Point, Click, Love (19 page)

Maxine could tell that Jake’s seemingly limitless amount of patience was getting close to running out, but she didn’t care. “Thanks, Jake,” she said, as if he really was being understanding. “Tell the kids I’ll call them when they get home from school.”

After she hung up, Maxine thought about calling Katie. There
was so much to tell her—about the gallery, the hotel, and everything that was going on with Jake. But she knew that once she started talking to Katie, reality would set in. She didn’t want anything to pull her out of her new mind-set, not even her best friend.

Maxine spent the next few days preparing for her show, giving interviews to magazines and newspapers, and having meetings with some of Susan’s clients. While she had certainly had bigger career successes before, Maxine couldn’t remember spending so much time and energy on self-promotion. It was all about her, and she had to admit she liked it.

It wasn’t so much that Maxine craved attention, it was more that she felt like a prisoner who had just been freed. She hadn’t even realized that she was a captive of her own life, and only when she stepped completely out of it could she see it.

Like so many women she knew, Maxine had tempered her devotion to her career and her drive for success because of her family. It was something she did willingly, without a second thought. But then she saw the way Jake never had to do that. In fact, his career thrived because of his family, not in spite of it.

But it wasn’t the kids. Yes, the kids demanded her time and attention and love, but they were not the culprits. Maxine believed it was Jake and his needs that sucked the life out of her.

When opening night finally arrived, it all felt otherworldly to Maxine. She kept thinking that it was like her wedding day, when she was the center of attention and it was the beginning of something momentous. But her wedding day was the time when her life became subsumed by Jake’s. This night felt more like Independence Day.

It was like a scene out of a movie, and she was the star. Everyone there looked like extras, whose hair and makeup and outfits had been designed by an art director. People drank premium champagne out of glass flutes, and waiters in tuxedos passed
around skewered meats, crab cakes, and toasts topped with sour cream and caviar. The lighting in the room was soft and flattering, but the paintings were illuminated with stark spotlights. All those brightly colored cows and barns and tractors appeared odd next to the cool gray suits and black chiffon dresses, but the contrast made them all the more unique and beautiful. Ordinarily, Maxine felt that people rarely noticed the art at an opening. But this night, people seemed mesmerized by the paintings—and by her.

Susan and Ted kept bringing people over to meet her, and everyone showered her with praise, particularly the men. Maxine was usually shy when it came to male attention and had never mastered the art of flirting. She didn’t like the idea of people paying attention to her because of her appearance. But she did like getting recognition for her talent.

Susan brought over one man in his late forties wearing a pinstriped suit. “This is Brent Halliwell,” she said. “He insisted on meeting you, Maxine.” Then Susan turned around and left.

“Nice to meet you,” said Maxine, who after meeting roughly thirty people and drinking roughly three glasses of champagne had shed all of her nervousness.

“Amazing work, Ms. Walters. I told Susan I wanted some to hang at my office, but she told me everything’s sold out.”

“Really?” said Maxine, knowing already that it was all sold. “Please, call me Maxine.”

“I hope you’ll consider doing some work for me on commission.”

“I’ll definitely consider it,” she said, smiling.

“Where are you from?”

“Kansas City,” she said confidently. At some point during the evening, being from the Midwest had become a badge of honor. A number of midwestern transplants had even come up to her and declared their love of the flatlands.

“Fascinating.”

“Not really,” said Maxine. “But it does provide some inspiration.”

“Absolutely,” Brent affirmed. “Sometimes I think I’ve got to get out of L.A. just to get some perspective.”

“Well, if you’re ever in my neck of the woods, give me a call.” Maxine felt like she was twenty again and traveling around Europe, inviting everyone she met to come visit her back home.

“Maybe I will,” he said with a bit of surprise. He paused for a moment and gave Maxine a quizzical look, as if he was trying to figure out whether she was coming on to him.

But she wasn’t. Brent, like all the other good-looking, well-dressed, successful middle-aged men in the room, reminded Maxine of Jake. They all knew how to charm and flatter their way into your heart at the beginning, but soon enough, whether it took minutes, hours, days, or longer, it would become all about them.

