by Juliette Fay
She slid her hand across his shoulder to his back and kneaded the muscles of his neck with her fingertips. They smiled at each other, waiting for the next good thing.
“I don’t need any more than this,” he said, finally. “But if you want to, we could go upstairs.”
She nodded, but they didn’t move for a moment. “Um…do you have something…?”
“Yeah, I’ve got that.”
“Just in case?” she asked, realizing in the following second that she really didn’t want to know if there had been other women here requiring protection or if he had purchased condoms with the assumption that the two of them would be together eventually.
“Left over from before,” he said.
“You haven’t slept with anyone since Sue?” Another question she really didn’t want answered. He raised his eyebrows. “Don’t tell me,” she said quickly.
“I did a little consolation dating after she told me it was over. I slept with a couple. The last one was Valentine’s Day. Not since then. Too depressing.”
“Sorry, it’s none of my business.”
“It is your business. I want it to be.”
“Okay. Well I haven’t since…”
He smiled. “I’d be kind of surprised if you had.”
He stood and gave her a hand up. They walked up the stairs, Janie thinking that this was the first First Time she’d had in over a decade. The last First Time, with Robby, she had been…well, younger. More confident, less aware of the unforeseeable future, where life could take such sudden turns it could send you to hell for a year. Her way of considering things had changed so much since then. And, come to think of it, so had her body. An image of the “supportive” body stocking flashed across her mind.
The sheets and blankets lay in a twisted heap on his bed. One of the pillows was on the floor. “I thought you were a holiday bed-maker,” she said.
“Yeah, I lied about that. On Thanksgiving it was more like ‘I’m hoping I’ll get a chance to show off my house to this woman I’m totally gone over, so I better straighten the place up.’”
“Looks like you were wrestling alligators.”
“I haven’t been sleeping that well.” He pulled her toward him, wrapped an arm around her waist, with the other hand he brushed the hair away from her face, his fingers raking gently through the ends of her black curls over and over. He studied her face. “Worried about something?”
“I haven’t had a first time in a long time.”
“We’ll take it slow. We don’t even have to, you know. I’m just happy to have you with me.”
She sighed. “I have stretch marks.”
He reached for the hem of her shirt. “Let me see them.”
Instinctively she pushed his hand away. “They’re not exactly a turn-on.”
“Listen,” he said, looking her hard in the eye, “I would have given my right arm to be sleeping with a woman with stretch marks all those years.”
Yeah, right, she thought. But it was Tug. It was probably true. She pulled her shirt off over her head. He knelt down in front of her and inspected them, running a finger over the puckered lines. His finger trailed to the waistband of her pants. He unbuttoned and unzippered them. Then he was kissing her, his lips traveling up and down the topographical map of her stomach. His hands went to the small of her back and pulled at the edge of her pants. Down they slid along with her underwear.
“God, Tug,” she breathed. Gripping his shoulders she lowered herself to her knees, naked now except for her bra. She kissed him hard on the mouth, her hands moving quickly to unbutton his shirt. Behind her back he unbuttoned his cuffs, and unhooked her bra. She pulled at his belt, unbuckled it, unzipped his pants. His hands were running up and down the backs of her thighs, and one hand came around between them, sliding down between her legs, his fingers probing gently. She had worried that she might be too nervous to come, but as the sensation of his touch exploded in her brain, she lost the ability to consider anything that might or might not happen.
His pants and boxers were around his knees and she was stroking him. “Janie,” he moaned. “Is this too fast?”
“No,” she told him. She felt like she couldn’t have him fast enough.
“I have to get a condom.” He pulled away from her, struggled to his feet, stepped out of the jeans and over to the bedside table. Janie got up, pushed the hill of blankets off the bed and circled around behind him as he sat ripping at the little packet. She kissed his back, raked her fingertips up and down his thighs.
Then he turned and he was on her. “I don’t want to go too…,” he breathed, but she was kissing him and guiding him into her. And there was that feeling of fullness, of something being there that hadn’t been missed until it arrived. That remembering, “Oh yes, this was what I was waiting for.”
