than you and I.”

“Maybe I should think about that. I want a family, but I always thought…”

“Listen, Cassie, you and I might be coming at the subject from different perspectives. I’m not sure I’m even interested in having a husband. I’m so rigid, so set in my ways. So completely selfish. A problem like Marty has with Joe might seem small, but it would seriously make me want to kill him. But with you—isn’t it really a husband you want most? Even more than a baby?”

“When you get right down to it,” she admitted. “But come on—I’m almost thirty. And I’m so sick of going out with losers. I never even considered alternatives.”

“You have to think out of the box,” Beth said. “So…you think Marty and Joe are all right? Is that just wifey bitching?”

“I have no idea. Really, I thought they were fine.”

“They don’t seem too fine. And what about Jules? Something’s going on with her. She acts like everything is okay, but something’s wrong there.”

“Yeah, they’re going through some stuff. Money’s tight—Billy’s working two jobs to make ends meet and is hardly ever home. Julie’s tired—the kids are wearing her out. But this is Jules and Billy. They argue, but they get it together. It’s not like Marty and Joe—it’s not about a boat.”

Beth laughed. “See the problem with marriage? People get all upside down about a boat?”

“Sounds like there’s more to it than that. No compromise. That would get anyone upside down.”

“See?” Beth said. “I’m not a good candidate for marriage. I’m the one who wouldn’t be able to compromise—I like things the way I like things.”

And I’d do anything, Cassie thought. Really, anything. But that opportunity hadn’t even presented itself. “So, you don’t think it would be crazy?” she asked. “To have a baby?”

“Nah, I don’t think it’s crazy,” she answered easily. “Actually, I think it’s intelligent. What’s crazy is marrying the wrong person because you want a family. If I wanted a child but didn’t have a partner, I’d definitely consider it. But that’s a far-fetched thought for me…”

“How much time do you think you have? I mean, how much time do we have?”

“Six or seven years, realistically. Longer under the right circumstances. We’re getting women through healthy pregnancies older and older. Right now I’m too consumed to even think about things like partners, babies, and that’s the truth. I don’t know what I’d do with a boyfriend if I had one. Run out on him every time the phone rang, probably. Listen, I don’t have any advice—I think that one very bad boyfriend might be it for my love life. I’ve always been too busy. I can’t pay attention to a man for long, which is probably the real reason that last one ended so badly. My mind wanders. I’m always thinking about other things. I’m selfcentered. And if I found a guy like me? We’d be like strangers in the same house—totally preoccupied with our own agendas. I might be better off never running into a guy I could tolerate. That’s why I can’t have a child without a nanny—I’m probably not capable of being completely responsible for a child.”

“Aw, that can’t be true…”

“It can be. Look at my parents. They were just brilliant nutcases—a couple of smart people who didn’t care about much outside of their work. Other than my education, they didn’t have a clue what was happening in my life. You could talk to either one of them for fifteen straight minutes and they might not hear a word. It’s a DNA thing—it’s in me, too. That’s why everyone thinks I’m weird.”

Cassie smiled at her. “Well, I don’t. I think you’re amazing. And your patients love you.”

“I’m so lucky that way,” she said appreciatively. “I think I accidentally became a good doctor. It’s a miracle. And believe me, I don’t take it for granted. I love my work so much.” She smiled wistfully. “Honestly, I live for it. It’s all that matters.”

Cassie had always envied Beth’s brains and success, even though what she really wanted was what Julie had. Beth had always seemed so sure of everything she aimed for in life. When they were younger she’d never been the least bit insecure about not being popular, not having a boyfriend. Even major setbacks—and Beth had been through some heavy stuff—barely seemed to slow her down. She marched on, following her instincts, doing what she was born to do.

