The Mountains Trilogy (Boxed Set)

by Phoebe Alexander

  Rachel immediately sensed something was wrong. The March wind was whipping Sarah’s dark hair into her face as she made her way from her little red car to the glass doors of Dr. Kapoor’s office building, and even at a distance of fifteen to twenty feet, and with the hair shielding half of her, Rachel could see her friend’s face was tense with rage and fear.

  They met inside the vestibule of the building. It was nondescript with white walls and a plant shelf full of silk greens trailing down from four oriental-patterned vases. Sarah distracted herself by wondering how they kept them clean. The cleaning lady probably teeters on a ladder she leans against the shelf, Sarah thought. Looks like it would be dangerous. I’m sure they don’t pay her enough for that.

  “What on earth is going on with you?” Rachel asked, forcing Sarah to snap back to reality and the unpleasantness of the new discovery she made before James left on his trip.

  “I shouldn’t even be here this morning,” Sarah said. She twisted herself out of her jacket and slung it over her arm emphatically.

  “What happened?!” Rachel tried once more.

  “I went nosing around where I shouldn’t again. Found more text messages. I guess he’s texting that Vanessa chick after promising he’d wait until after this round of IVF. I told him I was too stressed to deal with it right now. We agreed to put it off.”

  “Fuck.” She noticed the grip Sarah had on her purse which hung from her left shoulder. She was wearing a conservative green sweater and plain black pants. The only ornamentation was a gold necklace with a diamond-studded S hanging from it, a gift from James and the kids from the previous Christmas and, of course, her wedding rings.

  Sarah saw Rachel’s eyes travel up and down her body. “Do I look okay?”

  Rachel laughed. “Of course. I was just thinking about how one should dress when they’re getting ready to go under the turkey baster.”

  “It’s not a turkey baster,” Sarah corrected her.

  “I know, I know.” She reached out to touch Sarah’s arm. “I’m just teasing you. What did the texts say?”

  “I don’t know what made me look at his phone,” she answered. “Just something told me. Intuition, I guess. It’s like I knew I was going to find something I wasn’t going to like.” She pulled a slip of paper out of her purse. “I wrote down her number. I’m about to text her.”

  Rachel’s eyes bugged out with surprise. “You’re going to contact her? What the hell did the texts say?”

  “He told her that he can’t wait to meet her. Apparently she’s going to be wherever he’s going for work.”

  “What?! Are you fucking kidding me?”

  Sarah shook her head as a tear began to sting at her eye. “What am I doing here, Rachel? How can I go through this again? Especially with him going behind my back? What’s he going to do when I’m nine months pregnant?”

  “I don’t know, but you don’t want to go down the path Jack and I are on,” she warned. “It’s getting ugly, Sarah. And as much fun as I’m having with my new cub Jesse, I really wouldn’t wish this on anyone.”

  “He’s breaking our agreement. He wasn’t supposed to meet her without me.” Sarah looked at her watch. “We have to go inside. I can’t believe I’m about to let them impregnate me again and he’s not even here; he’s gallivanting around southern Maryland with this bitch I don’t even know.”

  “Don’t blame her,” Rachel argued. “She probably has no clue what’s going on with you guys are or what your agreement is.”

  “That’s why I think I should intervene, don’t you? I mean, he hasn’t invited me into the conversation yet, but it seems like he’s purposely leaving me out at this point. And that makes me wonder if he really did meet her before and just lied when I confronted him.”

  “The text said she couldn’t wait to meet him, though, right? That implies that it’s the first time,” Rachel theorized.

  Sarah whipped out her phone while she and Rachel sat next to each other in the waiting room. She punched in the number that was scrawled on the slip of paper and then keyed in: Hey Vanessa this is James’s wife Sarah. How are you?

  She handed the phone to Rachel to get her stamp of approval before pressing send. Rachel nodded. “Short, sweet, to the point, open-ended. I think that’s a good place to start.”

