Waiting to Exhale (37 page)

"No, it's not too late," I said. "I just hope I don't hate myself in the morning."

"I guarantee you won't," he said. "I'll see you in five minutes."

"Five minutes?"

"I've been sitting down the street in the parking lot of this Circle K store for the last hour and a half, thinking about what we talked about and trying to get my nerve up to call you back."

"Kenneth," I sighed.

"Savannah," he said. I just loved the way he said it.

I'm in deep trouble. I knew I shouldn't have let this man touch me. I'm worse off now than I was four years ago. All it takes sometimes is a touch. A kiss. And I'm right back there again. I wish he wasn't so tender, I wish he didn't make me feel like the Little Mermaid or like I weighed fifteen pounds, and Lord knows I wish he would open up a nationwide school: How to Eat Pussy, so the rest of these men out here can take a crash course. The way I feel right now has nothing to do with the fact that I haven't slept with a man in months. It's this man. Any man wouldn't do. When Kenneth first put his arms around me, that alone turned me into mush. He . D
idn't even have to put it in (but I'm glad he did), and now here he is lying in my bed with his arms wrapped around me, and I don't want to move one iota because it feels like heaven. Which is exactly where he took me last night. But I can't go back, because we can't stay there. He's going home to his wife.

"Good morning," he says.

"Good morning," I say back.

"You're not getting up, are you?"

"It's seven-thirty. I thought you wanted to be on the road about now."

"I did," he said, and sat up. I inched closer to the edge of the bed, because if he puts his hands on me one more time, I'll probably give him anything he wants. Why did I have to be so damn fast? Why did I allow myself to fall for the okeydoke and do this shit? I hope I didn't tell him I loved him, but after three or four orgasms, I'm liable to say anything. I swear, I don't remember. Fool.

"You still want to go?" he said.

"To be honest with you, Kenneth, I'm not sure it's such a good idea," I said, and jumped out of the bed.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I said. "Nothing."

"Did I do something? Say something?" "No."

"Talk to me, Savannah."

"We shouldn't've done this, Kenneth. I mean, it's one thing when you just hop on top of somebody and bang 'em and then get up and go home. But it's quite another thing when you used to love somebody and then they hold and caress you the way you did me. I feel weird. Because I know I shouldn't have done this."

"What are you trying to say?"

"What I'm trying to say is that sometimes old feelings get rekindled when you do certain things, and sleeping with you is one of them."

"I'm flattered," he said.

"I bet you are."

"What? You think you're the only one who has feelings?"

"I didn't say that. But what was the point of this?"

"The point is that I wanted to see you and I didn't plan a seduction. I didn't plan to make love to you, or to try to talk you into anything. I swear it."

"I'm not accusing you of doing that, but you're missing the point. I'm too old for this, Kenneth."

"Too old for what?"

"To be sleeping with an ex-lover who happens to be very married."

"I'm working on changing that," he said.

"That's what you all say."

"I'm not 'all,' " he said. "My name is Kenneth."

"So what are your plans?"

"I'm thinking about divorcing her."

"Thinking about it."

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"Because. I'm not happy."

"What about your kid?"

"I don't know yet. That's the only part of this whole thing that bothers me. What's going to happen to my daughter."

"I don't want to go to Sedona," I blurted out.

"Why not?"

"I just told you."

"We don't have to do anything, Savannah."

"We've already done it, Kenneth."

"I want you to keep me company. I've been looking forward to this for weeks. There's a whole lot more I want to tell you. A lot of things I want to ask you."

"Tell me now. Ask me now. Go ahead."

"Look. Didn't you say the drive was pretty?"

"That's what I've heard. But I'm serious, Kenneth. I can't. I'd be doing myself another injustice."

"I don't want to go if you won't go with me," he said.

"I can't. I swear, I can't."

"Can I just spend the day with you? I promise I won't try to lay a finger on you."

"No," I said, trying my damnedest to sound like I meant it. "I think you should get up and take a shower and get in your rental car and drive on up to Sedona just like you planned, and tomorrow go home to your wife."

"Why do you think I'm here?" he said.

"I don't know. Why?"

"Because I don't want to go home."

"But you're going home," I said.

He didn't say anything to that. I put my robe on and went into the kitchen to make some coffee. I made it strong. After he got out of the shower and put his clothes on, I poured him a cup of coffee. But he didn't want it. I walked him to the door.

"So tell me something, Savannah."

"What's that, Kenneth?"

"What happened last night?"

"Entirely too much," I said. "Now go."

I closed the door on him, but I could tell he was still standing there, because I didn't hear him walk away. I wished he wouldn't do that. When I finally heard his footsteps, I was relieved, in a way. But I have to admit I sat by that door for the longest time, waiting to hear them come back.

Chapter
17

Troy had left a message on my machine. "Robin," he said. "I've cleaned up my act, and I'd like to see you. For real. Call me."

"Get a life," I said.

Michael left one too. "Hi, Robin. Where've you been hiding? Don't you return phone calls? I'd love to get together with you this weekend. I miss you. Please call me."

"Have you learned how to do the nasty yet, Michael? Are you still boring? Are you still fat?"

The last one shocked me, because it was Russell. I'd called him a few times but hadn't heard back from him since that night. "Robin, please, do me and yourself a favor. Would you please stop calling me at home. It's causing a whole lot of problems, and my wife doesn't like the idea of my ex calling the house. Sorry to have to break it to you like this. Hope you're well."

