To Hell in a Coach Bag

by M. J. Schiller

  Chapter 3

  Maxine

  I lay awake, staring at the odd pattern the alarm clock's large numbers cast on my dresser, wondering if Dani and Sam were awake with me, somewhere in Chicago. I questioned if they were really having the wild time they'd been hyping all week, or if they actually turned in at a reasonable hour in their hotel room, dressed in floor-length, cotton, granny nightgowns. I chuckled at the thought.

  No, having heard the various tales of their misadventures together, I figured the two troublemakers were either out still, or had brought a pair of innocent lads back up to their den of iniquity to seduce them. No doubt Dani's black blouse was now flung over some lamp shade, and Samantha was in the next room getting it on in nothing but her cheetah-skin pumps. Or maybe they were simply sharing the same bed. You never knew with those two.

  Ugh. What sort of perverse thoughts was I having about my friends? Just because I couldn't get any, I imagined all the rest of the world was screwing each other like freakin' rabbits. I flipped over on my back and turned a baleful eye on my sleeping husband, Todd. This is what you're doing to me! I screamed in my head.

  It was one of God's little jokes on Mankind. When girls and boys are eighteen, the boys are horny, and the girls are afraid of becoming a teen mother. Then, when we finally do have children, we don't want sex anymore. I remember after having our first, Jaclyn, whenever Todd touched me I cringed. In fact, I remember very specifically a time a few years later, when both of my kids were still toddlers. I was driving a visiting friend back to her hotel, complaining to her that Todd wanted it all the time, and I was simply too tired.

  She asked me, "Well, how often does he want it?"

  "At least every other night."

  And she, being the supportive friend she was, said, "That's insane. You shouldn't have to put out that often."

  I remember actually crying and saying, "I'd be okay even if it was every third night."

  His caress actually made me angry, and I would pray to God to calm me and make me respond to my husband in the way he wanted.

  Little did I know God would answer my prayer... twenty years too late. Now it was me who wanted it every other night. Actually, I wanted it every night, or more. It was constantly on my mind. I'd see a man jogging, and I'd check him out. I'd see a guy at the grocery store and wonder if he was good in bed. I'd be pulling weeds and see the trash man, for Pete's sake, and fantasize about sailing up to him and asking him to come up to my room for a quick screw. I'd even entertained thoughts about the priest while in the confessional, acknowledging all of my impure thoughts.

  The whole thing was tearing me up inside. This was yet another night when the husband I adored rolled over and went to sleep. I needed him to touch me. But the problem was, I needed him to touch me all the time. I don't know what was wrong with me. I'm sure it was some manifestation of a midlife crisis. I was feeling older so I needed to recapture my youth, that high when you first fall in love and can't get enough of each other. So, I thought by getting rid of all of my baggy, Mommy clothes, and squeezing myself into something probably meant for a much younger body, I could go back in time.

  I was actually proud of my body. At forty-two I was still relatively fit. Sure, I could stand to lose some pounds around the middle. And, while my hips were wider than when I was in college, and my thighs, and definitely my gut, it wasn't totally out of control. I could say I was still relatively attractive, when I sucked it all in. Or at least some days I thought so.

  Why is it so vital to feel as if someone else is attracted to us? I guess we need some sort of affirmation. And sometimes I wondered, did Todd settle for me? Was it easier, more comfortable to make me his wife, rather than go out and try for something better? I guess that's where your thoughts go when you pass that great big four-O. You start to wonder, does he have any regrets?

  I knew I didn't. Todd was the one for me and I still felt lucky, after twenty years, for every minute spent with him. He was a kind, patient, faith-filled man, a great listener, a great friend. That's what made this so hard. He knew I was struggling, and tried his best to try to meet my needs, but the man was so tired. Work was grueling. And if that didn't do him in, the kids were in that teenage stage where they would suck the life out of you with all of their drama. And then he had his horny wife, grabbing him whenever he was in range, pouting when he didn't put out or, worse yet, crying.