Beth’s parents were oddballs—a couple of middleclass eggheads. Her mother was a librarian at the college and her father was a professor—helminthology. The study of worms. Beth grew up in a messy house cluttered with papers, bulging bookshelves and microscopes, dishes stacked in the sink, beds unmade, dirty clothes piled high, her parents completely distracted by their intellectual obsessions. They never had a lot of money to throw around, nor did they pay much attention to their daughter, but they had real high educational standards and had raised themselves a young genius who proved she could be the best of both of them. Beth had been in gifted programs since she was six.

But Julie…Julie had Billy, who had adored her for thirteen years. He still looked at her as if she was the only woman alive. They might have to pinch their pennies most of the time, but their relationship was solid, unshakable. Jules might not be able to count on being able to pay the bills, but she could always count on Billy loving her, being there for her. And if they ran into a big problem, they never failed to tackle it together.

Given a choice, Cassie would take the kids, money troubles and true love, which she figured must make her a fool. A rational look at the world around her indicated an M.D. was more practical and reliable than a Mr. and Mrs.

Driving home from lunch, she found herself passing that motorcycle dealership. She let herself go three more blocks before making a U-turn and going back. She went into the showroom and faced the same grinning salesman. “Hi,” she said. “I wonder if Walt Arneson is working today?”

“One second.” He smiled. He went down the counter to a phone, dialed, spoke into it briefly and said, “Miss?” He held the receiver toward her.

“Hello?” she said into the phone. “Walt?”

“Hi,” he said. “How are you?”

“Good. I was on my way home and passed the dealership and thought…maybe you’d like me to buy you a cup of coffee?”

“Are you in a big hurry?”

“Well…no, I guess not. Why?”

“I’m at another store, but if you want to wait a few minutes—like, twenty—I’ll be right there.”

“Oh, listen. I don’t want you to go to any—”

“Cassie, I love having coffee with you. It’s not any trouble, believe me.”

“Are you sure?”

“You made my day. Go to the bookstore, get us a couple of coffees, settle into our spot if it’s free and I’ll see you in twenty.”

“Okay, if you’re sure.”

“I’m sure. Walk slowly.” And he hung up.

This is loony, she found herself thinking. What in the world do I hope to gain by a dumb-ass move like this? “You called him at another store?” she asked the salesman.

“Sure. That’s where he was. He’s on the move a lot.”

“Oh. Well, thanks.” Then she headed for the bookstore, slowly. She browsed a little before buying the coffees, settling into the corner that had become theirs.

Thirty minutes later, she knew what she hoped to gain. She was laughing with him as she told him about lunch with her girlfriends, about Marty complaining about her husband, about Beth suggesting it was perfectly logical to have a baby without one. She told him all about Steve and her plans to get a puppy in a couple of years to keep him company. He told her about the ride he took up to Tahoe over the weekend—just a quick one, a few hours in the morning. When he described the views, the lake, the mountains in full summer green, she began to get a sense for why he found this enjoyable. It was odd that this grease monkey had such an appreciation for the outdoors.

“Seems like if you’re so fond of nature, you’d hunt or fish or camp.”

“I camp,” he said, sipping his coffee. “Sort of. If I have time for a weekend ride, I take a bedroll and backpack, find a nice piece of beach under the stars or a soft pad of grass on a hilltop and…camp. I don’t think I’m patient enough to fish and I could never shoot anything.”

“How about golf?” she asked teasingly.

“You’re kidding me, right?” He laughed hard at that. Imagine this guy in his boots and chains and naked lady swinging around a golf club with the Polo-clad crowd.

They learned a little more about each other. Neither of them had ever been married; they both came from families of four children, though hers were half sibs. His family was local, hers was in Des Moines. And they’d both worked at their current jobs for more than five years.

At one point he asked her if she was still feeling nervous about her incident and she told him she was slowly getting past that, but she’d decided to be a lot more cautious. She didn’t want to find herself in that position ever again. “I’m all done dating,” she said. “At least for a good long time. I think I’ve been through enough.”

“Understandable.”

“That really shouldn’t have happened. I usually have much better instincts than that.”

“It doesn’t seem like you did anything wrong, Cassie. He’s a freak, that’s all.”

