In a Moon Smile

by Coner, Sherri

  “Wow, you’re really serious,” Becca scanned her best friend’s small abode, which was nearly empty. Boxes were neatly stacked in a corner. House plants had been given to Mrs. Felletti, two doors down. Living room furniture was toted away by Caroline and Vincent, a newlywed couple from the third floor. Becca wandered along behind Chesney, weaving around boxes and stacks of belongings all over the cheap carpet.

  In the bedroom, Chesney walked over to a pile of colorful high heels. “I don’t plan to wear these fancy New York clothes again,” she whispered as she began to fold a few skirts and jackets. Designer sling-backs were tossed into a box. Costume jewelry was carefully tucked into a black velvet bag.

  “Keep some of your things, Chez,” Becca said as she taped one of the boxes shut. “When you return to New York to meet with Gloria, I don’t want you to show up wearing overalls and a straw hat.”

  “Maybe I’ll start a new trend,” Chesney said with a laugh.

  “Did you tell Jack that you are leaving?”

  “Yes.”

  “And?”

  “And nothing,” Chesney said with a shrug. “He made his choices. And I am making mine.”

  Chapter Six

  A few days later, a tearful Becca waved from the sidewalk as Chesney climbed into her very packed car for the long drive to Bean Blossom. Out the car window, she hugged Becca close. They exchanged a couple of I love you’s and Chesney drove away without looking back. She chose not to say good-bye to her parents. She didn’t speak to Charlotte about it, either. Let all three of them figure it out on their own. After the way they behaved during that awful family dinner, Chesney already knew how they felt about her decision and she didn’t have the energy to deal with them again.

  During the two-day drive toward a new life, Chesney had more than enough time to think about the failed relationship with Jack. So she analyzed it carefully, beginning with how they met two years ago at a fundraiser for the public television station. Jack caught Chesney’s eye because he was handsome, with a deep dimple in his chin. He laughed easily and touched other people often, on the shoulder, on the arm. He was a connector. He seemed to be an affectionate, driven guy who sweetly, protectively accompanied her twice to the crowded dance floor to rumba. Then he asked questions about her life when they stood together on the terrace of the Medford Inn, where the event was scheduled inside a sprawling old mansion filled with ornate woodwork, a spiral staircase and a terrace facing the sunset. After dating so many immature and financially unstable men who rarely wore suits, especially designer ones, Chesney admitted privately that she enjoyed watching Jack work a room. When they started dating, he arranged to dine at the best tables in the most popular restaurants. He wooed her with who he knew and how well he hustled around the city, working his entrepreneurial magic on all types of failing businesses. Jack was well respected in the firm where he worked and across the nation. He was known for walking into flailing messes, studying the mistakes and walking out with either another success story or a buy-out.

  “You worked your magic on everything except our relationship,” Chesney whispered.

  A year into their relationship, nosy dreaded questions crept into their life. Every time they attended family activities or social functions, nosy people crowded around to put them both on the defensive. Last Christmas Eve, even Madelyn joined the group of pushy, tactless people. “Do we hear wedding bells, dear?” Madelyn asked Chesney when Jack wandered into the living room to share some warm brandy with her father.

  “I’m not sure,” Chesney said nicely even though her mother’s interrogation made her uncomfortable. She avoided her mother’s eyes for fear that Madelyn had a sixth sense. The truth about the relationship was that Chesney enjoyed the opportunities to travel. Last year alone, she accompanied Jack to Budapest and Munich. She sometimes liked the elaborate parties and the networking events in Jack’s world. But she didn’t want a steady diet of any of those activities. She wondered frequently if the feelings she and Jack had for each other were the kind that lasted forever. Though Jack had a charismatic side that seemed to draw other people to him, he could often be self-absorbed. His busy schedule left him preoccupied to the point that when they were together, they might as well be apart. Far too frequently, Jack’s focus was on computer research or preparing for important long distance conversations with colleagues.

