City Mouse

by Lender, Stacey;

  The lights were shining in my eyes and all I could see was an undulating mass. The band tore into a set of AC/DC and the pitch of the room thundered even higher as we all screamed out together: “She was a fast machine, she kept her motor clean, she was the best damn woman that I’d ever seen.” Up there on display I felt powerful and sexy, fueled by the alcohol and the crowd screaming below me. I closed my eyes and moved my hands over my body, feeling the sweat underneath my dress as my fingers grazed my hips and up my waist and along the edges of my chest and I basked in the limelight, “Knocking me out with those American thighs.” Then the music started to swell and the drum beat louder as everybody waited, waited, waited for it, “Let me hear it now, YOU! SHOOK ME ALL NIGHT LONG!” The place erupted and I was transported back onto the bar in college, to the me I used to be. I’m still me, I thought. I’m still me and I’ve still got it. I’ve got it but I’m even better—I’ve still got it and more.

  I raised my hands and then all of a sudden felt something fall between my feet. I looked down and saw an oblong beige disc. At first I thought it was a coaster but then realized: it was my chicken cutlet bra! How could it possibly have slipped out? In a swift move I kicked it and prayed no one had noticed.

  Luckily, the set ended and we jumped off the bar and ran to the bathroom to douse ourselves with water. I ducked into a stall, peeled off my other cutlet, and stuffed it into my purse, baffled by its twin’s malfunction. I joined everyone else at the sinks touching up their lips and realized I had forgotten I still had the fake eyelashes on and my cheeks were still sparkling with glitter. All that time talking to Steven with my Cabana Glama makeup on! God knows what he must have thought.

  Tami said she felt her behind buzzing and pulled out her phone. It was a new photo of Chris and Drew and Jeff in the pool, butt naked from behind.

  “Ugh, all your disgusting men, skinny-dipping in my pool,” Alyson said as we walked back out toward the bar. A funny smile spread across her face and she said to Tami, “You know what would be hilarious? See that guy over there with the striped shirt?” She pointed toward the dartboards at a group that looked like college students. “I dare you to go over there and kiss him. I’ll take a picture and send it to Chris.”

  “Which one?” Tami asked.

  “The cute one,” Alyson said. “They would freak. You’ve got to do it.”

  Without even a pause, Tami walked over with us stumbling at her heels. She whispered something in the coed’s ear, and barely a second later her mouth was on his. At first I saw him freeze up—and then the kiss kept going.

  “Holy shit!” I said, and put my hand over my mouth as if that would stop it. I thought I saw his tongue flick once or twice and wondered what it tasted like and if his lips were soft.

  Aly snapped the shot. “Got it! This is the best, Tam, the best!” she screamed.

  Tami turned her back to the dumbfounded guy and reached for Aly’s phone. “Let me see it,” she said.

  There was no stopping my thoughts from blurting out: “I cannot believe you just did that!”

  “Yeah, baby!” Tami replied, still looking down at the picture.

  “No, really—you seriously just kissed that guy! A stranger! In a bar!”

  “Okay, Sandra Dee, take a chill. Chris’ll probably whack off to that picture tonight.”

  I glanced at Ivy, doubled over in laughter along with Carolann, and took their cue to shrug and laugh it off too, adding yet another sexed-up image of Chris to my collection, one hand on his cell phone, the other stroking himself stiff to a picture of Tami making out with a stranger.

  Another round of shots and a round of darts and then the bar and everything in it melted into a blur. “After-party at our place!” I heard Tami announce, and at some point we all piled into the car, window cool against my cheek. Breaking out the six-packs and everyone to the upstairs porch.

  “Turn up the music, Jess!”

  I wanted to dance, but every cell in my body felt heavy with gravity, anchoring me to the couch. I stared up at the Big Dipper—Follow the handle, is that the North Star? I wished it would tip and drip me down a cool glass of water.

  “Are you thirsty?” someone asked, and I was confused how someone could have heard me but maybe I had said it out loud.

  Finally I could feel the promise of sleep, sweet sleep, luring me down to my bedroom. I stepped into the darkness and barely remember my head hitting the pillow.

