Point, Click, Love (26 page)

Within a second the woman was joined by a tall man dressed in a suit with a similar headphone.

“May I assist you, ma’am?” he asked, clearly having no intention of helping Maxine in any way.

“Yes,” said Maxine. “You see, I came here with—”

“Ma’am,” the man said, cutting her off. “You don’t need to do this. You need to leave. You need to leave right now.”

Maxine stared at him in disbelief. “Really? You’re going to make me turn around and walk down those steps and … and I don’t even have a car! I don’t even have a ride!” She looked at the woman, who had resumed greeting other guests. “Your job? What are you going to do when I end up getting murdered! Isn’t that worse than losing your stupid goddamn job!?”

“Ma’am,” said the man. “If you don’t leave right now, I’m going to have to call security.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. And I don’t think you want me to call security.”

Maxine looked at the man defeatedly. “Right. Don’t call security. But could you please call me a cab?”

A
s she rode back to her hotel, Maxine called home.

“Abby?”

“Hi, Mom.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Why are you calling?”

“I’m sorry, Abby,” said Maxine, feeling her throat tightening.

“Why? You didn’t do anything.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, the tears welling up in her eyes.

“Mom? Are you crying?”

“No! No, I’m fine. I just feel bad for you. Your lip.”

“Oh, it’s fine. Matt apologized.”

“That’s great.” said Maxine. “I’m so glad.”

“Okay, Mom. I think I need to go to bed now.”

“Yes, you do! It’s late!”

“Good night.”

“I love you, Abby.”

“Love you too, Mom.”

B
y the time she reached the hotel, Maxine had decided that it was time to go home. At that moment, all she wanted was to see her children.

Then her phone rang.

“Maxine?”

“Ted?”

“Maxine! I’m so sorry! I feel so bad! When we walked in Bill gave his client’s name. His name wasn’t even on the list! And I didn’t notice, because there were all these people and I was so anxious to get in … oh, my God, I’m such an asshole!”

“It’s okay, Ted.”

“Where are you?”

“I’m back at the hotel. I took a cab.”

“Well, get right back into that cab and come over here! I talked to the people at the door and they’re expecting you.

“No, Ted,” said Maxine.

“No? But what about Jen? I swear, she’s standing right over there!”

“No, I’m sorry, Ted. I’m done.” Maxine was surprised at how easy the decision not to go back was. Not only that, she didn’t feel an ounce of regret about not getting into the party.

“Maxine, this is once in a lifetime. You’re going to regret this for as long as you live!”

“No, Ted. I’m pretty sure I won’t,” said Maxine. “Hey, I’m going to head back home tomorrow. Can you let Susan know?”

“Sure. Is everything okay? Are your kids all right?”

“Yes, they’re fine. It’s just time.”

——

W
hile Maxine could feel the love for her children stronger than ever before and could barely contain her desire to see them as soon as possible, she felt nothing but hostility toward Jake and complete dread at the thought of seeing him. No longer did she have a seed of doubt about his affair. Why else would he leave the kids alone at that time of night? Why didn’t he pick up when they called?

She knew she should call to let Jake know that she was coming home early, but she worried about what she might say to him if she did. She was afraid she might end it over the phone.

But she knew it wouldn’t be that easy. For the first time she allowed herself to imagine what getting a divorce from Jake would be like. Having the talks, telling the kids, maybe seeing a counselor, then the lawyers, the negotiating. It was all so exhausting, but Maxine knew in her heart it had to be done.

U
sually, Maxine would spend an entire plane ride reading
People
,
Us
, or
In Touch
. But when she passed by the newsstands at LAX, she couldn’t bring herself to even look at the magazine covers. It was like a miracle: Maxine had been broken of her celebrity habit.

When she arrived home that evening at half past seven, she noticed a strange car in the driveway. She walked in the back door, which opened onto the kitchen, and found her family—Jake, Matthew, Abby, Suzanne—sitting at the table, eating dinner with Deirdre.

“Mommy!” shouted Suzanne when she saw her mother. She and Abby leapt up from their chairs and ran to the door to give Maxine a hug.

“Hey, Mom!” said Matthew, too cool to get up and embrace his mother.

“Maxine,” said Jake, getting up as if she were royalty, looking awkwardly at Deirdre, then avoiding her altogether.