  “So, you think I’m doing the right thing?”

  “Oh, I’d probably march down to Southern Maryland and give them both a piece of my mind, but you know me,” Rachel laughed.

  “But you just said not to blame her, that she’s probably blissfully unaware of the situation!”

  “Oh I know,” Rachel clarified. “But that wouldn’t stop me from confronting them both together. That bitch’d have to know who she’s dealing with!”

  She smirked and rolled her eyes. Typical Rachel. Sarah preferred a more diplomatic approach, as usual. She didn’t know whether to be more nervous about the procedure or about receiving a response from Vanessa. Either way, her body was hyped up on hormones and every nerve felt like it was twisted into a knotted mess like a tangle of Christmas lights.

  Soon the nurse called her back and they helped her prepare for the embryo transfer. As she was changing, she reminded herself: it’s not too late to back out. I could just walk out of here right now.

  She thought of James and the way his eyes had looked the last time they made love. It was a lazy Sunday morning, and he had woken up with his hard cock pressed against her thigh. He maneuvered on top of her until he was in position to lodge himself inside her warm, but still sleepy pussy. She had gained full lucidity while feeling his slow, deep strokes inside her. She soon realized that her hips had begun to shift up to meet each downstroke before she was completely awake. When she opened her eyes, she noticed his were caressing her face, seemingly in awe of her pure, selfless beauty, admiring the way her body had opened to him before her mind could catch up.

  She thought about the blue of his eyes. It was an impossible blue that transformed like the skies hanging over the seas, presenting as every shade from cold and icy, to stormy and gray, to cerulean and soul-piercing. As Dr. Kapoor greeted her and reminded her of everything that was going to happen as they prepared to transfer the remaining two frozen embryos into her womb, she focused on her memory of her husband’s eyes, the soul-piercing variety to which she’d awakened that morning they’d last made love.

  ***

  Chapter Thirteen

  Forty

  James and Sarah found themselves sitting in the office of Sarah’s psychologist colleague who had experience with non-monogamous couples. Rachel and Jack had finally been going and found Dr. Erin McCarty so helpful that they encouraged James and Sarah to try it too. “Oh, we can all use a little therapy, right?” Rachel had pointed out.

  Sarah was surprised that James was agreeable. After the second confrontation when he returned from southern Maryland, she really wondered what in the hell she had gotten herself into. She even had a moment of weakness where she had considered giving Garrett Stone a call. Anything to get out of her mind for a few hours. She wondered if she’d be happily transported back to a time she didn’t believe she’d ever see James again. It broke her heart to think that would be preferable to being betrayed.

  Dr. McCarty was a plain-talker. She didn’t believe in psycho-babble or some of the stock platitudes made popular by television personalities like Dr. Phil. She looked straight at James and told him he had fucked up. And yes, she used that exact word. Then she asked if he was committed to making his marriage work. Point-blank, just like that. She asked him to lay his cards on the table. Sarah was relieved to see that he didn’t hesitate for one second. He responded, “Absolutely.”

  Dr. McCarty’s assignment for their next session was for James and Sarah to write a relationship plan that would outline parameters for their partnership as well as short-term and long-term goals. They sat down that night and discussed what they’d like to highlight and that was when Sarah broke down.

  “I don’
t understand why you went behind my back with Vanessa when you know I would have been okay with you meeting someone else,” she said.

  James rubbed his temples, wishing he could explain it better, but the truth was: he was just as perplexed as his wife. “I think it’s like this: I love you so much, Sarah, and you were having such a horrible time after the miscarriage, I didn’t feel like I could ask you for anything. And then you were going to do IVF again and go through all that hormonal bullshit and waiting and stressing…and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do. I felt guilty for putting you through it. Hell, I still feel guilty.”

  He shook his head as he tried to make sense of it all. “Didn’t Dr. McCarty say something about me acting out because I didn’t know how to handle things the right way? Because I didn’t trust you to be able to deal with it?”

