Heights of Desire (2 page)

“And the crazy thing is, he didn’t even really say anything. He walked us to the swings and then he just grabbed Pearl and put her on the swing.”

“That’s weird.”

“I agree. But the thing is, it seemed totally natural, like we’d done it before or at least like he maybe has kids of his own. More than that too, like we’d all done it before. Then he told me that ‘I deserved better’ and he sauntered off. So incredibly sexy. And he looked at me again. Twice.”

“Is that it?”

“Yes and no. I mean, I fucked Robert like a teenager last night and I couldn’t stop thinking about him, the kid, not even for a second. I feel sort of crazy because I’m turned on by the whole thing, but I’m also really pissed that he would judge me like that, just by looking at me. I mean he has absolutely no idea who I am. He has no idea what my life is like. See I’m getting pissed now just thinking about it.”

“Oh, Kate, you’re so stupid.”

“Thanks, Sar.”

“No, I mean you completely misunderstood what he meant.”

“What do you mean? How do
you
know what he meant?”

“Because it’s totally fucking obvious. Kate, when you share a look like that, an exchange like that, it’s almost always mutual. The air doesn’t start crackling between one person and what they
wish
the other person was feeling. Know what I mean?”

“No,” I say.

“Simple. He felt it too. That’s why he followed you and waited for you to come out. It’s also why he thought he could hold your daughter, because you’d already exchanged a mutual intimacy, even if it only lasted a second.”

“Then how did I misunderstand the exchange?”

“Simple. He . . . What’s his name?”

“I have no idea.”

“Okay, golden-eyed man-child from the thug-ground wasn’t referring to you, Princess.”

“I’m still lost, Sarah.”

“Take Joshua. He’s fifteen now and he drives me fucking nuts because already he can’t escape the realm of himself. Teenagers, and even young adults only know how to talk about themselves. Everything they say is me, me, my facebook, my twitter, four thousand photos of myself. You really don’t start realizing other people exist and have feelings until you’re at least twenty-five these days. Golden-eyes was talking about
himself
.”

“I think you’re going to have to spell it out for me,” I say.

“To that cocky, young boy there already existed something between the two of you. It was a warning, Kate. ‘You deserve better.’ He meant, ‘You deserve better than
me
.’”

My blood runs cold and I have to lean over into my lap to keep from passing out. My breathing is shallow and coming faster than I can manage. I love my brilliant best friend. I am reeling from the idea that this affliction could be mutual. That he might be somewhere right now thinking about me. I feel an urgent and ridiculous need to find him, to see him again.

“I think I need to go,” I say.

“Oh, no fucking way, Kate. Don’t you dare! I know you and you need to squelch this shit, toute suite. Don’t you even think about fucking with what you have. Should I remind you? Beautiful, rich, sweet, lawyer husband who loves you. Two gorgeous, perfect princess girls who adore you AND their father. A stunning fucking house – a charmed life. Don’t even consider pursuing it. All he is, Kate, is maybe, and just a maybe here, an amazing fuck but, believe me, a lifelong headache. Probably heartache too. Walk away from it now. Walk away while you still can.“

“It’s not like we exchanged phone numbers, Sarah.”

“Not yet. I’ve known you since I was seven, sister. I’m not dropping this. You can go if you need to, but
I’m
not dropping this. You know why? Because you’re not dropping it and I have to be the sane one. I can hear it in your voice. You’re half-way gone already. “

“Thanks for listening. I’ll probably never see him again,” I say.

“Yes you will, and you’d better squelch it and run the other way.”

“I love you, Sar!” I say and make a smooching sound into the receiver before hanging up.

Six days pass and I do a pretty amazing job of letting the whole thing go. Robert is romancing me because of my increased libido and it does a lot to rein in my stupid fantasies about the kid. I throw myself into my work on the nights Robert is staying late at the firm. Work for me right now consists of polishing up a few articles to submit for a conference in Lisbon in the fall. Not what I thought I’d be doing when I pursued a PhD from Duke. I try not to let it bother me. I know I’ll pick up where I left off when both my girls are in school. Right now I’m trying to be okay with just enjoying them and the time we spend together.

