by Cosette Hale
The sun was setting, and the mood had changed. There were several couples dancing still, but others were sitting and watching the sunset off the side of the boat. I pulled away from Harvey and fanned my face, hoping it wasn’t as red as it felt.
“I think I need water,” I said. He cleared his throat and walked towards the bar to bring me some. I drank as much as I could so I wouldn’t have to say anything.
“Look at that,” Harvey said, breaking the ice. I followed him to the railing where we watched a colorful sunset. Just when I was going to gush about how much it’s meant for him to be here with me, the captain got on the microphone to thank us for joining him and the crew today. I looked back the other way and sure enough, we were a few hundred feet away from the dock. Harvey gathered our things, and I picked up my hair in a disaster of a bun to help him carry our towels and my bag.
Harvey drove us back to the hotel, and my drunken self was hoping he was sober enough to get us there. He was. I was the lightweight that was falling over herself after two drinks. When we parked the car, Harvey announced he was going for a walk, if I wanted to shower first. I agreed and made my way up to our room. This was getting to be a sticky situation, I thought to myself as I waited for the elevator. I shouldn’t have danced like that with him. It might have given him the wrong idea. Or maybe the right idea. No, Audrey! Stop it.
My skin was on fire. I didn’t even bother looking at myself in the mirror before I got in the shower, but I did afterward, and boy was I red. The bathroom was fogged up, and I walked out to the full-length mirror by the bed and stared at the red marks outlining where I had worn the bikini. I’d need aloe and lots of it. Just as I was getting into the bathroom again, I heard the door open. Phew, that was close. I tried to imagine what I would have done had Harvey caught me in my birthday suit staring at myself in the mirror. The thought made my skin heat up more, and I jumped in the shower again for a quick, cool rinse.
“Are you hungry?” He called out when I turned the shower off.
“Yes!” I said, finally paying attention to my grumbling stomach. I dried myself off and put on clothes.
“Hey, that looks nice,” he said as I stepped out. I was wearing a flowery tank top and a nice pair of white shorts.
“Thanks,” I said as I slipped on a pair of tall khaki wedges. I might have blushed, but with my new “tan” no one would notice.
“Let me get cleaned up, and then I’ll take you to this place the concierge told me about. I think you’ll like it,” he said with that wink again. Off he went to the shower, again not taking any clothes with him to change into.
I hurriedly applied some makeup and put mousse in my curls. I stared at a perfume bottle in my makeup bag. It had been a Christmas present from Greg because he loved how I smelled in it. I sighed and dabbed it on. Then I heard something new. Harvey was singing in the shower. And not well, I might add. He was singing a song I didn’t recognize with lyrics about a rodeo or something like that. I giggled to myself and sat on the bed, waiting for him to finish.
I suddenly realized that I didn’t have a migraine! Alcohol hadn’t beat me today. I considered trying my luck and having wine with dinner.
Out came Harvey in his towel. I tried to pretend I was occupied with something on my phone, but as soon as he walked away I watched as the too-low towel barely hung on his hips. I caught myself licking my lips and stood up. Then I paced the room, chastising myself. Audrey, what has gotten into you? Never have you had such thoughts, not even for your husband. It’s inappropriate, and it’s wrong. What would your mother say? What would Greg say? Not that I cared what Greg said, right?
Harvey came out looking like he’d stepped out of a travel magazine. He had a dark blue shirt with light blue flowery print on it, khaki shorts, and what I call boat shoes.
“Can you tell I’m on vacation?” He asked stretching out his arms and turning around so I could get a good look.
“Definitely,” I laughed, “but you pull it off.” I’m sure he could pull off anything.
A short later we were walking into a loud restaurant/bar decorated with all sorts of neon signs, surfboards, and liquor bottles. And when I say loud, I mean we couldn’t even talk. People were standing next to high tops, dancing as they ate. Some went out to the dance floor to break it down and then returned to their food in intervals. The DJ was trying to hype up the crowd and bring out people to dance, and they obeyed, dancing to a mix of Top 40 while shot girls walked around.
