The Adulterer's Unofficial Guide to Family Vacations, A Novel

by Langtry, Leslie

  Okay, so I’m a little dramatic. I’m not Anna Karenina, making a suicide pact with a Russian locomotive. Just stranded in Florida, on vacation with five-year old twins and no husband. The bottle of beer felt heavy and cold in my right hand and I took another gulp. The kids were asleep and the flight went fine.

  There was a problem with our reservation. Apparently, we were booked clear out in no-man’s land. There would have been a twenty minute hike just to get to the bus each day. So, I spent about that much time arguing with the staff, who smiled the whole time. That is the one weird thing about this place – the constant, creepy smiling. Anyway, I managed to upgrade to a much closer room. It would cost a lot more (value resort, my ass) but at that point, I didn’t really give a damn.

  It would have been easier if that bastard husband of mine hadn’t backed out of the trip at the last minute for work, but I was on my own . . . and it sucked.

  As for the earlier suicide reference, no, I don’t really want to kill myself. That would imply self-pity and I’m in complete denial about that. After all, I wasn’t having an affair with a young, arrogant Count who would, in the end, ditch me after I’d left my husband and children for him. I merely wondered why I was here alone. I had no right to compare myself with Tolstoy’s heroine.

  Instead, for the past year, I’ve been watching my marriage slowly dissolve. Mike was quickly turning into a lousy husband and father. It all started when he took this job a couple of years back. That’s right. Mike’s having an affair with his work. You might think there’s no sex involved but I swear he has an orgasm every time he closes the deal.

  Of course, then there was the actual sex. One secretary and a copywriter. But they meant nothing to him and I believed that. The affairs ended a year ago. We had some counseling – like you’re supposed to. And I decided to stick with it. My parents almost went through a divorce when I was the twins’ age. It devastated me, even though they resolved their issues and stayed together. I still have nightmares about them screaming at each other at three in the morning nearly every day. I could never put Jenny and Ben through that.

  But I’m not being totally honest about my reasons. I don’t make enough as a part-time professor to support me and the kids. Pathetic as that sounds, I don’t want to move back in with my folks and have the kids hate me for it.

  Slowly I stretched the muscles that ached from sitting too long on the plane. The hotel chair I dragged outside seemed to have been designed by the Marquis de Sade. But the overpriced beer I bought in the gift shop helped. So, here I was, feeling sorry for myself and denying that I feel sorry for myself, while my kids dreamed of princesses and pirates behind the green door.

  I took another swig of beer as remembered how I thought this trip would turn our lives around. The kids would have fun, and Mike and I would reconnect. And under the fireworks I thought we might rekindle our romance. There was even the possibility of sex (probably in the bathroom when the kids were asleep – but sex nonetheless).

  For crying out loud, Laura! You need to quit thinking about sex. There wouldn’t be any on this trip – guaranteed. Instead, the yawning, black hole in my marriage was growing larger, and I was in danger of being swallowed by it.

  My mother always thought the wives of doctors complained too much. That having them gone so often would be a blessing, not a curse. She said it would be the best of being single and married at the same time. It’s great when he’s home, and when he’s gone you can eat what you want, watch TV, read a book and go to bed whenever you want. But believe me, it isn’t nearly as wonderful as it sounds. Over the past year, I found myself desperate for romantic attention from a husband who was never there, and giving it to his staff instead. Gee, my life sounds so glamorous, doesn’t it? My mind peeled back to the conversation I had with Mike (on the phone, as most conversations with my husband are these days) once we checked in.

  “Mike,” I started the conversation on the cell phone with a normal tone that quickly degenerated into fits of raspy sobs, “we’re here.”

  “Everything go okay?” Damn it. He didn’t sound emotional.

  “Yeah,” I watched the kids jump happily from bed to bed, “no problems.” I neglected to tell him about the hotel snafu. It wouldn’t matter if he knew anyway.

  A sigh came across the line, “Laura, you know I’m sorry about this.”

