There Are No Men

by Carol Maloney Scott

  At least he’s in a good mood, even though he is his usual stressed out self. I will have to get used to that, though. A doctor’s life is not an easy, carefree one. I decide to ignore the bigger potential problems, at least for tonight.

  I take another look at myself in the mirror. This dress is pretty, and my hair looks soft and feminine pulled up into a loose bun, with a few curled tendrils hanging out on both sides. Oops, I forgot my earrings! They complete the outfit. My father gave them to me for Christmas the year I got divorced—dangling emeralds with diamond clusters.

  I climb the stairs in my bare feet—I’m waiting to put on my black satin sling backs with the gold and rhinestone accents—and slowly open the door to my bedroom. How ridiculous that I’m afraid I might see Nathan undressed. It’s about time we get that over with.

  I hear the water running in the shower and the door is slightly ajar. My earrings are in my jewelry armoire, and once I can grab them I will give him his privacy. Besides, the last thing I need is an unplanned seduction scene. He might think I’m throwing myself at him, and besides—I’ll never be able to get my hair to look like this again in time for the party.

  As I tip-toe over to the corner of my room, I am startled by Nathan’s booming voice. “Claire, Sweetie? Are you up here?”

  Does he have bionic ears? If I was in the shower someone could come in with a full marching band and I wouldn’t hear it.

  “Yes, I’m just getting my earrings,” I call out.

  “Can you do me a favor and get my shaving cream out of my bag?”

  “Sure!” Can’t he use mine? It isn’t like the scent lingers and he will go around all night smelling like rose petals.

  His suitcase is unzipped, but closed on my bed, and I lift the top and start sifting through his stuff. He has a lot of clothes in here for one night. Maybe he keeps it packed all the time because he could get stuck at the hospital? I’m rooting around for a toiletry bag when I pull out a bag from an expensive lingerie store downtown. My heartbeat quickens as I peek inside and pull out a sexy black lace teddy. And what is that? It looks like a feather duster, and what the hell is that? I immediately drop the bag on the bed.

  “Claire, did you find it?”

  Nathan’s voice assaults my train of thought, and now my hands are shaking and a fine sheen of sweat is forming on my face. “No, I don’t see any. I have some in there!” I shove the bag back under his clothes. Why is it peeking out now? I don’t want to rearrange things too much or he will know I was snooping. Wait—he knows I was looking for the shaving cream. Now I see the side pocket, which is where he probably keeps that stuff, but how would I know that? But if I say I didn’t see the shaving cream in the main area, then maybe he’ll know I found his surprise gift. I toss the clothes around and close the lid.

  “I’ll just use yours. I could have sworn I had some in there. Did you look in the side pocket—”

  My best bet is just to get the hell out of here and pretend I didn’t hear him. As I fly down the stairs, I fumble with the clasp on my earring. My hands are trembling. I get to the kitchen and grab a bottle of wine I opened last night, drinking a few swigs right out of the bottle. Now my lips will be stained red. I rush to my purse to get out my bright coral lipstick and smear it on, careful to keep it off my teeth and gums.

  “What do you think, Sweetie?” I look up and see him looking handsome in his tux. I smile and fan myself with a piece of mail sitting on the counter.

  “You look very handsome. I need to grab my evening purse. Can you start the car?” I run back upstairs to find my sparkly black bag.

  The suitcase is sitting there on the bed, zipped shut now. It’s taunting me with the memory of its contents. I guess I know the agenda for tonight now. Isn’t this what I want? But I am not sure what he has in mind based on the contents of that bag, and should I be having sex with an alleged sex offender. He was accused of misconduct. Why can’t anything go smoothly?

  My stomach churns, I decide not to snoop anymore, and run for the car. In these heels running isn’t advisable, and I twist my ankle on the steps. Oww! My eyes dart to the car, but luckily Nathan is occupied with his phone.

  What a night this is shaping up to be.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Damn trash cans rattling! It sounds like the drumming of those kids who bang on the lids after all the events at the Coliseum. Putting my pillow on top of my head to drown out the noise, I get a weird feeling. My sheets feel so soft—I didn’t think I used the better ones the last time I made up the bed.