Maxine noticed Ted approaching, arm in arm with what looked like a carbon copy of himself—a short, slender, cute boy in his twenties wearing a tight silk shirt and jeans. “Excuse me,” she said to Brent. “I need to consult with Ted for a minute. It was nice to meet you.

“Hey there,” she said.

“Maxine, this is my boyfriend, Bill.”

“Bill and Ted!” she exclaimed a little too loudly. When neither reacted, she added, “
Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure
? The movie?”

“Yeah, right,” said Ted distractedly.

“Nice to meet you, Maxine,” said Bill, extending his hand.

“Listen, Maxine,” said Ted. “I’ve got some great news for you.”

“What, baby?” said Maxine, putting her hand on Ted’s cheek. “I don’t know if anything could make this night any better.”

“I think this might,” said Ted, smiling. “Bill just told me that he was invited to another party tonight.”

“Oh, no, you’re leaving already?” said Maxine.

“It’s at Jennifer Aniston’s house,” said Ted.

Maxine’s expression went blank. She looked at Ted as if he had told her somebody had died. “Don’t joke about that,” she said sternly.

“I’m not joking, Maxine.”

“And I suppose you’re telling me that I can go with you.”

“It’s a big party,” said Bill. “I already talked to my client and told him about you. He said it would be no problem for you to come. He’s putting us on the guest list.”

Ever since Ashton and Demi’s party at the hotel, Maxine had put celebrity sightings out of her mind. She had decided that it was silly, a waste of time, and would never provide any kind of satisfaction. But this was different. This was Jen. And she would not be a party crasher but an invited guest. Most of all, tonight she was feeling like a star herself. Yes, she would go, because she would be going as an equal.

Chapter Thirteen

I
t was a feeling Claudia had never experienced before—being incredibly happy and utterly guilt-ridden all at the same time for the very same reason.

Fred was like a revelation to Claudia. He made her feel excited yet also gave her a profound sense of comfort and peace. He was funny and smart and handsome but completely modest and unassuming. She could tell him anything, and he always had a wise, measured response. And it was the best sex she’d ever had.

But Claudia had always prided herself on being moral, so she was keenly aware that what she was doing was wrong. She understood that people fall out of love, that they become attracted to somebody else. But she never understood why those people didn’t
come clean and tell their partners the truth rather than sneaking around behind the other’s back. Now she understood.

Claudia figured out that the reason people cheat is because it’s less scary than breaking up.

She wanted to be with Fred, to explore what they might become. But she wasn’t quite ready to give up on Steve. Maybe things wouldn’t work out with Fred. Maybe her problems with Steve were only temporary. How could she just throw away thirteen years of marriage? How could she break up her family? It would be foolish to leave Steve simply because of Fred. But it would also be foolish not to get to know Fred, who gave her joy she’d never felt before.

And thus Claudia became an adulteress.

In order to live comfortably in her new role as a cheater, Claudia had to also become a self-deluder. She constructed an elaborate rationalization for what she was doing, which included: It was better not to tell Steve and hurt him; Steve was probably doing the same thing with Marjorie; Steve wasn’t really there for her; her happiness was important too; and everything would turn out fine in the end.

But the best way for Claudia to keep those shameful feelings at bay, oddly enough, was to spend as much time as she could with Fred, who somehow always made her forget her errant behavior.

They continued their daily lunch dates, but now they added twice-weekly jaunts to Fred’s place. Claudia also invented a new client, which she mentioned to Steve soon after beginning her affair. This client was a big client. This client was very demanding. She would have to work late sometimes, and she would have to work weekends. Steve was unfazed.

Claudia’s kids, Sandy and Janie, were another story.

They already didn’t like the fact that their father was the stay-at-home parent and their mother was the breadwinner. They got along with Steve fine, but at twelve years old they wanted their
mother around. So Claudia did her best to make up for her frequent absences by taking them shopping and buying them lots of expensive clothes, making sure they were outfitted with the latest in cell phones, and going to soccer games whenever she could.