  Sarah let a heavy sigh escape her mouth. Why does this have to be so hard? Why can’t we just go back to the way things were before the miscarriage? She wondered if they were just setting themselves up for more heartbreak with this new round of IVF. She wasn’t sure how she was going to survive any more emotional upheaval at this point.

  In the end, they created a five page document together which they both signed with Dr. McCarty as their witness. She examined the agreement and gave some advice, which they incorporated in the final copy. One aspect of the agreement was that James was not to contact any women without Sarah’s consent, and he wouldn’t set up a meeting without her. Sarah had the same restrictions.

  It was the end of March, and Sarah felt like things were improving. The biggest unknown was the result of the embryo transfer. She was waiting for her period, which was to arrive the day before her fortieth birthday on April fourth. “Nothing like finding out if I’m knocked up for a birthday present!” she laughed.

  “Well, at least you can drink yourself silly if you’re not,” Rachel had consoled her.

  “Please promise me you’re not up to any big surprises this year,” she begged of James and Rachel, who had conspired to throw her a surprise party for her thirty-seventh birthday. It was James’s first lifestyle house party.

  “We’re just having a simple family dinner, okay?” James reassured her. “Rachel and Jack, your mom and Dale, Owen and myself. Is that alright?”

  “Of course,” Sarah said, relieved. She really hoped he was telling her the truth.

  ***

  The backdrop of the mountains capped with melting snow was turning purple in the twilight. Abby was waiting for her sisters to go to bed so she could speak to her father alone. It was a rare night that Bobbi had gone home early. She was caring for a sick aunt who wasn't expected to make it through the week. That meant she hadn't been over very much. Why doesn't my dad see how much happier the entire household is without her? Abby wondered. She observed the change in the way her sisters moved around the house, with lighter steps, not afraid that Bobbi was watching and critiquing their every move.

  Abby had learned over the course of the past few months that Bobbi was an only child. Her parents had passed away when she was a teenager; dying in a terrible car crash. Her aunt and uncle had raised her, and that was why she was obligated to take care of her aunt, a cancer patient. Bobbi had gotten married at age nineteen to an older, wealthy businessman, but they had not been able to have children and he'd later divorced her. Yes, the ultra-conservative woman who didn't believe in divorce had been divorced herself.

  She had spent five years as a miserable divorcée, bouncing around from one administrative assistant position to another until she landed a job as an office manager for a dentist in the same building where Abby's father Matt worked for an advertising and graphics design firm. They ran into each other at the corner sandwich shop almost every day at lunch time, and finally, Matt asked her out for dinner. "Let's try a different meal, shall we?" he'd queried with his blue-green eyes twinkling.

  Even knowing her past, Abby didn't feel sorry for Bobbi. Yes, it sucks her parents died when she was young, but what right does that give her to be an overbearing, judgmental biatch? she asked herself. No right at all, that's what.

  When Matt emerged from Elise's room, he asked Abby if she was staying over or if he needed to take her back to campus. "I can get a ride," she announced, "but I wanted to talk to you about something first." She had Mia on standby in case things went horribly wrong. The last thing she wanted was an awkward drive back to campus with her father. She took a deep, brave breath as she awaited his response.

  "Sure, what's up?" Matt asked without a hint of intrigue, as if he knew exactly what his daughter was about to say. Abby thought she saw him grab his checkbook from his back pocket. He must think I'm going to ask for money, she realized. Wow, he couldn't be further off track.

  She didn't even take a seat. She wanted to make this short and sweet, like ripping off a band-aid and hoping the sting didn't last too long. She tossed the words from her mouth like she was throwing out the first pitch at a baseball game: "I'm gay."

  That was it, two words, and she could see the smile melt off his face like wax dripping from a lit candle. He didn't even say anything at first, just stared at her with his mouth slightly gaping and his eyes blinking steadily. She looked down at her legs, at her faded blue jeans and her canvas sneakers, then back up to the eyes that matched her own. His were worn, underscored by dark circles and slight creases, as if age and sun exposure were starting to catch up with him. He had just turned forty a few months ago. Bobbi had made him a cake and they'd all sung happy birthday. She was off key.

