“Then what’s the problem?” She was out of breath, too, her voice taut with frustration.
“Ally, what do you want to happen here tonight?”
She sat up. “Are we having one of those talks?”
The way she asked it made him prop himself up on his elbows, half sitting, staring at her. “Is that a problem?”
“Well, I thought guys didn’t want to complicate things. I thought we didn’t need to complicate things,” she said, and her voice sounded genuinely puzzled. “I’ve wanted you since you agreed to teach me how to surf. I just didn’t know it. And it’s been making me crazy. I can’t think of anything else. I can’t focus on anything else.” She smiled at him, a gentle, hesitant smile that was pure Allison. “So I thought, why don’t I just do something about it?”
Put that way, it did make sense, he supposed. She was the ultimate problem-solver. “So you were having trouble focusing, and you figured you’d sleep with me to get it out of your system?” he paraphrased, knowing that he was twisting her words way out of proportion. Who really thought that way? Still, he wanted her to admit it… that there was more going on between the two of them than just sex as stress relief.
She bit her lip. “Well, of course it’s going to sound bad when you put it that way.” She paused. “And I don’t mean... I’m not trying to use you. I just didn’t think it would be a good idea to get into the whole stress of a relationship right now.”
The words hit him like a brick. “So, no matter how it sounds, that’s really what you’re doing here tonight? You’re trading one set of lessons in for another?” He paused. “You’re turning sex with me into a hobby?”
She frowned. “Okay, now you’re just being melodramatic.”
He nudged her off of his lap, shivering at the oversensitivity of his body and, at this point, of his wounded psyche. He’d felt stupid about being more interested in a woman than she was in him, back when he’d waited at her house. This? This was about a hundred times worse.
“I don’t know if you realize this, but I’ve tried to point out over and over that I’m not just teaching you because you got me my apartment,” he said, his voice sharp as a knife. “I’m teaching you because I care about you. Get that? Care. You’re vulnerable, you’re sweet. And sometimes, I swear to God, you’re the most messed-up woman I know.”
“Ah, and that’s attractive,” she bit back at him, her eyes starting to well with tears. “Why are you making this so difficult?”
“Because I don’t just want to have sex with you!” he exploded, anger bubbling through his words like lava. “Because I care about you, damn it!”
She stared at him like he’d grown another head. “I don’t know... Sean, I wasn’t expecting..."
“Yeah, I know you weren’t expecting,” he said bitterly. “I’m a little too tired to help you out today, Allison. Have a nice Christmas.”
“Sean, wait,” she said, but he shrugged her hand off of his shoulder and walked out the door.
CHAPTER NINE
“MERRY CHRISTMAS, honey.”
Allison smiled tightly at her mother, who was holding out an elaborately wrapped gift. She was sitting in her parents’ picture-perfect living room. The twelve-foot tree stood in the comer of the cathedral ceiling-covered room, right next to the Italian-marble fireplace. The place was stunning—the decorators had gone overboard this year. It looked even better than it had two years ago, when Architectural Digest had done a holiday display on the house. From beyond the fireplace, she saw the ocean through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Sean.
She took a deep breath, and unwrapped her gift.
It was a gorgeous leather briefcase, in a deep mahogany brown. It felt like butter beneath her fingertips. “Thank you,” she said, luxuriating in the feel of it.
“I picked it up when I was doing that promo stop in Milan,” her mother said. “I told you about that, right? It was such an ordeal...”
“At least you got time to shop,” her father joked. “The last time I was in Germany, I didn’t see outside of a conference room!”
Allison noticed that her sister and brother laughed appreciatively. Allison joined in a little late. “It’s beautiful,” she admitted.
Her parents then handed her siblings their gifts. To no one’s surprise, they each had some kind of leather item. Her brother, Rod, got a handsome laptop case. Her sister, Beth, got a beautiful leather portfolio. There were oohs and aahs all around.
Then it was time for her parents’ gifts, and Allison felt her stomach clench a little. This was always the stressful part of the program.
She couldn’t remember the last time she truly enjoyed a stress-free Christmas, she realized. She also realized she was gripping the briefcase too hard, and forced herself to release it.
“This one’s from Rod,” her father said, shaking it.
“Don’t shake too hard,” Rod cautioned. “It’s fragile.”
Her father smiled broadly, and then handed it to her mother, who carefully removed the paper, drawing out the moment like a noir suspense movie. Allison swallowed hard.
“Oooh!” Her mother clapped her hands. “Look! Matching smart phones!”
Allison fought not to roll her eyes. Her brother’s company manufactured smart phones. How hard could getting that have been?
“Those are prototypes, the absolute top of the line,” Rod said proudly. “I’ve been working eighty hours a week to get those babies to market. We got ’em out in time for Christmas. They’re loaded up with all the latest apps and tools, you name it, and they sync up with everything...”
As he listed the various features of the phone, Allison felt her heart sink a little bit. It truly was a perfect gift for her parents, as it could automatically sync up the family’s group calendar (which Rod also created.) It was kind of ridiculous how busy they all were.
“Now, let’s open Allison’s,” her mother said. They always did them by age.