  Add to this the fact Todd was never a romantic. Sure, he had good intentions. On our first anniversary, he gave me a single red rose and said he was going to give me one each anniversary for each year we were married. How sweet. It lasted until our third anniversary. Since then, I could count on one hand the number of times he got me flowers. I hinted, when our twentieth was approaching, I was expecting something significant. I don't mean there had to be a big cash outlay, I simply wanted some notice to be taken. He didn't do a damn thing. No card, no flowers, nothing.

  But, I knew he wouldn't, so I'd gotten rid of our kids and cooked a romantic dinner for two, making sure the evening was special. We sat on the porch and watched a storm roll in and made love, which was fantastic. Still, I asked friends to watch the kids so we could be alone together, cooked chicken Kiev and twice-baked potatoes, gotten dressed up, all to do something to show him how grateful I was to have been married to him for twenty years. And he didn't even go to the effort of getting me a card. I knew my husband loved me; I knew that beyond a shadow of a doubt. But sometimes I still needed to be shown; I needed a demonstration of that love. Was it wrong to feel that way?

  Grr. My mind flopped like an Olympic tumbler on an exercise mat, back and forth. I should be grateful, my husband didn't beat me, he didn't cheat on me, he provided for me... But, damn it, would it kill him to buy me some freakin' flowers every once in a while? To surprise me with a night out on the town? Could he do something, anything, to make me feel special, to make me feel loved? It really didn't need to be much—a scribbled note left somewhere, a spontaneous deep kiss, a whispered reference to our night ahead... Let's face it, I was easy; it wouldn't take much.

  I couldn't help but feel rejected when he chose not to initiate something at night. I mean, he was lying in bed with a hot woman—shouldn't he be too turned on to be tired? Sometimes I would go on unspoken sex strikes, to try to show him what he was missing and make him feel as miserable as I was. I know, very mature and oh-so-loving. Only problem was, as soon as he would reach for me I melted. I doubt he even knew I was trying to hold out. The farthest I got was two nights anyway.

  I peered at him now, sleeping beside me, and inched closer. I stroked his hair—so soft—and buried my face in it to smell him, trying not to wake him. My body stretched alongside him, squirming, it was so ripe for his touch. Sometimes I wanted to scream, "Don't you think I could go to a bar and get a guy to take me home and sleep with me?" Not that I ever would, but it wouldn't hurt to have someone hit on me every once in a while. I rarely wore my wedding rings because of work, yet no one ever tried to pick me up. Sam told me it was because I put out a married vibe, but I doubt that was true. How'd I even manage to bag Todd in the first place?

  I sighed. Well, the whole sleep thing wasn't happening. I threw back the covers and swung my feet over the side of the bed, pushing up to a sitting position. I glanced over my shoulder, half hoping Todd would stir, but all I got was a snore in response. The hardwood was cool beneath my feet, since I seemed to have worked myself up into a fever. I wanted to stomp across the floor like a two-year-old, but I did retain an ounce of unselfishness and made a quiet escape, leaving Todd and the kids asleep.

  Once at the bottom of the stairs I spun to face the couch, my personal torture chamber. A comforter already lay there, rumpled from last night's tossing and turning.

  "Ugh."

  I put my back to the scene and used the restroom in the hall. I roamed the main floor in the streetlight. Quite a bit spilled in on this level, as I only had sheer curtains over the window in the hall, and the rest of the shade
s were usually up. Moving from hall to kitchen, from kitchen to dining room, from dining room to living room, I completed the circuit back in the kitchen. Searching for... I don't know what. A single bulb was left on over the stove, and in its light, I spotted a magazine on the counter with the other mail. Shimmering from the front cover, huge pink letters spelled out, "Seduce Your Husband." My Cosmo! I shuffled the bills out of the way to read the rest of the article's title, "5 Ways to Seduce Your Husband." I made a fist and jerked my bent arm in toward my body. "Yes." Realizing I was being a little loud, I repeated, more quietly, "Yes."

  I fixed myself some chamomile tea to soothe my nerves and took my find to the couch, snapping on a lamp before sitting. I bent over my cup, letting the steam roll across my face with its earthy, flowery smell. One sip of the chamomile, and the warmth slid down inside me, making me relax my shoulders and neck. I sighed. Thumbing through the glossy, slick pages leisurely I found the article, and my focus zeroed in on, "First, get yourself some props..."