“This is what you thought I’d like?” I asked, getting close enough for Harvey to hear me, which was a struggle since he was a good 8 inches taller.
“It’s our divorce party!” he said, and I laughed, giving him a high five. Now I got it. It was going to be that kind of night. Well, bring it on.
I did a bit of dancing while we ate food at the high tops, but I danced by myself this time. I rolled the dice and had a drink, and soon enough we were both dancing to Rihanna and Pitbull with the rest of the crowd. It was all energy and physical stamina, and I loved sweating it out. We were keeping it a foot apart at all times, and I had a feeling that maybe Harvey was also uncomfortable with how close we’d been dancing earlier in the day. When the shot girls passed by, Harvey ordered us two each. We grabbed one in each hand, clinked them, and yelled, “Cheers!”
We were nowhere near the rowdiest at this place. I was flabbergasted at the type of dancing people around us were doing. My concern about dancing too close with Harvey would have sounded silly to those people, who were pretty much having sex in all different positions (with their clothes on). I gave Harvey several appalled looks with wide eyes. He also looked shocked, though I think he was more pretending for my sake.
It was in the early hours of the morning when we gave up— after drinking with strangers, watching two guys fight over a girl, dancing on stage in a contest (which we were shamefully eliminated from right away), and yes, even dancing a little close. It was only for seconds at a time, and I would pull away almost immediately, but the important thing is that we were both having fun. We were forgetting the rest of the world and our cheating spouses. As I stumbled outside, Harvey helped prop me up with one arm, while waving for a taxi with the other.
We were inside the taxi, and I looked over at him, glad to see that last night’s anger and frustration had disappeared. When he looked at me, I quickly gazed outside, watching the town fade away to darkness. I turned my head back to him and realized he hadn’t stopped watching me. It was strange— otherworldly, almost— but I couldn’t look away, and neither did he.
Similar to the other day, we locked eyes, and the seconds stretched out beyond what was socially acceptable. My drunken state was not helping, and I was in a heightened state of recklessness. I felt giddy, alive, and on fire as I drank in his stare. Neither one of us moved an inch, but in my mind I already had his hands all over me, ripping at the button of my shorts, and touching me through my increasingly wet panties. I was praying he couldn’t read my mind— what a shock he would have gotten.
I turned my face away, feeling ashamed, and rested my head back, closing my eyes. “Everything is spinning,” I said, trying to break the spell. He shifted in his seat and handed me a bottle of water. I took it and sipped from it, if only to give me something to do besides linger in the awkwardness of the earlier moments.
He must have an inkling of an attraction for me— that much was clear in his stare, how his eyes bored into mine earlier. Clearly, it was a mixture of alcohol, rebound/revenge, and his celibacy from months past. The thought of using someone else purely for sex seemed like a wonderful idea whenever I looked at Harvey, but it would never turn out well for our newfound friendship, which I valued above everything else at the moment.
As I tried to focus what little brain power I had left on making it to the room, my phone vibrated in my purse. It was my mother calling me, which was strange since she knew it would be long distance charges. I picked up, worried and wondering what had happened.
“Mom, what’s wrong?” I said as a greeting.
“Sweetie, hi. I don’t mean to upset you. He’s fine right now, but your father had a heart attack this morning.” I froze in the middle of the hallway, holding my arm out to prop myself up against the wall.
“He’s stable now according to the doctors, but they had him in emergency surgery right after it happened,” she said and then continued to give me medical jargon and anatomy lessons over the phone. I said nothing for a good long while as she spoke in a soft tone, explaining what they’d been through in the past few hours.
“Mom, you should have called me sooner,” I said.
“I tried, sweetie, but it just went to voicemail, which I left you several. I left a message at the hotel too,” she said in that same eerily calm voice. There must not have been cellular service at the club.
“I’m going to book a flight to go there as soon as possible.” I was sobered up, and I had to continue to be so to deal with changing airline tickets and finding my way to the airport.
