Savage Lane (5 page)

Deb was jarred from her thoughts when, up ahead, she saw Mark and Karen near the road in front of Karen’s house. Karen was also dressed to go running in Lycra and a tank top, showing off her perfectly toned Pilates arms.

“Hey, there’s Daddy,” Justin said.

Karen was smiling, and Mark was talking in a very animated away—did he ever show so much enthusiasm when he was talking with anyone but Karen? It amazed and disgusted Deb how they were so open about their relationship, how they were flaunting it for everyone to see.

Deb was hoping she could drive by without them noticing, but there wasn’t much traffic on Savage Lane and a passing car always got attention. Sure enough as the car approached, Karen’s gaze shifted toward Deb and when they made eye contact Karen stopped smiling, just for a moment, and suddenly looked very serious, and then Mark looked over with a similar guilty expression. They were having an actual affair; Deb was certain of it.

As the car passed, Karen’s smile returned, but it was obviously a strained, fake smile, trying to cover up for her guilt, and then taking it even further, she waved at Deb. Meanwhile, Deb didn’t smile back, just glared at both of them until she had passed by, out of view.

A few minutes later, driving along Old Post Road, Deb still couldn’t believe that Karen had actually smiled at her. The bitch was flirting openly with her husband, an obvious home wrecker, and then she
smiles
?

Talk about balls.

P
ULLING INTO
the lot of Barlow Mountain Elementary School, Deb saw Owen’s car—well, the Sentra he always borrowed from his mother—parked in a spot near the entrance. Deb had had sex with him in that car so many times, the latest just last Tuesday evening when she’d told Mark she was going to hang out for a while at a friend’s house, but she’d really met Owen at the parking lot behind a hardware store. Deb couldn’t help seeing a flash of Owen—his pale, hairless chest, him squeezing a fistful of her hair like he didn’t want to ever let go—but refocused quickly and rehearsed what she was going to say to him.
It’s over, Owen. We can’t see each other anymore.

She hoped when she pulled out of the lot after swimming practice that would be it, he’d be out of her life for good, and she could work on rebuilding her marriage.

In the school, Justin went to the lockers to get changed, and Deb went to the pool. Most of her buzz had worn off which was annoying because she could’ve used a little more relaxation. She scanned the bleachers for Owen, but didn’t see him at his usual seat, second row, near the aisle, or anywhere else. There were about twenty other people scattered around—mostly moms and dads. Deb wasn’t really friends with any of them, but she said ‘hi’ or waved to the few moms she’d spoken to before and then sat alone a few rows behind Owen’s usual seat.

Practice had already started, the kids doing the breaststroke and the coach, Dave, shouting echoing instructions that were impossible to understand from where Deb was at the opposite end of the pool. Owen’s brother, Kyle, was swimming in lane four, so Owen had to be there somewhere. Deb looked again and, sure enough, Owen was heading toward the bleachers.

Deb felt the way she always did when Owen walked into a room—excited, horny, and very alive. It wasn’t just because she was so attracted to him. Yeah, he was a good-looking guy—six feet tall, dirty blond hair, bright blue eyes—but he was far from gorgeous. His ears stuck out a little too far and, at eighteen, his hairline was already receding, and he was lanky, a little awkward. Sometimes his arms seemed too long for his body, and he had a tick where he blinked too hard and too often when he was nervous or self-conscious. But there was just something about him that always sharpened Deb’s senses, mesmerized her. When he was nearby, even when she wasn’t looking at him, she was hyperaware of his presence. To Deb, Owen wasn’t a person; he was passion. He made her feel wanted, desired, sexy and, yes, younger.

Owen went to sit in his usual spot on the bleachers, not even looking at Deb. Though sometimes Owen wasn’t as careful as he should’ve been with his texting, the main reason the affair had lasted as long as it had was because they were always discreet in public. Was she imagining it or could she smell his Axe cologne? He was probably too far away to
actually
smell it, but being around him was so intoxicating and arousing in every way.

It’s over, Owen, we can’t see each other anymore. It’s over, Owen, we can’t see each other anymore.

After he watched about ten minutes of practice, Owen left the pool area. Deb knew exactly where he was going.

Deb waited about five minutes and then she got up and left as well. A five-minute lag was enough that no one could suspect that her exit had anything to do with Owen’s.

Deb went down the first floor hallway to the ladies’ room, where she went to the bathroom, washed her hands, and then spent a couple of minutes staring in the mirror, trying to get up the strength to do what she had to do. Then she left the bathroom, but instead of returning to the pool area, she made sure no one was around and went up to the third floor.

Walking along the third floor hallway, Deb’s heart rate accelerated. In front of room 314, she paused, gathering more strength, then entered.

Owen was where he always was—sitting at the desk.

“Good morning, Debbie,” he said.

She took a deep breath and tried to slow her heart rate.

“We need to talk,” she said.

That was good—taking control, or trying to. She shut the door, but remained near it.

“I know we do, Debbie, that’s why I’ve been waiting for you.”

She loved when he spoke to her in a commanding tone; it was so goddamn sexy.

“Seriously,” she said. “We have to.”

“I know, it’s very serious,” he said. “You got an F on your term paper, and you’re usually an A student. Was there some sort of problem?”

Ok, this was the time to do it. Right now.

“Yeah, actually there is a problem,” she said.

“Really?” he said. “Okay, what’s your excuse?”