It was different. He didn’t smell like Robby or feel like Robby. He didn’t do things in quite the same way. It was new, but somehow also familiar. The newness was exciting and a little scary. But there was comfort, too, and the safeness of knowing she could release herself to him and it would turn out okay.
Afterward, they lay there, drawing air into their spent lungs. “Apparently I was wrong about those stretch marks,” she said.
He laughed hard and squeezed her, the muscles of his stomach bouncing against her hand. “So much for taking it slow.”
Her skin cooled and she moved away from him to get a blanket from the floor where she’d tossed them. He caught her wrist. “Covers,” she said, and he let her go.
“You’re not leaving, right?”
“My mother is going to flip.” She spread the blanket over him and crawled in beside him. “God knows what Shelly told her when she got home from Aunt Jude’s.”
“Call her.”
She checked his alarm clock. “It’s eleven fifteen.”
“Janie.”
“Hey,” she said. “I’m not leaving. I’m just thinking out loud.”
“Hmm,” he growled at her.
She rolled onto his stomach and looked down. “Look at us,” she whispered. “Look what we have.”
He pushed the hair out of her eyes. “I’m not going back,” he warned her.
“No,” she said. “How could we?” Still, she could sense his worry. “I love you, Tug. I am so grateful for you.”
The muscles in his abdomen relaxed, and she felt herself sinking lower into him. She slid down to his side, curling herself to the contour of his body.
“Hey,” he whispered against the top of her head. “What’s this about apology cake. I get the feeling it’s something I’m gonna need to know.”
“I’ll tell you tomorrow,” she yawned.
Drowsiness settled on them and they slept.
A DULL GRAY GLOW was starting to press into the room as she rose to go to the bathroom. When she returned, Tug’s eyes were open. His hands were folded behind his head and he was watching the light swell through the window.
“I’m trying to think of the best way to handle this with my mother. And Dylan,” she said. “What do you have going today?”
“I gave the crew the day off. I could go over to the Pelham Heights house myself and get some work done.” His eyes flicked over to her, catching her. She smiled, almost laughed. “What?” he said.
“I just feel so goddamned good!” And she was on him, laughing, kissing his collarbone, tickling him until he squirmed and wrestled himself on top of her, pinning her arms above her head.
“You KNOW you’re not going home, now,” he said.
“Oh, please,” she whined. “PLEASE don’t make love to me. Please let me go home and deal with my MOTHER!”
THEY LAY PRESSED TOGETHER in a heap, and he murmured, “At least let’s have dinner together.”
She sighed. “That seems a long way off.”
“Well, I’ll be busy, you know, making mistakes on that big house.”
“Don’t go to work. Let me go home and face her and then I’ll call you.”
“I can’t sit around here. I’ll go crazy waiting.”
“Then keep your cell phone on, okay?” She got out of bed quickly, like yanking a Band-Aid off to minimize the duration of pain, got dressed and left.
WHEN SHE ARRIVED HOME, the kids were still sleeping off the excitement of the previous day. Noreen was in the kitchen, her white chenille robe pulled tight around her, sipping black coffee. She watched her daughter, wearing yesterday’s clothing, slump into a kitchen chair across the table.
“You’re up early,” Janie said.
“Seems I get up earlier and earlier these days,” said Noreen. “It’s age.”
Janie rose and poured herself a mug of coffee. “So, how much do you know?” she asked, leaning against the counter, as if sitting would give her a disadvantage.
“Well, that Shelly, she gave me quite an earful.”
“That Shelly,” thought Janie. This isn’t going to be pretty. “Like what?” she asked, willing herself not to get defensive.
“Like you’re in love with a carpenter, the man who built the porch.”
“Tug Malinowski. He’s a pretty amazing guy.”
“I suppose he must be.” Noreen sipped again, swallowed self-consciously.
“What’s bugging you about this, Mum?”