  And the sex…well it didn’t matter how wealthy and friendly and ambitious Jack might be, he could never be described as an over achiever in the bedroom. When he felt amorous, Jack signaled his interest with deep kisses. That was a problem and a definite turn-off since the passionate smooches involved Jack’s teeth clashing against Chesney’s. There was certainly no foreplay. Jack pounced on Chesney like an inflexible cat, did his business and rolled over on his side of the very expensive bed linens on the king-sized bed. Long after Jack was snoring, Chesney spent far too many hours trying to convince herself that fireworks in the bedroom did not have to be a priority. That she was perfectly content with Jack’s lousy kisses and the three-minute wonder thrust. Chesney had never experienced mind-blowing sexual experiences anyway. She had nothing to offer to the juicy conversations when Becca or other friends vividly described their moments of hyperventilation, brought on by multiple orgasms. Secretly, Chesney worried that maybe Jack wasn’t the problem. If he was, then that meant all the other men before him were lousy lovers, too. So she wondered that something might be wrong with her own body. Maybe her clitoris was broken. Maybe her expectations were unrealistic. But when she finally confided in Becca, Chesney learned that Jack was exactly like zillions of other men.

  “He’s afraid of your genitals,” Becca said confidently as she filed her nails.

  “What? No he isn’t!” Chesney squealed, knowing that her face was turning a blinding color of red with a purple cast for mortified.

  “Let me ask you something,” Becca said with a sigh. “Does Jack diddle down there for very long?”

  Unable to open her mortified mouth, Chesney shook her head.

  “You know what? With no more information, I can already describe how sex goes with Jack,” Becca said. “He barely grazes the vajajay, offers a couple of chicken pecks to each nipple and then climbs aboard for friendly five-thrust fun.” She looked at Chesney for a long moment. “You know why? Because he is scared to death of your clitoris. He doesn’t have a clue what to do with your vagina, either. It’s the designated holding pen for his penis and that’s all he cares to know.” Becca pushed her hand away from her body to admire the self-manicure. “Men who are selfish in bed are selfish outside of the bedroom, too. Remember that.”

  “But if they don’t know how to do anything different, is it really their fault?” Chesney asked sheepishly. If Jack had a clitoral phobia, she shouldn’t be so judgmental of him. To be honest, no other sexual partners had floated her sexual boat any better than he did.

  “Let’s see,” Now finished filing her fingernails, Becca placed her toes on the edge of the coffee table and began to expertly polish each toenail with a peachy brown color called Chocolate Shakespeare. “Guys can build engines to make race cars fly at 200 miles an hour. They can lift hundreds of pounds. They can talk about money, objectives, children, physics and politics. But you really don’t believe, Chesney, that a man can master the art of clitoral stimulation? You know why so many guys have a problem with that? It’s not only because they are too insecure to ask for directions. It’s also because they simply don’t care. Everything is all about them, inside and outside of the bedroom.”

  Unwilling to tackle the sexual incompatibility just yet, Chesney filed the sexual information away for safekeeping. Instead, she focused on writing a new series she hoped to complete by spring. And when she felt bored to tears by Jack, she repeatedly reminded herself that she was dating one of the most successful bachelors in Chi-town. After all, Jack was the kind of charmer who ordered fine food for her, bought her beautiful dresses and reminded her sweetly when she needed to drop ten pounds
from her thighs and ass.

  On Memorial Day weekend, Chesney and Jack attended a picnic at the Blake home. While Charlotte waddled around very pregnant but radiant, Chesney watched, quietly envying her sister’s swollen belly filled with child. Even though she was not completely sold on the idea of marrying Jack, Chesney wanted a family. She wanted to identify her future. Somewhere under her heart, however, she knew Jack would make a lousy husband and a terrible father. She just wasn’t quite ready to admit those truths. She might be forced into that position though, if Jack actually proposed one day. If she refused the proposal, her parents would declare her incompetent. After all, they often seemed to prefer Jack’s company to hers. They boasted to friends that Jack knew pros at every golf club across the country. Jack had a small airplane. Jack had season tickets for the Bulls and Cubs games. Disappointing them by refusing a marriage proposal from Jack would be the black mark against Chesney that she wasn’t sure she could repair. So she continued to hope that Jack would never propose.