  I giggled and read on. Soon I was up again to grab a pen and paper, taking notes and creating a shopping list.

  * * *

  Todd's bumbling around in the kitchen woke me, but I kept my eyes shut, hoping to squeeze in a little more sleep time. The chemical smell of ink and new paper tickled my nose, and I sneezed, involuntarily crinkling the magazine, which I now realized I'd fallen asleep clutching. Both of my arms were wrapped around it like it was a teddy bear.

  I sat and put the mangled magazine on the coffee table. Now I was partially uncovered, the early morning chill crept up my bare legs, making me stretch the blanket back over them.

  Todd shuffled in. "Oh. Did I wake you?"

  He sounded so apologetic. "No. I was getting up. Or, I needed to get up."

  "Didn't sleep well again?"

  I shrugged. "Eh." I patted the couch next to me. "Come sit."

  "Okay. But only for a minute. I need to make our shakes."

  Every morning Todd prepared a protein shake for both of us. He sat, being careful not to disturb Kitty, who was stretched out in the warm space where my legs were. Todd's hair was rumpled and his face had that scruffy, coarse shadow I knew would be scratchy. Despite that, I wanted to rub my face against it. He was still so sexy, after all these years.

  "Kids up?"

  He stretched, covering a yawn. "Are you kidding? It's not noon yet."

  I chuckled. "True. We won't be seeing them for a while." We sat in silence, watching birds hop around our backyard. "So, what are you going to do today?"

  He shrugged. "I was going to put out grass seed, but now they're calling for freaking snow. It's March."

  "Yeah, that stinks." I spotted my grocery list on the coffee table and subtly turned it face down.

  I glanced at him, and he raised an eyebrow. "Were you having some weird sex dreams last night?"

  Heat flared in my cheeks. Did he see my list already? "What do you mean was I having weird sex dreams?" I snapped.

  He leaned back a little, caught off-guard by my reaction. "Cause you were clutching that Cosmo to you like a long lost boyfriend." He smiled. He was teasing me.

  I snatched the magazine off the table and thwacked him with it. He laughed.

  "Ouch! Knock it off."

  I got up on my knees so I could hit him better. He grabbed my wrists and yanked me to him, our faces inches apart.

  "I said knock. It. Off," he growled, his eyes sparking with fun. My heart beat faster, and something melted inside. I lowered my lips to his, and he responded, releasing my arms. Right when the kiss was getting interesting...

  "Ahem. Children in the house." Jaclyn trounced into the room, flopping on the clean laundry I needed to fold that decorated the armchair.

  Todd scooted back. "Mornin' sunshine."

  "Yeah, Dad. Whatever." Jaclyn might have been acting cool, but she loved it when her daddy called her sunshine.

  "Do you have to work today?" he asked.

  I tuned out their conversation. Geesh. Every time I get a little close to having a heated moment Lady Fate glides in and blows out the pilot light. What's a girl to do? My eyes cut to the pad of paper with my list.

  "I've got some errands to run," I blurted out.

  Todd and Jaclyn looked at me, then at each other.

  "O-okay," Jackie said slowly. "I said I didn't have to work like a minute ago, so you can do whatever you want, Mom. I don't need the car. Karen's picking me up, and I'm spending the night at her house."

  "Yeah. Right. Great." I stood, yanking the blanket out from under Todd so I could wrap it around me and hide my partial nakedness. Kitty was sent rolling to the end of the couch where she gave me a disgruntled expression. Ignoring her, I dragged my blanket upstairs like I was wearing royal robes. Halfway up it hit me. John was sleeping over at a friend's house, too. We would be... alone.

  Tonight was the night.

  I rushed the rest of the way up the steps and got ready to go.

  * * *

  Standing in JC Penney's lingerie section, I held up the skimpy red puff of lace and satin. The black fur veeing to the crotch really added a touch of class.

  "Nah-ah."

  I hung it back on the rack, glancing around again to see if anyone I knew was in the vicinity. An older lady glanced my way, and I quickly bent, pretending to tie my shoe. Then, realizing they were slip-ons, I had to act like I was scratching my calf, which seemed lame. I moved to a table with sensible panties and kept my eye on Grandma.

  Come on. Come on. Don't you have something else to do? Like knit something?

