Love, Life and Linguine

by Melissa Jacobs

  I’m already out the door.

  A Man for All Seasons

  In the Von Hechtmobile—a suitably unsexy Honda—I drive out of the parking lot and onto the busy highway. Where am I going? I don’t know.

  After a series of turns, I merge on a long stretch of quiet road lined with trees and empty fields of grass browned by the summer sun. I pass a horse farm and a farm stand and head toward Westfield. I want to talk to Joe.

  Using my cell phone, I call Hunter Farm’s office. The machine answers. It’s Friday night. Joe wouldn’t be in his office. But maybe he’s home. I don’t have his home phone number. But I’m half a mile away from the farm. I decide to go.

  The farm is alive with activity. It’s seven o’clock and the sun is just beginning to set. Workers stand in the fields with baskets, pulling tomatoes from their vines. Walking past the first row of plants, I see that squash have replaced the strawberries.

  “Mimi?” Turning, I see Joe approaching. He is dirty and disheveled. “What are you doing here? And what the heck are you driving?”

  “It’s the Von Hechtmobile.”

  “The what?” Joe laughs.

  I say, “Can we talk?”

  Joe looks me up and down, and I realize that while my pink skirt and ruffled white top are appropriate for Friday night at Café Louis followed by a birthday party in Avalon—which is where I am supposed to be—my clothes look rather out of place here. Joe smiles and says, “Let’s go over there.” He points toward the cornfield.

  In my two-inch mules, I follow Joe through the dirt to a row of cornstalks. The corn is higher than my head. At eye level are corncobs sheathed in green husks. The cobs stand erect at eighty-degree angles. Black and blond silk tangles at their tips. “Could this be any more phallic?” I ask.

  Joe smiles, leans forward, and kisses me. By the time my shock passes, his tongue is in my mouth. I push him away. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m kissing you,” Joe says.

  “I came here to talk.”

  “Right,” Joe says. “You’re here on a Friday night dressed like that. To talk.”

  He thinks I’m here for nooky. I put my hands on my hips and glare at Joe. From my expression, he sees that his assumption was incorrect. Joe looks embarrassed, then annoyed. “You can’t just show up here and expect me to drop everything and talk to you.” Joe runs his hand through his hair. “End of summer is one of my busiest times.”

  “Well, then,” I say. “I guess you’re not a man for all seasons.”

  ACE East

  Joe has disqualified himself. Better go find Aaron.

  I drive the Von Hechtmobile south on Route 295, then merge onto the Atlantic City Expressway going east. I still have more than an hour’s drive. Blaring the radio doesn’t shut out my thoughts.

  My family. My childhood. Do I cling to my faux mustard memories, or find the truth? I could ask Bette. Would she confess? What would I do with the truth if I found it?

  My father. Who was he, really? If I don’t know who he was, how can I know who I am? Look at what I’m doing right this minute. Leaving one man to go to another.

  How much like my father am I?

  Happy Birthday, Part One

  “It’s a freakin’ mansion” is my observation when Aaron meets me in front of his family’s house. All thoughts of my family disappear. I am blinded by this castle by the sea.

  Hues of blue and white decorate the large family room. Walking through it, I come to the kitchen, tricked out in stainless-steel, state-of-the-art appliances. The kitchen leads to an enclosed patio on which sits a large wicker dining table topped with glass. It’s all very casual and tasteful, but obviously expensive.

  Pointing through the patio’s glass doors, I ask, “That’s the pool?”

  “Yeah.” Aaron acknowledges the pool nonchalantly, like it isn’t an Olympic-sized swimming pool with a five-foot-high, stone waterfall. A Jacuzzi sits next to the pool, as do two cabanas, many chaise longue chairs, and a full bar. A crowd of thirty thirty-somethings fills the pool area. Every one of them is tan, well groomed, and stylishly attired.

  “Those are Amanda’s friends,” Aaron says.

  “I don’t have thirty friends.”

  “You missed dinner,” he tells me. “But you’re just in time for presents, cake, and champagne.”

  “I didn’t bring a present.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Aaron says.