“Welcome home, Maxine,” said Deirdre, standing up alongside Jake, trying her best not to look the least bit perturbed.

“I thought you weren’t getting back until Monday,” said Jake.

“I know. I just thought I’d come back early and surprise you!” said Maxine, giving Abby and Suzanne another hug. As she squeezed them she could feel the tears coming. Am I going to start crying? she wondered. Maxine had felt so sure before arriving home, but now—seeing her kids, seeing Jake, and especially seeing Deirdre, sitting there with her family as if she owned the place—Maxine realized that this would be harder than she’d imagined.

“Deirdre came by to drop off some X rays, and the kids insisted she stay for dinner,” said Jake.

“It’s so nice to see you, Deirdre,” said Maxine, ignoring Jake.

“Did you have a good time in L.A.?” Deirdre asked.

“Yes, it was great.”

“Did you see any stars?” asked Abby.

“No,” said Maxine. “No stars.”

“How did the show go?” asked Jake. “I kept waiting for some word.”

“Great. Sorry. I know I should have called, but I thought it would be more fun to surprise you and tell you all about it in person.”

“Oh, yes, tell us about it,” said Deirdre.

“Not now,” said Maxine. “I’m beat.”

“Come, sit down,” said Jake. “I’ll get you a plate.”

Maxine knew what she
should
do. She should sit down with them and eat and show them she was fine, that she wasn’t hurt or jealous or sad. She could handle anything. That’s what she ought
to do, but she simply couldn’t. She could already feel her stomach turning, her palms sweating, the tears building up. She had to get away.

“You know what, why don’t you all finish your meal and I’ll go take a shower and unpack,” said Maxine.

“Come on, Mom!” said Abby. “Stay with us. We missed you!”

“Thanks, sweetie,” said Maxine. “I just need a few minutes and then we can talk. Okay?”

“Okay,” said Abby.

After her shower, Maxine wrapped herself in towels and lay down on the bed to rest. Within minutes, she fell asleep. At ten o’clock, Jake walked into the room, and Maxine awoke with a start.

“Where are the kids?” said Maxine, disoriented, wondering if maybe she was back at the Chateau Marmont.

“Abby and Suzanne are in bed and Matthew is on his computer,” said Jake calmly.

“Where’s Deirdre?”

“She left.”

Maxine stood up. “I should go say good night to the girls.”

“They’re asleep, Maxine. It’s fine, you’ll see them in the morning. Just relax.”

Maxine sat back down on the bed, reluctantly.

“So tell me what’s going on,” said Jake.

“I think you’re the one who needs to tell me what’s going on.”

“Maxine, there’s nothing to tell,” said Jake, in his most annoyingly patient doctor tone. “Like I said, Deirdre came by to drop off some X rays, and the kids wanted her to stay for dinner.”

“So that’s your story and you’re sticking to it.”

“It’s not a story, it’s the truth,” said Jake, who was beginning to let his calm demeanor crack. “This is ridiculous!”

“Don’t tell me I’m being ridiculous. I’m not the one having an affair,” said Maxine.

“I am not having an affair!” Jake shouted.

“Look, Jake. It doesn’t even matter. An affair is just a symptom of a bigger problem.”

“Would you cut it out already?! I’m really getting sick of this. Why won’t you believe me? What do I have to do to make you believe me?”

“I have to admit, it was hard seeing her sitting there with you and the kids,” said Maxine. “Seeing my replacement. It’s hard to feel so replaceable. And for a second I thought, Do I want to give this up? And, you know, I do. I do want to give it up. If you want to replace me with someone else, someone better and younger and more beautiful and more accomplished, that’s fine. If you want to start over with Deirdre, I wish you all the best. Now that I know, I don’t want this anymore. I want something different.”

“You know what, Maxine? I think this whole Deirdre thing is a way for you to get out of our marriage. It’s you who wants to end this, not me, and you’re using Deirdre as an easy way out.”

“Maybe I am. But if she’s there, why not use her?”

“Because she’s not there! We aren’t having an affair. So don’t ease your guilt in breaking us up by convincing yourself that I’m the bad guy.”

As much as she tried not to, Maxine couldn’t help but wonder if maybe Jake was telling the truth. “Okay, Jake. Let’s just say, for the sake of argument, that Deirdre and you are not having an affair.”