“He’s been sleeping most of the day, but I know he’d like to see you,” was her response. I wiped a tear away and said goodbye.
Harvey was already in the room, packing stuff. “Harvey, you don’t have to leave, too,” I said, grabbing my suitcase.
“Well, what’s the point of me staying here by myself if I’m just going to be dwelling on bad things… plus worrying about you.”
I don’t think I’d ever felt so touched. “But, you’re not coming to Harper Fields are you?” I asked, referring to our hometown.
“I need to make sure you get there safely. Besides, I get no peace from my mom who wants me to visit, so I’ll stay with her a few days, and I’ll be close by if you need me.” Thoughts of how Greg wouldn’t be with me at a time like this because he ruined our marriage nearly set off the crying again. Even if we were still on good terms, he probably would have been too busy with work to accompany me (had we not been on vacation).
A few hours later, I was on an airplane back to mainland USA. Harvey had taken care of everything at the ticket counter. I saw him arguing a good amount, and I should have gotten involved, but I was grateful to have him with me to help out right then. I was trying to fight away the migraine that finally came, on top of the fact that my father was lying in a hospital bed with a high chance of a recurring heart attack. That’s what my mom had said— It might not be over yet, and he’d have to make drastic lifestyle changes. I knew that would be very difficult for my beer and red-meat loving father.
Thankfully, the headache pill made me sleepy (plus it was already the next day, and I’d been awake throughout the night), and I could snooze for a few hours. When we landed, Harvey suggested that he take my suitcase to his mom’s, and I could pick it up there. He dropped me off at the hospital after renting a car.
“Thank you so much for this,” I said as I opened the door to get out.
“Just let me know if you need anything. I’m here for you, whatever you need,” he said with a smile.
“I will,” I said and reached over to give him a hug. Off I went, into the big building I’d always hated. The doctors had treated me for pneumonia when I was a kid in that hospital, and I spent days in the ICU, scaring my parents out of their minds. But the worst was on my 15th birthday when my grandfather passed away from a massive stroke. It was surreal as friends and family came over right away to be with us in our fresh grief right there in that very hospital.
I found my way to the cardiac unit and asked the nurse at the front for directions to Elton Whitman’s room, which she pointed me to. I entered quietly, but inside was my mom and her sister, chatting away at high volume as they always did. My dad was awake and sitting up, but he looked frail somehow. I’d seen him just a few days ago on Skype looking healthy as can be. The women jumped up to greet me, and my dad sat patiently with a sad smile. It broke my heart to see such a great big man this way. I gave him a soft hug, unsure of what I could or could not touch. There were wires and monitors all over the place.
“How do you feel, Dad?” I asked.
“Sugar, I’m not doing too well it seems. I guess time will tell, huh?”
“Dad, you have to take care of yourself now,” I said, looking at my mother, who I knew would be the one to do all the care-taking, especially for his diet. Oh yes, she’d nag him to death. She was nodding.
“I know, Sugar. But let’s hear about that vacation I had to cut short. Where’s Greg?” he asked. Stupidly, I’d forgotten to come up with an excuse for Greg’s absence or to decide when I’d tell my parents about my impending divorce.
My mom’s sister, Lucy, looked at me funny. She always seemed to know things— like when she’d guessed the birthday of her best friend’s grandchild, or when she’d won our town’s carnival lottery by guessing the four numbers. I considered lying and saying that Greg had to rush back home for business, but then I asked myself— why? Yes, we had bigger things to think about, like my dad’s condition, but then my problem would seem trivial, right? But I didn’t want to cause a commotion at that moment.
“He went home,” I said. “We’re sort of in a big fight, and he went home before Daddy had the heart attack so he doesn’t even know. Whatever. It’s not important right now.” I hoped I’d watered it down enough for now, but my mom came over to give me a hug.
“We’ll talk about it later then,” she said. Greg and I were well-known for our huge fights back while we were dating, but we always made up. My mom probably thought this was a recurrence. My Tia Lucy, however, was still giving me that strange expression. My dad said nothing. He was the strong, silent type, but when he had something to say, people listened. That’s how he’d successfully built up the business my grandfather started in Harper Fields 50 years ago. From a small store selling a few tools and soil, it grew to a large hardware store with another location just outside of town.
