Hungry for Love

by Nancy Frederick

  “Rule?” asked Ben, when he should have been improvising.

  “I’m starting to think I should be jealous. You spend ten seconds in the same room with Piggy here and you forget about the magic that is us. What do we never do before we leave a room? We never not kiss. Okay, you’ve got me all flustered here. Kiss me you fool!”

  Ben set the box down, walked toward Colette and reached to peck her cheek but she grabbed him around the neck and kissed him for a very long time.

  “If you do that with every box, we’ll be moving forever,” said Clint seriously.

  “Okay,” said Colette contritely, “One time special rule. Only for today. Come and go. No kisses.” Then she burst into tears while everyone looked on quite stunned. “But it’s so tragic, so terribly tragic. What next? We start breaking all our rules at the drop of a hat? What next? Next we’ll be sleeping with other people?” She gasped, put a hand over her mouth, and glared at each of the other three in the room. “I never would have believed it of you. Well, Clint, yes I might have suspected you.”

  “Huh?” said Clint, genuinely baffled.

  “Let me be clear right now. There is never going to be any orgies. And my Ben will not be having any free love—not with you missy…” Colette pointed an accusatory finger at Angie and then said “And not with you mister…” and pointed at Clint.

  “What?” said Ben and Clint simultaneously with gaping jaws, while Angie just stood and stared at the psycho girl who had somehow entrapped Ben.

  “This is a monogamous relationship. We’re parents for God’s sake. Okay we will be parents. Nobody is cheating, not as cheating or with permission, which be clear on this, there is no permission going around here. Or permissiveness. You get me?”

  Ben’s eyes lit up with admiration as he looked at Colette. She was kind of a genius. Angie was furious, and that was the whole point. It was working.

  When Angie noticed the sparkle in Ben’s eyes, she was aghast. It was worse than she’d thought. He really was enamored and the girl was insane. Shouldn’t a psychologist be able to recognize that? Was she a patient? Now Angie was really worried.

  “We’re a little off track here,” said Clint good naturedly. “Let’s load these boxes, okay?”

  In short order they’d finished and Angie looked around. Nothing of hers was left. No more would she be a serf in her dad’s world. She was no longer the girl who begged for his attention on a daily basis. She was his ex-daughter. And he could have what he’d always wanted—to be alone and miserable.

  They arrived at her new place on Olympic, a nice duplex with two small bedrooms up a winding little staircase in a garden style building. “Nice place,” said Ben, “Charming.”

  Colette strode in and gazed all around then said, “Gee another furnished place huh? Too bad. But you can jazz all this dull stuff up with some paint and fabrics.”

  “I bought all this furniture,” said Angie. “I chose these fabrics.”

  “Wow how did you and Ben get so close when you’re so totally different? This isn’t our style at all. Is it Bootylicious Ben?”

  Ben glanced behind himself at his nonexistent booty then shrugged. “I think it’s very nice,” he said.

  Colette gasped. “You’re choosing her over me? What’s going on here? Thursday night—where were you,” she asked with venom, pointing at Angie.

  “Hey!” said Angie, refusing to take any more, “I grew up with a judge, remember. I don’t need you questioning me.”

  “Aha! So you refuse to answer. I guess we know what’s been going on here. It’s obvious isn’t it? How could you, Ben?”

  “Um,” said Clint, “What are you talking about?”

  “Ben and Angie know what I’m talking about. And so do you. I’m talking about Thursday. Maybe you’ve heard of it.”

  “Nothing happened on Thursday,” said Ben calmly.

  “Sure it didn’t. You were just feeding each other bacon. Gnawing each other’s spare ribs. Nobody was having raunchy naked pig sex. I just hope you know what you’ve done and what it’s going to take to get me back. Flowers? You’re thinking flowers? Well, okay yes I love flowers—you know me very well. But I’m talking way more than flowers. Like blood tests. And you better stay away from that, that, that, bacon bewitcher.”

  And then Colette turned and stormed out the door.

  Ben laughed. “She has lots of personality.”

  “Yeah—if only she had at least one normal one,” said Angie.

  “Oh don’t worry,” said Clint almost seriously, “I’ve known her for years. She’ll get over it.”

  Bill sat facing Laura at Angie’s deli, enjoying their new weekly tradition of meeting there for lunch. He saw the sadness in her eyes despite what she was saying.

  “Once I made the decision, it was a relief. I should have done it years ago…. Probably…. You think Julie will handle it okay?”

  Bill nodded, “I think so, in time. It’s what Candy called the travesty of divorce.” He pressed his hand warmly on hers, “I’ll be here for both of you.”

  Laura laughed. “You know you should see him. Every day a delivery comes. A couch, flat screen TV. He put in that outdoor kitchen we always talked about. Giant grill, built in fridge, sink with running water. Julie goes out there every morning and has breakfast with him.” Bill was bemused. For a guy who normally was rarely at home, Kevin had hunkered down outside in the cabana. “And you still have a shower out there, right? After the conversion and all?”

