Sex, Lies, & Family Vacations

by Leslie Langtry

  "Alice is a spitfire," he began. "She has very distinct opinions on what she wants out of life and goes after it full-throttle." His expression screamed admiration. It was obvious how he felt about his daughter.

  "She does well in school, especially in reading and math. Sometimes I think she is too serious. Alice jumped three levels in swimming lessons this summer. She had her heart set on making the highest level for her age before anyone else, and she did it."

  I laughed. "Clara is different. She's a little clown. She laughs and giggles through swimming lessons. I wish she would take it a little more seriously."

  Alan squeezed my hand. "Oh, I don't know. I wish Alice had a little more fun with life sometimes. What else is there to the darling, little Clara?"

  My heart went kapow when he called her that. "Well, she's extremely creative. If she's not trying to get everyone to laugh, she's in the corner painting pictures of unicorns or writing stories about puppies. She does well in school, but to her, life is lots of fun."

  "An artist, eh? She's a woman after my own heart," he said and laughed warmly.

  "Oh yes. Clara's already told me she will be a famous artist someday. Not terribly lucrative, but she'll probably change her mind."

  Alan frowned. "Why should she? I'm an artist, and I make a good living at it."

  He was right. I felt like an idiot. "I'm sorry!" I tripped over my words, babbling like a nitwit.

  "It's okay. Believe me, I get it a lot. I'm glad you told me about Clara. I can be supportive, help her out."

  I took a deep breath. It was hard not to get choked up with the idea that Alan found a bond with my daughter. "What about Jack?"

  "Jack is completely different," he began. "He just wants to play superheroes or war. Jack is all about fantasy. His head is definitely in the clouds."

  I nodded. "Rory is more like Alice. I fear that once he discovers sports, I'll never see him again. He loves collecting ribbons and trophies."

  "We certainly have diversity in this group." He laughed again. "But I think we have the talent to handle things."

  Alan's face had glazed over. How cool was that? He was so in love with our kids, he found something wonderful to say about each of them, looking for ways to encourage them. Damn. I was lucky.

  A slow song came over the speakers, and Alan pulled me onto the dance floor. Once again, we moved together, our bodies merged. I thought about what he said, about his kids and mine.

  Alan held me in his arms on the bus trip back. We didn't fondle each other like before, exercising Herculean restraint. Hopefully, the kids would be sleeping when we got home.

  Home? The idea shocked me. We'd been on vacation so long, was I really considering it to be home? It made sense, I guess. The connections to our old homes were about to be severed. Our life together began here. Suddenly, the first day I'd arrived seemed so very far away.

  Martha accepted the money with a smile, betraying no urge to brand me with a scarlet A. Within a few moments, the door between us and the kids was locked and Alan stood before me.

  I wanted him, this man who loved my children. Was that weird? Pulling him to me, I pressed my lips to his as if trying to swallow him whole. The feelings I had overwhelmed me. I wanted to make love to him, show him what he meant to me.

  Sensing my need, Alan peeled my clothes off, depositing them on the floor. His lips didn't leave mine as he undressed himself and soon we were standing there, together, with nothing between us.

  I leaned into him, trying to make an impression of my body into his skin, while his hands slid up and down the length of my body. His touch felt different, not desperate like before, but as if he was taking his time, enjoying everything.

  "Oh, Alan," I breathed between kisses, "I want to feel you inside me."

  "Not yet, baby," he paused, "we have time tonight, and I want to make the most of it."

  "I don't know if I can…" I said shakily. My skin tingled and I felt desperate.

  His mouth dipped to my right breast, teasing the nipple gently, and I cried out.

  "You can," he said, looking up at me, "and you will."

  Alan's voice was, pardon the pun, cocksure. He was in complete control. There was a sophistication, a smoothness in his tone that startled and inflamed me. Was it me? Did I have that effect on him?

  Before my mind could come up with a workable argument, I felt his lips back on mine, as he gently pushed me to the bed. We made a complete mess of the sheets.