  “I can’t believe I came to a birthday party without a present. That’s not like me. I don’t do that kind of thing.”

  “Look at all those gifts.” Aaron gestures to a pretty pile of presents. “Amanda won’t notice that you didn’t bring a gift.”

  On the air-conditioned porch, some people sit on upholstered wicker furniture while others stand in a semicircle around the birthday girl as she opens her gifts.

  “I’m an idiot,” I say quietly.

  “Stop, Mimi. You’re making a big deal out of nothing.”

  And why am I doing that? Because there is a bigger deal that I am ignoring. A bigger deal about which I feel similarly helpless.

  Amanda unwraps her first few gifts, leaving debris of wrapping paper, ribbon, and tissue paper. People ooh and aah over the presents and press closer to see them. The air on the porch becomes warm, then hot. Sweat beads in my bra and on my forehead, but I smile and nod along with this bunch of strangers.

  “Are you okay?” Aaron whispers in my ear.

  “It’s a little warm. I didn’t eat dinner.”

  Oh, and my father may have cheated on my mother.

  Aaron pulls me backward, out of the crowd. Into my ear, he whispers, “Let’s get out of here. Want to walk to the beach?”

  “Yes, please.”

  Out the porch door we quietly go. When we pass the poolside bar, Aaron grabs a bottle of champagne.

  Young Woman and the Sea

  Swiftly we walk down the beach, away from the house. It’s dark, but there is light from other houses along the shore. When we are a quarter of a mile away from Aaron’s house, he stops. “How’s this?”

  “Fine.” I stand and face the dark ocean. I breathe deeply and feel the silence.

  “Did something bad happen today?” Aaron says.

  I turn to Aaron. He looks so open. So concerned. “What would you do if you discovered a family secret?”

  “Is it a life or death secret?” Aaron asks. “Like, is someone’s life in jeopardy?”

  “No. It’s a secret about something that happened years ago.”

  “How do you know it’s still a secret?” Aaron says.

  I look at him. “I didn’t know about it.”

  Aaron shrugs. “That doesn’t mean other people don’t know.”

  “I can’t ask people if they know or not. That would be giving it away.”

  “Would it hurt or help people to know the secret?” Aaron asks.

  “Hurt. Lots of hurt.”

  “Then I think you should keep the secret,” Aaron says. “Every family has them.”

  Indeed.

  “Can I help?” Aaron asks.

  Of course not. But since he is so available, why not tell him one of my many problems? “Sid proposed to my mother.”

  Aaron doesn’t say, “How do you feel about it?” or “Everything will be all right.” Aaron doesn’t say anything. He stands still and looks at me. And because he doesn’t do or say anything, because he is simply standing there, ready to listen, I talk.

  “I came home, to what I thought was home, and nothing is the way I thought it would be. And now that I know this secret, I think nothing ever was the way I thought it was. My parents aren’t who I thought they were. So who does that make me?”

  I don’t want to say any more. So I kick off my mules, and wade into the ocean. I go up to my knees, and the water touches the hem of my dress. The roar of the waves is loud, but not loud enough to silence the thoughts in my head.

  From behind me, two strong arms circle my waist. I stand
up straight, leaning backward against Aaron’s chest. With one arm still around my waist, Aaron puts the other arm across my shoulders. For what seems like forever, Aaron holds me against him, supporting me, letting me face the ocean.

  I remember Joe swimming into the ocean and screaming at things I couldn’t see. And so I scream. I scream frustration, disappointment, and grief. Then I cry. It’s been a long time since I cried. I didn’t cry over Nick’s cheating. But I’m crying over Dad’s.

  When my tears stop flowing, I take Aaron’s hand, and lead him to the shore. We sit on the sand. Aaron says, “What you said about not knowing who your parents are? I think you do know. They loved you and raised you as best they could. What you find out after the fact doesn’t change that. Now we’re adults and we make our own decisions.