  Chapter thirteen

  The next morning I woke up with a pounding headache and my dress from the night before still on.

  I peeled myself out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom. Considering the amount of alcohol I’d ingested, beyond the headache I felt surprisingly okay. Definitely bloated, but generally okay. What I needed was about a gallon of water and a good greasy breakfast, and at that moment I could have sworn I caught a whiff of eggs and bacon coming from down the hall. I threw on a pair of shorts and a clean T-shirt and made my way to the kitchen, where I found everyone already up and sitting around the table.

  “Morning,” Ivy said.

  “Must have coffee.” My voice sounded scratchy. “My head is killing me.” I poured myself a large mugful and the aroma thankfully started to work its magic.

  Carolann picked up where she’d left off: “And then when he said, Darling, the envelope, please. That was too funny.”

  “Jessica, when you bet that guy twenty bucks and hit the bull’s-eye, I thought I was going to crap my pants,” Tami said.

  A bull’s-eye? Me? The game of darts slowly came back, something with boys versus girls and an ultimate bet-the-pet challenge. But I didn’t even have a pet.

  “You did not,” Alyson said. “How did I miss that?”

  “You were too busy bumping and grinding on your middle-school crush, Aly. Brad was so into you last night,” Tami said like a teenager, leaning back in her chair.

  “He was just wasted.”

  “He may have been wasted but he was pining after that fit little booty of yours. You can give your trainer friend Antonio another call later to say thank you.”

  Alyson mouthed, Fuck you, and took a long sip of her coffee. “By the end of the night he was actually getting kind of annoying.”

  “Annoyingly adorable,” Tami opined. “Feels pretty fucking good to know we still have it, ladies, doesn’t it?”

  It had felt pretty good. Although my head now didn’t.

  I took a piece of still-warm bacon off the skillet and bit into it, feeling the oil seep into my system and start to right it. “What time did we get home?” I asked.

  “I don’t know, two, maybe three?” Tami answered. “You disappeared a little early.”

  Three was early? “I was out cold.”

  “Colin told me that band is playing at Red’s again tonight,” Carolann said.

  “Who’s Colin?” I asked.

  “You know: you were talking to him and the tall one—what was his name, Steven?—for what seemed like forever last night.”

  I knew I should have stopped after that second beer. I didn’t remember talking to anyone named Colin. “Oh right, I remember him,” I lied. “You know that guy Steven’s a big-time Broadway producer—it’s such a weird coincidence to have met him down here.”

  “We know, we know, you went on and on about it,” Aly said, rolling her eyes.

  I had? Yikes. I wondered what else I might not be remembering. “If I could somehow land him as a client, it would be huge for me at work.” Unless my dance on the bar has already put an end to that.

  “From the way you were cozying up, it looked like you’ll definitely be working together,” Tami said.

  I felt myself start to blush. We might have been talking close, but that was because the music was so loud. I brushed it off: “Oh yeah, right, give me a break. We were talking about work the whole time.”

  “Whatever you say,” Tami countered, and got up to put her dishes in the sink.

  I honestly hadn’t thought Steven was intere
sted in me in that way. Maybe we’d both been drunk and a little flirty but it had felt more innocuous work-flirty to me. It wasn’t like I sucked face with a total stranger. That part of the night I definitely remembered. All of us would remember it because we had pictures.

  Tami continued, “Anyway, we can do better than that lame-o place. I mean, really, last call at one thirty? I vote we drive into Charleston. There’s something like sixteen restaurants and bars within a block or two that are supposed to stay open until four. The more choices the better.”

  “I’m going to need a serious nap if we’re planning to stay out until four tonight,” Ivy said.

  “Well, we don’t have to decide right now,” Alyson said. “I booked us a cabana at the private beach at the Sanctuary—it’s not far, we can bike there. And I signed us all up for a group tennis lesson, so we have to be back by three.”

  Ugh, tennis. I liked Ivy’s napping idea better.

  My wish to remain idle must have been apparent because Carolann said, “Come on, Jessica, go get your suit on. You’ll feel better if you sweat it out.”