Allison took a deep breath. She’d purchased the presents months ago, as was her habit. She was always busy, but she knew that this was going to be important, so she always scheduled it in. She forced herself not to wring her hands as her mother unwrapped the gift.
The term “what do you get the person who has everything?” came leaping to mind.
Her mother smiled. “Look. More Waterford for our collection. How thoughtful.”
Her father nodded, giving a few obligatory noises of assent. Allison felt her heart sink a few notches lower. Talk about lack of enthusiasm.
“Now, what did Beth give us?” Her mother opened the packages. “Ooh! Watches!”
Now, how the hell did a law student afford two Cartier watches? Allison didn’t mean to begrudge her sister—she’d worked hard in college, and it wasn’t as if she was spending any money while she was in school, so of course she had gift money.
Smart phones. Family calendars. Watches.
“It was the best I could do,” Beth said demurely. “I really didn’t have the time to shop. I can’t believe how busy I’ve been, between my classes and editing Law Review."
“Know what you mean,” Rod grumbled. “I’ve been tempted to set up a bed in my office, I’m spending so much time there!”
Her parents were watching the exchange between siblings with interest and pride. Allison felt herself shrivel up, stuck literally in the middle on the couch as her brother and sister played the “who works harder” game.
Allison realized abruptly that she’d always felt this way during holidays, ever since she was a little girl. Family gatherings weren’t simply something to enjoy. They were always a contest of some sort. And she’d never felt like she won enough of them.
She got up and walked toward the tree, taking a deep breath of the pine scent. There was potpourri on the mantel, smelling like dried oranges and ginger, all overlaid with the smoky smell of the wood fireplace, which was crackling happily. She looked outside, and, even as she noticed that everyone was watching her, she opened the balcony doo
r and stepped outside, closing the glass behind her. It was cool out, but bright, and she drank in the scent of the ocean like alcohol. The sound of the surf was even better than the Christmas carols wafting through the house out of the Bose stereo.
Her father stepped outside. “Honey? You all right?”
She nodded, smiling. She’d always felt closer to her father. “Just tired. It’s been...”
She was starting to say “busy at work,” then realized that’s what she always said. At every family gathering. She was just getting in on the contest.
“I’ve been a little stressed,” she said instead, feeling a little odd at being so honest.
He nodded. “Work?” he said, and although it sounded like a question, she knew that it wasn’t.
“Sort of.” Like there was anything else in her life. “Actually, it’s a bit more than that.”
He looked surprised. “More than work?”
Now her mother stepped out, shivering. “It’s freezing out here. What in the world are you doing?”
“It’s California, Mom,” Allison said with a smile. “It is not freezing.”
“Well, for us natives it is,” her mother admitted. “But you’re right. I just did a signing in New York, and that was freezing. But come inside anyway.”
“Allison is stressed,” her father stated, and Allison winced.
“Work?” her mother asked.
“Why is that always the first guess?” Allison said, laughing weakly.
“It’s what we do,” her father answered, his brow furrowing.
It’s who we are, Allison thought.
“It’s not that big a deal,” Allison said, hoping to head this off at the pass. “You were in New York? That was just before you guys went to the Bahamas, right? I don’t know that you told me about that one.”
“If it’s not work, what is it?” Her mother wasn’t dumb, and she wasn’t going to be deterred by something that obvious.
Allison could see her brother and sister still arguing on the couch inside. “It’s not that big a deal,” Allison repeated.
“You’re not involved with somebody, are you?” Her mother sounded skeptical.
Allison jerked slightly, startled... then realized she thought immediately of Sean, and smiled before she could stop herself.
“You are involved with someone!” Her mother’s voice was jubilant. “Good heavens, why didn’t you tell us? Who is he? Do we know his family?”
“Whoa, whoa. Hold your horses. I’m not involved with anyone!”
“You really should have told us,” her father said.
“I would if I were involved with someone,” Allison retorted.
“So we don’t know him?”
“Hello? Am I talking to myself here?” Allison shook her head. “I am working hard, I am not involved with anyone and that’s it.”
“Then what’s so stressful?” Her father’s puzzled concern was humorous in its single-mindedness. At least she came by that honestly.
My family, to start?
“Just...life.”
Her parents stared at her as if she’d suddenly started speaking in tongues. “Life?” Her father echoed carefully, waiting for her to correct her statement.
Allison nodded, then squirmed as they kept staring at her. “It’s no big deal,” she finally said, as if the third time saying it would be the charm.
Her mother patted her shoulder, looking at her as if she’d gone off the deep end. “I’m sure it will be fine,” she said, as if she was trying to convince them both of that fact. “Everyone’s life gets hectic.”
“Especially around the holidays,” her father added with a smile, apparently feeling better that they’d identified the problem and made it a lot less nebulous than the generic “life.” “Holidays make everyone crazy.”
“Come back inside,” her mother said, “and we’ll have Susie serve dinner, and it’ll all seem much more in perspective.”
Allison wanted desperately to believe her, but as soon as she opened the door, she heard her brother and sister squabbling.
“My girlfriend doesn’t even see me anymore,” Rod complained.
“I don’t even have a boyfriend,” Beth countered, as if that was something to be proud of.
