Goddess of Suburbia

by Stephanie Kepke

  As soon as it’s done I hit play and watch the video again. His voice, if it’s possible, is even better than twenty years ago. It’s matured, with a bit of a gravelly quality that I don’t remember. I’m about to hit play again when my phone chimes. This time it just says, Look outside. I rush to the window and sure enough when I pull back the curtain, there’s Ben bathed in the glow of the amber streetlight behind him. He’s got his hands stuffed in his pockets and he’s wearing a black hoodie and faded jeans.

  I throw open the door and gaze up into his hazel eyes begging me for another chance. He’s unshaven and looks like he hasn’t slept. But I love the scruff and oh my—does my heart do somersaults when he starts singing softly, “Baby, don’t walk away…” He rests his hand on my cheek and whispers, “Don’t walk away again. Please.”

  “Never,” I promise and pull him in the door. This time I have Ben up against the wall, our lips locked. His hand is tangled in the back of my hair, and he pulls me even closer in to him. His fingers gently trace down the side of my face, landing with a gossamer touch on my lower lip. I feel like I can’t get enough, like I need to drink him in. There’s just no way I’m letting this moment pass.

  Just as things are getting really steamy, Daisy comes skidding down the hall and jumps on Ben’s leg. “Down, Daisy,” I whisper a bit harshly. But, instead of scampering away as I hoped, she starts pulling on Ben’s pants leg and biting at the hem. I scoop her up and apologize profusely, cursing under my breath at the timing.

  “Aww, she’s so cute. No need to apologize,” Ben assures me as he scratches behind her ear. Daisy’s eyes roll back and her tongue lolls out blissfully.

  “She likes you,” I say.

  “I like her too,” he answers and kisses the top of her head. “I always wanted to get a dog, but my building is no pets.”

  I am relieved, so relieved. I remember that Ben was an animal lover in college, but people can change when they grow up and I think it would be a deal breaker, no matter how amazing he is, if he didn’t love dogs. Charlotte is no doubt hiding right now, but hopefully he’ll love her too. “You want a dog?” I ask. “What about a cat?”

  “Cats, dogs—I don’t care, if they’re yours, I want them,” he says softly and I pull him toward me. That’s the best thing I could hear.

  “How about kids?” I ask, realizing that’s a pretty important part of the equation as well.

  “I love kids. I’m a teacher; of course I do. I always thought I’d be a dad by now, to tell you the truth. And I really do want to get to know your kids, but I have to admit—I’m kind of glad they’re at your ex’s right now. I hope that’s okay,” Ben smiles disarmingly.

  “Of course. I love my kids to pieces, but I’m glad they’re at Nick’s now, too, or I couldn’t do this.” I lean in and nibble lightly on his lip.

  “I’m so glad you can do that,” he murmurs.

  “Or this.” I go up on tippy toes and kiss my favorite spot, the hollow where his neck meets his shoulder. Just like I told Ben when were on the phone—that spot always made me weak. Just looking at it while he played, all I could think about was kissing him there after the show. I unzip his hoodie and pull it off, tossing it behind me. It lands next to Sam’s Sesame Street step stool, which I grab and climb on. Now I can easily pull off Ben’s soft gray t-shirt and trail my lips from his neck to his shoulder, where I linger for a moment.

  I run my hands down Ben’s back, feeling his muscles ripple under my touch and then wrap my arms around his waist. His arms circle around me, and I rest my head against his chest. We just stay like that, breathing each other in. After a moment he kisses the top of my head and whispers into my hair, “God, I love you, Maxie. Still. Always. When I thought I lost you again, after finally finding you…” He pauses, letting out a long sigh. “I don’t know what I would have done. I would never get over it. Never forgive myself for my youthful stupidity.”

  “I don’t know what I was thinking when I kicked you out. I think part of me was just afraid with my kids and everything going on—that it was too much. But, it’s not—you can’t control how you feel and whom you love. And, I do love you too.” Before I even get the words out, Ben scoops me up in his arms and carries me upstairs.