  “When I started working at SHRED, I learned things about the company that I wish I didn’t know. And that company is old. My great grandfather started it. I decided not to turn my back on my family’s company. That’s why I worked so hard to establish a residential division of SHRED. So I could do things my way. My dad understood that it was the best way to maintain our relationship. And it’s working. I’m making it sound easy, but it took me all of my twenties to realize this.”

  “I wish I could get a do-over for my twenties,” I say. “I wasted them.”

  With a big pop, Aaron uncorks the champagne bottle. A little stream of white smoke emerges. He raises the bottle. “Here’s to our thirties.”

  “I’m not off to a great start,” I say. But I accept the champagne bottle, take a long swig, then give it back to him.

  Happy Birthday, Part Two

  When I open my eyes, I realize I’m lying on my back. I’ve been sleeping. I sit up, look down, and see that Aaron is asleep. What time is it? I can’t see my watch in the dark.

  “Aaron,” I say, and shake his arm gently. He doesn’t move. “Aaron?” Bending over him, I look at Aaron’s face.

  He has been so wonderful to me. Not just tonight, but especially tonight. Leaning down, I gently put my mouth on his, then pull away and look at Aaron’s face. His eyes are still closed. I close my eyes and kiss him again, more firmly. When I open my eyes, Aaron’s eyes are open. I gasp in surprise. Looking back down at Aaron, I see that he is smiling. I kiss him again. And again.

  We kiss and roll around on the beach. We get covered in sand. From head to toe, in our hair, ears, and clothes. Laughing, Aaron says, “This looks so hot in the movies.”

  “But it’s kind of gross,” I say.

  Rolling off me, Aaron gets to his feet and pulls me to mine. Hand in hand, we walk back to his house.

  We stand near Aaron’s pool, under the lights of the porch, and laugh at ourselves. Our clothes and faces are smeared with sand. “Ssshhh.” Aaron gestures to the darkened house. “Everyone is asleep.”

  “We can’t track this sand through your house. Do you have an outdoor shower?”

  The Scheins’ outdoor shower is against the side of the house and enclosed on three sides. Despite the fact that this outdoor shower is like all others, Aaron and I stand staring at it, unsure what to do. Finally Aaron says, “I’ll go first.”

  “Okay,” I say.

  “I’m going to take my clothes off,” Aaron says.

  “Okay.” I turn and look elsewhere, but I hear Aaron take off his shorts and shirt. I hear the shower door open, and thinking he is inside, I face forward and catch a glimpse of Aaron’s bare back and butt.

  We’ve got to hit that, the diva says.

  Slowly. I want to go…

  Get me some of that, the diva says.

  I think the diva is drunk. I listen to her anyway.

  Leaving my dress in a pile on the ground, but still wearing my bra and panties, I open the shower door. Aaron turns and looks at me with surprise. I step inside what is essentially a closet, and shut the door.

  “Is the water warm?” I ask.

  Aaron nods and steps aside, out of the shower stream. I step into the water, and feel the grimy sand wash down my body. I look at Aaron. He is looking at my body, but standing with his back flat against the wall, as far away from me as possible.

  Make the first move, the diva says.

  Why should I have to?

  You’ve pushed him away too many times, the diva says.

  But I’m standing here half naked, under the water, in the dark. Hello?

  The diva says, Reach out to him.

  I do. I reach out my hand, put it on Aaron’s shoulder, and draw him to me. Skin to skin, we stand under the shower kissing and moving our hands over our bodies. Within seconds, Aaron is hard against my belly.

  Keep going, the diva says.

  There is a narrow bench along the shower wall, which I find accidentally by kicking my leg against it. I sit on the bench and pull Aaron toward me.

  But I get cold fast. When a breeze blows against the side of the house and into the shower, I shiver. Which Aaron can’t help but notice, given the position we’re in. “Do you want to go inside?” he asks.

  “Yes,” I say.

  Aaron and I tiptoe up the grand staircase. Aaron looks toward the guest wing. All is quiet, all is dark. Aaron leads me down the hallway of the guest wing, and I wonder where the heck he’s going. Aaron comes to a stop outside the bedroom. “You can sleep in this guest room.”

  What? the diva shouts.