  When it was all over, I rolled over, certain that everything I had ever felt about him was displayed on my face. To my amazement, he was smiling. The same smile he had when he teased me at the bar earlier.

  "I love you that way," he started, wiping a stray curl from my eyes, "we'll have to do that again."

  I feigned enthusiasm, but it was all wrong. We seemed off balance. Here he was, pulled together and suave, while I'd have to mop my emotions from the floor. I felt exposed. I thought that we would experience a new level of intimacy…go beyond the mask. And I did. It just seemed like Alan didn't. Why?

  Moments later, as we lay together in the dark, I listened to Alan's breathing. He was asleep. I was wide awake.

  Laura! I scolded myself, you're making too much of this! I was looking for problems and naturally, finding them. Alan loved me. He loved Clara and Rory. And we were starting over with each other. Closing my eyes, I forced myself to shut up, and go to sleep.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  So, if it was nothing, why was my head spinning the next day? Well, okay, maybe it was the goddamned tea cups again. We rode them a lot. I think the reason I ride them is to have an excuse for being confused. But I couldn't avoid my feelings. Something seemed off.

  Clara and Alice squealed, breaking my train of thought, and I turned my attention back to them. They were so cute together. Of course, they ignored me completely, thinking only of each other. I was merely a parental accessory. A Mom Bangle.

  Alan waved from his teacup, and I smiled in response. Faker! My heart taunted me. It was true. I couldn't get into it. Either this place was starting to bore me, or I had experienced our first problem.

  "So, what's wrong?" Alan passed me the ketchup, and I squirted it liberally over my fries.

  I glanced at the kids flanking us on either side, then at him. "Nothing."

  He frowned. His lips formed the word "what?"

  I shook my head. "I'm being an idiot, as usual," I said in a piss poor attempt to change the subject.

  To my surprise, he let it go. But soon, it would be back to the hotel for a nap, and then he would use that sodium pentothal inducing smile, and I would confess. Mata Hari, I ain't.

  So, I did what anyone would do…I stalled. Every time I thought Alan was about to broach the nap subject, I insisted that I would absolutely die if I couldn't do the roller coaster, or log flume, (insert favorite amusement park ride here—believe me, I went through all of them).

  And it worked, for a while. Unfortunately, Alan saw through me when I insisted on the stupid ride with kids from around the world. To his credit, I only have myself to blame. I should have come up with something else. Now I knew he had psychic powers as well. Double damn.

  "So…" Alan took a long drink of his Diet Coke as he leaned back in his chair on the patio. "What's up?"

  The kids were asleep in our rooms, doors closed firmly behind us, no chance of distraction there.

  "Nothing, why?" I lied. How do you say to a man that he didn't bare his soul to you in bed the other night and now you think his wife was right in saying he had affairs?

  "Something's bothering you. God dammit, Laura! We finally cut through all the bullshit, and you are still upset and won't talk to me about it!"

  Wow. Alan was pissed. I tried to feint left. "No, really. I'm fine."

  "Right." The tone of his voice told me he didn't believe me.

  "Okay!" I snapped, "You want to know? Fine! I'm still wondering about Susan's comment about your affairs!"

  Alan's lo
ok of pain shot right through my heart. "You're joking, right? I told you she was lying."

  I shook my head, "I don't want to believe her. I really don't! It's just that we are probably always going to have some trust issues…and that bothers me."

  He frowned. "Alright. But remember that it works both ways. After all, your sexcapades with Nick don't make you easy to trust either."

  "True," I responded slowly, "but at least I told you everything."

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  I was treading on dangerous ground, but since when has that stopped me? "Well, I told you about my affair with Nick. If you've been unfaithful to Susan, I would hope you would have told me about it by now."

  Alan's face turned an impressive shade of red. "I didn't cheat on Susan!"

  Right, now I had to concede defeat. "Good."

  By the looks of things, though, it was far from over. "And…" Uh-oh, this couldn't be good. Alan continued, "You didn't tell me everything at first. You lied, then released information as you saw fit. Remember, it took days for you to tell me the truth about Nick."