Sitting with my mom and aunt by my dad, I listened to the town news for an hour until my stomach grumbled. I realized I had eaten nothing since that restaurant/club last night, and I was starving.
“I’m hungry,” my aunt said standing up. “Why don’t we get something to eat?”
“I’m not hungry right now, but go ahead,” my mom said. I stood up with my aunt.
“Mom, can I bring you a sandwich for later or something? Maybe they have yogurt?” I asked. My mom had yogurt every morning.
“No, no, I’ll eat later,” she said, shooing us away. I gave my dad a kiss on the cheek and promised to be back soon.
We walked to the cafeteria, my aunt discussing how she’d have to go home soon since her boys couldn’t be trusted alone with their father too long. My cousins were 9-year-old identical twin boys, and from the stories my mom told me whenever she sees them, they’re little devils.
“How are they doing?” I asked.
“They’re driving me crazy. I try to put them in every sport imaginable to get the energy out of them, but I’m beginning to think that it does the opposite,” she said with a sigh.
We grabbed an actually decent-looking meal and sat at a cafeteria table, surrounded by other worried family members and nurses.
“Do you want to tell me what happened with Greg?” she asked out of nowhere as I was trying to eat my bland mashed potatoes. Looks were deceiving with hospital food, apparently.
“We had a fight, Tia. That’s all,” I said, hoping she wouldn’t pry. But a Cuban family is a Cuban family.
“You and Greg have a fight so big that he hops on an airplane to go home, and now I see you here with a face full of exhaustion and tons of eye makeup. Why so much makeup if your husband is gone?” she asked, then set to devouring her plate.
I gave up. She’d guess it soon enough anyway, I was sure of it— down to the last detail. So I told her all of it. Well, almost all of it. I left out the part where I’d been sharing a room with a tall, handsome man that wasn’t my husband for the past three nights.
“Oh, my dear, I’m so sorry. And so angry at
that Greg,” she said, but now that I think of it, my aunt had been rather cool to him our entire courtship, which was not like her.
“But,” she continued, “That doesn’t explain your smudged eye makeup.” Luckily, or unluckily if you consider who it was, my phone rang and Greg’s name displayed on the screen. My aunt and I both looked at it.
“Do not run from your problems,” she said. “Not all things get smaller the farther you get.” I rolled my eyes at her and picked up.
“Yes, Greg?” I said, annoyed.
“Hey, how are you? My mom told me about your dad. Are you going to visit him?” he asked. His voice was like a bucket of ice water over my head after not having heard it for a few days.
“I’m at the hospital with him now. How did you find out?” I questioned.
“My mom told me. It’s Harper’s Field, Audrey,” he said. It was the running joke of the town, a place so small that everyone knew everything about everyone’s business. So if someone asked how you knew something, you said, “It’s Harper’s Field.” It wasn’t so amusing now. I gave him a quick update on my dad.
“So, thank you for calling. Goodbye,” I said, and hung up, not giving him a chance to reply.
My aunt sipped from her straw while giving me another funny look.
“Let’s go back,” I said, getting up before she went on and on again about eye makeup. She’d crack me eventually, I knew, as she’d done when I was 12 and had my first kiss. As she’d also done when I had snuck out to go to a concert in the next town after my parents had forbidden me to go. I’m pretty sure she hasn’t told them to this date. My aunt was ten years younger than my mom so she understood my teenage angst better than my mom did. And boy was I full of angst back in those days.
I convinced my mother to eat something a couple of hours later, and by the time it was dark out, my father insisted that she go home to sleep.
“Why are you going to sleep next to me uncomfortable on the fold-out thing? Just sleep nice and cozy at home, and then tomorrow morning you can come back. Besides, I should be going home tomorrow, and I need you to bring me new clothes. Go,” he said in his pretend-stern voice.