She wanted to say the line she’d rehearsed, tell him it was over, but then she had a vision of Mark and Karen, on the road in front of Karen’s house, looking so
together
. What if Mark was planning to leave the marriage? Deb knew she couldn’t handle being alone. She’d go crazy.

“I…” she said. “I… I don’t know.”

Owen stood, facing her.

“I’m sure you have a good excuse, Debbie, and I’m sure we can work something out.”

Owen was deep in the fantasy, in his role, and Deb wanted to be in it with him, just one more time.

She approached the desk, swinging her hips back and forth. She stopped, biting down a little on her lower lip, looking like she wanted to devour him, and then, after she got on her knees in front of him, she looked up at his smooth face, and he seemed so tall, so commanding, and she heard a sad, desperate voice that sounded nothing like her own say, “Well, you know I’d do
anything
for an A, Mr. Harrison,” and she couldn’t stop it anymore.

The fantasy was back.

K
AREN
D
AILY
dreaded making the phone call, but she had no choice. Steven was a good guy—funny, honest, sincere—but if she’d learned one thing from her divorce it was that life was too short to spend with the wrong person.

“Hey, I was just thinking about you,” Steven said. “How was the party?”

Karen had just gotten back from dinner at the Lerners’, but the Steven situation had been gnawing at her all evening, and she wanted to get it over with. She’d made the call while standing up, leaning against the wall in the foyer. She hadn’t even taken her coat off.

“Pretty good,” Karen said.

“Yeah,” Steven said, “was the house as fancy as you expected?”

“It was pretty spectacular actually,” Karen said.

“Wow, sounds awesome.”

“It was… Look, Steven, I hate to do this, I really do. I mean, I think you’re a really great guy. You’re smart, you’re funny, but this just isn’t working for me. I’m really sorry.”

Silence. Uh oh, he wasn’t going to get angry or start yelling, was he? She’d had to end several relationships since her divorce, and it was always a mystery how the guy would take it. Some were mature, but some begged, and others got angry and threatening.

“Oh okay, I understand.” Steven sounded relaxed, cool with it.

“Thank you.” Karen was relieved.

“No worries,” Steven said. “I think you’re great, and I was looking forward to getting to know you better, but you have to follow your heart in these situations. I get that.”

Relief hit Karen. “Thank you for being so understanding,” she said. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this.”

“No problem, seriously,” Steven said. “I hope our paths cross again someday. And, hey, we’re still Facebook friends. Maybe we can play Words With Friends sometime.”

Karen laughed. “I’d like that,” she said.

Later, Karen was in her bedroom, getting out of the dress she’d worn to the party, still feeling good about how it had gone with Steven. Why couldn’t ending relationships always be so easy? If something was wrong, why couldn’t people accept that sometimes things don’t work out and happily move on?

She’d changed into PJ bottoms and an old T-shirt and then heard the front door open. She went to the landing and saw Elana and Matthew; they’d spent the evening at the Bermans’.

“Hey, how’s it going?” Karen was happy to see them. “Did you have a fun night?”

“It was pretty good,” Matthew said, running upstairs, past her.

Karen went down and said to Elana, who was texting, “And how was your night?”

“Okay,” Elana said distractedly.

“Please look at me when we’re talking.”

“Sorry.” She stopped staring at the phone, but Karen could tell she was still lost, thinking about whomever she was texting with. Then full consciousness returned and she said, “Oh, yeah, it was pretty good. Hey, can I go to a party with Riley at Dylan Ross’ house tomorrow night?”

“Will Dylan’s parents be there?”

“No, but they’ll be home by midnight.”

“I want you home by eleven the latest.”

“Eleven-thirty?”

“Eleven.”

“Okay, Mom,” Elana said. Then she kissed Karen on the cheek. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, sweetie,” Karen said.

Elana went upstairs, and Karen made a cup of green tea, then relaxed in the living room with her iPad. As a single mom, there were times when Karen was lonely and missed having a man around—not her ex, a
man
. She missed doing couple things—going on trips together or just out to dinner or into the city for an afternoon. But usually, like right now, she loved the alone time, having her own space, being able to have a relaxing late night at home. Compared to the tension at the end of her marriage this was practically bliss.

After commenting on a few statuses on Facebook, Karen logged on to Match and reactivated her account. She used to be skeptical about online dating—the idea of shopping for men had been a turnoff—but there really was no other way to meet people these days, especially in the suburbs, and over the past three years she’d met some great guys online. Okay, she’d met some creeps too, like Paul the stalker and porn-obsessed Mike, but most of her experiences had been positive. She’d had several relationships that had lasted a few months and several that had petered out. After being in a long marriage, it was fun to have new adventures. Karen was always honest and upfront with guys. She wasn’t looking for anything serious from the get-go, but if she stumbled upon the right guy and the right situation she’d happily settle down.

Between the time she’d met Steven, and before she’d deactivated her account, about thirty guys had written to her. The most frustrating thing about online dating was how hard it had been to meet a nice guy around her age; it seemed as if all the seventy-year-old guys were looking for Lolita, and all the twenty-year-old guys wanted Mrs. Robinson. In this batch of notes, two—“Richard” and “Dave”—seemed like possibilities. Richard was a forty-four-year-old dentist from Scarsdale, which was less than a half hour away. Dave, a forty-year-old, never-been-married-before ad exec from Manhattan, had sent her a nice note about a couple of Broadway musicals he’d seen recently because Karen had mentioned in her profile that she likes Broadway musicals.