by J. J. Kapka
ONE STEP AHEAD
by J.J. Kapka
One Step Ahead
Copyright, January 2012, Supreme Reader
You know who you are.
Thank you for all your love and support.
ONE STEP AHEAD
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Prologue
June 12
Text message from Madison Wolf to husband Becker Wolf:
I just picked up the tickets. Ten days and counting…
Reply from Becker:
Good. Can you pick up some milk on the way home? I’ve got a meeting at 5:00…
Text message from Madison to best friend Jess Kilpatrick:
Jess – help! He’s doing it again. We’re going on a round-the-world-trip, for chrissakes, and all he cares about is whether we have milk for his Wheaties.
Reply from Jess to Madison:
So?
Reply from Madison to Jess:
So? So, all he could talk about five years ago was seeing the world, and now that we’re finally able to do it, it seems as if he couldn’t care less. It’s like he’s on autopilot. Is he just going along with it now because he feels he has to?
Reply from Jess to Madison:
Whatever it is, it’s nothing that a little Paris won’t cure. Lunch tomorrow?
Chapter 1
New York
Bagel—Dense, Circular, with a Big Hole in the Middle
June 13
Maddie sat at a window table in her favorite deli, waiting for Jess to show up. She seriously studied the menu, trying to decide whether her conscience or her clamoring stomach should make the pick. Delis were murder to her self-control. Even on the cusp of summer, a well-made matzo-ball soup did wonders for one’s feeling of well-being, and her being just ached for wellness today.
She started to shut the menu, having decided to go with the soup, when a waitress slid by with two heavily laden platters. The first held a Reuben of Rubenesque proportions, stacked high with tender corned beef, oozing melted tendrils of Swiss cheese, and wafting the unmistakably tangy smell of sauerkraut. To die for.
The second platter, now being passed temptingly just inches from her eyes, nose, and salivating taste buds, held a pastrami on rye, simple but oh-so-mouthwatering. The meat was piled in a glistening mound over an inch high, between fresh slices of seeded rye, redolent still from its recent trip from the bakery ovens next door.
The waitress paused, waiting for a departing customer to pass by while leaving the platter maddeningly close to Maddie’s reach.
How could I have skipped breakfast today? Maddie groaned, took a deep breath, and decided to revisit the menu. Clearly, it was necessary to reevaluate her hasty decision in light of the temptations at hand.
“Starting without me?” Jess inquired, while pulling out the chair opposite and depositing at least five bags in the roughly six square inches of space under the table. Petite, poised, and with flawless skin, Maddie’s best friend was a notorious shopper.
“You obviously had better things to do,” Maddie said with a knowing smirk. Eyeballing the store names on the bags, she asked, “Anything for me?”
“What for? To wad up into a backpack for two months? You know I don’t shop at stores that have youth-hostel wear.”
“Very funny. You know full well that we only waited this long to take our trip to avoid going as pack mules. And hostels? No thanks. Fun? Yes. Adventurous? Yes. But definitely not romantic. Speaking of romantic, what…”
“Wait,” Jess implored, pulling open her menu. She flipped back her shoulder-length brown hair, which was cut perfectly to suit her heart-shaped face. “First, let’s order.”
Scanning the menu, she quickly found what she was looking for and tried to make eye contact with the waitress. True to Jess’s God-given prowess at summoning wait-help in any place, with any crowd, at any time of day, the waitress miraculously appeared with her pencil and pad at the ready.
Jess jumped right in. “I’ll take your garden salad, oil and vinegar on the side, and one slice of rye toast, no butter.”
Maddie groaned and reopened her menu for the third time. Under the waitress’s pointed glare, she finally ventured, “A toasted bagel, cream cheese on the side.”
Barely allowing Maddie to finish, the woman spun around and started marching to the counter to place the order.
“Dammit!” Maddie exploded. “Why do you do that? What is the point of going out to lunch if all you’re going to do is graze like a rabbit and make me feel guilty for even thinking of having so much as a pickle?”
Jess looked dumbfounded. “Order whatever you want. What does what I order have to do with what you eat?”
“Right. As though you’re going to sit there, being a model size four, daintily picking away at your bland salad, sprinkled ever so lightly with oil and vinegar, nibbling away at your toast, and likely leaving half of it uneaten as always, while I sit across from you wolfing down a He-Man sandwich, dripping juices down my chin.” Maddie shook her head. “I wish, just once, you could indulge yourself: splurge, enjoy the food for food’s sake. Be mischievous, misbehave, get into it.”
Jess smiled, reached down, patted her shopping bags with her exquisitely manicured hands, and noted, “And then, how would I fit into these clothes?” She folded both hands together and leaned confidentially forward, adding, “Besides, I’ve got my yoga class at three, and doing down dog on a full stomach makes me nauseated.”
“Ugh, you’re such a saint,” Maddie said in disgust. “Just once, can’t you at least order something that actually tastes like food, even if you only take two bites, just to pretend you’re human like the rest of us mortals?”