  “Do you plan to date Jack for the rest of your life?” Charlotte snapped during the last trimester of her perfect pregnancy. “I don’t like this arrangement, Chesney. I think the guy has intimacy issues. You’re his arm candy.”

  Amused and at least a little bit flattered that her sister would view short, flat-chested, red-headed Chesney as anyone’s arm candy made a laugh erupt between them.

  “I don’t know why he hasn’t proposed,” Chesney said with a shrug. “We talk about getting married but…”

  “But you’re going to date him until you’re old enough to qualify for Medicare?” Charlotte said. “Come on, Chesney, Jack is not in charge of your life. If you are ready to marry him, tell him so.”

  “But I don’t want to give him ultimatums.”

  “He doesn’t seem to mind stringing you along,” Charlotte said.

  Chesney wanted Jack to drag his feet until there was a bottomless pit. She wasn’t interested in the aisle of bliss. Actually she was relieved that Jack never spoke of marriage, unless of course, her family was watching. She should have admitted to her sister that wedding talk resulted in diarrhea. But she said nothing. She knew that Charlotte would immediately blab whatever Chesney might be foolish enough to confess. So she continued to vacillate between two extremes. On some days, she fantasized that she could be like her mother and sister, her aunt Lana and every single female cousin. She fantasized about waking up one morning with a deep desire to be Jack’s wife. But the other side of her personality, Chesney continued to hope that Jack would never approach the subject. Sometimes she wanted to be a wife and mom. But Chesney had not yet met a man who could take away her fears of failure.

  Shortly after driving across the state line between Illinois and Indiana, Chesney cracked the driver’s side window and shivered in the chilled breeze. Thoughts about April Fool’s Day drifted into her head. Jack was on one knee in front of the fireplace at Belle’s, his favorite restaurant. Trying to hide her terror, she watched as Jack tenderly placed the giant diamond on her hand. Then he kissed her mouth with two stiff lips and all of his front teeth and claimed his love.

  Feeling like a trapped animal, Chesney stared down at the sparkling ring, trying to make herself be happy. But she also hoped that Jack would suddenly laugh and say it was all a joke, just an April Fool’s prank. But he didn’t. Damn it. He stared at her with a sappy smile and Chesney swallowed hard, trying to make peace with the fact that she was now officially stuck in the land of expectations. She had to be Jack’s wife. There was no turning back. Her family would hate her forever. Her mouth was so dry. Her throat felt like it was closing up. He was staring at her, expecting a big gush of emotions. Chesney reached deep for that feeling that absolutely was not there. But fearing that Jack would be hurt, she said it anyway.

  “Love you, too,” She stared up at Jack through heavily mascared lashes.

  But my parents love you a lot more than me.

  I want a big wedding,” Jack said excitedly. “We’ll invite lots of family, all of my friends and colleagues, have a great reception with great food and music. Let’s get married in the winter. Then we can snow ski in Toronto for our honeymoon.”

  Not once did he ask what his bride-to-be might like. Not once did Jack stop blabbing long enough to recall that Chesney detested cold weather and never left the bunny hill last winter when they met Jack’s friends in Aspen. While he skied, Chesney sneaked away to the hot tub at the resort and got soused on hot chocolate mixed with a lot of Bailey’s Irish Crème. When she didn’t respond, Jack changed direction.

  “Oh course, another season is fine,” he said sweetly. “I really want winter. But if you’re really opposed to that idea, I can be flexible.”

  “We have plenty of time to think about it,” Chesney had smiled. “We will want a long engagement, right? No need to rush into anything.”

  “Well actually, I’m ready to marry,” Jack stood taller, puffed out his chest and grinned. “It will look great professionally for me to be married. It makes me look settled.”

  “Yeah?” Chesney stared at him in disbelief. Jack wanted to be her husband because he looked better on paper? He grabbed her hand and squeezed it.

  “Of course I want to marry you, Chesney Blake, because I love you so much. You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You make my life complete.”

  Gag.