After an hour or so of coffee, they browsed together, helping each other pick out books. In the parking lot he said, “You know, I like these coffee dates. It’s a real nice break in the day.”

“I enjoyed it, too.”

“I know it’s only been twice, but I’m already looking forward to the next one.”

“Even if you have to drive across town?”

“Even if,” he said. Then he pulled a short stack of business cards out of his pocket, sifted through them and handed her one. All it said was his name and a phone number. “If you call that cell number when you feel like coffee, I won’t keep you waiting so long. I don’t give it out that often—I get too many calls from bikers with mechanical problems when I do. They like me to walk them through home repairs. But I’d like you to have it.”

“Gee,” she said. “You have that kind of schedule, that a person can just interrupt you in the middle of work and it’s okay?”

“I put in a lot of hours. No one minds when I take a little personal time. You call—I’ll come,” he said.

“You know…I haven’t offered you my phone number, and there’s a reason—”

He put a big hand gently on her forearm. “Oh, I’d love to have your number, Cassie. But I know it’s important you be in charge right now. You call me anytime. I’ll be there.”

“Thanks. That’s nice. That you understand.”

“Hey. I was there, remember?”

Billy’s part-time job in addition to the fire department was in construction. He could’ve made it his full-time job and maybe make more money than he currently did at F.D., but it didn’t have the same potential for growth. It offered good money for flexible hours that he could fit around his F.D. schedule. The contractor let him work a few hours here and there while he was doing his twenty-four-hour shifts with the department and full days on his off time. He could get in at least twelve full days a month, usually more like sixteen. Cutting wood and stone for countertops was often tedious, but he did it perfectly and it paid well.

And it was damn hard work. Both his jobs were physically demanding. Although he was a paramedic, he didn’t drive the rescue rig every day—he was a firefighter first. So about every other workday, he worked the rescue rig and other times he was on the engine. Then he’d cut wood and rock—exhausting, dirty work. He had about enough time to eat, sleep and go back to one job or another. But he and Jules needed the money. He hadn’t called in sick to either job since the day he started. He didn’t average a day off a week. If he could just stay with F.D. eight to ten years and promote himself on time, the money and overtime would get real good. Right now he was keeping his finger in the dam.

Today he had come home from his twenty-four-hour shift at F.D. and gone to bed for a few hours, despite the noise in the house. He knew Jules was going to lunch with her girlfriends, which was a good thing—it could put her in a decent mood. A little break from the kids, some girl talk, maybe she could get in some serious complaining about Billy and unload it. So he woke himself up after about four hours of sleep and went straight to his mother-in-law’s to pick up Clint and Stephie before their nap time. They’d already had lunch, so they were ready to settle in when he got them home.

Ordinarily, he’d take advantage of the quiet and try to catch a nap; he hadn’t had much sleep and was planning to go back to the shop after dinner and hopefully work till midnight. But instead, he went after some marital points; he cleaned the kitchen, picked up dog-doo, trimmed the hedges and put the ladder up against the house to see if he could fix the drooping gutter that was breaking away because someone hadn’t cleaned it out in the late fall and it had been too burdened with leaves and twigs to stay attached. That someone was him.

He put his toolbox on the slanted roof to his right and was going after the gutter with a screwdriver, leaning a little to the left, when the toolbox began to slide. He dropped the screwdriver in the gutter and grabbed for the toolbox, which he shoved back up on the roof. But the sudden action caused the ladder to sway and teeter and he couldn’t get the toolbox stable. He grabbed the gutter for ballast, but it was a poor choice—the gutter was already weak and breaking away from the eave. His feet pushed the ladder away and it fell to his right. Billy hung on to the gutter but not for long. It gave under his weight and tore away, but at least his descent was slower. After dropping a few feet, he let go so he wouldn’t tear the whole damn thing off, and fell the rest of the way. It wasn’t all that far.