  You would think that it would be disorienting being with someone new after sleeping with the same person for almost sixteen years, but really it’s like coming home. I remember every inch of Ben’s body, which hasn’t changed all that much. There’s no middle-aged spread. He’s all sinewy leanness. I’m planting little baby kisses on his stomach, all along the downy trail to his boxers. But before I can pull them off, he flips me over and his lips are on my neck, my breasts, and he’s moving his way down. My hand instinctively goes to cover my stomach. He pulls it away and kisses me everywhere—even on my stretch marks.

  “Stop trying to cover up, Max. You’re beautiful and look amazing. Not a thing has changed from when you were twenty-two,” he says, the desire in his voice sending a shock through me.

  But I can’t help it—my insecurities bubble up to the surface and I blurt, “except for the stretch marks” and immediately want to take it back. Why would I bring that to his attention? Still, I keep going, “Sorry for the white cotton granny pants—I didn’t know anyone would be seeing my underwear today. I would have put on lacey bikinis. I can change now…”

  “Why? Seriously, why in the world would you put on another pair of underwear after I take these off? Are you trying to make things more difficult for me?” Ben’s voice is full of bemused desperation.

  “No, no, of course not,” I stammer. “I just thought it would be sexier to pull off lace than big old white cotton undies. I just—it’s just been so long, I want it to be perfect. Maybe I should go get some candles.” I look around my bedroom and realize that this is not the most romantic setting—with two buckets of laundry waiting to be put away at the foot of the bed and Sam’s books scattered all over the floor. Why is it that in the movies when the hero shows up at the heroine’s door unexpectedly, her house is immaculate? Is her house always like that? Or did she have a sixth sense he’d be showing up and know to clean? All I know is that I’m likely ruining the moment, but I can’t seem to stop myself either. “I’m sorry it’s such a mess in here. The laundry isn’t exactly romantic…”

  “I know a way to get you to stop talking about laundry.” Ben covers my mouth with his and it’s so hot and tender at the same time that I forget all about the mess, especially when he slips off my granny pants and tosses them on the floor. I do suddenly remember the condoms I stashed in my drawer before our last date and toss one to Ben.

  “I bought these before our last date,” I admit. “I was kind of hoping I’d get lucky.”

  “Oh yeah?” Ben asks slyly. “You were hoping to get lucky?”

  “I was…” I trail off, practically drooling as I watch him slip off his boxers and slip on the condom. I pull him on the bed and on top of me. Feeling him fill me up is just so sublime, I swear my toes curl. He’s right—even in just this first moment I know that it’s way better with Ben than it ever was with Nick. But suddenly he stops and raises himself up on his arms.

  “Wait a second,” he says mischievously. “You got cheated out of some foreplay when you started babbling about your underwear and the mess in your bedroom.”

  “I’m okay,” I assure him. And for the first time in my adult life, I really am. With Nick I always needed foreplay—maybe deep down I knew he was an asshole. Even if the sex was good, I couldn’t jump right into it without some revving of the engine. But with Ben? I was ready to go full throttle before we even hit the bed.

  “Nope, you deserve an appetizer before the main course,” and he leans down and resumes kissing my stomach. This time I don’t cover it with my hand—I just sigh and let him brush his lips wherever he pleases, with no worries or self-consciousness. It’s miraculous, freeing and quite frankly, surprising. I’ve always been self-conscious, but I suddenly believe Ben—something I
never quite did with Nick. If he says he thinks I’m beautiful, I know he’s telling the truth. I know that this time we’re forever. And, it’s not just because his tongue is circling my inner thigh and I know just where it’s heading.

  When it reaches its destination, I close my eyes and suck my breath in. I let it out in a slow sigh. Ben cups my backside in his hands and lifts me up to meet his mouth. I never went to Andi’s waxer, but I did go a bit crazy with the razor, so I feel every little thing—his petal-soft tongue, combined with his rough stubble nearly make me explode right then and there. “I need to stop for a minute, or this will be over before it really starts going,” I whisper, my voice rough with desire. I don’t even sound like myself to my ears. “Your turn,” I say, a bit more boldly, as I swing around, pull off the condom and take Ben in my mouth.