  “Uh-huh.” Not sorry enough, you bastard, I thought to myself.

  Silence echoed on the other end, “Maybe I can break free in a few days and join you guys.”

  “I won’t count on it, Mike.” I tried not to sound so tired. I wanted him to think I didn’t have a care in the world. Of course I also wanted him to bleed.

  Another sigh came over the line, “I’m sorry.” I couldn’t decide if he really was. “I’ll call you in a couple of hours, ok?”

  I hung up as he tried to say “I love you.” I didn’t particularly love him back.

  Jenny and Ben bounced happily from one bed to another. Here we were at the “most exciting place on earth” and the beds held their interest as a thrill ride. I couldn’t help getting a little caught up in their enthusiasm. Still, it was late, we had just arrived and we had to unpack and settle in for the night. Tomorrow the twins could inflict unknown terrors upon at least one of the four parks, but for tonight, I had to get them to bed.

  The kids were reasonably good while I emptied the suitcase. My heart wasn’t in it. I opened drawers and filled them with every cartoon t-shirt, sweatshirt and pair of princess underpants we had. It would have gone well, too, if I hadn’t come across the dress.

  Why did I pack the dress? A sleek Betsey Johnson number I picked up in Vegas. I packed it for a night out. My fingers ran over the embroidered flowers on black velvet. When Mike cancelled, I spent a couple of hours unpacking to remove his clothes and re-pack mine. That really pissed me off. I’m a planner. I start packing for vacation a week in advance. It’s a good thing I didn’t come across one of his shirts or something. I found a reason to curse Mike all over again.

  Out here, at least the beer’s cold and the kids are asleep. Given that it’s only eight o’clock, I was nowhere near ready for bed. Mike had not called back. I looked at the idle cell phone in my hands. Yep, it’s on. Damn him.

  Another swig of beer and I tried to hold back from feeling sorry for myself. This will be good, I lied to myself. A chance for me and the kids to spend time together without Daddy.

  I suppose that’s unfair. But when you’re angry, you think and say unfair things. Still, there’s no denying that our marriage was pretty much over. We just celebrated our thirteenth anniversary. That couldn’t be good. Maybe it’s a jinxed year, like they say the seventh anniversary is.

  No, it’s something else. Mike’s job was a steady source of income, and a steady source of grief. This vacation fiasco seemed to prove that he regarded his work with more respect than his family. Well, that and the secretary and the copywriter.

  Tears started to form on the edge of my eyelashes. No point in stopping now. It’s dark and there’s no one here to see me.

  Scratch that. My body jerked in surprise as the door next to me opened and a dark figure stepped outside beside me. There wasn’t anything I could do. All doors on this level opened onto the same walkway. I wished I was invisible.

  “Dammit Susan! I thought you said you were coming out here to join me and the kids later in the week!”

  Unbelievable. Is there an epidemic of abandoned spouses? Did the staff know that when they relocated me?

  “I know, but that case was over last week!” Another non-refundable, Florida vacation that had to be acted upon. I should’ve felt a bit embarrassed at my eavesdropping, but I was fascinated that my next door neighbor has the same exact problem as me.

  “Yeah, I’ll keep my cell phone on.” Something sounded a bit familiar . . . not just the situation. I couldn’t put my finger on it.

  “Whatever.” I could hear a woman on the other end arguing as he clicked off
the phone. He stood with his back to me, leaning with his arms on the railing. Obviously, he didn’t know I was there and had witnessed his little meltdown. Now, I just felt uncomfortable. Any second he’d turn and see me and think I’m some snoopy freak. I should say something.

  “Um, hey, sounds like you’re in the same boat as me,” I tried to sound friendly. I lifted another bottle of beer to his back in the darkness, “Would you like one of these?”

  The man straightened, as if I had startled him, then he whirled around to face me. It was dim, but once again I felt that something was very familiar about him. Nonsense, I told myself, you’re an idiot.

  “Laura?” He asked.

  I froze, still holding the beer in front of me, “What did you say?”