The ladder crashed to the ground with a loud clatter and he hit the ground right after it. He landed on his feet first, then fell back on his ass. He let himself roll back on the grass and lay there for a second, thinking, First, that was so stupid, and second, what I do not need right now is an injury. He didn’t move, assessing his hips and spine. He let his eyes briefly close and thought, There is no one better with a ladder than me; that was idiotic.

“Billy!” He heard Julie yell from inside the house. He could hear the tempo change as she yelled while running from the kitchen to the back patio doors. “Billy! Billy! Oh, God, Billy!”

He lay there, a very slight smile on his lips, thinking this was probably mean, keeping his eyes closed. She knelt beside him, lifted his head in her arms and said, “Billy! Are you dead?”

He opened his eyes. “You should never do that. Move a person like that. I could’ve had a spinal injury.”

“Are you all right?”

“Do you love me?” he asked.

“What happened?” she asked, her eyes wide and fearful.

“I fell off the ladder. I was lying here wondering if anything was hurt. I didn’t know you were home. Do you love me?”

“You’re an asshole,” she said, dropping his head with a thump.

There was a sound, a sliding sound. Billy grabbed her and rolled to the left, putting himself on top of her, covering her to protect her. The toolbox clattered to the ground about six feet away, a couple of tools bouncing out. When the crashing subsided, he lifted his head. “That’s two stupid things in one day,” he said. “I think I’m too tired to be doing this stuff.”

“Let me up,” she said.

“No. First you have to tell me if you love me.”

“No, I hate you! You took ten years off my life!”

He pressed his lips against hers. She didn’t respond, so he lifted his head and grinned into her eyes. “I cleaned the kitchen,” he said. “I put Clint and Stephie down for a nap. I picked up dog shit and trimmed the hedges.”

“And fell off the ladder.”

“That’s right. And I’m not getting back on it today. Did you have a nice lunch?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Did you get to dump on the girls about your little condition? About your bad, bad husband?”

“I haven’t said a word to anyone. And don’t you, either.”

“Okay. Then can you help me into the bedroom?”

“You’re hurt?”

“I’m horny. You could lie naked beside me for a little while, then after I’ve put you in a good mood, I can have a little nap.”

“Is that all you ever think about?”

“When I’m on top of you like this, that’s all I think about. I’ll be very, very sweet to you. Very careful. Well, not too careful.”

“This is the root of all our problems,” she said. “Right now all I want to do is clobber you, and you still get to me.”

He grinned handsomely. “If that’s the biggest problem you have, Jules, you have it pretty good.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” she said.

“You feeling okay, baby?” he asked sweetly, gently brushing her blond hair over her ear. “You’re not feeling sick or crampy or anything, are you?”

She shook her head.

“I worry a little bit about that IUD, in there with the baby.” His brow furrowed. “If you don’t think it’s okay…”

“I still want to clobber you,” she said, shaking her head.

He just smiled. “I know.” He got off her and pulled her to her feet. “Come on. Let’s take advantage of nap time.”

A little while later, feeling calmer and more affectionate, Julie said, “I ran into Chelsea in the ladies’ room at the restaurant today.”

“Yeah?” he responded with a yawn. “You didn’t hurt her, did you?”

“I talked to her for a while. Did you know she left that insurance company to sell Hummers? And that she’s a sales manager now?”

“So she said,” he replied, bored or sleepy.

“So…I don’t like Chelsea, but what she did makes sense. Before making a change, she worked for that dealership on weekends for a while until she could see the potential, then she quit her old job. Good idea, huh?”

“Hummers,” he snorted, rubbing his head back and forth on the pillow tiredly. “No one wants a Hummer right now…”

“Chelsea says they’re selling as well as ever. People like them. It makes them feel rich.”

“Not for long,” he said, his eyes still closed.

“But that’s not the point, the point is it’s very smart to find a business opportunity and work at it part-time to see if there’s any real possibility there, and then make a move. There’s absolutely no future in cutting countertops—it’s just part-time work and the pay is good, but never gets better. Right now you have all your eggs in one basket, but you’re so smart. You have a degree. You could check around, see if there’s a place to go where you can really put your education to use, be successful…”

“Hmm,” he said. And then she heard him softly snore. She leaned over and put a gentle kiss on his cheek. “What if you fell off a ladder at work?” she whispered. “What would we do?” She was answered by a light snore.