“Nothing’s ‘bugging’ me, as you put it.”
“I spent the night with a guy I’m not married to? Is that it?”
“Don’t insult me,” said Noreen. “I’m not that much of an anachronism.”
“That I didn’t tell you about it before? Because, honest, Mum, this was not planned. I was half thinking it was over.”
“What, exactly, was over?”
“This thing between me and Tug. He wanted more than I was ready for, and we kind of took a break for about a month.”
“So this has been going on some time, now. I had no idea.”
“Aunt Jude didn’t tell you he came to Thanksgiving?”
“No. And don’t think I didn’t have some words with her about it.”
“So, you called her last night after Shelly left.”
“Of course I did! I was worried about you, going off with some man I’d never even heard of!”
“You met him, Mum. He was at Dylan’s birthday party.”
“Well, I didn’t realize that I should pay such close attention—to the carpenter, no less!”
Too busy eyeing the priest, Janie realized. “Okay,” she said, taking a breath, forcing herself not to ramp up. “To be honest, I didn’t, either. I didn’t think much about him, but we became friends over time. He’s been very good to me, and he’s wonderful with the kids. Dylan adores him.”
“Oh, you can believe Jude had plenty to say on that score. Rattling on, as if I don’t know my own grandson.”
“Mum, for goodness’ sake. Aunt Jude is here. You aren’t. How can you expect to know as much as she does?”
“Oh! I see now! I always knew it would happen. You’re making me pay for wanting a life! I stayed here, trapped in this house for the better part of thirty years, making sure you kids were properly secure in your adulthood before I EVER gave myself ANYTHING! I had admirers, too. I had offers. But I had a DUTY to you and your brother, and sense enough to know I couldn’t just start dating around because I felt like it. And now—now I’m cut out like some crazy aunt who lives abroad!”
“Mum, I’m sorry you felt you couldn’t date, but honestly I am not making you pay for anything! It’s just a fact. Crazy Aunt Jude lives here, and you live over there—which is fine. But you can’t have it both ways. You can’t expect to know everything as it happens while you live in a foreign country!”
“Don’t you get superior with me,” Noreen hissed. “You stand there with your wedding ring probably lying in a drawer somewhere, and it hasn’t even been a year! Not one year could you wait before you’re in another man’s bed!”
The bells in Janie’s head, ringing ever louder, began to clang furiously, and the heat in her chest boiled up into her neck, and the screaming wrath of childhood disappointments and adolescent hormone surges and a year of being a motherless daughter in hell—these surged into all the empty spaces. “That’s it!” she said. “That’s what this is all about. You think you gave up everything for me—including LOVE, for godsake—and now I’m supposed to conform to some twisted idea in your head about how it should go. I should get married to a good man, which I did. And then tragedy strikes, and I should protect you from your own nightmares about being a single mother trapped in goddamned Pelham, which I DIDN’T. You ran right back to ITALY so you wouldn’t have to sully your delicate sensitivity, and you LEFT me here. ALONE.”
Janie slammed the empty mug on the counter, pointed at her. “No, not alone. WITH JUDE, your annoying, dotty sister, who’s done nothing but help the BOTH of us all our lives! But THEN, and this is the real kicker, isn’t it, Mum? This is where I really let you down. I had the nerve to find ANOTHER good man who adores me within an inch of my life, and God knows why, because I’ve been so unbelievably bitchy and miserable. And that’s the final straw, isn’t it, Mum? What’s worse than me living your life of unhappiness? Me NOT living it!”
Noreen was on her feet. “That is completely absurd! I…I don’t have to listen to such venom!” and she left the kitchen. Minutes later she was fully dressed and holding her tightly packed carry-on bag. She went out to the screened porch—Tug’s work of art, Janie thought, appreciating the irony—and waited.
Janie knew her mother couldn’t go to Aunt Jude’s this time. Maybe Uncle Charlie’s. Maybe a hotel. Maybe back to Italy, where old women who missed the boat to see the Baby Jesus spend the rest of their lives giving gifts of penance.