  Abby waited for what felt like an eternity for him to say something - anything - but finally he just shook his head and bent to study his hand for a moment. Realizing she was expecting a blessing or some semblance of support, he finally admitted, "I really don't know what to say."

  She wasn't expecting a blessing or his approval, but she was hoping for tolerance and acceptance. "I just wanted you to know because I’d like to bring my girlfriend over for dinner sometime. She wants to meet my family."

  "Wow," he finally uttered, as if mention of her girlfriend made her confession startlingly less abstract. Lines emerged across his forehead, the kind of lines that spell out "what the fuck do I do now?" Except he would never use the F word, of course, she thought.

  "Look," Abby scrambled, feeling like it was her last chance to set this conversation on a course toward any outcome other than dismal failure, "it was really hard for me to tell you this. I know it's not what you want to hear, but I feel like you should know. This is who I am."

  "And your mom already knows, I suppose?" he asked.

  She nodded. "A lot of people know, Dad. And you're important to me so I didn't want to leave you out."

  He ran his fingers through his balding hair and the look on his face said everything she needed to know: that he would rather be doing anything - including having his toenails pried off one by one - than be having this conversation. Anything. "Abby, I appreciate that it took courage for you to share this with me. But, I'm just thinking, you know, about your sisters. How will you explain that you have a girlfriend to them? How will you explain who that person is if you bring her over here?"

  Abby fought the urge to roll her eyes. "Um, I'd tell them the truth? That she's my girlfriend." Why did he have to make this so hard? So much harder than it needed to be. "Dad, people are gay. My uncle is gay. I didn't think anything of it when I was my sisters' ages. My mom simply said, ‘Your Uncle Adam likes men instead of women and it's cool.’ And it was cool. It was just normal. Because it is normal."

  He emitted something between a laugh and a scoff. "I guess we're going to have to agree to disagree then because the Bible doesn't teach that it's normal. The Bible teaches that it's wrong."

  "Okay," Abby answered, adrenaline bubbling up inside her. Her fight or flight reflex was activated. "I was afraid that you'd say that. I'm leaving." She started walking toward the front door. She figured she'd head to the end of the development, then call Mia to pick her up at the 7-1
1 around the corner on the main road. It was cold, but she had a coat and gloves. She'd be okay.

  "Don't leave, Abby!" Matt called after her. "I still love you. Love the sinner, hate the sin!"

  She'd reached the door by the time he called her a sinner. That was all she needed to hear. She couldn't -- wouldn't -- be condemned for something that was beyond her control. She called Mia, who was already waiting at the 7-11.

  Then she called her uncle. Already sobbing by the time he answered the phone, she simply said, "I need your help."

  ***

  Sarah awoke to breakfast in bed. Owen carried in a tray filled with toast, eggs, bacon and orange juice, along with a single red rose in a crystal vase. Her son had been bringing her breakfast in bed since he was

  around six years old, when her mother or Abby would help him. Now at fourteen, he was old enough to do it all himself.

  She wasn't expecting it this year. She thought maybe he had gotten too old and would abandon the tradition, but there was his ever-transforming face, complete with a shadow of whiskers and fading

  freckles. He was in that stage all boys go through where he's more an alien creature than human, trapped between boyhood and manhood. "Happy birthday, Mom!" he called out in his deepening voice.

  James jolted awake at the abrupt sound, took one look at the breakfast tray, and then rolled back over, stuffing his head beneath his two pillows. He was not much of a morning person.

  "How sweet! You remembered!" Sarah exclaimed.

  "Of course! It's your fortieth, Mom, that's kinda a big deal," Owen said, smiling.

  "Right," Sarah sighed. "Honey, you want some toast?" She nudged her husband who was tangled up in the sheet.