Louder Than Love (12 page)

“Oh please.” I laughed, stretching out on the bed into an advanced tree pose, my palms meeting over my head in a V and my right foot pressed high into my upper left thigh. It was a delicious stretch, made more glorious by Adrian’s eyes. I knew he was watching me, even with my own eyes shut. All my connective tissue felt relaxed, having been warmed and loosened by his touch. The pillow had captured his cologne and caressed me with its scent. I tried hard to pull out the notes, like those professional noses who get paid for smelling. Definitely the essence of black pepper. Bergamot? Maybe basil as well. It was masculine and mysterious and so completely him. I allowed it to envelop me.

Sex with Adrian had swept clean the corners of my brain I had long ago abandoned, dusty and cluttered with despair. I couldn’t help myself. I was falling. Falling for him, and falling asleep like I had been drugged.

The next thing I remembered was focusing in on Adrian, who was sound asleep next to me. We were facing each other with only our hands touching, our fingers locked and elbows bent at an angle as if we were getting ready to arm wrestle horizontally. I studied his lips, relaxed in slumber. My own lips felt swollen and bruised, overdosed on kissing. I gently ran my hand along his hip, noting how his boxer-briefs clung to the muscle of his thigh and how the hair on his legs looked golden in the afternoon sun. He was deep in sleep and didn’t stir. The T-shirt he still wore was slightly askew, and I could indeed see a scar that traveled around his midsection, deep purple like the sun setting over the beach back at the lake. Home.

I started. Abbey. The bedside clock read 2:18, and I double-checked my watch. Wednesday was Abbey’s long day at school. Dismissal was at four, and Marissa had assured me she would collect Abbey if I didn’t make it back in time. Still, I wanted to be there for her. I was a good hour drive from home, so long as I beat rush hour traffic. But I still had to get to my car. “Adrian . . . hey,” I whispered, but he seemed as drugged as I had felt earlier. A note seemed stupid, and shaking him awake seemed cruel. I crept out of bed to make quick use of the bathroom, hoping he would wake up in the meantime. The shower had two rain showerheads, which made me long to stay, but instead I buttoned my dress, smoothed my hair, and surveyed myself in the beautifully adorned mirror above the pedestal sink. I approached Adrian a final time. “I have to go,” I whispered, kissing his prone lips. “I have to get home to Abbey.” It felt like he kissed me back, but he still appeared sound asleep. “I’ll call you later, okay?”

Getting in the elevator was a whole new experience this time. I kept my eyes on the doors as everyone else around me did the same. The elevator made me think of the picture book Abbey loved to hear about Eloise, a little girl who lived at the Plaza. I was so anxious to get home to my little girl. Hotel staff was abundant now, stepping lively, and the lobby was abuzz as I glided out on shaky legs. I probably looked like countless other guests that day, breezing out to do some retail therapy.

* * *

My phone sprang to life as I was gunning the Mini Cooper through the Bronx. I grabbed it before it could vibrate down into the crack of the passenger seat.

“I had the most glorious dream that you were here with me in this golden bed . . . but then I woke up and you were gone, and it nearly broke my heart.” I smiled into the phone upon hearing his voice. “Was I what the kids refer to as a booty call?”

“Oh my God.” I sputtered a laugh. “Hardly!”

“Come back. We’ll order room service and make crumbs in the bed.”

“A third breakfast of the day sounds tempting . . . but I have to get back. Abbey, school . . .” I drifted off. “Thank you, though . . . for a most delightful afternoon.”

“It was a pleasure.”

“That it was,” I agreed, feeling my stomach do an hourglass flip with the memory of what we had been doing a short while ago.

“When can I see you again?”

“I’ll check my calendar. My people will call your people.”

He laughed, and now I could absolutely picture his smile. Before meeting him again today, it had been hard to conjure it up in my mind, but now I knew the image was there to stay. “One condition next time,” he warned. “You bring Abbey along.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, definitely. We need a chaperone.”

***

Deep down

within the rusty valves

are

dry, neglected chambers

that someday

by care and coincidence

may lubricate into

a devil’s machine of power

and translate into

a roaring upheaval of emotion and energy.

(A.G., Plaza Hotel, 5 May, 2004)

Kiss and Tell

Had I conjured up the afternoon’s events? The burn between my thighs and the tingling of my lips told me no. It was surreal and strange to be back in the neighborhood A&P, watching customers squeeze melons and listening to children beg their moms for sugary cereal. Abbey drove the little plastic car attached to the front of our cart, swinging the wheel to the left as I maneuvered what was roughly the size of an El Camino down the narrow aisles, contemplating boxed items, canned goods. Dreamily savoring the press of Adrian’s mouth and the smell of his skin, I tossed in chips, fresh salsa, and limes, paid, and found myself in my kitchen without even remembering the drive home.