JANIE WAS STILL SITTING in the kitchen absorbing the aftershocks of her own tirade, when Uncle Charlie pulled up. A car door opened, then slammed. The Ford Tempo grumbled out of the driveway. In a few minutes, Dylan came down. He drifted slowly, sleepily into her lap, rubbing Nubby’s ear across his lips. “Merry day after Christmas,” she whispered to him.
“Yeah,” he said.
“Did you have fun yesterday?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Are you hungry?”
“Not yet.”
She breathed in his cozy smell: baby shampoo and slept-in sheets and boy. She rocked him for a few minutes and he snuggled deeper into her lap.
“Dylan?”
“Mmm.”
“I really love Tug.”
“Me, too.”
“I want him to spend a lot of time with us.”
“Me, too,” said Dylan. “Can he come over today?”
“I think he can. I’ll call and see.”
23
NEW YEAR’S,” TUG SAID to her that night after the kids were in bed. They were sitting on the blue leather couch, nested against each other.
“Cormac’s wedding,” she answered. “Dylan is the ring bearer—he keeps calling it ‘ringmaster,’ which kind of fits. The wedding party’s so big it’s like a circus act.”
“And you’re in it.”
“Yeah, bridesmaid number 247. There’s no way I can get out of it.”
“I like weddings,” he said.
“Too bad my dress wouldn’t fit you, you could take my place.”
“You don’t like weddings?”
She thought about this for a moment. “No, I do. I’ve just been dreading this one for so long…I guess I need to tune up my attitude. Going alone isn’t exactly…” She looked at Tug.
“Love to,” he said. “Thanks for asking.”
“God, I’m stupid.”
He gave her a squeeze. “Call him.”
“Barb will freak. Cormac told me the seating arrangements alone made her cry three times.”
“I’ll sit at the bar. Call him.”
“You seem pretty sure he’ll say yes.”
“Janie, the guy would give up a kidney for you. Plus, he likes me.”
Janie smiled, intrigued. “Oh?”
He shrugged. “Thanksgiving. He kind of gave me the thumbs-up. Not in so many words, but you know…”
Janie went into the kitchen to place the call.
“Merry day after Christmas,” Cormac said.
“You, too,” she said. “How’s the countdown going?”
“Barb’s been having a glass of wine with dinner. It helps. Wish she started at breakfast.”
“Cormac, I need a favor…”
“You want to bring Tug to the wedding.”
“Yeah, how’d you…?”
“Your mother’s staying at my parents’. Cat’s out of the bag about your little overnight.”
“Oh.” Janie felt a little queasy.
“Chickie, come on. Everyone loves Tug. A guy brings lumpy pudding to Thanksgiving dinner, how could you not? I practically invited him to the wedding myself,” Cormac chuckled. Despite the pressure of the wedding, he seemed happy, she realized. Content in a way that he hadn’t before. “And don’t worry about my parents,” he said. “They just feel a little sorry for her.”
“Why?”
“Oh, you know. Aunt Noreen. The sensitive one.”
MIKE ARRIVED ON THE twenty-ninth, as planned, with Alicia. When their rental car pulled into the driveway Janie watched them for a moment from the kitchen window. They removed suitcases and packages from the trunk as if the other person weren’t there. Alicia was small and pointy, like the herons that nested by Lake Pequot. She had straight brown hair and was dressed mostly in black: turtleneck sweater, dark pants, long-toed black boots. Mike was in jeans and a gray fleece V-neck over a white T-shirt. His mess of black hair curled onto his shoulders. Same, thought Janie, who’d been expecting something different. A new Mike to go with a new, real relationship, maybe.
“Hey,” he said, when Janie met them at the front door. “Nice porch.” He put his bags down and went back out to study it further. Alicia remained just inside the living room. She stared at the couch. At least Janie thought she was staring at the couch. Alicia’s gray eyes didn’t seem to be looking in the same direction at once.