He should have known better.
It was bad enough when three different acquaintances greeted him with sympathies about the divorce, followed by intrusive inquiries as to whether he had seen her yet. Then, while trying to simply collect free giveaways in the crowded exhibit hall, he felt a tap on the shoulder, followed by a familiar voice.
“Hey, stranger.”
He spun around to see his ex-wife, looking typically professional and alluring at once; her hair longer, but worn up, a slightly more auburn shade than in January. Other than that, she had hardly changed at all since that moment when she had unceremoniously broken his heart.
Before he had a chance to respond, Laura leaned forward to give him a tight hug, a public gesture that would have been unusual even during their marriage and seemed doubly odd now that they were divorced. He just stood there, accepting the embrace without really reciprocating.
“’Good to see you, Lewis.” His mind was racing, looking for an appropriate greeting under such circumstances. “Well, aren’t you going to say ‘Hello’?” she entreated.
“Uh, I’m sorry,” he said, shaking out of his stupor. “Hello, Laura. How are you?” he replied stiffly.
“I’m good. I see you’re giving a paper on Indian Affairs,” she said flatly.
Always the professional. “Yeah, and you’re doing something on France, I presume?” She responded to his sarcasm with an equally smug look.
“An analysis of the Vichy government as a reflection of French culture and history,” she explained. “That’s the topic of my forthcoming book. It’s already generating great controversy in Europe. Can you believe I’m presenting it next month in Paris? I expect to be stoned!” She sounded positively giddy at the thought that her scholarly treatise might make her the target of death threats.
“I’m sure you can handle it,” he said plainly. “At least it’s a trip to Paris. You should enjoy that.” Despite the awkward conversation, he was soon accepting an invitation to meet her that evening for drinks before a dinner appointment with her publisher. As she bounded off through the crowd, he immediately regretted accepting the offer. That had better be a strong drink.
Despite the stress of worrying about his planned encounter, his presentation went well, with positive audience reaction and some helpful suggestions. He did not bother to change clothes before stepping into the dimly lit bar a few moments past six, but it was obvious that she had. Laura was wearing a slinky black dress more fitting for a romantic date than a business meeting. He wondered if the attire was for his benefit or her publisher’s. For so many years seeing her dressed like that would have taken his breath away, but he was pleased to find himself completely unmoved. He could now sense the calculations behind her grooming.
As he approached, she rose and gave him a peck on the cheek, another odd move given their status, he thought. He noticed that she had already consumed a martini while waiting. The thought flashed through his mind that perhaps she was hoping for a post-divorce tryst. He had no desire to scratch that itch.
Sensing he might have the upper hand for once, he ordered a refill for her and straight tequila for himself. “So, how’s your family?” he asked, groping for subjects of small talk.
“Good. And yours?”
“Great,” he answered honestly. “I spent some time with Ben’s family this summer and I’ll be spending Christmas with Donnie.”
“Humph,” she chortled, taking a drink. “Bennett still with the same wife?”
He was taken aback by the jabbing tone of her question. “He and Amy are great,” he replied defensively, then added for emphasis: “They have a beautiful family. I hope to see a lot more of them now.”
She chuckled again, then struck: “I’m sure they’ve seen a lot more of you.”
He looked puzzled. “What does that mean?”
Looking at him with a bemused smirk, she set her posture for the injury-inflicting shot. “Lewis, please. ‘Puptent?’”
Catching his breath, he tried to shake off the sucker punch, seeming unfazed by her knowledge of the embarrassing nickname. “So, you heard about that all the way up in New Haven, huh?”
“Well, when your ex-husband becomes an Internet pin-up boy, people make sure you know,” she jabbed.
Bigmouth Munchkin!
Again he tried to appear unaffected. “So, didja like it?” he danced around coyly.
She showed off her own footwork. “It was . . . interesting. ‘Looks like you’ve been working out more since we split up.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” He retreated to his corner for a slow sip of his drink.
“So who was she?” his opponent asked, looking for an opening to strike another blow.
“You saw the caption,” he answered slyly, refusing to let down his guard. “Just a woman I hung out with over the summer.”
“You mean, just a student you screwed,” she jabbed.
“It wasn’t like that!” he punched back, feeling the anger rising as she denigrated his relationship with Mandy.
“Wasn’t she your research assistant last year?”
“Yes,” he countered, more defensively than he intended. “You knew I had a grant for a student researcher.”
“But you didn’t tell me you were sleeping with her,” she struck.
His face flushed as he gritted his teeth, trying not to raise his voice. “Not that it’s really any of your business, but we didn’t start dating until after the divorce was final.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
He balled his fists, trying desperately to resist the urge to slap her right across that smug face. “What difference does it make now, Laura?” he offered as his verbal upper cut. “We’re divorced. That’s what you wanted, remember? But for the record, I was never unfaithful to you while we were married. Not once. You might be able to accuse me of some things, but that’s not one of them.” He took another sip of his drink, trying to calm down.
She now tried to act the good sport. “I’m sorry, Lewis. I was out of line.”