My ears hurt. There was this screeching sound inside of'em, and I think my heart stopped beating for the next few minutes, and then it started hurting, like somebody stuck their hand inside my chest and started pulling on it. My whole body was throbbing, and I could feel every single vein and muscle getting thicker and thicker until it seemed like I could actually see them pulsating through my skin. Did he just say his wifeP I replayed his message over and over and cried harder each time. When I got tired of listening to it, I erased all three messages and sat on the couch for what felt like hours, because I couldn't move. My heart had stopped hurting, to the point where it didn't feel like I had one. My whole body was numb. Finally, I saw my hand reach for the pile of mail. There were at least six catalogs. I wish they'd stop sending me these damn things. Married?

This was some rotten shit to pull, Russell. Low. And what did you tell me last time? That you still loved me, that you knew you'd made a mistake and you'd try to remedy the situation. You said, "Just hold on a minute," isn't that what you said? You motherfucker. And here I was with your sorry ass for two whole years and you were supposed to be so in love with me and had me believing that shit for the longest. What's Carolyn got that I haven't got? What's she giving you that I didn't give you? How can you be so nonchalant about this whole thing? Call my house and leave a goddamn message on my machine, telling me some shit like this. That your wife doesn't like me calling your house? I don't believe this. I've been a fool too long. But you've taught me a good lesson, Russell. You've taught me in the worst way.

I know I shouldn't give a damn, but I can't help it. Just because you break up with somebody doesn't mean you stop loving them. Looks like it wasn't too hard for you to get over me, though, was it? This is some cold cruel shit to pull on somebody you split up with less than a year ago. And to think I let you live here rent-free for a year. Let you run up my Visa bill, got you some decent insurance, and cosigned for your goddamn car. You still owe me three hundred and eighty-six dollars, you son of a bitch. I wonder if she's having your baby, like everybody said? I could've had two of your babies, you simple motherfucker, but you told me you weren't ready to be a father yet. That you needed to get your act together, get your finances in order before you started thinking about getting married, let alone being a father. What has she done for you that I didn't do? Why couldn't you just tell me what I was doing wrong, and I could've fixed it. What was wrong with me, Russell? Huh? What?

I pushed the catalogs to the side and tried to open an envelope. When I realized it was just a bill from Spiegel, I slung it to the side and got up. Music. That's what I needed. I turned on the radio, and Lisa Stansfield was singing, "been around the world, and I can't find my baby," which I did not need to hear right now, so I pressed the Play button on the cassette. I didn't know what was in it and didn't care. Prince was singing "Thieves in the Temple." Hell no. Not tonight. So I ejected him and put on Paula Abdul.

I was on my way into the bedroom to take off my work clothes, when the phone rang. I answered it. "Hello," I said.

"Hello," some kind of computerized voice said. "We're conducting a survey-" I hung up.

It rang again.

"Yes," I said, thinking it was the computer again, but it wasn't. It was my favorite person, the bitch from the student loan collection agency. "Hi, Carol," I said.

"Robin. We haven't received your payment this month."

"I know that."

"Why not, Robin?"

"Because I don't have it, that's why."

"When will you have it, Robin?"

"Next month."

"What day?"

"I don't know what day. But I said next month."

"I need a date."

"Then you pick one."

"Robin." She sighed.

"What?"

"Do you know how long we've been going through this, Robin?"

"You tell me."

"Aren't you tired of these phone calls?"

"No; I love it when you call me and ask me for money I don't have. Really."

"Why don't you just take care of the balance, and you won't ever have to hear from me again."

"Didn't you hear what I just said? I said I don't have it."

"Robin, you drive a 1988 5.0, but you can't afford to pay off an eleven-hundred-dollar loan that you knew you were responsible for?"

"What kind of car I drive is none of your business."

"Oh, yes, it is my business. It's very much my business. You need to get your priorities straight, Robin."

"Look, my daddy's got Alzheimer's, and I'm trying to help pay for a nurse for him, which is much more important than this stupid student loan."

"I'm sorry to hear about your father, Robin, but who'll it be next? Your mother? What fatal disease will you give her?"

"You better watch your fucking mouth."

"No, you better watch your mouth. You've got a Visa card; can't you get a cash advance and just settle this thing?"

"You must be hard of hearing, Carol."

"Look, I'm tired of this, Robin. My client is tired of this. Either give me a date or I'll have to refer this to our legal department."

"How about the fifteenth?"

"You have a nice evening, Robin."

I bammed the phone down. "Bitch!"

By the time I got my clothes off and hung them up, I didn't know what to do next. I felt antsy and bored and just pitiful. Why did he have to call and tell me this shit? Married? What's wrong with me? Wasn't I pretty enough? Wasn't I sensitive enough, smart enough? Didn't I fuck you good enough? What was wrong with me? Why didn't you want to marry me, Russell? Why?

I put on a pair of old leggings and a big T-shirt and went back out into the living room and turned off Paula and flicked on the TV. Good: Cheers was on. I watched it. And watched something else, but
I couldn't tell you what it was if you asked me. I went into the kitchen, poured myself a glass of wine, and drank it down fast. Then I went into the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror. My face was swollen, my eyes were glassy, and I felt my lips trembling. Every cell in my body hurt, and even though I didn't want to and was trying not to, I started crying. What are you supposed to do when you feel like this? What can you do to pretend it doesn't matter? What can you tell your heart to make it stop hurting? What?