The waitress, depositing the light lunches in front of them, provided sufficient distraction for Jess to query, “Okay, so what’s this all about, aside from my eating habits?”
After giving her obscenely naked bagel a look of frustrated consternation, Madison issued a long, hard sigh and took a tentative bite before beginning, “It’s the trip. Or maybe it’s more than the trip. I just don’t know.”
She paused to gather her thoughts.
“You know how Becker and I have talked about traveling around the world for years? We just couldn’t do anything about it until now, when we’ve finally gotten to the point in our careers where we can afford to take some time off without fear of losing our jobs. Last year, Becker got tenure at his high-school teaching job, and for the first summer in years, doesn’t have to teach summer school. Now that I’ve switched to freelance graphic design and built up my client base, I was able to juggle my commissions around enough to free up this solid block of two months for vacation. We saved for years, even before we were married, knowing that if we were going to do this, we didn’t want to just do it on a shoestring.”
Jess nodded in mute agreement, while spearing a cucumber out of her salad.
Maddie continued, “No sooner did our plans start to gel, than Becker started to lose interest. It’s not been anything definitive that I can put my finger on. It’s just this vague sense I have that something is wrong. Once we made the itinerary and booked the tickets, the light seemed to go out of his eyes. Anytime I mention anything about the trip, he changes the subject, or gives a one-word answer, or mumbles something vaguely acquiescent. This was his dream. Why would he suddenly lose interest now that it’s finally about to happen?”
Realizing they were on delicate ground, Jess put down her fork and deliberated before speaking. “Maybe he�
�s just worried,” she suggested. “Think about it. You’re about to pack up and leave the apartment you’ve known and loved for the past ten years and go out into the big, wide world. His dream isn’t elusive anymore. It’s right there in front of him, and maybe that’s scaring him.”
“Well then, if that’s the case, I give up,” Maddie said, throwing her hands in the air. “I thought I really understood him. If nothing else, Becker is the epitome of confidence. Male bravado personified. It’s not like him to suddenly turn wimp.”
“Who’s saying he’s a wimp, just because he might be worried? Come to think of it, I’d be worried, too. Will you have enough money? Will your jobs really be waiting for you when you get back? Will your marriage survive being together twenty-four seven?”
Crestfallen, Maddie slumped in her chair.
Jess quickly added, “Look, it’s not that you two are on rocky ground in the least, but being together every minute of every day adds a dimension to a relationship that you can’t even remotely imagine at this point. Remember when I was living with Dan, and we drove cross-country that one summer? I swear, we were both ready to ditch the car and fly back by the time we got to Arizona. All the little, minor annoyances that you usually tolerate are magnified to the nth degree when you’re shut up in the confines of a Toyota Corolla for a couple of weeks. And you two will be further isolated by being in completely different cultures, with strange languages and…”
“Uncle. Please stop. You’re depressing me almost as much as Becker is. Geez, I’m sorry I said anything.”
“Oh, don’t take it that way,” Jess admonished. “I’m just telling you to go into this with your eyes open so you can prepare yourself for…possibilities. That’s all.”
“Well, thanks for the advice,” Maddie said, dripping sarcasm. “If we run into any towns that happen to be in need of a doomsayer, I’ll give them your phone number.”
“Ha, ha, ha. Just mark my words. And have a good time. I really do envy you getting to see all those great places. So much history and culture, not to mention the shopping.”
“I notice you don’t mention food. I’ll bring back a salad for you from each country as a memento.”
“Boy, remind me never to have a heart-to-heart with you again. I’d like to stay and move on to shallower subjects, but I’ve got to get home and grab my yoga gear. Here’s my share of the bill. Let’s meet again before you go. See you.” Scooping up her bags in one swift movement, Jess slipped off as quickly as she’d appeared.
Maddie sat back and watched Jess maneuver her way to the front door. As the weight of her friend’s words sank in, she regretted attempting to share her problem. When Jess reached the revolving dessert case, Maddie decided what she needed was a helping of cheesecake—New York cheesecake with strawberry topping. That’s my best revenge, she thought. The deliciously creamy, thick weight of the ultimate cheesecake might help to fill the void she was feeling, not to mention do more for her hunger than the paltry bagel. Madison knew she was a snug size eight, but she was content, nonetheless. She enjoyed food and couldn’t countenance her friend’s constant refusal of anything decent a restaurant might have to offer.
She caught the waitress’s eye and placed her order for cake and coffee. While waiting for the food, she mulled over her predicament, being no closer to having any idea what to do than she was yesterday afternoon after the latest salvo from her husband. Or would that be anti-salvo?
As soon as the waitress deposited the cake before her, though, all Maddie’s anxious thoughts were banished. She dug in her fork for that first luscious mouthful of cheesecake goodness. The sweet, nutty graham-cracker crust commingled with the moist, dense cheese layer and the acidic smoothness of the strawberry sauce to blanket her taste buds in momentary nirvana. She closed her eyes to better enjoy the sweet release from her cares through her surrender to the temporal sensations of the world’s best cheesecake. Advancing through the luscious wedge, Maddie mused, Whatever happens, I can handle it—as long as there’s always cheesecake.