“It’s only going to get worse at my company, though. We’ve got another new product launch in March.”
“This is my last year, and I’ve got to start lining up my internships. I’m aiming to work for a ninth circuit court judge.”
“We should be making a few more million this year...”
Allison swallowed hard.
“I have to leave a little early, after dinner,” she said.
“Well, I’m going to have to start boning up for the bar,” Beth said, oblivious to Allison’s statement.
“I felt that way after taking the GMAT,” Rod said, also ignoring Allison’s comment.
“Ha! The GMAT can’t even compare...”
“You shouldn’t leave early, Allison, ” Allison’s mother interjected, her eyes dark with concern. “You’ll feel much better after dessert.”
Suddenly, it must have occurred to her siblings that, despite her avoidance of the subject of work, Allison was getting all of the attention. “Wait, what’s wrong?” Beth said, obviously surprised.
“Nothing,” her father put in. “Your sister’s just stressed, is all.”
“What does Beth have to be stressed out about?” Rod said, equally surprised. “She works in advertising. It’s not even her company.”
“Thanks, Rod,” Allison murmured.
“You know what I mean,” he said, at least having the grace to look embarrassed.
“I know,” she said. “And I just need to leave a little early, that’s all.”
“Whatever in the world for?” her mother said, the nervousness really moving to the fore.
She smiled. “I thought maybe I’d go surfing.”
She couldn’t help it. She laughed at the mirrored looks of shock on her family’s faces. The similarity in expression was priceless.
“I’m sorry, did you say surfing?” her father asked.
“Yup.”
“You can’t go surfing!” Her mother’s eyes were wide.
“Why not?”
Her mother goggled. Her father picked up the ball. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re kidding. Surfing? Whatever for?”
“Well, I may just go out and look,” she said. “Let’s eat.”
If nothing else, she thought, as her parents continued to harangue her, I’m going to see what Sean’s doing.
SEAN SPENT CHRISTMAS the same way he’d spent almost every Christmas since his sister had kids, over at her place, playing with the babies and loading them up with tons of toys. It was heartening, since watching people open stuff like sweaters or gift certificates was kind of pointless. He spent Christmas Eve there, helping them last-minute assemble toys, and then he spent the morning playing. Today, his niece Sarah had her first tricycle. His nephew, Paul Junior, pretty much just played with the gift wrap, but since the kid seemed to get a serious charge from it, he had a pretty good time, too. Then, they’d packed the kids (with one toy apiece) into the car, to go visit the in-laws and have Christmas dinner. Sean had dinner over at Gabe and Charlotte’s house. The evening was pretty idyllic. Not perfect, not by a long stretch, but pretty nice.
It would’ve been a lot better if the last incident with Allison hadn’t been quite so ugly.
I can’t believe I turned her down.
He parked his truck in Mrs. Tilson’s driveway, then closed his eyes and rested his head on the steering wheel. It all seemed like a surreal nightmare. Allison, only one of the most beautiful, amazing women he’d ever met, had invited him over to her house. For sex.
And he’d actually said no. Turned her down. Took the high road, went monastic, however you wanted to call it.
If it were possible to feel more stupid, he didn’t want to know about it.
You’d do it again.
He sighed. And there it was—the thing that made him feel even worse.
The bottom line was, with any other girl, he would’ve been more than happy to be her booty call and “stress relief,” as she’d so inelegantly labeled it. He wasn’t a monument to higher morals. But she wasn’t any other girl. She was Allison. He knew she didn’t mean it, just as he knew (or hoped he knew) that it wasn’t what she meant.
At least, he prayed that she didn’t mean it.
He thought back to all the times he’d talked to her—her heartfelt confession in the dressing room topping the list. The way she’d opened up after karaoke. The way she basically lived her life. She was stressed out, and she made what she’d thought was an easy decision—what she’d thought he’d be open to. Something that should’ve been simple for the two of them.
The thing is, for the first time in a long time, he wanted something more. It was a new and unnerving experience for him.
He sighed. He had the rest of Christmas night to think about it. It was one night too late, but he got the feeling he was about to be haunted by three ghosts: the Ghost of Mistakes Past, the Ghost of Problems Present, and the Ghost of What-the-Hell-Am-I-Doing-with-My-Future.
At a time like this, there was only one thing a guy could do: get good and hammered.
He was starting to Walk to the stairway up to his apartment when he glanced back at the main house. Mrs. Tilson had presumably gone off with family that morning. So why was there light up on her second-story patio?
He noticed that it wasn’t just light. It was an orange glow.
It took a second for his brain to register, but when it did, it weighed in heavy.
Fire.
He immediately started running, yelling “Mrs. T? Mrs. T! Are you all right?”
He had bolted up the stairs and tripped on the top step, only to find Mrs. Tilson sitting comfortably in a teak patio recliner, wrapped in a quilt. In front of her was a terracotta fire pit, with a small fire blazing merrily.
She stared at him like he was insane.
“Um... Merry Christmas,” he finished feebly, abruptly realizing that as the adrenaline started to wear off, his body hitting the deck planking hurt like a son of a bitch. “Ouch.”
The Surfer Solution Page 15