One Sunday afternoon Steve and Claudia went to the girls’ game together. Steve set up his folding chair, pulled his baseball cap low over his face, and took out his cell phone. Claudia watched as Steve’s thumbs raced furiously across the miniature keyboard; he never looked up at the game, even when the crowd cheered. Finally she walked away in disgust. She wandered along the edge of the field until she found another mother she knew and liked.

“Hey, Betty,” said Claudia. “Beautiful day, isn’t it?”

“Gorgeous,” said Betty. “Nice to see you out here.”

“I wish I could get to these more often,” said Claudia dejectedly.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. You’re lucky.”

“Well, I feel bad. I know the girls get disappointed.”

“They have Steve,” said Betty, motioning toward Steve’s down-turned head and giving Claudia a wry smile.

“Yeah, right,” said Claudia, smiling back.

“What is he doing on that phone?”

“Facebook.”

“Seriously?”

“Yup.”

“I don’t get it,” said Betty. “What’s the attraction?”

“I guess it’s easier for him to relate to people online than to actually have to talk to people here.”

“I’m not so scary, am I?”

“You know, you might ask him about work or something and he’d have to tell you he’s unemployed.”

“Well, everybody already knows that,” said Betty.

“Yeah, but he can fool himself into thinking you don’t.”

“I see.”

“So how’s George?” asked Claudia.

“The same, you know how it goes,” said Betty wearily. “The only time we ever seem to speak to each other is when we’re trying to figure out who takes to soccer, who takes to baseball, and who takes to piano lessons. Unless of course we’re arguing about money, and then we speak a lot to each other. Loudly.”

“I know what you mean, Betty,” said Claudia. “Have you guys tried getting out together every now and then?”

“We saw a counselor last year who told us to have a weekly date night. So we’d go out to a fancy dinner, have nothing to say to each other, and wind up with an enormous bill at the end. Not fun.”

“Betty,” said Claudia, trying not to sound overly sympathetic.

“Claudia,” said Betty. “Don’t tell me it’s so much different at your house.”

“Of course it’s not,” said Claudia. But then she thought about Fred, her antidote to all the indignities of marriage, her savior, possibly her future.

Claudia looked out over the emerald-green field and imagined if Fred instead of Steve was there with her. She pictured herself standing with Fred’s arm around her shoulder, the two of them watching the game, cheering the girls on, and every now and then turning to each other and smiling at their good fortune.

It was the first time Claudia had ever imagined Fred in a “family” situation, and at that moment she realized that she wanted more from their relationship than she had thought. But what—what did she want? Did she want to divorce Steve and marry Fred? Would Fred become a stepdad to Sandy and Janie? It all seemed so perfect, and Claudia was wary of such perfection. But maybe everything really could turn out right.

After the game, Claudia and Steve took the girls out for pizza. As Claudia sat there, trying to look present and involved, all she could think about was when Monday morning would finally arrive, when she would be able to see Fred again. As she stared blankly at Sandy, watching her mouth move and her eyes dance as
she recounted a particularly thrilling play in the game, Claudia suddenly felt a wave of guilt. How could she neglect her children like this? She felt as if she was putting all of her love and attention and energy into her relationship with Fred, and she had nothing left for her daughters. It wasn’t right. Maybe the only answer was to break it off with Steve and bring Fred more fully into her life.

When Claudia arrived at work at eight-thirty on Monday and logged on to her computer, there was already an instant message from Fred waiting for her.

“Missed you,” it said.

“Me too,” she wrote back.

“What’s for lunch today?” he wrote.

Claudia thought for a moment. “What’s in your fridge?” She knew she wouldn’t be able to sit across from him at a restaurant, not being able to touch him, to hold his hand.

“Ah, I see. You want to get me in the sack.”

“No, no. There’ll be none of that,” wrote Claudia. “I just think you make an amazing omelet.”

Of course, Claudia knew there would be plenty of “that,” and it happened the minute they stepped into his place. Claudia’s desire for Fred was so achingly strong, sometimes she worried that was all there was to it. She remembered her college boyfriend Mike, how she overlooked everything about him because the sex was good. She knew how sex could make you think a guy was better than he really was.