  I am not opening my eyes because once I do I won’t be able to get back to sleep. The trash can show has stopped, but now I hear a scary sounding dog barking, and what is that loud, rumbling vehicle going by my house? It sounds huge—someone must be getting a furniture delivery. My head is killing me, and I’ll probably have to get up and take something to be able to fall back to sleep. Damn it—why can’t people be more considerate on weekend mornings? Speaking of which, where are the lawnmowers?

  I can’t believe I drank too much again, but with the free open bar and all that anxiety about Brandon and Nathan I was out of control, and then I almost fell in the fountain…I bolt up in bed with my eyes wide open. It’s all coming back now—where the hell am I? What kind of a drunken whore wakes up in a strange bed? Obviously I’m not at home—there are no metal trash cans or guard dogs in my cul-de-sac. That sounded like a city bus!

  Panicking, I scan the room and see a tuxedo thrown over a chair, and a cluttered desk. There is some kind of diploma on the wall in that corner, but I can’t make out what it says from here. I spot my dress lying on a chair in the other corner, neatly folded. I know I’m not at the Madison Hotel, where the party was held. This is someone’s bedroom.

  My concentration is broken by a piercing ambulance siren, and I leap out of bed to look out the window, wobbling on my injured ankle. How did I make it through the night in those shoes? Suddenly I am flooded with relief—I’m so stupid! Of course I know where I am. Nathan brought me home after I got so drunk and tried to get in the fountain. I kept yelling, “I want to swim!” I don’t think anyone from work heard me. They were all inside enjoying the elaborate spread of food. After all, the Madison is Richmond’s only five star hotel and restaurant. It’s a gorgeous spectacle with a big sweeping double staircase in the lobby, like something out of the pre-Civil War south.

  I’m sure Nathan followed me out and took me to his house, which was the original plan this weekend. That’s why I’m sleeping in this monstrous t-shirt. What does this say on it? Something about an IT conference? That’s weird, but men always seem to have stupid t-shirts. He probably didn’t want to put me in anything too good since I could throw up again. Did he undress me?

  My mouth is dry and disgusting, as usual, after a bad night of foolish choices. I drag myself out of bed in search of the bathroom. Does he have any little Dixie cups for water? Oh no, poor little Dixie! She’s been alone all night. I need to get home.

  I open up the cabinet under the sink and spot some cups. That’s a big box of condoms, and they’re Magnum size! Shit—most women would be happy to see that, but I’m not up for that today. Uh oh, did we have sex? I guess I would still be feeling it if we did, especially with the drought I have endured, and he wouldn’t want me to be nearly unconscious for our first time. He’s too good for that. He was probably disappointed that I was too drunk to try on my gift.

  That’s why I am waking up with this uneasy feeling. He didn’t give it to me, and I was feeling anxious about it. By the time we arrived at the party, I was off in conversation and business networking. Pam did publicly congratulate me for finding Brandon. Brandon. That was hard. He looked so handsome in his tuxedo—even clean shaven he made my heart skip a beat. Or three.

  Nathan was charming—he talked to a lot of people. Of course Cecilia was chewing off his ear, but I didn’t give her the satisfaction of thinking I was jealous. She looked as prickly as ever. I guess she was trying to dress like one o
f the characters in our new books with her leather dress and scary pointy boots. Her black hair was extra spiky, and her lips were a deep blood red. So appropriate for a formal work event at a beautiful southern landmark. I don’t think she got the memo explaining which new books we were celebrating.

  I mingled early in the evening, and Tim even said he would like to talk to me about a new role in the company. Now that’s exciting! Rebecca was there with her new guy. He was so nice and a lot of fun. I need to call her and tell her how happy I am for her.

  I drink my third mini cup of water and wish I could conjure up a toothbrush. Maybe he keeps a spare—heaven knows with that many condoms he must bring home unexpected guests at times. That’s not good. None of this is good. Betty’s words are in my head. He was accused of misconduct. Now there were never any charges, just rumors. Maybe less temptation.