Chapter 2

M
onday afternoon, the encounter begins to feel more significant because I have to take the girls to their ballet class and I can’t pretend last week didn’t happen. I’m nervous and excited about the possibility of running into him again. I’ve spent all morning considering what Sarah told me. My romantic self really wants to believe that our exchange was mutual even if any kind of relationship is absolutely impossible. My more rational self acknowledges that the man is beautiful and probably has hot, young, twenty-year-old girls lining up to pleasure him, and that my forty-two-year-old mom body isn’t in high demand. He probably flirts with everybody. I doubt he knows from our brief exchange that I have a PhD and I speak four languages, that I can be really funny, or that I play piano.

Nothing prepares me, however, for the deep, aching disappointment I feel when we walk by the playground and he isn’t there. I scan the groups for his friends but no one looks familiar. I save face by hurrying my girls along and busying myself with their buns and ballet slippers. Once the girls are in their studios I head to the ladies room and examine my face in the mirror.

My big, blue eyes look sad even when I’m not, but today especially, they are turned down more than usual. My dark, wavy hair is pulled back in a messy ponytail. I look distraught.

“It’s for the best.” I say out loud looking at myself in the mirror but my voice wavers and a sob escapes me. I’m shocked at my own reaction so I go into the stall for privacy and close the toilet lid and sit down. I’ve really lost my mind over this. What, did I think I was going to start dating again? I need to talk to Sarah. I take out my phone to text her and I see that she’s already sent me something.

Did you see him?

No and now I’m crying about it.

Seriously?

Yes. I’m in the bthrm at the ballet crying.

Shit, Great. Don’t cry. I’m sorry but it’s better this way.

I send her a smiley face. There is no emoticon to express the sense of loss I feel. It threatens to engulf me and without thinking I stand and open the stall door. I slam through the bathroom door and then out the front doors of the ballet school and march toward the playground. As I come around the corner I see him standing in a circle of friends. He looks up and our eyes lock. He takes two long steps to the iron fence and puts out a toned arm on the top bar. He swings his legs easily over the top of the fence and strides right toward me.

My breath comes quick and shallow. I am again divided; a part of me feels like I’m walking the last few steps on death row, ready to meet the end and whatever lies beyond it. Another part of me feels out of time, and I embrace this moment as the only place I want to be, as if no other path existed for me.

When he reaches me his face breaks into the irresistible smile I have seen twice before. He grabs my hand and encloses it with his, pulling me off the sidewalk and into the street. He walks right out into traffic without looking and brings me diagonally across the street. The cars stop for him and one of them honks.

“Where are we going?” I whisper.

“Somewhere private,” he says almost sternly but looks at me with a hint of a mischief.

“I only have an hour, my kids . . .”

“I know.”

The golden-eyed kid leads us across the cemetery and appears to be heading to the Catholic Church on the corner. He jogs up the lengthy staircase pulling me along behind him. The temperature drops drastically once we’re inside and I immediately begin to shiver. It’s more nerves than the cold that has me trembling. Candles flicker along the last line of pews as well as at the base of the altar, making the shadows dance in the low light. The air is heavy with frankincense and candle smoke, but we seem to be the only people in the nave. He pulls me into the last pew, never letting go of my hand. We sit sideways to face each other and he grabs my other hand.

“This is private,” he says raising one eyebrow. His voice is surprisingly low and raspy, it echoes lightly inside the church.

“I shouldn’t be here,“ I say. “I’m married and I have two kids – I’m a lot older than you. A lot. What are we doing?”
Apparently, I’m rambling like an idiot
.

He raises his finger to my lips and when he touches them the charge between us is so intense, the only feeling I can relate it to is pain.

“Don’t do that,” he warns.

“What should I do? I don’t know what to do. I haven’t since the moment . . .”

“Shhh,” he touches my lips with his fingers again. “Don’t do that either,” he whispers.

In a single movement he pulls me to his chest and I hold my breath.
It’s a hug. Okay, I can give him a hug.
He grabs the back of my neck and begins to knead my flesh. I melt under his touch and the tension and fear dissolve into a million pinpoints. He’s built and strong but his touch is soft and sensual. A shudder runs down my spine and another whimper escapes me. He kisses my hair and pulls me all the way onto his lap wrapping his muscular arms around me.

“As much as I like the mystery, you should tell me your name. I think I need to know your name.”

“I’m Kate,” I say, my eyes searching his for answers as to what’s happening.

He pulls me to his chest again and nuzzles the top of my head.

“Jaley,” he whispers right into my ear.