When she had looked out the kitchen window and seen the ladder on the ground and Billy beside it, motionless, eyes closed, her very first thought was, Oh, no! Not my Billy! No! No! Soon after that came relief. Then what quickly followed was that old fear. Firefighting, paramedic work, cutting granite—none of this was low risk. If something happened to him, their strapped lifestyle would become catastrophic. Julie and the kids and no income, and after the insurance and small fraction of pension ran out…she would lose the house. Her mother would be forced to look after the kids so she could work, just to keep her from sinking out of sight. And what work could she do? She’d done a little waitressing and secretarial work after Jeffy while Billy was working and going to school, before the next two kids—and neither job had paid a damn.

And now there would be four children?

Billy didn’t have accidents like that; he was too sharp. His reflexes were good; he was strong. But he was also tired from working all the time. How tired would he be with a new baby crying to be fed every two hours for weeks? How could he be so blissfully happy about another baby when it put the future of the entire family at risk?

She heard Stephie wake up with a cry and a cough and it changed her entire thought process. Oh, no, please don’t get sick! she thought. She went instantly to the bedroom the two younger kids shared and scooped her up, took her to the kitchen and quickly dosed her with decongestant and Tylenol, praying off a fever or cold. Then she spent the rest of the afternoon and early evening tending to food, picking up Jeffy and taking him to soccer practice—she had to stop off with three kids in tow to pick up Gatorade for the team because it was her turn—throwing together meals, tending a crying, miserable, sick kid, cleaning up vomit, tossing in laundry, picking up toys and clothes. When Billy finally roused from his nap at about six, at least a couple hours later than usual, which magnified how tired he’d been, she was sitting in the kids’ bathroom with Stephie on her lap, the bathroom filled with steam to loosen up her congestion.

“What’s going on?” he asked sleepily.

“Stephie’s got something. She threw up three times, couldn’t keep supper down and she’s hacking like the croup.”

“Fever?” he asked, running a hand along the back of his neck, trying to get his bearings.

“I’m keeping it down with Tylenol. But she’s sick.”

He reached for Stephie and she went to him, whimpering, “Daddy,” like a sick little pumpkin. “Clint?” he asked.

“So far, so good.”

“Okay, take a break. I’ll do steam room duty,” he said.

She left him sitting on the closed toilet seat, holding his daughter against him, knowing he hadn’t had enough rest and would still try to get in some hours at the shop no matter how late he started. He had to be at the fire department first thing in the morning for his twenty-four-hour shift. She couldn’t let him do night duty with the kids—it would be on her so he could be rested and safe. But she was so tired. Early pregnancy made her want to sleep around the clock, but she couldn’t.

And she thought, I can’t go on like this. I just can’t.

After lunch with the girls, Marty did a little shopping before going home. Joe was with three-year-old Jason; there was no reason to hurry. She tried on clothes, found a couple of nice things on sale and bought them, though she’d have nowhere to wear them. All she really needed in her wardrobe these days were clothes for work and clothes for the lake. But she fell in love with a pair of crepey pants that were snug around the hips and butt, flowing at the hem. Then there was this low-cut top that showed off her cleavage and fit so nice—the perfect ensemble to go out for an evening, maybe dinner, maybe dancing. And she couldn’t resist a fitted dress with a slit up the side that showed off her figure; it was lavender and really drew attention to the light brown of her soft, shoulder-length curls.

Joe didn’t like to dance. For evenings out he liked to get together with the gang from F.D., usually at a sports bar. Vacations were taking the RV up to Tahoe, pulling the boat along with it. Weekends were spent either at the lake or watching sports on TV—at a bar or someone’s house or, most often, at home on his own big screen. They never did the things she’d like to do anymore. He chose all their recreation.