  What am I doing? The details from last night are so sketchy—I must stop drinking. I do remember Brandon was with that ballerina girl—I think she has even less on top than I do. She’s so young and pretty though, but what did I expect? He did not say one word to me—barely looked at me. When Pam congratulated him on his success and welcomed him to the Bella Donna family, he caught my eye for a split second, but quickly looked away and started whispering to his date again. They were doing that all night, with their heads together, conspiring. They probably got a room at the Madison, even though they looked completely sober.

  If only I hadn’t consumed those last couple of shots with Justin. He stopped me when I was coming out of the ladies’ room later in the evening, and I tried to pretend I was fine. My academy award winning performance wasn’t working on him. He brought me back out to the bar and I started to tell him something. Shit, I think I told him about the gift in Nathan’s suitcase and maybe even what Betty told me. He was trying to tell me something about Cecilia and the computers? Did he say he found something? Now I remember—that’s why I ran outside. Something he said upset me. Justin followed me out there and dragged me away from the fountain. Where the hell was Nathan? That’s right—when I said I wanted to swim I didn’t mean it in a happy, drunk girl way. Hopefully I wasn’t planning on drowning myself—how did I get here if Justin was the one who—GODDAMMIT!! My heart is thumping, and I’m suddenly drenched with sweat. “Justin!”

  “I see you’re up, do you need something?” I stare at Justin in horror and he bursts out laughing. “I’m sorry. You remember what happened, don’t you?” He walks towards me and I step back. He sighs and shakes his head. “Here, put this on.” He reaches into the bathroom and pulls out a gigantic blue bathrobe.

  Feeling less exposed, as I can almost wrap it around my body twice, I delve into the mess that got me here. “It’s starting to come back to me. I remember sitting at the bar with you and drinking shots. I think I was upset about Nathan.”

  “Yeah, I would like to murder that asshole.” He sees my shocked look and adds, “Sorry Claire, but who accompanies his girlfriend to a party and then disappears when she gets drunk?”

  “That’s why I’m here?”

  He narrows his eyes and frowns. “Claire, do you seriously think I would take advantage of a semi-conscious woman? I rescued you from jumping into a fountain, fully clothed, at a work function. Your decision making abilities were not exactly sharp.”

  “No, I don’t think you would do that. I’m sorry.” I rub my face with both hands. “So he disappeared? I’m sure he had a good reason. Where’s my phone?”

  “It’s over there in your bag, I guess.” He motions towards the chair with my dress. I see my lacy panties on top of my evening bag.

  “So how did I…?”

  “You were pretty out of it, but don’t worry—I didn’t look and it was dark.” He starts laughing again.

  “This is not funny!”

  “I’m sorry.” He reaches for my arm. “Let’s go in the living room and sit down. Do you feel like eating something? Toast maybe?”

  “Fine, but I need to piece this night back together and you need to be serious.”

  “Uh oh, I’m slipping back into dick mode again. It’s so natural how that happens.”

  I punch Justin in the arm, which clearly hurts my hand more than it hurts him. “That felt like a hamster punch, didn’t it?”

  He laughs, and I follow him into his living room, letting the black leather sofa swallow me up.

  Justin retreats to the kitchen. He calls out, “You were wasted and I shouldn’t have let you keep drinking, but you were a mess emotionally.” He comes back with some juice and a couple of pieces of buttered toast. “When it was time to go your boyfriend couldn’t be found. Claire, I hate to say this but he was spending a lot of time talking to other women.”

  “I was talking to other men. I even went home with one.” I pick up a piece of toast and take a small nibble.

  “You’re missing the point. I think this guy is trouble. I have a bad feeling. And Brandon—he’s no better. I know you live across the street from him and he wouldn’t take you home, either.”

  I wince at this news, but why would he? I don’t think his new girlfriend would be too happy to have me along for the ride. “He said no?” My voice is soft and hopeless.

  “Yeah, he seemed pissed that you were in this state, especially when I told him the doctor was missing in action. But he was staring at you all night, Claire. I’m guessing you broke his heart, too?”

  “Come on, I didn’t break your heart.”