  He stepped closer. I could just see his eyes. A chill swept through me like a déjà vu with a perverted sense of humor.

  “Alan?” It was barely a whisper.

  He nodded, and I thought I could make out a similar look of shock on his face, “I think I will take you up on that bottle.”

  Chapter 3

  “Alan?” I repeated myself as he took the bottle from my hand.

  He opened the bottle with a simple twist, brought it to his lips and drank. Then I realized my mouth was still hanging open.

  Alan James. Alan James, the first, serious love of my life, was sitting next to me, apparently in the same situation I was in. How bizarre.

  “How long has it been?” Alan squinted at me, eyes adjusting to the lack of light.

  “It . . . it must be about twenty years?” I stammered out a reply, sounding a little like an idiot. I wanted to slap myself, but feared that might look too strange. Alan pulled a chair out of his room and sat next to me.

  “Twenty years . . .” he sat back in his chair and took another swallow, “I think you’re right.”

  We sat together in silence for a few moments, not really knowing what to say. Our situation was so strange I guess we had to let it sink in it for a moment.

  Never being one to bear awkward silences well, I broke the fast of conversation, “So, your wife bailed on you and . . .”

  “Yes. You too, eh?” He seemed to be just as surprised that I also ended up this way.

  “Yeah. It’s just me and the twins.” I wondered if it really was possible to die of embarrassment.

  “Twins? How old?”

  Was he really interested? Or just making small talk?

  “Jenny and Ben are five. Yours?”

  He smiled, “Alice is five, Jack is four.”

  Another silence. I struggled to recall the last time I saw him, but the memory was too hazy. Foggy images of a tavern near campus danced into view. I took another swallow of the beer to clear my head.

  “And here we are, in the same predicament? Isn’t that a bit strange?” I fumbled, not knowing what else to say.

  He laughed, “A bit strange? Hell, I think it’s the most unlikely thing in the world!”

  I had to agree. In all honesty, I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. If I hadn’t changed rooms, would we have run into each other? “When did you arrive?”

  “This morning. We were going to hit one the parks, but the kids wanted to swim. You?”

  “Just this evening.” I motioned behind me, “they’re asleep.”

  “Mine too.” He looked at me again.

  By now our eyes were more focused. An awkward silence hung between us. What would Letitia Baldridge say about my etiquette? How do you correctly greet a former lover? It’s too late to shake hands, especially when you had once fitted more intimate body parts together.

  Jumping up and hugging him would make me look like a drooling mental patient calling out for “Big Hugs!” Maybe it’s more formal when you’re older. I started to panic, because for a moment I entertained the idea of sticking a note on his dorm door. I had to think of something to say.

  “You look great.” Why did I say that? He looked amazing. Same thick, chestnut hair, glowing green eyes and wicked smile.

  He smiled, and I wondered if it was the first real smile he’d had all day, “You haven’t aged a day.”

  Thank God it was dark or he’d see me blushing. A small stirring swirled in my stomach.

  “Have you ever been here?” It was the only question I could think of.

  “No. This was going to be our first real family trip in a long time.” His shoulders drooped a little and I remembered that this wasn’t a happy trip for either of us.

  “This is our first time too.” And that’s it. I was out of ideas. Another yawner like that and he will be putty in my hands! (Insert sarcastic, maniacal laughter here.)

  The silence was deafening. I wished for background noise . . . crickets . . . happy princess music . . . the Luftwaffe . . . anything.

  “I have an idea,” I spoke slowly, not even sure if I should say anything in light of the fact that my mind had abandoned me, “why don’t we take the kids together tomorrow?”

  I avoided eye contact, feigning an unusual interest in my beer label and continued, “I mean, I’m not sure I can handle both kids alone, and they’re the same age, and maybe between the two of us we could swing it.”

  My heart was pounding madly. Why did I do that? There would be nothing more terrible than to be rejected again by the boy who rejected me all those years ago. But then again, it did make sense, and we’re forty, not twenty. Honestly! I can be so immature sometimes.