  I started to stutter, "B…b…but I wasn't sure you could handle the truth. I wanted to make sure you wouldn't judge me…"

  "But you thought it was okay to judge me." He shook his head sadly. "I was supportive, in case you don't remember. I never judged or criticized you."

  Shame chilled my heart. He was right. "You're right."

  A long, impenetrable silence followed. I punished myself over and over for having such thoughts. What was I doing? Trying to completely ruin my life?

  "Laura," said Alan, his voice twisted with emotion, "you have to trust me.” Alan's finger tilted my chin up to his face. "Okay?"

  I nodded my head, weakly. "Okay."

  I nodded. Defeat was worth the smile I received. Obviously, I had trust issues. I couldn't even trust myself! How could I trust anyone else?

  Still, the evidence was daunting. I've always wanted to say "daunting." It sounds so Agatha Christie. Anyway, Alan had cheated on me in college. He easily slipped into bed with me on this trip. And why, if he'd always thought of me, didn't he find someway to contact me before now? Did he sleep with me just because I was here?

  Of course, I cheated on Mike with Nick. I never contacted Alan before now, and I jumped into the sack just as easily. What made me so innocent? And Alan had been wonderful on this trip. Hell, I even told him stuff nobody else, well, except Nick, knew. Alan accepted my faults. It didn't matter to him, so why should I obsess about it.

  Obviously, it was going to take a long time to get over this. Just accept it and move on. That is the only advice I'll ever give myself.

  Cautiously, I reached for Alan's hand. "I'm a raging psychopath, and I don't deserve you."

  He chuckled affectionately, "I'm pretty sure that we deserve each other. One way or another, like it or lump it, you're stuck with me."

  I smiled. "I wouldn't call it 'stuck with.' You are the best thing in my life right now."

  He cocked his head. "So, we are okay with this?"

  I nodded. "If you are, then I certainly am." And I was…right?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Ah. The infamous second-to-last-day-on-vacation syndrome. At least, that's what it would be if I had even gotten this close to ending the trip before now. In case you're wondering, it is okay to be both happy and sad at the happiest place on Earth. I hated leaving this place. But somewhere, deep down inside, I was looking forward to getting on with my life. If only I could avoid that little messy divorce thingy waiting for me at home.

  Alan and I wanted everything to be perfect. So, we let the kids decide where to go. To my complete surprise, they chose the park with the animals. So, first thing in the morning, off we went.

  The kids danced in their seats, singing stupid songs over and over and over and…well, you get the idea. Wait! Was I actually sick of this vacation? Alan's arm slipped around my shoulders, and I relaxed. There's something to that move, when a man puts his arm around you. It's protective, and possessive, and supportive all at once. And when the right man does it, I get all melty inside. Alan was that man.

  Instead of leaning into him, I turned to face him. Alan returned my gaze, and I saw the stark, naked emotion I was seeking in those eyes. He kept his eyes locked onto mine while reaching up to stroke my face, his thumb caressing my cheek. I smiled, then turned back to face the kids.

  Throughout the day, I found myself thinking of what I had to do when I got home. You see, I'm a planner. And I'm pretty obnoxious about it. For example, I researched pregnancy for two years before attempting it. When I travel, I buy every guidebook published on wherever I'm going. I've actually visited places so thoroughly through books and videos that when I get there, I'm a little bored.

  My first thought was that I had to tell my parents. And chances were they were going to try to have me committed to an asylum. Probably one for the adulterously insane. Eventually, they would realize that I'm in my forties, and an adult. And if that didn't work, I'd hold my breath until I turned blue. They'd be sorry when I died from that.

  Of course, I wouldn't tell them everything. I'm not a total idiot. Instead, I would leave out Nick and put more emphasis on the failing marriage and less emphasis on the screaming orgasms with Alan.

  My parents had never met Alan. They'd heard of him, but never met him face-to-face. Maybe that would help. Oh hell, who was I kidding? Once they found out our romance was really an exercise in the Kama Sutra, they hated him. It was stupid to have left that diary in my laundry.