  “Oh my god, Max. I have missed your mouth so much. I never even realized how much. I mean, I missed the rest of you too. I missed your heart and your smile and… okay, I’m going to lose consciousness if I keep talking.”

  “Mmm hmm,” I say with my mouth full as Ben moans—a sound I could never get enough of back in college and realize I still can’t.

  “Okay, you have to stop now, too,” Ben breathes. “I’m right there.” We just lie on our backs, hands intertwined, breathing in the delicate beauty of this moment. Right before—hanging in the balance—my whole body is vibrating, I want Ben so badly. I roll over on top of him and sink down. I know I’m way too close to the peak to stay in this position for long, but I grind down on him anyway. I bite his nipples lightly and I can feel Ben shiver under me. He sits up, so we’re rocking together, skin almost fused. Somewhere in my mind I realize I forgot another condom. “You don’t have any diseases, right, Ben?”

  “What?” he asks in bewilderment. Before I can explain he says, “Oh, the condom. No, I don’t—I got tested a few times and haven’t been with anyone in ages. Do you want me to wear another one anyway? Is it a safe time?”

  “Always a safe time for me—I had my tubes tied.”

  “Excellent,” Ben breathes as he wraps his hand in my curls and pulls my head back so he can kiss my neck. Just that touch of his lips is almost enough to send me over the edge and I pull him closer, seeking out his lips with mine. I feel everything tighten up and know that the delicious feeling of pure release is just moments away.

  I stare at Ben and try to memorize his face, try to memorize every single thing about this moment—the way the black fringes of his lashes rest delicately on his cheek, such a contrast to the rough stubble, bits of silver sprinkled through it. I take in his full lips, parted slightly, his breath shallow and quick. I lean in and kiss them lightly—a gentle nibble really.

  Ben shudders slightly, his breath coming even quicker. His fingers, which were tracing down my back leaving sparks in their wake, dig into me, and that’s all I need. There is a tightness inside that suddenly gives way—like stars exploding. Or maybe it’s like glitter and fairy dust swirling in a tornado through my core. I find that hollow between Ben’s shoulder and neck and press my face into it.

  After a moment Ben tilts my chin up, so I’m facing him. I turn away a bit and he guides me back. “Hey,” he says softly. “Are you crying?”

  “Maybe a little,” I admit, realizing he must have felt my tears dampen his shoulder.

  “Why? Are you okay? Did it hurt? Was it…?” Ben pauses for a moment and continues quietly, “not good?”

  “No, not at all—it was…” I pause, searching for a word that can adequately describe what just happened. Mere words really can’t, so I just whisper, “It was incredible.”

  “Oh, thank god.” Ben lets out a sigh. “You had me worried there for a moment.”

  “No need to worry at all—it really was incredible. In fact, I think that’s why I’m crying—they’re tears of happiness, tears of relief that we’re finally together. I just can’t believe you’re here.”

  “I’m here,” Ben whispers as he gently wipes a tear away from my eye. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

  We’re twenty-two again and no time has passed. Legs intertwined. Falling asleep, sharing breath, layered over each other. There was never a Chris. There was never even a Nick. Ben and I are alone in the world—alone in this moment. And, it feels seamless—like we’ve never been apart. It feels like I’m home.

  Epilogue

  IT’S BEEN A YEAR since my descent into tabloid hell. A year since I kicked Nick out. A year since Sloane stole my husband and uploaded a naked video of me meant to destroy my life. I have to admit—while at first I was sure it did destroy my life, hindsight is 20/20, and it was actually the best thing that could have happened to me. Yes, my marriage fell apart. My husband moved in with my tormentor and even started a family with her. And, while I really would like to report that the stress of a new baby led him to scuttle back to the extended stay hotel, the truth is that they’re happier than ever. I have to say that his new bundle of joy does seem to have softened him a bit. He actually hugs me hello now when I pick the kids up and more importantly, he never threatened to take my kids away from me again.

  Nick pampered Sloane throughout her pregnancy and dotes on their baby girl, Alessandra. I know this because when I pick up my kids from their house, Sloane makes sure to tell me all the amazing things Nick does for her and what an amazing father he is. She still refuses to marry him, though—even though our divorce was finalized a few months ago. He’s asked her several times, according to the kids, but I’m guessing that she just will not give up alimony from her ex-husband Jake, even if it’s reduced now.