  Laura nodded. “All the comforts of a first class dorm room. For a third rate idiot…. An idiot who can always crawl back into my heart. Could, I’m changing that to could…. And what about you? Joining the dating game again?”

  Bill nodded, “Already started. Candy made a list. Says she can’t go to college with me all alone here.”

  “She’s such a trip.”

  “I think maybe I’m ready now. I was just too desperate to get past the grief, in too much of a hurry. Did you know the kids hated Chrissy?”

  “She was just never good enough for you.”

  “At least she kept me from losing my mind and losing it totally for the kids when I was at my lowest. And now it feels like I’ll be okay, funny I guess, but I’m just not as down. I can go on these dates and shrug, say okay we’ll see, less urgency.”

  “Hey that’s great.”

  “Only thing is, it’s too easy. I get the sense I could have any one of these women at all, and it’s not because of who I am, but what I am.”

  “Yup, rich doctor, good catch. You could look like a troll, be a troll. No wonder Kevin could screw around so readily.”

  Bill laughed. “Yeah, he was an innocent bystander in it all.”

  “Absolutely. Those women were totally at fault. Didn’t even unzip his own trousers. He had no choice. Wait—let me wipe away a tear.”

  “So are you planning to date?”

  “Maybe as a way to torture Kevin, like in that movie with the big hut and the little hut. Wow that was an oldie. Match.com? What do you think?”

  Bill laughed. “You could date me.”

  “I think our destiny is to be friends.”

  Bill hummed, “They’re writing songs of love, but not for me….”

  Kevin sat on the couch he’d bought for the guesthouse. It wasn’t bad, pretty comfortable, and he was fine, but why was he miserable? On the very same Friday, he’d received papers for a dissolution of partnership from Bill and divorce from Laura. From the same attorney, no less. Because he had refused to leave the office, Bill had moved to a new place, taking half the furnishings and equipment and all of the staff, even Caryn, who’d just shrugged when Kevin asked her why she was choosing Bill over him. Without Bill there to generate revenue, Kevin knew the income from the practice would drop severely and the expenses would remain the same. Kevin rebounded quickly and took on a junior associate, which proved to be an excellent idea. This junior doc did more than his share of the work, provided additional billing and receive
d less in compensation. When everything was considered, Kevin knew he would be just fine professionally. He would make a good income, just as he always had. So why was he so miserable? There were several new nurses, all hot, and at least one regularly gave him the eye. He could have her any time he wanted, without Bill there to ruin the fun with his constant disapproval. So why was he so miserable?

  There was one and only one thing on Kevin’s mind—his wife. He woke in the morning, thinking of Laura. At night before he fell asleep alone in his private little world, it was her face that he saw. He thought about sex and he thought about Laura, but the odd thing was that he thought of them together. When had he last had that sense of yearning for his wife? When had he last felt what could only be described as lust, but no it was more than lust, it was passion, desire, and it wasn’t even about the sex. He wanted to go home and Kevin had recognized that Laura was the home he wanted.

  It was all so frustrating—he hadn’t been like this in years. Every day at lunchtime he called, to say hello to Laura. Sometimes she answered the phone, but rarely did she linger in a conversation. How did it come to be that what formerly was an innocent hobby—chasing after a woman he wanted but wanted only for an hour or two—had devolved into him chasing after his own wife? His life had been upended and it was disorienting and Kevin felt out of sorts on a constant basis. He knew he should have sex—with someone—anyone—just to see if he could do it. His heart filled with terror at the possibility of having that same problem again. At least once a day he thought of taking a drive over to Angie’s to see if they could do it at last, but something inside of him said no, and he didn’t bother. This was what depression was like. Kevin was depressed, and he knew it.

  It was time to face facts—he loved his wife and he wanted her back. Divorce was quick in California—it took only six months. He had to do something now, not linger around wishing things were different. He had to make them different. Kevin knew one thing: he was a charmer, had always been so. There wasn’t a woman around who could resist him for long. Hadn’t he charmed Laura in the first place, hadn’t he stolen her from that guy she was dating after college? And now they were married with a child and a home and on some level she must want to preserve it. He had to step it up, rev up the charm, and make Laura want him again. Surely it wouldn’t be that difficult.

  Laura was aware of what was on Kevin’s mind but she couldn’t decide if it was exciting or merely amusing in a kind of pathetic way. When he tapped softly on the kitchen door one night at dinner time, Julie let him in and squealed happily at the heart shaped boxes of chocolates he’d brought for each of them.

  “Oh a Valentine!” said Julie.

  “The best part is after you eat the chocolate,” said Kevin.

  “You mean saving the box to put stuff in?” asked Julie, stuffing two pieces into her mouth.

  “Dinner is in a few minutes,” said Laura, setting her box unopened on the counter. “Only one piece now, Julie.”

  “I can’t just spit it out—that would be rude,” said Julie, speaking with her mouth very full of candy.