Following dinner, the Falzone minivan swung into the driveway. “Trade you these two for your one,” Rob offered, thumbing back toward Marissa and Leanna. “We’re going for ice cream.”

He didn’t have to ask Abbey twice; she was already jumping into the chair with the built-in booster seat. Brina and Joey waved from the back.

“Come on, we’ve probably got forty minutes before they come back, all sugared up,” Marissa announced as soon as the van reversed out of the drive. “Spill the dirt, Tree.”

“Great second date?” Leanna prompted.

“Yep.”

“No attempted killing involved?” Marissa wanted to know.

“Nope.” I led the way to the kitchen.

“He was where you wanted him to be?”

“Exactly.”

“Oh, you’re killing us, Tree!” Leanna groaned, crunching a tortilla chip in frustration.

“Drinks first.” I uncorked a new bottle of Patrón Silver. “Talk during.”

Marissa pulled perfect avocados, a Spanish onion, and a lime from a bag and got to work at the kitchen countertop. She had a knack for spotting avocados in their exact stage of ripeness; it was truly a gift.

They carried the food into the living room, and the drinks and I joined them. I could see they were practically keeling over in suspense.

“So . . .” Marissa prompted as I handed her a glass, and then one to Leanna.

I casually crossed my legs and took a sip. Then I began. “Incredible. We had an amazing time.”

“And the sex?” If Marissa had been waging bets tonight, I would have won in knowing sex was going to be the first bullet point on her agenda.

“What sex?”

“Come on! You slept with him, didn’t you?” She kicked my bare foot dangling near hers. “You got rid of the monkey paw,” she noted, referring to my freshly exfoliated heel, “your nails have red polish on them for the first time since Brina’s christening—”

“I bet you got a Brazilian, too,” Leanna challenged.

“No, just a bikini wax.”

Both women practically spilled their drinks all over the couch in gloating celebration. I told them briefly of how we ended up at the Plaza.

“Ahh, hotel sex . . . that’s the best,” Marissa said.

“The hell with that,
daylight
sex,” Leanna added. “I haven’t had that in years!”

“Jeez, a night at the Plaza would probably be Rob’s whole weekly paycheck.” Marissa sounded wistful as she dredged a chip through the bowl of salsa in front of her.

“And you were only there a couple of hours. Nicely played.” Leanna toasted me with her margarita glass.

Marissa waved her hand. “Wait a sec, doesn’t he live just a few blocks from there? Why would he spend several hundred bucks on an afternoon delight there and not take you back to his place?”

“I don’t know. The topic never came up. We were working off the spontaneity, you know?”

Leanna licked a bit of salt from her glass. “You don’t think he has a wife hidden away or some torsos in his freezer, do you?”

“Uh . . . I do
now
, Leanna! Thanks a lot.” I laughed, but I felt a tiny nagging seed of doubt burrow its way into the back of my brain. Was he hiding something? We had talked a lot, but I still knew so little. I was enjoying getting to know him slowly, although our romp this afternoon had certainly accelerated some familiarities.

“So how was it getting back on the horse after almost four years? Was he a stud?” Marissa pried.

“He was . . . very sweet,” I admitted. “Romantic, but not in a thickly laid, thinly veiled way. Sincere. He didn’t get weird after or anything . . . even when I fell asleep. It was nice waking up next to him, I have to say.”

“Ah, romance. The first thing I wake up to every morning is Eddie ripping a fart,” Leanna drawled. We howled with laughter.

“Rob and I are still pretty passionate, but I don’t know if I would call it romantic after fourteen years. Maybe we know each other too well. But it’s still pretty hot.”

Leanna scooped a huge chunk of guac, cupping her other hand protectively underneath it. “So when are you going to see him again?”

“I was thinking Abbey and I would take him to Bear Mountain, maybe this weekend . . . if he’s free.” I hopped up and came back with a freshly made pitcher to refill our drinks.

“What does he think of the fact that you have a kid? Is he cool with it? Did you tell him the deal?” Despite Marissa’s recent tirade about the bad bed vibes, she and my other closest friends treaded carefully on the details of “the deal,” as Marissa sometimes called it, although “ordeal” was probably a more apt term.