~~~
June 13—Dinnertime
After dropping her bag of groceries just inside the entrance to their Village apartment, Maddie stood sideways, looking in the hallway mirror. Had the cheesecake altered her profile? Cocking her head made her medium-length, wavy black hair slide off her shoulders. She squinted her blue-green eyes and pursed her lips, pleased that not a trace of her noontime sin was visible. She exhaled. Immediately, both the distension of her abdomen and the strain on her skirt became apparent. Feeling her cheeks grow hot in shame, she let loose a prolonged moan.
“Maddie? Is that you?” Becker called from the living room. “Are you okay?”
Maddie looked at her face in the mirror and shook her head in a silent no. In an effort to cover up the sins of her guilty treat, she took a deep breath to suck in her stomach and straighten her spine, pulling herself up to all five-feet-five-inches of height.
She ventured around the corner to find Becker sprawled lengthwise along the couch, newspaper opened above him. To get a glimpse of his face, she had to position herself nearly behind the couch, close to the end. Even now, seeing that lazy wave of blond hair across his forehead, and the complicated play of bone and muscle and skin that made his face strong and attractive without being pretty, still made her stomach drop. As full as it was of cheesecake, she could almost hear the thud. They don’t come much better-looking than Becker, she reminded herself, especially with those big blue eyes that seemed to have swallowed the sky. She marveled that he was still all hers.
Conscious of her standing almost above him, Becker set the newspaper on the floor and looked up at her questioningly. “You didn’t answer me. Is everything all right?”
“I wish I knew,” Maddie said softly. She quickly decided this wasn’t the time to start exploring the admittedly imaginary vibe that had been plaguing her.
“What?” Becker fixed her with a harder gaze, not sure what she meant.
“Nothing. I’ve got to take a shower. It’s been a long day.”
“Okay,” Becker said, already scooping up the paper again. “What’s for dinner?”
Ugh. She couldn’t even think of dinner with the cheesecake still sitting solidly front and center in her stomach. But still, maybe by the time she’d showered and changed and prepped things…
“Stir-fry. Can you grab the groceries and put them away for me?” Maddie called as she headed for the bedroom.
Ten minutes later, feeling palpably better after her shower, she stood toweling off her hair in the bedroom. As she gazed critically at her face in the bureau mirror, something caught her eye. With trepidation, she leaned in closer toward the mirror for a better look. Smack in the middle of her right cheek, a red nodule had angrily risen, demanding the attention and derision of one and all.
Maddie groaned. Great, a stress zit. Leaning even closer to try to get a bead on its possible longevity, her eyes wandered an inch higher. She was taken aback by the additional lines that had sprung up around her eyes since her last detailed inspection some months before. She grimaced. Isn’t thirty-two too young for this? How can it be that I have to deal with zits and lines at the same time? There must be some natural law against it. This is just too cruel, even for nature.
Before she could follow through on her next self-defeating impulse—to inspect for new gray hairs—she flung the towel over the treacherous mirror and turned her back on it. Padding over to the closet, she pulled open the doors and inspected the few items left that hadn’t been packed. Looking for something clean to throw on, she decided shorts were out. She didn’t want the humiliation of struggling with a recalcitrant zipper, reminding her again of her willpower failure at lunch.
Hastily grabbing her robe off the closet hook, she stepped into the first pair of panties she could lay her hands on. She gave her hair a quick brush-through in the bathroom, while casting sidelong glances at the mercifully fogged-up mirror, daring it to clear up and invoke her wrath. Once done, she
beat a retreat from nature’s demons and headed to the kitchen.
Taking a quick look around and finding everything as she’d left it in the morning, Maddie at first thought Becker hadn’t bothered with her request to put the groceries away. Before speaking up, however, she opened the refrigerator and saw the vegetables and beef neatly lined up next to each other. Closing the door, she poked her head around the doorway to see that Becker had resumed his reading on the couch. Normally, he left a trail a mile wide when he “helped” in any way, but she wasn’t going to fault him for neatness, not now and no matter how suspicious it seemed. Instead, she set about pulling everything back out of the fridge and commenced washing, cutting, and chopping, all blissfully mindless tasks that allowed her to focus simply on the mechanics of the matter at hand.
Harking back to her countless viewings of The Music Man in her youth, she playfully started paraphrasing one of the songs in her head: cut a little, chop a little, cheep, cheep, cheep, cheep…steadily going faster and faster till the inevitable happened and she cut herself. The knife was just sharp enough to make it feel like a paper cut, and the wound was deep enough to elicit a goodly flow of blood on the counter.
“Damn!” she yelled, throwing her knife down and running over to the sink, more to keep the blood from getting on anything than to tend to the cut.
“What now?” Becker’s voice drifted in from the living room, sounding for all the world like he was smug and secure in his knowledge that whatever had happened wasn’t worthy of rousing himself from the couch.