“Like the comet?” I ask.

“No. Like J-A-Y-L-E-E. It’s a Dominican thing, my mom made it up.”

I wrap my arms around his neck and pull myself further into his lap, burying my face in his neck. He kisses my hair and rocks me and whispers into my ear, “Nice to meet you, Kate.”

When we walk back to pick up the girls, he holds my hand the entire time. Passing by the playground it seems like everyone stops and stares. It’s obvious that he knows all of these people. One of the friends from his group lets out a high pitched whistle and Jaylee responds with his two fingered salute.

“Those,” he says gesturing in their direction, “are my boys right there. Want to meet ‘em?”

“No.” I reply and he squeezes my hand.

It does occur to me that it’s absolutely ridiculous that I’m holding his hand. I have no idea what I’d say if my husband walked around the corner or even a friend for that matter. What would I do, introduce him? I don’t even know him.
Oh this is the kid from the thug-ground that I’ve been thinking about incessantly for a week. I can’t stop because I think he’s invaded every cell in my body. And now, I’m holding his hand – why you ask? Well, because I’m fucking crazy.

As if he could read my thoughts, Jaylee drops my hand when we reach the Ballet School. The girls come running out of the studios when class is finished and Ada doesn’t bat an eye when she sees Jaylee.

“Hi!” she says hugging his jean-clad leg.

He reaches down and scoops her up onto his hip. She squeals and laughs.

“Are we going to swing again?” she asks.

“I don’t know, chica. Ask Mami,” Jaylee replies.

“I’m sorry. Jaylee this is Ada and this is Pearl. Ada is five and Pearl is nine.”

Pearl hangs back, her arm wrapped around my waist, her face questioning.

“It’s okay, sweetie. Jaylee is Mommy’s friend,” I say.

It is so not okay.
Mommy is lying. Mommy has lost her mind. Jaylee mouths the word swings to me, his brow furrowed. I shake my head, no.

“Let’s go home and grill veggies again. You two can show Jaylee your butterfly garden.”

I’m a certifiable idiot. I’m going to show this kid, who I know absolutely nothing about, where my family and I live. Not only that, but I’m exposing my two young daughters to him. The only information I do have is that he hangs out on the thug-ground where gunplay frequently happens and where drugs are most certainly sold. Great parenting, Kate! Great fucking everything!

Carmen is immediately suspicious when she opens the door for us. She frowns at me and then fusses excessively over the girls. Jaylee introduces himself to her in Spanish and I can see her soften slightly around the edges.

“Jaylee babysits, Carmen. He’s a friend of Stephani’s. She recommended him for days that she has classes and can’t watch the girls,” I stumble through yet another lie.

Jaylee raises an eyebrow as if he disapproves and our eyes connect for one hot, searing moment. He grabs both girls by the hand and asks them to show him the butterfly garden. Carmen backs off most likely because babysitting is a sensitive subject for her. Technically, we hired her only to help clean and cook and not to watch the kids, but she helps me out tremendously, with everything, all of the time. When Robert and I go out, I call Stephani to watch Ada and Pearl and it makes Carmen uncomfortable to bring someone else in when she thinks she can take care of them herself. I maintain the clear boundary only because I don’t want my kids raised by a nanny like I was. I want to be the parent. Carmen helps me pull veggies out of the crisper and I hesitate momentarily before grabbing two of Robert’s cold beers from the bottom shelf. Carmen’s eyes widen because obviously no sane mother gives beer to the babysitter.

“You can take off now if you’d like, Carmen. Robert is coming home early tonight to meet Jaylee.” The lies are now flowing freely out of me.

After I’m sure Carmen’s car has pulled away from the house I grab the bowl of veggies, the beers and the lighter fluid from under the sink. I pause at the screen door and watch Jaylee pushing Pearl on the swing. He’s got Ada on his shoulders and both of my girls are giggling and grinning. The sad truth is that they’re starved for male attention because they hardly ever spend time like this with their dad. As the door slams behind me, it dawns on me that I am too.