  I went back into the bathroom and popped three Extra Strength Tylenols and downed a glass of water. Before we left I called Aaron but he didn’t answer at home or on his cell. He was probably on his way to that Gymboree birthday party for Madison’s friend. I texted him, Having fun, heading to the beach now. Call me later, and threw my phone and a hat and a few magazines into my beach bag.

  The bike ride was thankfully flat for the most part, but the morning air was already steamy. I needed more caffeine and a jumbo-sized Gatorade. A juicy hamburger with pickles and melted cheddar and a salty side of fries. And a milkshake. Just thinking about it made my stomach growl and I realized I had forgotten to pack any food. I hoped this private seating area was near a snack bar.

  To get to the beach we had to walk on a narrow path through a tangled thicket, wood splintering beneath our feet from decades of exposure to the salty air. One of my flip-flops slipped and I missed a step but I caught a piece of the railing and stopped myself from taking a nosedive into the prickly thorns. Finally we hit sand and I looked out upon a wide expanse of glorious empty beach that made the schlep worth it. A refreshing breeze blew off the water.

  “We could have never gotten through the path carrying loads of beach crap,” Alyson said, and it was true—I immediately noticed the calmness around us, kid voices and screams clearly absent.

  We found the row of green-and-white-striped, cushy upholstered lounges being held for us and complimented Alyson on her great call on making the reservation. Thankfully one of us had the foresight to do some planning for the weekend and I was appreciative, notwithstanding the tennis plan.

  I claimed the chair next to Ivy and laid out my towel, smoothing the edges. After spraying on sunscreen, I took out my brand-new issue of Us magazine, slowly turning each page to savor the guilty pleasure. I skimmed the ads for new face creams and upcoming reality shows and lingered on the photos of celebrities caught doing what we do—They pump their own gas. They eat ice cream! The glossy paper felt good between my fingers, so much more satisfying than scrolling through dizzying images on a computer screen.

  Before it all became accessible in an instant, I used to count down the days until my Young Miss magazine arrived in my mailbox. And when it finally came I’d run upstairs to my room, shut the door, and flop down on my bed to devour every word, finding out the answers to everything I was too embarrassed to ask my mother or even my friends: Is it possible to shave off a tan? If he acts like he hates me, does it really mean he likes me? For years, YM was the older sister I never had, my go-to source telling me what to want and what to wear, everything I needed to be in the know.

  I looked out past the sand and the water toward the hazy horizon and felt so far away from home, far away and liberated from my usual beach demands. Find the shovel, the red one, Mommy, and come on, jump over the waves with me and buy me ices now, pleeease. Since arriving in South Carolina, it had been surprisingly easy—too easy, almost—not to worry or wonder what the kids and Aaron had been up to, aided by the fact that no one had mentioned our children since we got here. It was as if we had an unspoken pact to suspend their existence for the weekend. It worked: for once I felt free to do nothing except sit and veg out and listen to the soft and steady splash with no one to take care of except for me and my lingering hangover.

  All of us were unusually quiet, a rare moment in our talky girlfriend world. It was silent between us on the beach, peaceful without conversation. I glanced over at Tami lying still with her eyes closed, sunning her tanned body alongside the rest of us. I still couldn’t believe she’d actually kissed that guy. Lying there she looked totally unfazed, unchanged by that kiss, tongue and all. I doubted Aaron would ever forgive me if I kissed someone else, let alone sent him a picture of it. But who knew what made Chris tick? Maybe it was just another game in their sexual repertoire. Maybe they just lived on a different marriage bandwidth. One at warp speed, so different from Aaron and me.

  The silence didn’t last long.

  “What do you have on your toes, Ivy, Very Berry?” Alyson asked.

  “No, it’s Red Royale.”

  “Is that the new Essie?”

  “No, it’s OPI.”

  “Oh. It looks just like Very Berry. I almost went with Bermuda Triangle, but decided on Tropical Sunset for a change. It’s a little darker.”

  “I like it. It’s got a hint of tangerine that’s supposed to be very in this summer,” Ivy said.