  She finally moved across the aisle to a display of blouses with huge, tacky multi-colored flowers sprawled all over them.

  That's right, I silently encouraged. That's more your style.

  I slid back over to the naughty girl rack, picking up a jade green number. I stared at it, then twisted it around. Was this the back? Or the front? I lifted a few straps with snaps on them.

  What the hell are these for? I put it back, shaking my head. Too complicated. I lifted off a sheer pink teddy.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted her. Mrs. McCumpfry, my son, John's, English teacher. I ducked behind the rack, clasping the teddy to my chest, my heart beating wildly. I can't let Mrs. McCumpfry see me with naughtywear. My Spidey senses began to tingle and I slid my gaze across the aisle in the opposite direction. Grandma was staring at me, her mouth hanging open. She closed it, put a fist on a cocked hip and frowned at me.

  Quit judging. You'd be doing everything you could to get a little action, too. If you'd ever had any.

  I immediately felt guilty about thinking so poorly of her. A little guilty. Luckily she turned away. I crouched, hopping a little to relieve my cramped feet. How long was I going to have to stay here? After several minutes, I took a chance and rose. Mrs. McCumpfry was directly across from me, manhandling the lapel of a display suit. I gasped and slammed the pink outfit back onto the rack. I ducked around a partition, leaning against the wall and breathing deeply.

  I shut my eyes, trying to slow my heart rate. "Close one."

  "Excuse me?"

  My eyes flew open. A saleslady who couldn't have been more than a couple of years older than Jaclyn blinked at me from behind wide-rimmed glasses. She had a measuring tape around her neck and a pin that said, "Let me size you up."

  "Oh. I... uh... I... I was thinking out loud. Sorry."

  She smiled brightly. "No problem." She slid the tape from around her neck, extending her arms in front of her with it suspended between her hands. She stared at my chest as she stepped forward. "Would you like me to fit you?"

  I drew back, scrunching up a display of robes hanging behind me on the wall. A belt swung down and hit me in the face. "No. No. I'm good," I squeaked.

  "Okay." She shrugged, still smiling and then moved off in another direction. Perhaps spotting a new victim to target.

  I exhaled. "This is stupid." I took off, marching toward the door. I'm so outa here. I dodged around someone going
for a Sunday stroll in front of me. Ahead light poured in from the glass doors. Freedom. I slammed my palm into the door handle, depressing it and stepping through the opening into the fresh air. I took a deep breath. Standing on the curb, I rummaged through my purse in search of my keys. My hand found the grocery list. I pulled it out, sighing. I thought of Todd's kiss.

  It's only a piece of clothing. Everyone has them. There is no reason to feel funny about it.

  After a few more seconds of deliberation, I spun around and tramped my way back into the store, angling toward the lingerie but with my gaze still darting around, wary of familiar faces. I steeled myself and walked straight up to my targeted rack, sliding hangers across metal rods with a zipp that was somehow comforting now.

  Zipp, zipp, zipp.

  No. No. No.

  I stopped. An electric blue baby doll nightie flashed at me. I stretched out the skirt. It would disguise my wider hips a little... After a quick scan of the vicinity, I snatched it from the rack and held it up. The bottom was sheer, the bodice low cut, supportive, with an intricate pattern woven on top of it. Hmm... this had potential. I tried to imagine what it would look like on, 'cause no way in hell was I going into the dressing room with it. This was it. This was the nightie that was going to save my marriage.

  I scrunched the material against the hanger to disguise my purchase and turned to head to the register. Finally.

  The first clerk I saw was a male. Not happening. He was half my age. He'd take one glimpse at my nightie, and one look at me, then burst out laughing. My eyes scanned the rest of the cash registers. Male. Male. I stretched my neck, trying to see around people. The fourth and last cashier... had long hair. The cashier turned to the customer... and the beard was a dead giveaway. What the heck? Ninety percent of the time I came in here it was all girls manning the registers. What was this, Testosterone Tuesday? It couldn't be. It was Saturday.

  Well, eventually they were going to have to take a break. It was the law. I found a chair outside of the dressing room, turned it to face the checkout lanes, and parked myself in it. I would get my nightie. I could wait them out.