  “So do you like the ring?” Jack held up her hand and stared proudly at the honker diamond. “That stone is one of the most expensive. And for the wedding ceremony, I will get you the band with diamond insets.” He studied Chesney, looking confused. “Don’t you like the ring, Chez? You don’t seem to be excited.”

  “Aw…well,” she sighed and leaned back in her chair. “This is a…a…a shock. You know? I guess I wasn’t prepared for it. I just didn’t see a proposal in my future.”

  “Yes I really swept you off your feet, didn’t I?” Jack laughed.

  “Umm-humm,” she nodded. “Something like that, yes.”

  As they left the restaurant en route for Jack’s apartment, he continued to run his mouth about the wedding. Chesney closed her eyes, trying to create a believable escape plan.

  “First we can have engagement sex,” Jack said the moment they entered his apartment. He grinned at Chesney as he unbuttoned a starchy white shirt to reveal a hairless chest. “And then after we have sex, we will call both sets of parents to share the news. How does that sound?” He took Chesney’s hand and playfully pulled her along, past the posh, contemporary furnishings of the living room to the massive bedroom. Jack flung himself across the king-size bed. “You won my heart, baby. I’m all yours.”

  She stared at him, white belly and doughy arms. He was still wearing his pleated charcoal pants. Though he had kicked off the polished black loafers, Jack still wore the matching argyle socks. His erection tented the pleats around the crotch of his pants. And Chesney realized that she was lying to herself, to Jack, to her family. But she took another look at the beautiful engagement ring, unzipped her dress and allowed it to fall around her feet. The good part was, from past experiences, she already knew this activity would not require much of her time. Since Jack appeared to be so excited about the engagement, she estimated that intercourse would require less than ten minutes. That would mean she still had time to chat with her parents, with Charlotte and Cooper and Jack’s stuffy mother, and never miss a single minute of Dancing With the Stars.

  Once the engagement was announced, Madelyn went into a frenzy. Several times, Chesney delayed the big event by stalling with flimsy excuses. But Madelyn and Jack finally steam rolled past her. They decided the date together. Planning the winter wedding of the decade, set for late February, became Madelyn’s reason for living. And the rest was history. Mustering the courage to tell her family the news of the broken engagement proved to be much more painful than Chesney anticipated. She still didn’t understand why it was so painful to find Jack handcuffed to furniture while Belinda rotated her big a
ss like a porn queen. She still didn’t understand why sometimes she still felt resentful and betrayed even though Jack was not at all her soul mate. She had decided to spare herself the embarrassment of telling her parents the truth: that she spent two years of her life with a man who never adored her unless, of course, he had an audience of relatives. Jack put Chesney last on his list of priorities. He cheated on her, too. And she wasted two precious years trying to love Jack the worm because her family loved him. Yet Chesney never told a soul, not even Becca, how grateful she felt when Jack cheated. Jack’s mistake gave her a tangible reason to skip the wedding, break the commitment and hit the trail again. Alone.

  She rubbed her eyes, thinking hard.

  “And yet I was not the one to break the engagement,” she said aloud. “It bothers me all the time, to admit that secret to myself. What in the world is wrong with me?” A lone tear drizzled down the side of Chesney’s face and she didn’t bother to wipe it away. “I tell everyone how much I want to be loved. But I pick the wrong man. I stay in relationships for the wrong reasons. And I stay a lot longer than I want to.”

  With Becca’s help, Chesney made the dreaded calls to cancel the winter nuptials.

  “Yes, Uncle Marve, I understand that you are very upset. Um hmm, I can see why you would question whether I have any respect at all for marriage.” “No Mrs. Galliger I would never dream of keeping the blender. Of course I will return it to you.”

  Over and over again, Chesney dialed the telephone and braced herself for shame or rude comments. A couple of people even laughed. On the floor of Becca’s beautifully decorated condo near the river, she contacted and apologized to every single guest while Becca spoke to the DJ, the preacher, the wedding photographer and the chef to cancel two hundred chicken Marsala dinners for the reception. They drank beer and crunched popcorn while they made those calls. And by the time every name was crossed off the list, both women were more than a little bit tipsy.