  “That is an excellent idea.” He pronounced each word slowly, as if the further along in the sentence he went, the more his own words convinced him.

  We set a time to meet up in the morning and went into our rooms. Once the door closed behind me, I sagged against it. Alan. Sweet Alan.

  I stayed up half the night trying to calculate the odds that something like this would happen, but I never was any good at math. This was the stuff of romance novels, not real life. Romance novels? Why did I associate this with romance? Because, you dumbass, you once loved him as if nothing else existed on earth. And he broke your heart.

  But we were kids. We didn’t know what we were doing, I told myself. But you did love him. And you were lovers. Memories from long ago came flooding back.

  “Do you think we will always be together?” We had just finished making love in a car I borrowed from my roommate. It was cold outside so we left the car running. We always parked in this neglected cornfield. No one ever stumbled upon us.

  “Of course we will,” he replied, “We are supposed to be together.”

  I sighed happily, my head resting on his bare chest, content with the chill silence that enveloped the car. Alan stroked my hair very gently and began to tell me what our life would be like together after graduation as I dozed off dreamily, not a care in the world.

  “MOMMY!” Jenny’s cry nearly ruptured my eardrums and I leaped out of bed.

  “What? What is it?” I stumbled to gain my mental and physical balance, still half asleep. A sliver of daylight pierced the curtains and I started to remember where I was.

  “It’s TODAY! We have to get ready!” Jenny pleaded. Ben started to run in circles with glee, shrieking those words over and over.

  I brushed my teeth and staggered into the shower, keeping it as brief as possible. As I stepped out onto the mat, I became aware of a banging noise coming from outside the bathroom. Holding a towel loosely in front of me, I opened the door and prepared to yell at my offspring.

  Alan was standing in the room, an amused, yet embarrassed look on his face. Apparently, we had adjoining rooms. Apparently, my lovely children had let a complete stranger in. Apparently, I was barely wearing a bath towel.

  “Um, pardon the interruption, I just thought,” he stumbled through his words. He pointed to his watch, “um, it’s nine.”

  “So it is. I don’t seem to be wearing my watch,” I pulled the towel against me.

  “You don’t seem to be wearing much of anything,” he said with an amused smile. “I’ll just go back to my room and give you a few
minutes?” He left before I could respond.

  Great. Just great. I looked down at the two cherubic faces before me, “Thanks, kidlets.”

  “You’re welcome Mommy!” was their unison cry. Fabulous. Obviously I didn’t need to worry about what to wear. It took only a few moments to get everyone dressed and out the door. Somehow I didn’t think I was off to a great start.

  Alan and his children were waiting for us. Seeing him in the daylight added more jitters. Both of us had gained a few wrinkles and pounds over the years, but he looked better than I expected. In fact, he looked great. His skin even glowed, if you can believe that. I ran my right hand nervously through my hair.

  “You look great. I was right last night, you haven’t aged a day.”

  He had obviously missed something. My hair was much shorter, a different color and my body a little ravaged by giving birth twice in one hour. Was this all bullshit so he could have a second adult along?

  “Thanks. You look good too.” Okay, so I’m not Oscar Wilde.

  Alan actually blushed, “You know, I still can’t believe this happened.”

  I nodded in agreement, and then noticed four pairs of eyes staring at us in silence.

  “Oh! This is Jenny and Ben!” My kids smiled at hearing their names. They looked expectantly at Alice and Jack. Alan floundered out an introduction. Apparently, we are both a bit stunned. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

  The kids seemed hesitant, but I figured they would enjoy each others’ company. Homesick pangs hit my stomach. After all, I hadn’t seen this man in a long, long time. We didn’t necessarily end things on good terms, as I recalled. And our relationship was a mere two years, barely the length of a moment when compared to the thirteen years I’d been married.

  Still, I was happy not be alone on this trip. Another adult would make things easier . . . right?

  We headed for the food court to eat breakfast. Alan and I fell naturally into our usual parenting roles, one watching all four kids while the other navigated the choices available for food.