The truth was, they had dealt with Pete’s death in the trenches right beside me. They had witnessed the shock and horror and the aftermath, and had fought hard not to let it redefine their relationships with me. There had been a short time of walking on eggshells for each of them, naturally. But they knew I didn’t want pity or comforting ad nauseam, and I knew they weren’t going to forget or dismiss it simply by not speaking of it, so we had reached a quiet middle ground; a peaceful purgatory, I guess you could say. My baggage remained, like those forlorn items traveling round and round the conveyor belt at the airport, but we chose to ignore it, to not claim it and own it and drag it around with us. They had picked me up and healed me more so than any counseling session or grief book ever could, and I loved them fiercely for that.

“He’s been made aware.” Why
was
I finding it so difficult to tell Adrian what had happened? Everything else with him came so easily. Should I hand him the newspaper articles to read and tell him to get back to me should he have any questions?

I mulled it over as I chewed on a tequila-laced ice cube. It had been a long time since I had had to lay the whole thing out. Living here, I didn’t have to. Small towns are perfect for preserving, or petrifying, one’s personal history. My family’s beeswax buzzed down the power lines and grape vines of the town along with everyone else’s. Bride becomes mom becomes widow, all recorded in the annals of Lauder Lake even before I reestablished myself as a resident. But the whole story . . . not exactly first-date small talk. Nor was it second-date pillow talk. My body temp increased by ten degrees at the last thought, and it wasn’t the alcohol’s fault. Memories of our hot afternoon romp lingered like a dream, and I quite liked the mystery and fantasy we had each brought to the bed. What had he called me . . . a goddess? Sheesh. The less he knew at this point, the less likely I would become his charity case. Or scare him away. Keep the moment beautiful, as he had said about keeping his scars covered. The same could be said for mine, lying below the surface. My first-class, Louis Vuitton–size excess baggage could stay in cold storage for a bit longer.

“As for Abbey . . . he actually said he thought she should be with us on the next visit.” The Patrón was softening the edges and making my tongue lazy. “Bad sign?”

“No way. They had chemistry, too. I saw it in the library. And not just because she adores that freakin’ cat he sings about,” Leanna pointed out. “He seemed very comfortable around her.”

I was secretly glad I wasn’t the only one who had picked up on that. Seeing him interacting with her the morning following the library program had further reinforced the notion that he seemed to genuinely enjoy her company as well as mine. Yet his relationship with his own daughter sounded so tumultuous. I was curious to learn more about that. “He’s got a grown daughter, actually, from a previous marriage.” I tested the words out loud, getting used to them. I had dated several breeds of the male species in my day, but never the type labeled “Divorced Dad.” It sounded so . . . mature.

“There are my three lovely senoritas.” Rob had let himself in. I heard Abbey on the porch, cranking up her new Adrian mix CD for Brina and Joey. “Did you get your drink on, my lady?” He leaned down to give Marissa’s lips a short kiss.

She sucked the dregs of her sweet drink and grinned. “Hell yeah. Glad you are the DD.”

“Yeah, thanks for picking me up, too,” Leanna said. She turned to me. “The Volvo is in the shop, and I wasn’t about to drive that truck.”

“Of course not.” I humored her. “That truck” was Ed’s 1958 Chevy Apache Street Rod, as well as the bane of Leanna’s existence. He had blown his entire severance pay on the truck after 9/11 and his separation from the insurance company that had employed him. And he had spent most of his time since then restoring it to its original cherry-red brilliance. Lauder Lake was small enough a town to relish such oddball behavior; besides Manny Mietta, the octogenarian who drove a Cadillac predating my birth by one year, no one here antiqued when it came to cars. Although Grant’s fifteen-year-old pussy wagon may have run a close third.

“If this is his midlife crisis, couldn’t he have at least gone and bought a Maserati? Something cool?” she continued. Marissa and I both rolled our eyes sympathetically; Rob just shrugged, unwritten guy code for not coming down on another member of the tribe. Secretly, I sort of liked the truck. It was actually the one thing that made Ed vaguely unique. Ed Brown was . . . well, beige, for lack of a better descriptor. Nice enough guy, cute and smart enough, but for our Leanna . . .
not
enough. A powerhouse like that deserved a man who could match her.

Soon after Leanna’s vows of “for better and for worse” had been exchanged, Marissa, Liz, and I had a powwow in our identical teal dupioni silk dresses, Cosmos in hand. We vowed to always build our friend up, no matter what in life brought her down. And extended the pact to mutually include all of our futures as well.

“Thanks for coming, you guys. Sorry I broke the usual Wednesday plans.” We lingered by the door, watching as Rob chased the kids around the lawn and through the minivan via both open side doors as if it were a jungle gym.

“No biggie. This was a nice change. And come on. It was worth it, right?” Marissa teased.

“It was a nice change,” I admitted with a grin.