So she bought shoes, too. High-heeled sandals with ankle straps. Very sexy. Marty was small and trim; she could get away with those three-inch heels, and she was agile in them. They’d look great twirling around a dance floor. Sometimes she bought these things while in the fantasy that life could be fun again. There was a time that dressing up like this got Joe all excited, especially the shoes…He’d see her legs in those heels and go crazy. That was before they were married.

When she got home Jason and Joe were in front of the TV playing a video game, sitting cross-legged on the floor like a couple of kids. Joe thought these games were a perfect way to help Jason develop hand-eye coordination, but Marty secretly believed Joe just wanted to play them, himself.

She dropped her packages on the dining room chair and surveyed the kitchen. It looked as if they’d been grazing all day, not bothering to pick up a single dish, rinse out a glass, wipe bread crumbs off the counter. Around them in the family room were more plates, empty chip bags, cellophane from snack cakes, used and balled-up paper towels as opposed to napkins. Joe had gone through the newspaper there, as well, leaving the couch cushions all askew, some on the floor, and the newspaper strewn around on the coffee table and floor, along with his coffee cup and toast plate from breakfast. She had left everything immaculate, having cleaned while he slept in.

And of course Joe was wearing only those navy-blue, rotting gym shorts—his summer day-off uniform—under which he was naked. He had a hairy body, a heavy, scratchy growth of stubble. It would never occur to him to clean up a little, look presentable for her on his day off, though she’d asked him to a thousand times.

“Hey, babe,” he greeted at the sound of her entry, but he didn’t turn around. He was very busy stacking and collapsing colorful blocks on the screen, pretending to compete with his three-year-old son while he helped little Jason develop some competence with the game. “You get the mail?”

“Joe, look at this kitchen! It’s a mess.”

“Yeah, I’ll get it later.”

No, he wouldn’t. He didn’t clean. At least, not inside the house. He didn’t even clean the inside of the RV. Now, the boat or yard or garage, he kept them perfect. This mess would be left for her.

“Joe, can I talk to you a minute?”

“Yeah, sure. Sit tight.” Then after a full minute passed, he shouted, “Whoa! You see that, buddy? You got me! Wanna go one more time?” And he started a new game.

“Joe!”

“What?”

“I want to talk to you!”

“Aw, Jesus,” he said, irritated. He put down his remote game stick and got to his feet. He looked like a monkey, all that black hair covering his legs, chest, belly, his shadowy face, his hair goofy from not being combed. He gave his gym shorts a tug but they slipped right back down, low on his hips. The elastic was giving out and half the time she could see his butt crack; she did not consider it a precious sight. Of course, she’d brought home new gym shorts to at least have decent clean ones on that naked body. They sat on his closet shelf, rejected. “What?” he said, hands on his hips.

“The house is a wreck.”

“Yeah, I’ve been busy outside and in the garage. Plus, it’s my day off. Me and the little guy have been hanging out. But I got the yard work caught up.”

“It wouldn’t take you ten minutes to clean up after yourself in here. With another ten minutes you could shower, shave and look decent.”

“It’s my day off! I just want to relax and be comfortable!”

“If I hung around a messy house looking like you look, you’d leave me in a second!”

“I don’t know about that,” he said, a slight sneer to his lips. “Maybe you’d be a little easier to get along with if you loosened up. Jesus, it’s just a couple of plates and glasses! How big a deal is that? Didn’t you just say it would take ten minutes…?”

“We both work,” she said. “I’m getting really tired of coming home to a mess all the time.”

“You work today, Marty?” he asked sarcastically.

“You know I didn’t work today, but I put in my forty hours every week, and I do everything around the house, too. And the only time I see you looking clean and decent is when we have company or you’re on your way to work!”

“Look, I didn’t get home till eight this morning and we had a busy night. I just want to be comfortable,” he said again. “Why don’t you lighten up a little bit, huh?”