  He ignores my protest. “So I brought you here. I was going to drive all the way to your house, but I didn’t think you would be capable of telling me where you lived.” In response to my raised eyebrows he continues. “Seriously—you were so out of it. I could have looked in your wallet for your address, but I figured this was smarter. I didn’t want you to be alone.”

  Alone. That word reaches directly into my tear ducts and releases all my frustration and fear.

  Justin jumps up and sits next to me on the couch. I melt into his embrace and rest my head on his shoulder. We sit like that for a while—me crying and him squeezing me and rubbing my arm. Maybe I made a mistake. I have made too many to count.

  I sit up and wipe my eyes. “Jewish men are supposed to be good to their women. This is unprecedented in my experience. What am I going to do? I have to get home to Dixie. She’s been alone all night, and I need to check my phone.” I get up but Justin gently pushes me back down, and goes to retrieve my purse from the bedroom.

  He hands me my phone and says, “Asshole men come from all backgrounds, and a guy can usually tell when another guy is an asshole. This guy is a classic case.”

  I tuck my feet under my body and try to adjust the yards of extra fabric this bathrobe provides. If I had this one I never would have flashed Brandon in the yard. Brandon. He must really hate me now.

  I have about ten messages from Nathan, again each one angrier than the last. “He says he looked for me and he couldn’t find me. He had a medical emergency.”

  Justin twists his mouth in disbelief and leans back into the couch, holding his head. “Do you honestly believe that? I think he had an emergency, but it wasn’t medical.”

  “I don’t want to hear it!”

  “You need to hear it.”

  “Did you see him leave with another woman?”

  “No, but he was talking to—”

  I cover my ears and yell, “I said I don’t want to hear it.” I ball my hands up into fists. “I can’t deal with this right now. I need my car and I need to get home. I don’t want to hear any more opinions or gossip.”

  Justin’s expression softens. “Why don’t you get dressed and I’ll drive you to your car. I would lend you some clothes but I don’t have any rope to tie around you to keep them from falling off.” He smiles as he looks at me standing there, trying to keep the robe from dragging on the floor, like I’m wearing Cinderella’s ball gown. Too bad I didn’t turn into a pumpkin at midnight.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  Justin
drove me to my car and I quickly ducked inside before anyone could see me in my dress from last night, especially with Justin. The last thing I need is to be the subject of that kind of office gossip. If Cecilia got wind of that she would probably send out an all employee e-mail complete with pictures of my walk of shame. Some of my co-workers did spend the night here, and I’m guessing Brandon and Twinkle Toes are among them.

  I called Nathan from the car once I was alone. He was apologetic and sounded genuinely concerned. He wasn’t crazy about the fact that Justin brought me home, but he didn’t have much room to argue.

  “Claire, you must stop this excessive alcohol consumption. I couldn’t even find you. I’m going to continue to get called away at odd hours; it’s just the nature of my profession. Thank goodness Justin was there and he’s trustworthy. So many men aren’t these days.”

  I wanted to yell at him for not being there for me, but I realized he’s right. My behavior is disgraceful and all I am doing is avoiding my problems. I promised to call him back after I got home and tended to Dixie. We made plans to see each other tonight, and I will confront him about the mystery gift and all of my other concerns.

  Now as I pull into my driveway, I see Brandon’s car. I guess they went home last night or maybe they checked out of the hotel early. Once I take care of Dixie I’m going over there to talk to him. I need to get all of these problems addressed today. No more hiding. I owe him an apology and I’m not going to weasel out of it again.

  Poor little Dixie is beside herself with joy at seeing her mommy. After several minutes I still can’t get her to calm down. I’m not in the mood to search the house for evidence of her extended indoor stay, so I grab her and the harness and bring her out to the tie-down stake. I don’t have time to walk her all over the yard right now—this will have to do and I’ll get back to her as soon as I talk to Brandon. I run back inside and look at myself in the mirror. I wash my face and slap on some quick eye makeup, while brushing my teeth. My hair goes up in a sloppy pony tail, and I pull on yoga pants and a t-shirt. I still look like hell, but I’m not going over there to do anything but apologize.