  Kevin laughed. “Nope there’s something under the candy.”

  Julie went scrounging through her box of candy, moving each piece around until she found a little velvet pouch. She quickly popped another piece of candy into her mouth then opened the pouch, which contained a little silver necklace with a tiny heart dangling from it. “Oh wow! Put it on me, put it on me,” she said excitedly. After Kevin fastened it around her neck, Julie ran off to look at herself in a mirror.

  “Aren’t you going to look in yours?” he asked Laura.

  “Do you think I’m that easily confused?” Laura replied. She watched as Kevin opened the large candy box and gingerly removed another velvet pouch. From it he spilled into his hand a necklace with a sparkling heart-shaped diamond solitaire. Kevin had very nice hands and very good taste in jewelry.

  Laura sighed. “It’s beautiful. But I wish you hadn’t….”

  “I know I’ve been a jerk and for a long time I haven’t acted like much of a husband. I just wanted you to know you’re the only woman I’ve ever given my heart to and you still have it.”

  Julie ran back in the room before Laura could reply and said, “I’ll set a place at the table for Daddy.”

  “Smells good,” said Kevin, looking at Laura.

  “Roast beef,” said Julie, “Your fave.”

  Laura sighed again and handed Julie a plate and some silverware.

  Kevin thought the dinner had gone pretty well and after Julie had her bath and was tucked into bed, he lingered to talk to his wife. “Thank you for letting me stay,” he said rather humbly, “I’ve missed this so much.”

  “Julie was happy to have you here,” said Laura.

  “Only Julie?”

  “Go home, Kevin.”

  “I thought I was.”

  Laura opened the back door and Kevin morosely walked back to his cabana. It was clear he would have to try harder. Kevin would have to woo his wife, seduce his wife. This was something he could do, something he’d done many times before with many women. It was just harder with a pissed off woman, he knew that, but didn’t she have a certain softness in her eyes when she saw the diamond? Kevin thought maybe she did.

  Another first date, thought Bill. No wonder everyone hated dating. He didn’t actually know if people hated dating but he assumed that must be true. Here he was, in another restaurant, across from another woman, square one. How did people have the time and energy for it? He wondered should he try to become a better sport and consider it more of an adventure. He’d hardly dated at all when he was young, here and there in high school and in his second year of college he’d met JoEllen. Then the dating stopped and real life began. If there were a way now to fast forward past all this crap and resume real life, Bill would be delighted, but hadn’t he tried that with Chrissy and look where it had led. At least he’d learned a lesson and had become hyper vigilant. Where before he gravitated toward women who physically reminded him of JoEllen, he was currently so spooked by his year with Chrissy that now he strenuously avoided them.

  The current interviewee, as he’d begun calling them, was thus not a pert redhead but a sultry brunette, but perhaps she seemed sultry only because she was so enraged. It started hopefully enough with a mellow exchange about the school soccer program and some laughs about the parent volunteers who’d gone too far overboard about getting high scores and winning the matches.

  In the middle of this benign conversation, Erin had looked over Bill’s shoulder emitting a staccato gasp, “It’s Henry. With a hooker. At this posh restaurant.”

  Bill discretely turned his head and glanced in the direction Erin indicated but saw only a normal man with one sort of typical Beverly Hills woman, low cut dress, fake boobs, too much jewelry. “I don’t think she’s a hooker,” said Bill.

  “Excuse me,” said Erin, who rose and marched over to her husband’s table and began a conversation that rapidly devolved into a shouting match.

  “What are you doing, following me?” shrieked Erin at Henry. “How did you find out where I’d be? Are you hacking my schedule in the computer? Had to hire a hooker to be your beard?”

  “Go fuck yourself,” said Henry, as people around him looked moderately shocked and extremely annoyed at the shattering of their peaceful dinner hour.

  “I’m not a hooker,” said the woman, “I’m his attorney.”

  “Explain the difference,” said Erin, staring down the inflated cleavage with a sneer.

  “I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” said the attorney.

  “I’m going to suggest you take makeup lessons at a new clown college,” said Erin.

  Henry stood and signaled to the waiter to call security.

  Bill looked toward the exit of the restaurant with deep yearning. Couldn’t he just slip away and pretend he didn’t know these people? He needn’t pretend—he didn’t know them. But then what. He’d surely see Erin at school an
d leaving her stranded at a restaurant wouldn’t be a good idea.

  After tossing a glass of wine in her husband’s face, Erin returned to the table. Bill could almost see the waves of red, angry light rising from the top of her head as she seethed and spoke of her former husband and the financial tricks he’d been playing on her. This rant went on for quite a while and Bill listened with only half an ear after a short time, although he nodded appropriately. There was no need to ask a question to keep the conversation moving because apparently this woman could continue speaking without stopping for air. Eventually she did stop speaking and just looked at him, clearly waiting for some comment, so he said, “Well love is a battlefield like they say in the song.”

  “Ah thanks for being so understanding and letting me rant. Say—would you like to come home with me tonight?”