“No,” she said, tears coming to her eyes as she shook her head. “No, I’m not lightening up. I’m sick of this. I don’t ask much of you—just pick up after yourself and shower.” She shook her head in total frustration. “I’m leaving for a little while. I’m going to get out of here and cool off. I’ll be back, I’ll bring dinner, and if you heard me at all, clean up this goddamn mess and shower and shave!” She grabbed her purse and headed back out the door.

Marty really wanted to have a good hard cry, but she didn’t want anyone to see her like that, so she sucked it back where it stuck in her throat like a rock. She drove around for about twenty minutes, seething, hurting. He wasn’t like this before she married him! They dated for a year, were engaged for a year, and during that time he always asked her what she wanted to do. Even then, she’d tried to give him balanced time by getting together with his friends for sports and boating things; she happened to like sports and outdoor activities when it didn’t take up a hundred percent of their recreational time. She didn’t even mind if he seemed a little bored at a nice dinner out or fell asleep during a chick flick. Back then, during the premarriage days, she spent as much time at his house as her apartment, and his relaxation mode might involve sweats or jeans, but he was never this smelly, naked monkey in falling-down shorts with his crack peeking out.

Of course, he hadn’t been tidy back then, either. His bathroom was usually carpeted in hair; he left things lying around and didn’t keep the kitchen spotless. But if she offered to help him clean up, he did his part. He’d let her tell him what to do—strip the bed and throw the sheets and towels in the washer, run the vacuum, take out trash, scrub out the shower. Well, he was all done participating now. And back then, if he wanted to make love, he went to a little trouble. He was squeaky clean, smelled nice, was shaved and sweet. He knew how to get her in the mood, worked up and excited. He didn’t bother with that anymore, either. And now he complained if it took her too long to climax. Come on, Marty, come on. What’s the matter? I can’t last all night!

She just couldn’t seem to find anyone to talk to about it. Julie had that kissy-face thing going on with Billy after so many years and, even when she was at her most discontented, it was apparent she still thought she had the best husband in the world. Which maybe she did. Cassie seemed to think if a woman had a warm body in her bed there was nothing to complain about. Beth had much more important things to concentrate on than Marty’s marital gripes; she hadn’t been involved with anyone for almost five years now and was more focused on her medical career than relationships.

Marty ended up at a small Italian restaurant not far from home. There was a quiet little bar and they weren’t too busy on late weekday afternoons. It was just after four o’clock. She decided to have a glass of wine, order some takeout while she sipped it and see if she could cool down.

She sat at the far side of the bar in a dark corner, sipping her wine, staring at a menu, though not reading it.

She’d been prepared for things to change after marriage; she knew he wasn’t the neat freak she was. She’d given the relationship two years before marrying him, just to be sure she knew him, knew his habits, his values. She hadn’t expected him to go into such a complete decline; she never thought he’d relax all his standards, dump all the household responsibility on her. In the past, he had occasional kick-back days of not shaving, but now it was whenever he wasn’t working. He let himself get so disgusting. What kind of a guy refuses to shower and shave when his woman asks him to?

And the thing she really never saw coming—that she’d stop loving him.

It was hard to love an insensitive slob. Of course, not many people saw him that way. He was a real man’s man—a scruffy, masculine Italian with some old-world views, like the woman is there to bear the children and take care of the house and kids while the man does the mechanical stuff, the physical stuff, the yard and all that. The men at F.D. thought he was a kick; in a way they sympathized with her, telling her she was a saint for putting up with him. They didn’t know the half—he wouldn’t dare go to work stinky, with his face unshaved and his thick, black hair greasy and sticking up in spikes everywhere—so all they were really aware of was his inability to pick up dishes, wash and dry. He was a hell of an Italian cook—his spaghetti and sausage and lasagna were legendary in the department—but they joked at F.D. that while they loved his food, he destroyed the kitchen. She would always say, Welcome to my world.

At work, he went the extra mile in other ways—ways the guys could appreciate. He kept the equipment spotless and organized; he was powerfully strong and the first one up the ladder, to the rescue.