He started to accept her apology, then stopped as a realization hit him.
“Can you say the same?” he punched.
“W-what?” she tried to block. Such an intelligent woman did not feign ignorance very well.
“Were you screwing some student behind my back?” he asked bluntly.
“No, I wouldn’t bother dating a student.” Even in her confession, she managed to be condescending. “But . . . there was someone else.”
“When?” he demanded forcefully.
“During the fall,” she whispered, throwing in the towel. “It was someone I knew in college. He lives in Boston now. We spent a lot of time together last year, including Thanksgiving.”
That New Year’s Day feeling of public betrayal swept over him again. This time he did not shout, but rather hissed back at her, sounding more menacing in hushed tones. “You mean that all the time I thought we were still planning on being together, through Christmas—through New Year’s Eve, when you fucked my brains out then asked for a divorce—you were sleeping with someone else?”
“Don’t make it sound tawdry, Lewis. I was very confused.” She spoke without any real emotion.
“That’s not confusion. That’s adultery!” he hissed.
She glared at him. He glared back.
“So, are you still screwing him?” he backfisted.
“No. I’m dating a Linguistics professor. He’s 28 and hung like a stallion,” she tried to punch back, missing her target.
He started to make a snide comeback, but stopped himself and laughed instead at the pathetic nature of her attempts to wound him. His laughter caught her off guard, irritating her as much as anything. He was neither hurt nor angry. This bout was over. The goddess had lost her hold on him.
Lewis reared his head back in psychological triumph. “Boy, you must feel pretty bad about yourself to brag about the size of your boyfriend’s genitals.” He stood to leave. “I hope you e
njoy the stallion, Laura. It sounds like you two deserve each other,” he said, landing the knock-out punch.
She started to say something else, but he stopped her, chuckling again to himself. “No, nope. I shouldn’t have said that. As someone very wise told me recently, it’s time to be the grown-up.” Smiling and shaking his head, he stuck out his hand to make a sportsmanlike peace. “I hope you find whatever it is that makes you happy, Laura. I really do. You still have the most brilliant mind of any person I’ve ever known.” And the blackest heart.
“I . . . hope you do, too, Lewis,” his opponent offered weakly.
Turning his back to the woman he had once worshipped, his face positively beamed. Now that I am free of you, I certainly will.
That evening, Lewis ordered room service, including an expensive bottle of champagne. He toasted himself triumphantly as he posted an e-Bay item through his laptop computer. His turquoise and silver wedding ring sold a week later for $38.50, including shipping.
Finished with his official duties, Lewis eschewed the rest of the conference. Instead, he spent two days walking around the San Diego Zoo, the highlight of which was the panda exhibit. They had four adult pandas instead of two, but the experience could not quite match the thrill of his first panda encounter. That visit held the advantage of newness, coupled with the fun of being able to share the experience with Mandy.
He dreaded facing his former assistant at mediation, but at least hoped the encounter would go better than his meeting with Laura. He knew Jane was right, that this was probably the best way to get the university off his back, but he wished there was another way. He hated the thought of having to hear Mandy describe the pain he had caused her. Even moreso, he was afraid he would not be able to restrain his own feelings.
He had not had a good night’s sleep in three months. She haunted his dreams every night—her warmth, her kisses, and the tattoo that drove him crazy with desire. But not all of the dreams were erotic. In some of them, she was screaming at him, sometimes replaying that scene on his front lawn and sometimes shouting over the telephone, just like Laura.
Occasionally he had a happy dream, one in which they were still together. Those were the worst dreams because they reminded him of what could have been. Some of these pleasant dreams were set in the future. He could see the two of them with a baby, a child with her brown eyes and his wavy blonde hair. He could never tell if the child was a girl or a boy. It was when he awoke from those dreams that he was at his most miserable, the depths of his loneliness overwhelming him.
Chapter 16
Rising Desires
A few days before Spring Break, Lewis caught sight of her in the copy room. “Hard at work again, I see,” he said, making Mandy jump slightly. “Sorry, ‘didn’t mean to startle you.”
“Uh, that’s okay, I was just thinkin’ about somethin’.” She didn’t want to admit how much his mere presence unnerved her. All she could think about when looking at him standing there leaning against the door frame in his standard Oxford shirt and Dockers was how good he had looked in the gym with his shirt off, chest glistening with sweat. For his part, Lewis tried not to stare as he thought about Mandy’s tattoo, now hiding beneath a long-tailed polo shirt and jeans. The air in the room grew thick with unexpressed desires.
“So,” he said, trying to ease the tension. “Have you had a chance to look over any of those books I loaned you?”
“Uh, the religion stuff?” she answered, trying to sound like the ever-attentive student. “Yeah, I’ve been readin’ a little at a time. Some of it’s kinda interestin’.”
“Good. Let me know if you have any questions about anything. Uhm, maybe we can discuss it over lunch again sometime,” he offered.
“Uh, yeah,” she answered absentmindedly. As he began to turn away, she added, eyes fixed on the humming copy machine, “Did ya know you left a scrapbook in the box?”