“Great.”

“Then why—” Maxine stopped, and for the first time since she decided she wanted a divorce, she began to cry. “Then why don’t you love me anymore?”

Jake, who had been sitting on the opposite end of the bed, got up and sat next to Maxine. He put his arms around her awkwardly and gently patted her head. “How can you say that? I do love you!”

“Look at yourself, Jake! You can barely touch me!”

“I am touching you.”

“Yes, but you’re so … uncomfortable. It’s always like that! We
don’t hug, we don’t kiss, we don’t have sex. You can’t stand me!” she said, starting to sob uncontrollably.

“Oh, God, Maxine. Please don’t say that.”

“But it’s true!”

“It’s not true,” said Jake, now calm in the face of Maxine’s hysterics.

“Then why don’t you want me anymore? Why have you pulled away … so completely? It’s not only the sex. It’s everything!”

Jake sat quietly as Maxine cried, waiting patiently for her to let it all out. After a few minutes, he got up and brought her a box of tissues. Then he sat quietly and waited for her to clean herself up.

“You’re right, Maxine.”

“About what? That you hate me?”

“No. That I’ve … pulled away from you.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“Are you not attracted to me anymore?”

“No, it’s not … it’s not that I’m not attracted to you, it’s like … I’m not attracted to anyone.”

“Are you gay?”

“No! But I … it’s like … nothing’s happening anymore … down there.”

“You can’t get it up?” asked Maxine. “Ever?”

“No. I mean yes. I mean—”

“Jake! You’re a doctor, for God’s sake! You probably just need some Viagra!”

“I think there’s more to it than that, Maxine. It’s not only physical, it’s psychological. For so long, I haven’t had it in me, and I felt bad about it. Guilty. I’ve had this feeling that I’ve been letting you down, not being a good husband to you, and so I guess I decided to withdraw.”

“What about Deirdre?”

“Deirdre is a friend.”

“But she’s also a woman, and very beautiful.”

“I think I felt safe with her, that I could have a close friendship with her because she didn’t want anything from me, didn’t need anything from me.”

“Am I needy?”

“Of course not. But you’re my wife and you deserve certain things—things that I couldn’t give you.”

“So what are we supposed to do now?” said Maxine.

“Well, it kind of sounds like you want to leave me.”

“I think I felt that way because I thought you didn’t love me anymore.”

“I do love you.”

“I love you too, Jake. But I also need … affection. Warmth, touching, sex. If I can’t have that, then …”

“How about if I go and see someone?” asked Jake.

“Who? A psychiatrist? A urologist?”

“Both.”

“I think that would be great.”

“So you won’t leave me?”

“No,” said Maxine. “But I wish you had told me this sooner. I wish you’d been honest with me.”

“I’m sorry, Maxine. I’m … you know, I’m just a typical guy. We have trouble talking. Right?”

“Yes, unfortunately you’re right. But you’re going to have to start talking.”

“I will.” Jake reached over and put his arms around Maxine once again, this time relaxing into it, allowing his body to press against hers.

“Jake?” said Maxine, slowly pulling away.

“Yeah?”

“One more thing. Can you please stop texting Deirdre?”

“Why?”

“Because it bugs the shit out of me.”

Chapter Eighteen

T
he feeling of being depressed was not something Claudia was familiar with. Annoyed she knew well. Pissed, angry, aggravated. She knew bummed, glum, and sad. But she had never been so knocked out by an emotion as to be incapacitated.

Now she understood depression—at least the kind that left you so bereft of meaning and hope that you couldn’t imagine doing anything else but sleeping.

Thankfully, Claudia could sleep. Her exhaustion was so acute that it was easy to convince herself and those around her that she was suffering from some debilitating illness like mononucleosis or chronic fatigue syndrome or Epstein—Barr. But there was one person who didn’t seem to buy it—her daughter Janie.

“What’s the matter with you, Mom?” asked Janie on day eight.

“I’m not sure, Janie,” said Claudia, lying on her bed beneath a mountain of covers.

“So why don’t you go to the doctor?”

“I will, but I’m too tired.”

“Why don’t you have any other symptoms? Like coughing or a fever or aches …”

“I’m pretty achy,” said Claudia.

“Mom?”

“Yes?”

“You never get sick.”