  I can’t see Aaron’s face in the dark, but I feel him lean toward me. “Good night,” he whispers in my ear, and kisses my cheek.

  No way, the diva states.

  Taking Aaron’s hand, I lead him down the hall toward his room.

  Sometime around dawn, the diva says, Happy birthday.

  ACE West

  “I thought you were going to spend the weekend,” Aaron said.

  “I have to work,” I answered.

  I replay the conversation as I drive the Von Hechtmobile along the Garden State Parkway and look for the sign to the Atlantic City Expressway West.

  “Stay for breakfast, Mimi.”

  “I don’t want to get stuck in traffic.”

  Every Jerseyan knows that there is no westbound traffic on a Saturday morning.

  “I hope you don’t regret what we did last night,” Aaron said.

  “Not at all.”

  The memory of last night makes the diva open her eyes and stretch. In response, I drive my car faster.

  “I didn’t mean to…” Aaron left his sentence unfinished.

  “Everything is fine,” I said. “But I really have to go.”

  You handled that well, the diva says.

  Don’t talk while I’m driving. And haven’t you gotten us into enough trouble?

  Not nearly, the diva says. But I must say, we’ve made better exits. Don’t you think we owed Aaron a proper goodbye? Morning sex can be lovely.

  We didn’t have sex.

  Orgasms were had, the diva laughs.

  But we didn’t have intercourse.

  Don’t try to Clinton your way out of this, the diva says.

  I’m not in love with Aaron.

  So what? the diva asks. Since when do you have to be in love with someone to hook up with him, have fun, and make me happy? Anyway, who says he’s in love with you? Me, he’s quite fond of. But you? After this morning, he might not like you at all.

  I made a mistake.

  “I made a mistake,” I tell Madeline over my cell as I merge onto ACE West.

  “Finally,” she says.

  “What?”

  “Mimi, you’ve been so careful all summer. It’s about time you made a mistake. What’d you do?”

  “I hooked up with Aaron,” I say.

  Madeline is quiet for a few moments. “And?”

  “And I shouldn’t have.”

  “It was bad?” Madeline asks, and I realize I am talking to entirely the wrong person about this. Oh, well.

  “It wasn’t bad,” I say.

  “Detail me.”

  “I don’t know what to say.
It was nice. Warm.”

  “Warm? That’s the only adjective you can come up with? The first time Nick kissed you good night, it took you thirty-four minutes to tell me about it. When you told me about Farmer Joe, you described the texture of his beard, the color of his body hair, the smell of the barn. Now you’re telling me that Aaron was, what did you say? Warm? I guess you did make a mistake.”

  “That’s not what I meant, Maddie. You’re making Aaron sound worse than he was.”

  “Why are you covering for him? Put your diva on the phone.”

  I laugh. “She’s recuperating.”

  “Ah, well, that’s something.”

  “It was fulfilling, but not terribly exciting. Like tofu.”

  “Tofu is bland. And you, Mimi Louis, are not a vegetarian. I vote for Joe. Give him another chance. He’s got a lot more flavor.”

  The Diva Made Me Do It

  Excuses and escapes aside, I do have a valid reason for going to work. I need to exchange the Von Hechtmobile for Sally. And there is a bridal shower brunch at Café Louis and I need to make sure everything is in order.

  Which it is, as I see when I arrive at the restaurant. Christopher von Hecht has everything well in hand. Okay, so I’m not needed. I don’t want to go home to deal with Mom’s impending engagement, and I don’t want to watch the brunch party’s bridal glee. So I retreat to the downstairs office and obsess just a little more about my steamy sessions with Aaron and Joe. Should I give Joe another chance? Does he want one?

  “What’s up, butternut?” Christopher von Hecht smiles as he hands me the credit card receipt for the bridal brunch.

  “I made a mistake.”

  “With the bill?” Christopher leans over my shoulder.

  “No. With Joe and Aaron.

  “Still caught between two lovers?” he says. “I thought I settled this for you.”

  “They aren’t lovers,” I insist. “The mistake is that I insulted Joe and hooked up with Aaron. What was I thinking? Ugh. The diva made me do it.”