  I looked down at my own toes, painted some pinkish shade of I-had-no-idea-what-color, grabbed off the shelf in the nail place on Ninth Avenue. I had been lucky to squeeze in a quick pedicure to clean up my feet before the trip with barely enough time to dry before running back to the office, let alone research in advance which shades were now popular. But Ivy and Alyson, when it came to decorating the surfaces—their nails and their windows and their flat-bellied bodies—they were pros. It had been fun so far to play drink-up and dress-up for the weekend, but all the girly topics they liked to discuss and debate so much were foreign to me. I had been hoping on this trip we’d have a chance to take our friendship a level or two deeper, but a part of me was beginning to wonder if there was a deeper.

  Their words rolled with the waves lapping on the shore and my eyes grew tired and heavy. I knew I should probably put on more sunscreen and reminded myself to make my annual dermatologist appointment when I got home. And I needed to send a follow-up e-mail to Steven, something clever and memorable to get to a real pitch meeting. Dear Steven, I crafted in my head. Too formal. Maybe ditch the Dear? Steven: Great to meet you down in South Carolina . . . Bo-ring. Remember me, the drunk girl dancing on the bar? I shifted in my chair and felt my right knee twinge from the bike ride, or it could have been from the dancing, all of that dancing to all of those great old songs, and within a few minutes I slipped into a half-doze nap.

  Clouds must have passed above me as shade cut the heat, and I reached for my towel to cover my legs. My lips felt salty and I needed water but didn’t want to move, hoping to drift back into my dream. But my thirst won out, and I sat up and reached into my bag for my water bottle, now warm, checked my watch, and saw it was already eleven thirty. Almost an hour had passed, sixty whole minutes not spent doing or giving or making, and instead I had let myself lie, selfish and still, baking in the sun.

  A child’s laughter broke the air. I hoped I was still dreaming but annoyingly, a boy about three ran into the water in front of us. “Don’t throw sand, honey,” a mom’s voice said, and I felt suddenly cheated, having lost my childfree utopia.

  “I might have to go back to work this fall if Peter doesn’t get a job soon,” Carolann announced.

  So much for not talking about home, I thought.

  “Didn’t you start those classes to get your real estate broker’s license?” Tami asked her. “It would be the perfect job for you—you’re pushy in that oh-so-nice-about-it way that
makes people do what you ask them before they even know they agreed. You’d sell hundreds of fucking houses. Thousands.”

  Carolann took a moment to respond. “Thank you, Tami—I think. But the classes were boring.”

  “Anyone can get through one week’s worth of classes,” Tami said. “Think about the upside once you get it over with. The market’s really starting to turn around.”

  “But you’re sooo busy as it is with the kids and volunteering for the school,” Ivy said.

  “Come September both kids will be in school until three o’clock, Ivy. And as much as I do like volunteering, I might not have a choice.” I couldn’t see Carolann’s expression beneath her sunglasses but her voice had a serious tone.

  I didn’t know if Carolann was still selling clothes for Maliblu but I sure wasn’t going to be the one to bring it up. “What did you do before you had kids?” I asked instead. She had never mentioned a previous career.

  “I was at Good Sam, on the administrative side. Coordinating all the cardiologists’ schedules; what a nightmare. Mark my words, Jessica: there is no way I would ever go back there. So much politics and the hours were terrible. I need something with more flexibility.”

  “Like real estate,” Tami pushed.

  “I heard there’s an online course you can take to get your interior designer’s license,” Alyson offered.

  “What a joke,” Tami said. “How do they test you for that—is this throw pillow a) teal, b) chartreuse, or c) this pillow is totally hideous and you should throw it the fuck away?”

  “Home design isn’t interesting to me,” Carolann said.

  “Well, what are you interested in?” Tami asked.

  Carolann let out a hopeless sigh. “It has been so long, I don’t even know.”

  I could never imagine ending up like Carolann, bereft of confidence and unable to even articulate my own interests. I loved my work; I loved being in the middle of Times Square, getting paid for my expertise and feeling a part of something bigger than myself—it energized and satisfied me in a way no other part of my life ever could. I cherished my family time and craved more of it, but it was scary to think about being stuck at home every day, giving away pieces of myself to fulfill everyone else’s needs until my own desires were left shriveled under the car seat like a dried-up raisin.