The evening unravels with near perfection: a bright pink sunset, balmy warm air and water balloons. The girls are ecstatic. Jaylee keeps up with their banter and plays with them almost like a peer would. He tosses them into the air tirelessly and allows them to soak him with their terrible aim and weak throws. While I’m making the girls pick up all of the pieces of broken balloons, Jaylee casually peels of his drenched white t-shirt and rings it out. He hangs it on the top bar of the swing set and turns to help us. His chest is defined, hairless and, surprisingly, devoid of tattoos. I’ve never considered myself the type of woman that drools over the perfect male physical specimen. I tend to like men with character, but tonight I’ve suddenly and unwillingly become a convert. Our eyes lock and my breathing becomes irregular immediately. The now familiar hum starts deep in my belly and radiates out to my limbs. I feel dangerously out of control and reckless. I want his hands on me.

Jaylee walks over and kneels down to where we are huddled, never breaking eye contact with me.

“Why don’t you go do the bedtime thing and I’ll clean up this mess?” 

I read stories to the girls in Pearl’s bed but they are more interested in the story of Jaylee.

“Is he really going to be our new babysitter?” Pearl asks

“I don’t know, sweetie, maybe we can ask Daddy what he thinks,” I answer.

“Why is Jaylee a boy babysitter?” Ada says and I tickle her in response.

I kiss the girls goodnight and rise to draw Pearl’s shades. I can see Jaylee in the yard, still shirtless and doing jail pull-ups on the girl’s swing set. It all seems outrageous. What would I say to my husband about the half naked young man who’s working out in the back yard if he were to arrive home from work right now?
He’s our new sitter and he’s already helped himself to all of your beer and now he’s getting naked. Oh, and I think I want to fuck him.

I want to call Sarah but I also need to go back outside. It seems like it would be a good idea to brush my teeth. I grab my toothbrush and toothpaste out of the bathroom and fly down the stairs. I pull out a bottle of ancient brandy from the pantry and quickly take a swig. I need courage. Am I planning on kissing him? One deep breath later I take another one. Then I brush my teeth furiously in the kitchen sink. This is all a really bad idea. I have never in my life before acted so selfishly. I decide I have no choice but to ask him to leave, to forget where I live, and to avoid the playground on Mondays.

When I work up the nerve to go back outside it’s completely dark. I flick on the outside light from the back deck and it illuminates the yard. Jaylee is gone. His white t-shirt still hangs on the swing set. My hands fly to my mouth to stifle a gasp that springs forth unannounced. I am again stunned by how much this affects me. Am I losing my mind? A second ago I wanted him gone and now that he’s gone, the loss I feel borders on agonizing. I don’t even know this person. Why am I so affected emotionally by every little thing he does? The doorbell rings and I gasp again in surprise. I run to the front door and Jaylee is standing on the porch, shirtless and smoking a cigarette.

“I think I should go,” he says

“Me too. I was just going to ask you to leave.”

He flicks his cigarette into the street and runs his hand through his hair.

“I can’t be what you’d need me to be. I saw here tonight what you have. You’re a damn good mom. Nice place. A husband that does good by you. I don’t want to fuck that up for you. You deserve what you got.”

He thinks he’s not good enough for me? That’s why he’s leaving? He is all I want right now, all I could possibly need. Oh God, I really just want to grab and kiss him. Is he saying this to make it less painful for me? He’s realized I’m so much older than him. I’m not what he wants. He’s escaping before it gets too messy.

I nod my head defeated and look up to meet his gaze. His eyes are burning so intensely that I believe he can see right through me. He must know what I’m thinking. I can’t speak. I want to tell him not to go. I want him to pull me to his chest again like he did in the church. He reaches out and runs his finger from my earlobe to my chin. His touch is divine. Addictive. So dangerous.

“I’d kiss you goodbye, Kate, but I wouldn’t be able to stop myself.”

With that he hops down the steps and strides away into the night. I hate myself for not saying anything. My body is still vibrating from his touch. I turn and walk through the house stripping my clothing off as I go. I step out into the back yard in nothing but my underwear. I don’t really care if the neighbors are watching. I tug Jaylee’s shirt off of the swing set and pull it over my head even though it’s still damp. It smells of cigarettes, cologne and sweat. I want his mouth on me. I want his body wrapped around mine. I wrap my arms around myself and inhale his scent. It was the right thing to do to ask him to leave, but I know it can’t be the last time we’ll see each other. My life is quickly becoming a series of tedious waiting periods in between the moments that I’m in his presence. The life that I’m living in my head is realized in the few exchanges we’ve had together; it’s the other one that’s beginning to feel like a farce.