  Then, there were my friends. Although I really hadn't kept in touch with my college pals, the people I knew in Ohio would be freaked out. They loved Mike. Oh well, screw 'em. I'd make new friends in New Mexico. Hey! That could be their new state motto, "Make New Friends in New Mexico!" It's a helluva lot better than "You've Got a Friend in Pennsylvania." I always imagined that there was some mysterious little government office that assigned everyone in the U.S. a friend in Pennsylvania. Of course, I was nine when I thought that. Duh! Everyone knows that they sign you up at the Visitor's Centers when you cross the state line!

  Okay, so between friends and family, I could weather the storm for the short time I would be in the state of Ohio. How long would it take? I made a mental list: quit job, line up new job in Santa Fe, deal with lawyers, pack, find a new home, move. Hmmm…that seems pretty long. Well, I could cut down on that by just moving to a hotel in Santa Fe. How long would it take Alan? Who would arrive in the new state first?

  My mind was elsewhere, as it usually is, nearly all the time. This wonderful place was getting old. As a hangout for adulterers, it rocked. But I found myself wanting to move forward. This was probably why I wasn't paying attention on the safari ride. This is probably why I found myself lying on the ground, while a jeep full of people stared at me in disbelief.

  Fortunately, I was surrounded by nothing more carnivorous than a few startled zebras. I struggled, flame-faced, to my feet and casually walked around the jeep to re-board, as if nothing happened. After a few moments of shock, the visibly shaken driver continued on.

  "Um, Laura?" Alan was staring at me. "What was that all about?"

  Responding to this question would be tricky, since I had no idea how I ended up outside the jeep. I mean, you pretty much have to stand up and fling yourself out.

  "I lost my balance. It's nothing." I waved him off as if he was silly to wonder about it. Actually, I was a little curious myself as to what had happened.

  "What made you stand up in the first place?" Alan asked.

  "We hit a bump." I lied, feeling pretty smooth.

  He shook his head. "No we didn't."

  Damn. "Are you sure?" That's it, make him question his memory.

  "You just stood up and dove out the window." I couldn't tell if it was annoyance or concern on Alan's face.

  "I did?"

  Alan nodded. "You don't remember?"

  I looked around me. Apparently, the rest of
the bus wanted to know the answers too. The driver was holding a first aid kit and his cell.

  "Oh." I know. Lame, lame, lame. But that was all I could come up with. After all, I had no idea what had happened. Apparently, I was now daydream sleepwalking, or had developed Alzheimer's. Maybe my parents should have me committed when I get back.

  "What? Why would your folks have you committed?" Alan looked worried as I realized I had spoken my thoughts.

  I waved the staff member away, and he produced a waiver and pen. I signed the form saying I wouldn't sue them. Of course I wouldn't sue them for my own stupidity. I wanted to forget it already.

  "Mommy?" Clara looked up at me. "Are you okay?"

  I nodded. "Of course I am. I just have a lot on my mind…I guess."

  Alan looked at me, and for a minute I thought he might just throw up his hands and run. Why would anyone want to be with the complete mess that is me?

  Instead, he laughed. A truly, genuine laugh. He kissed me on the cheek and put his arm around me. Maybe he understood. Perhaps he was just as preoccupied.

  "I've never had a woman throw herself out of a moving vehicle because of me before. But knowing you, I'll take that as a good sign." He squeezed me to him. "Just don't make a habit out of it."

  "Thank God you understand," I said to him quietly. "I have no idea what happened."

  "You were thinking too much again, weren't you?" He cocked one eyebrow at me.

  I nodded. Hell, no point in hiding the truth now. Again, Alan laughed, but the funny looks I got for the rest of the ride reminded me that quirky wasn't necessarily good behavior.

  I was better by lunch. The Rainforest Café is one of my favorite places. Gorillas beat their chest, it rains, birds squeal, and the kids do too. The kids still looked at me warily, as if I would jump onto the animatronics gorilla and begin swinging through the trees.

  "Alan?"

  He looked at me, burger en route to his mouth and smiled. "What?"