Lewis cleared his throat nervously, “Uh, yeah. Uhm, I thought you might be interested in seeing it, since you’re a fan of Donnie’s.”
“You were a cute kid,” she noted, still focusing her gaze on the work in front of her. “I can tell your folks loved you a lot, to make that for you.” She glanced at him, as the mention of his parents brought the wounded puppy look back into his eyes. She tried to resist its appeal. He’s not housebroken.
“Yeah,” he said softly. “She did.” His eyes now childishly stared down at his shoes, making her fight the urge to give him a hug. “So,” he said, “you got big plans for Spring Break? Hitting the beaches for fun in the sun?”
“No, not this year,” she chuckled. “I’m goin’ up to visit the folks a couple of days, then we’re all coming back here to go to Music Fest.” The Capital City Music and Film Festival had become one of the nation’s biggest entertainment fests, attracting performers and fans from around the world.
“Oh, fun.” he noted. “I’ve never been, but a lot of students seem to like it.”
“Yeah,” she said. “This’ll be our first year. Gus is goin’ to the film part this week and his brother’s band is stayin’ with us next week, so it should be a fun party.”
He nodded, recalling similar events from his younger days, when dancing, drinking, and sleeping as little as possible for a week was considered relaxation. Lewis could not imagine having the stamina for such a vacation now. He planned to spend most of Spring Break parked in front of the TV watching March Madness.
As Mandy picked up her stack of papers and walked towards him, he shifted his position so that he was standing in the doorway with his back leaning against the frame. She stopped in the doorway, her back facing the opposite frame as she handed the stack to him. Their bodies stood only inches apart as he took the papers from her hands. Each felt a surge of excitement as their fingertips briefly touched.
“Well, here ya go,” she said, rushing off.
Lewis’s eyes closed for a moment as he let out a sigh and felt his body break into a sweat. Outside, Mandy was inhaling the spring air deeply, trying to slow her still rapid breath.
He hoped to see her again before the break, but they never crossed paths. For the first few days he tried to be as productive as possible, but increasingly wished he had made vacation plans. Then, on Wednesday evening as he lay on the couch watching a game and sharing remnants of cold pizza with Clint, he received a text message from Mandy:
fri. wristband 4 fest. u n?
After deciphering the code, he mulled over the question for about three seconds before answering in the affirmative. Setting down his phone, he jump up and shouted a loud “Yes!” as if his team had scored a great shot. The cheer was loud enough to stir Clint into raising his lackadaisical head curiously as his companion danced a strange, happy jig in the middle of the living room. It was a mood Clint had never before witnessed in his human.
Lewis waited until Thursday afternoon to call Mandy, using the excuse of double-checking his needed arrival time for the following day. She advised 8 p.m., so the group could get downtown before the really good bands started their sets. Just before signing off, she offered one last piece of advice. “Don’t take this personally, but ya might wanna dress a little less . . . preppy. Ya know, like ya wanna have fun?”
“Fun,” he repeated robotically, trying to understand how he could not take this advice personally.
Realizing she may have insulted him, she added, “It’s just—well, you don’t have to look so much like a professor. Ya know?”
Now he really felt old. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Mandy signed off with a quick, “’Bye, Dr. Burns.” That is what she always called him, as he called her “Amanda” or “Ms. Taylor.” Only in this context, it no longer seemed appropriate. He wanted her to call him “Lewis,” not seeing him as a professor, but as a man. He knew nothing could happen between them since she was his employee and a student, but he wanted her to want something to happen. He wanted her to fantasize and yearn for something that could never be, just as he did in his dre
ams.
In the meantime, he needed to prepare. He made a quick telephone call to set up an appointment with his eye doctor. Next, he realized he needed to adjust his body clock. He took a nap after dinner, then tried to stay up later than normal, scanning the Internet for ideas about what to wear that would look trendy for his evening out. He still fell asleep by midnight, only to be awakened early the next morning by Clint’s need to water the lawn.
Once awakened, he set out at mid-morning to do some shopping. Since retro seemed to be in style, he found himself in a quirky thrift store that specialized in such clothing. He found a 1950’s pale yellow bowling shirt with large black stripes running down the front. He also picked up a dark grey jazz hat with a small feather sticking out of the brim and a pair of olive cargo pants.
That afternoon, after visiting his eye doctor, he took another nap, then ate dinner and showered. Before dressing, he stood in front of the full-length mirror on the door, examining his naked frame. It had been years since he had really worried about what any woman other than his soon-to-be-ex wife thought of his physique. He ran a hand across his belly, feeling for signs of paunch developing along his waistline and reminding himself to hit the weight room more often. Just to get started, he did 50 quick sit-ups, then inspected his body again, half expecting his actions to have melted away flab in minutes.
He fretted over everything, from his socks, to his cologne, to the exact slant of the hat on his head. It took him twenty minutes to insert his new contact lenses, turning his eyes into red, watery pools. Finally, he downed an espresso, brushed his teeth, and headed out. His heart was beating very fast; whether from the espresso or something else, he was not quite sure.
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