The sexy man she’d fallen in love with was gone, replaced by this Neanderthal who couldn’t care less about her feelings. He’d been so great when he was trying to get her into bed, then trying to get her to stay in bed, then trying to get her to the altar—because he was an Italian Catholic and needed a wife to take care of his household, to have his kids. When they were engaged, they talked about having two or three kids, but she quit after Jason. She just didn’t have the energy to work, keep the house civilized and take care of a bunch of kids, Joe being one of them.

She didn’t think she loved him anymore…and she was beginning to wonder how she could stay with him…

“Marty!”

She lifted her head to see Ryan Chambers grinning at her. He picked up his beer and wandered over to her. Oh, God, she thought. This is the last thing I need right now.

“How you doing, baby?”

“Fine, Ryan. How are you?”

“Great. You meeting someone? Having dinner here?”

“No, I’m just going to pick up some takeout. I’ve had a long day, so I thought I’d have a glass of wine. How about you?”

“I thought about a pizza, but I don’t know. I’ll just have a beer, then decide.”

“How’s Jill?”

“Jill?” he laughed. “Marty, Jill and I are over…”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t know.”

“Yeah, that’s okay—you’re not expected to keep up with the love life of an old boyfriend. It happened about a year ago.”

“A year, huh? So, who is it now?”

“No one, as a matter of fact,” he said, sitting on the stool next to hers. “I thought I could use a breather.”

“You’re not dating anyone?” she asked, stunned. He usually dated several women at a time.

“Oh, I’ve been out a couple of times, but it didn’t amount to much. I’m getting a little old for all that playing around—kind of tired of the whole bachelor scene. I think I finally worked through it. I’m looking for something different now. Something a little more stable. Reliable.”

“Really?” she said, leaning on her hand, not believing him for a second.

He looked into his beer and shook his head with a little silent laughter. “Really. I might finally be growing up.” He lifted his eyes. “At thirty-one, I don’t think it’s premature. Do you?”

“Hardly. Still, it’s the last thing I expected to hear out of you.”

“I deserved that. Did I ever apologize for that? Because if I didn’t, I should…”

“Don’t bother,” she said. “Long ago and far away.”

“How’s the family?” he asked.

She immediately looked away before she said, “Great. They’re great.”

When she looked back at him, he said, “Oh, yeah, sounds great. What’s the matter? Having some trouble?”

“Nah,” she said, “it’s nothing. Definitely nothing I feel like talking about.”

“Okay, let’s change the subject. Who have you seen lately?” he asked, and she knew he meant from their old gang.

So she told him about who was at the party she and Joe had hosted and lunch that day with the girls, but all the while she was thinking about their past. Ryan was her first love. He was a couple of years older, the big jock at school. Good-looking, flirtatious, funny, smart. He was also unpredictable, had a short attention span and a roving eye. She fell for him at fifteen and they were on and off for about five years with long breaks while he stole other virginities. He’d always come creeping back after four or six or eight months—sorry, repentant, seductive—and she couldn’t resist him. They’d have another few months of bliss, then he’d do it again—get sidetracked by another girl. By the time she was about twenty, maybe twenty-one, she had finally had enough and wouldn’t let him back. But of course, she never really got over him.

Funny, Ryan and Joe didn’t have any of the same flaws. Joe was incredibly married; he didn’t even flirt. In the looks department, they were pretty equal, though completely different. Ryan had a dimpled smile and twinkling eyes that could just make a girl wet herself. Joe was a damn fine-looking man when he was cleaned up, but Ryan took impeccable and fashionable to the next level; he could be a model. Joe had an incredible, strong, toned body—pecs, biceps, a narrow waist and six-pack such that when he wore that F.D. T-shirt pulled tight across his chest and shoulders, women went weak in the knees. Ryan was so adorable and good-natured; of course, he could look you in the eye, smile that heart-splitting smile and lie through his beautiful, straight, white teeth. Joe had darker good looks, almost black eyes, a shorter fuse, but he was the most honest man she knew.