  As for me, well—I never really did get back into the swing of the PTA, even after Sam started kindergarten (and yes, he adored going to Loving Arms preschool with Logan before that, and I loved it too—the moms accepted me for who I was and, to be honest, I had quite a good time at some of their parties). I help out at school when they need me, but I just couldn’t get past the way I was shunned by most of the moms.

  Of course, after the article came out in People, they all wanted to be my friend again. Yes, I granted People an interview, just to show everyone that I’m not crazy or horrible, despite the fact that some pictures may have suggested otherwise. It basically portrayed me as a typical suburban mom who just wants what’s best for her family, which of course I am. Frankly, I think I came across as a bit boring, which is just fine with me. As I suspected, boring doesn’t sell as well as crazy and, little by little, the pictures of me started showing up fewer and far between. It all started with that picture of me waving at the photographer. I guess a picture of me looking happy really didn’t elicit as much interest as one of me lunging with “crazy eyes.”

  Now, I use whatever attention is lingering to grow Maximum Cookies. I sell them at some local boutiques and through my Facebook page, which has over 800 fans, thanks to Andi badgering all of her friends to “like” it, and I’d like to think a good deal of word of mouth. The moms at Loving Arms were my best customers—and still are. After I gave them those free samples at pick-up, they were hooked. Rugelach is my best seller. Right now I can only sell in New York, since I bake everything in my kitchen. But, I’m thinking of renting a commercial kitchen and launching a website soon. I finally feel like there’s nothing I can’t do.

  Emma designed the labels for my packaging. She discovered that she has a talent for graphic design and even did a summer program in it at one of the local colleges. While Sloane was pregnant, Emma milked her for all she was worth (manicures, pedicures, Tory Burch totes and ballet flats, etc.). It definitely slowed down once the baby was born, but surprisingly Sloane will still slip her a gift once in a while. But I know that it doesn’t take away from our relationship, which—while not exactly what it was—is on the mend. We’ve even had our share of mother/daughter shopping days, though most of them have taken place at Target, Kohl’s and the art supply store, not fancy-schmancy boutiques.

  Trevor got the most out of the therapist we all saw; he really con
nected with her and opened up more than the others did. He didn’t punch anyone again. In fact, he managed to get straight A’s—much to the chagrin of his principal, I’m sure. Will just always knew exactly when I needed a hug this whole past year. He never acted out, but his grades did start slipping. I know this sounds terrible, but since it was fourth grade, I didn’t worry about it too much. I figured he had time to bounce back for middle school.

  He’s doing better in fifth grade, but truthfully, I’m waiting for something—some bigger sign than transient poor grades of the difficult time we all went through. But maybe, just maybe, my optimistic, empathetic, easygoing boy will just stick to shooting hoops and playing Xbox and will be happy.

  You’re probably wondering what happened to me and Ben. Did I get my happily ever after? Let’s just put it this way: the moving trucks are arriving tomorrow. Ben finally gave up his city life and is moving to the suburbs. He’ll make the forty-five minute commute to work every morning, instead of hopping on the subway for a couple of stops. My kids love him and so do I. He taught Trevor and Will to play electric guitar. They even have jam sessions in our basement. Emma sometimes even sings with them, while Sam shakes the tambourine.

  Andi is clearly smitten, too. She and Ben became fast friends—he was eternally grateful to her when he found out that she pushed me to write back to him. Even Nick has grudgingly admitted that Ben’s a good guy who’s great for our kids. He even gave him a slap on the back the last time he dropped the kids at our house. I was shocked, but that’s Ben—melting even the coldest of hearts.

  I really tried to go slowly with Ben, I did. But I found myself thinking about him all the time, wishing I was with him when I wasn’t, and thinking up excuses to visit him in the city when the kids were at Nick’s. He hasn’t asked me to marry him, but if he did, you better believe I wouldn’t be like Sloane and worry about alimony—I’d say “Yes” in a heartbeat.